#she said 'you never should have been prescribed that so young and for so long.' and my entire world shifted on its axis | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

simpxxstan · 2 years ago

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the night shift

pairing: idol!jeonghan x caregiver!f.reader

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, a little bit of angst

summary: it’s such a surprise what just three months of your life can do to you. it can actually change your life.

word count: 10.3k

rating: 13+

warning: mention of death (not major character). a few swear words here and there. a lot of time skips, i hope it doesn't impede the reading flow!

a/n: i have officially been sucked into the world of svt and there’s no getting out of here! i honestly just got into soft jeonghan feels and wrote this. i’m writing after a very long time, and so much has happened since my last update on tumblr. i’m sorry if i have kept any of you waiting 😭. i will try to update regularly now!

i hope you enjoy reading it!

“Hello. I’m L/N Y/N.” You bowed deeply to the young man sitting in front of you in a wheelchair, a bored expression feeting in his eyes, his blonde hair falling raggedly over his face. A face you were not unfamiliar with.

The man twisted his lip in annoyance and looked at the other man in the room. “Why is she here?”

“Hyung, you had said you’d keep a nurse.”

“I don’t remember, Hoshi. Perhaps, I was under the effect of heavy medication. Because of these fucking meds-” he seemed mildly irritated as he swatted his hand about in the air. “None of these meds are heavy in any way. Don’t pretend you’ve forgotten!” The younger boy whined, and continued, “Jeonghan hyung, the company, the doctor, the members, your family. Everyone has said that this is the best for you. You don’t have a say in this,” Hoshi had stood up to hold Jeonghan’s hands down. “Hyung, please.”

The man in the wheelchair had no option but to become limp in Hoshi’s hold. Flecks of irritation still on his face, he kept glaring at you with the world’s most disinterested look. “One month.”

“Hoshi-ssi told me three months…?”

“No. One month. You work for me, I decide the rules.”

He swiftly turned his wheelchair around and went back into his bedroom.

“He’s moody these days, his mind is really fragile. I hope you understand.” Hoshi spoke to you gently. “Yes, I do. I’ve dealt with more stubborn patients, don’t worry.”

“I’ll leave you to settle down, then! Annyeong!” And the cheery young man left, after bowing his goodbyes.

You had a sense of foreboding creeping into your heart. There was perfect silence in the apartment almost as if you were alone in the entire space. But you knew you were not. How was it possible that Yoon Jeonghan could exist so soundlessly? What if he was actually not- oh god, what if he had passed out or something? You quickly go to his bedroom and knock on the door frantically. “Please, Jeonghan-ssi!” Slowly you heard one breath being released. The door slowly creaked open. The apartment became full of life again as you felt Yoon Jeonghan’s beautiful face eyeing you curiously, like his new found toy.

The first week was a chaotic one, but by the time the fortnight had passed, you knew Yoon Jeonghan was now in your grip. Idle, he had all the time in the world to prank you and tease you, even while being in his wheelchair. Sometimes he would feign memory loss and forget who you were, other times he would ask you to change his shirt after he had dropped some soup on it. If your days at the hospital, where you were interning, were tiring, your nights were even more challenging. He would fall asleep without taking the prescribed medicines, shuffle out of his wheelchair without calling for your help as he should have, and behave just like any naughty kid would. And you had no option but to scold him each time. But you could never be too angry at the man. He would smile the most angelic smile at you, making your veins burst and melt at the same time, your anger dissipating into annoyance into laughter. Eventually you would smile to yourself every time he was successful in his teasing, each feat giving him immense happiness. One successful prank, and Yoon Jeonghan was a happy man.

There were other ways to coax him into submission too. Making him his favourite ramyeon to warm his body whenever he could not sleep in the winter nights. Watching Jun’s new drama with him, and giggling over the kissing scenes, as Jeonghan would give you live commentary on how Jun would probably be behind the scenes. Combing his hair, which was growing longer by the day, into neat braids.

You had, eventually, and unthinkably, fallen into a routine.

“What is it exactly that you do in the daytime?” He had asked you once, while you were preparing breakfast for him before leaving for college. “I go to med school. Then I intern at the local hospital.”

“I know. But that can’t be it. Surely school and internships can’t leave someone as dog-tired as you come home, Nurse L/N.” He looked at you with suspicious eyes, a mischievous spark in his doe eyes. You knew he was going to tease you now.

You had, honestly, gotten used to this, and started recognizing the signs. Before you would cry out in anguish every time his teasing got the better of you. ‘Jeonghan-ssi. I forbid you from speaking ill about my favourite pen. It’s my lucky pen. I always do well in exams I write with this.’ ‘Oh, save heavens I make fun of your dearest pen.’ And he had laughed, all while knowing he had hidden the pen below his pillow. He would give it to you the next morning, a wave of relief flashing over your tense features, extremely nervous over the exam that day. ‘Don’t worry. You’ve studied so much. You’ll do well, irrespective of the pen.’ And then he had the audacity to wink. Fucking wink. After all the superstitious stress he had put you through the entire night.

“Have you ever met any person from the medicine industry?”

“Nope. No people. Some annoying aliens though, prescribing bullshit medicines to me which I don’t even need. And of course, I’ve met you.”

“You don’t even know how stressful med school is. And then, at the internship, they’ll ask us interns to do everything. Right from sanitising the scalpels, to cleaning the floor if someone spills coffee, and the very next moment, they’ll ask me to perform a minor treatment, as if I wasn’t busy polishing the floor right now.” You huffed and puffed as you served Jeonghan the sunny-side-up. He had already put butter on his bread and began eating it.

“Okay, I’ll be leaving now. Your coffee is in this pot. I’ve baked some cookies last night, while you were on that live call with fans-”

“Ooh that’s why the entire house was smelling like dogshit.”

“SHUT UP! They taste very good.”

“Dogshit? You’ve tried? A true connoisseur-”

“Yoon Jeonghan. I’ll put you in timeout.”

“No!” He instantly put on his angelic smile, pouting, his features full of aegyo, and your momentary anger melts. Oh you don’t know what to do with this one.

20 days later, you could feel the wall between you two breaking down slowly. He had become more accepting to having you bossing around the house, keeping it clean and keeping him safe. Although you worked with him only for the night shift, the two of you would often have conversations, aside from the bickering, the nonsense he kept spewing and the teasing, that would actually be meaningful.

“You’re wearing your shirt the other way round, Nurse L/N,” he said as soon as you unlocked the door and stepped into the house after finishing your job.

“Oh!” You dropped your bags immediately and made your way to the washroom attached to your bedroom to change. “That’s why everyone on the subway kept staring at me.” When you returned to the hall, Yoon Jeonghan was sitting in the same way, flicking through his phone.

“You didn’t wear the shirt wrong in the morning?” He cocks an eyebrow, and you blush all over. He had caught you. Clearing your throat, “Umm, well…” He tilts his head, letting the evening sun fall on his hair and making it shimmer. “I had a date today.”

Immediately your veins start burning as he makes his way towards you, a small smile on his lips. “Nurse L/N! How did it go?” he asks you, then doesn’t wait for an answer. “Ahh well. That’s a wrong question. If you’re wearing your shirt the other way round, it must’ve gone well.” Peeking at you, to see your blush spreading all the way to your neck now. “Who is the unlucky person then?”

Argh. Not even 10 minutes into the house and he had started teasing you.

“He’s my friend from med school. We intern at the same hospital.”

“Show me a photograph.”

“Why?”

“I want to see!”

“Why? This is personal space.” You fold your arms, going along with his teasing.

“I want to see if he’s more handsome than me.” Jeonghan declares solemnly, as if that’s the most reasonable response. And when you burst out laughing, he laughs with you too, but continues whining to see the photo. And you have no option but to yield.

When Hoshi-ssi had approached you through his manager to take care of Jeonghan for the next three months till he recovered from the accident that had broken his left leg, you had been reluctant before saying yes. Firstly, you hadn’t believed that such a famous celebrity would be requesting for you, when they had all kinds of services at their disposal anyway. Then you learnt that you had taken care of Hoshi’s aunt when she was very ill and bed-ridden, and the good feedback had flown in from his family. Hoshi’s aunt had been your second patient, your first being your own mother, who had suffered from schizophrenia, before you had lost her two years ago. Although your eyes were still wet from those memories, you had decided to take nursing up as a side profession, to pay for the bills of med school, and put your nursing skills to use as well. Seven clients later, you had landed this job- taking care of the superstar idol, Yoon Jeonghan.

“It’s a night shift. So you’ll have to interact very little with the patient. Through the day, he can take care of himself. We just expect you to keep him company as his… mental state… is really weak right now, perhaps more than his physical state,” the manager had said.

You weren’t a Carat. You didn’t even follow idol groups. You didn’t want to seem like a golddigger, and you knew well that these celebrities could throw tantrums, or even worse, ill-treat you.

But when Hoshi-ssi personally called you, you simply could not refuse. There was something so soft in his voice, laced with worry whenever he spoke about his hyung, you simply knew you had to help this man out.

And you had taken up the job.

The apartment was big enough for you to stay comfortably. Jeonghan was non-interfering in your personal matters, mostly. From time to time, he would comment on your hairstyle, worry about the dark circles under your eyes, suggest a new skincare product, and enquire about your family in all politeness. You had thought the initial courtesy he showed would die down, and then he would minimise his interactions with you.

However, to your great (mis?)fortune, he stayed up every day, even after 25 days had passed, waiting for you to come back home. He would sit at the dinner table, as you made dinner in the kitchen. He would text you, while you were at work, sometimes meaningful questions, other times random thoughts, and even more rarely (thankfully), some photographs. Of his pet rock, of a new parcel delivered home, of takeout he had ordered for lunch instead of eating what you had cooked for him that morning, of himself.

Oh, of himself.

Those selcas were the rarest, and yet you kept wishing for him to send you one whenever your phone lit up with a notification. While you would sit in the break room, eating lunch between classes, you’d wait for it. When hanging out with friends after the internship, you’d wait for it. When your date from two weeks ago, Minho, took you out to coffee, you found yourself waiting for it again.

And when it did, you’d save it instantly. Take a screenshot if it was a one-time view. Stare at it endlessly, sometimes laughing at the filters he would set up, sometimes smiling wistfully into his beautiful brown irises, looking at the camera with odd affection. You knew he generally sent those photos to you to get a reaction before posting them on Weverse for his fans. But somewhere in your heart, you had begun to wish, he would click those photos for you. Not for his fans, not out of boredom, not just to check if his face was still handsome. Just for you.

But that was the least of your problems.

Your job had turned a month old, and you paced about in your bedroom, having packed your bags already, ready to be kicked out. Although Yoon Jeonghan had been fairly tolerable these last few days, one could never understand what went about in his mind.

You were mentally listing off all the things you’d have to worry about now. You’d have to go back to your shitty paid guest room, and pay rent. You’d have to go without the extra cash from this job, barely making enough to eat four meals a day. Only somewhere in the corner of your mind, another little thought came up- you’d have to live without the living breathing caramel sunshine that was Yoon Jeonghan. You had truly gotten used to living with him- as a roommate, of course. Even with his irks and mischief, his moments of vulnerability and his fake aegyo. You had learnt to not dislike him, and now he was getting too close to your heart.

A sharp knock on your bedroom door broke you out of your thoughts. “Nurse L/N? You didn’t come to wake me up?” He says it so normally, as if you’re not combusting with nerves right now. “It’s not 8 am yet, you don’t like it if I wake you up before that.”

He yawns. Lazy, warm, still in his night sleepsuit. His hair messy, his skin looking soft and his lips looking-

“What’s all these bags for?”

“Huh?”

“You’re leaving me?” He starts to pout, making your insides like molten lava.

“I- uh- one month-” you manage to stutter out, wondering if he had truly forgotten or if this was one of his pranks. “One month’s done? Yay! I am two months away from freedom. Nurse L/N, can you please order waffles for me today, I’ve been craving something sweet!” He whirls around his wheelchair after flashing his brightest, cutest smile at you. Left with your mouth open, you already start thinking whether all the ingredients for waffles could be found at home or not.

While you would be away during the day, his members or family would come visit him, to help him dress or bathe. Every other day, you’d see him sitting with a member of his group, hearing their laughter even before seeing them when you entered the house. Sometimes more than one would turn up, and it would be a party.

They always treated you with great respect. Joshua would profusely thank you, the polite charismatic gentleman he was, for taking care of Jeonghan. Seungcheol would ask you regularly whether you were well, whether his friend was irritating you, and whether the terms of work were suitable for you. The days when his members would arrive, usually Jeonghan would switch on live, for his fans. Mostly the lives would get over as soon as you would arrive, sometimes they would continue after you arrived as well, and you’d try your best to soundlessly work through the house so as to not disturb anyone. Contractually bound to secrecy and personally wishing for no involvement with his fans, this was an arrangement suiting you perfectly.

Except one day, when he was doing the live all on his own. You dropped a small glass, and hurt your finger in the broken glass. Almost on instinct, Jeonghan had shouted out, “Nurse L/N, are you okay? Did you break something?” Hearing voice full of concern, real genuine concern, you couldn't help but reply back. “Yeah I’m okay! Don’t worry, it’s just a glass.” “Hmm, okay.”

Cleaning up your wound, you had tiptoed towards Jeonghan’s room, where he was arranging legos while streaming live. Your heart was pounding in your chest, waiting for the call from his company, asking you to resign. Knocking softly on the door, you entered, trying to signal him to not mention you aloud and asking him if the company had reached out to him to announce your dreadful fate.

“Ou?”

Facepalming yourself as Jeonghan asked you in the loudest whisper possible, you gave up. Even if your earlier reply was probably not audible due to the distance, it was so clear now when Jeonghan visibly looked up at you, and asked you, in the most innocent way. “Ou? What are you saying?” You were about to leave the room, when suddenly he introduced you, out LOUD, in front of his fans. “Caratdeul! This is Nurse L/N, she’s taking good care of me! Don’t worry for me. Nurse L/N, please say hello!” By now, you were palpitating. Your phone would ring any moment. Any- “Hello, I am Nurse L/N. I’ll take your leave now, Jeonghan-ssi,” you said, without showing your face on the camera.

But Yoon Jeonghan had no intention to let you escape. “Nurse L/N,” he cried out, with a pout on his face, his eyes shining behind his glasses, “how does my lego model look?” It was a model of some sports car. “Hmm, looks good!” “Everyone!” A smug look appeared on Jeonghan’s face, “This is the first time Nurse L/N has said my work looks good! This is all thanks to our Carats.” Taking his self-absorbed, smiling-widely-till-his-eyes-disappeared moment as an excuse, you left the room. Because another minute, and you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from crossing a line.

You were well into the second month, when the panic attacks started.

They were most likely triggered by the doctor’s report that morning. Jeonghan-ssi, I’m afraid you’ll need more time to recover. Although your femur’s not broken, it’s extremely weak, and your legs cannot support your weight now. Even after recovery, I would advise you to not dance heavily for at least another month.

You had been awoken by a sharp scream in the middle of the night, no scratch that, early in the morning, as you could see the first rays of dawn streaming in through the window. Immediately you rushed to Jeonghan’s room, who slept with his door unlocked for such emergency situations. “Are you okay?”

And instead of the calm fairy you expected, you were met by a ghost.

Yoon Jeonghan was sitting upright in his bed, sweat pouring down from his forehead and arms, his long blonde hair dishevelled, and his chest heaving for air. The worst was over, you reckoned, as you gently stepped closer to him.

For the first time in two months, you saw fear in Yoon Jeonghan’s eyes. As soon as you came near the bed, he reached out to grip your hands. You whispered to him, endlessly rubbing his arms and his back, it’ll be alright, you’re okay, don’t worry, i’m here, you’ll be okay, you’re safe with me, until you could feel his heart rate slow down to a normal pace.

He then looked at you, in such an inexplicably fond way, like-

Like you were his light.

Like you were the stars in his dark night.

Like you were his world.

And you succumbed to the urge of hugging him. You pressed him gently to your body, trying to relay your warmth to his colder body, initially hesitant as to how he would receive your action.

To your surprise, he pulled you in closer. You realised it was his anxiety speaking, his fingers still trembling from the shock. And not his need to be close to you, as your dumb brain hoped somehow.

But then, he kept the hope alive.

“Stay with me tonight, Y/N.”

The entire day, you were extremely distracted, both in school and at work. Fumbling with things, clumsily dropping things, and forgetting important tasks. Yoon Jeonghan had called you by your first name for the first time. This single thought kept spiralling in your head, finding root in some delusion or the other. The entire night, you had spent with him. Hugging him first, then he had laid down and put his head on your lap. And you had stroked his hair, until he was asleep. You had sent a text to Seungcheol, asking him to come and stay with Jeonghan, as you didn’t want to leave him alone like this but you couldn’t miss classes today. He had immediately agreed, and turned up sharp at 7 am. Instead of waking up Jeonghan, you had left your blanket next to him to fool him of your presence, and left the house, leaving the man in his best friend’s care.

Last night had been a monstrous event for the tiny feeling you felt in your heart every time you thought of Jeonghan, which was actually nearly every second. Long forgotten was Minho and his stupid face and stupid voice and stupid pick-up lines. The only voice which sent warm electric shocks through your entire body was the one that belonged to Yoon Jeonghan. You kept texting Seungcheol, asking him for updates, whether Jeonghan had eaten, whether he had bathed, whether he had taken his afternoon nap, whether he was talking normally, whether his blood pressure was normal, so on and on. Even when his replies satisfied you, you were always nervous about what was happening back home.

Home.

Was the house you spent your nights in now home? Was the subway station you had now gotten used to getting off at home? Was the bedroom you slept in now home?

Or was he home?

When you did return to your home, you found the man who had occupied all your thoughts through the day sitting next to Seungcheol, giggling about something on his phone. “Oh you’re here!” Seungcheol says, popping up when he spots you enter. “Hi. I came home early.”

Jeonghan’s smile disappears, and you tense up already. You have no idea what’s coming.

“I’ll be leaving then. He’s been asking for you all day anyway,” Seungcheol smirks against Jeonghan’s little rebellious whines, and your stomach churns in worry. He bows to you, and leaves. Leaving you with the blonde little elephant in the room.

“So. How are you feeling, Jeonghan-ssi?” You ask after a while, breaking the ice finally. He shifts towards one side of the sofa, and you instinctively step forward, wondering if he wanted to get up into his wheelchair now, but he only pats the seat next to him, asking you to sit down.

“I’m sorry for last night, Nurse L/N.” There, back to just a fucking nurse. It was a slip of tongue. “You don’t have to be. This is what I’m here for. This is what you’re paying me for,” you chuckle, but he doesn’t even smile. “But I invaded your personal space-” you lean forward, hold his hand, and say, “Hey. Don’t worry. I hugged you out of my own accord.” “Because you wanted to?” he whispers, and you whisper back, your heart beating in your throat, your voice hoarse with emotion, “Yes, because I wanted to.”

“Can you do it again then?”

Quirking your eyebrows, you realised he’s being dead serious. There’s no way he could lie and tease you with such vulnerability in his eyes. And so you hug him. It’s not as close as last night, but the embrace still makes your spine tingle with happiness. You hope against hope he cannot hear your heartbeat.

When you try to pull away, he lets you, but keeps holding on to your hand.

“I’m- umm, what they call, clingy. I appreciate physical comfort. I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable. You can move away when you like.”

“No. I don’t feel uncomfortable at all. If you like, we could hug more often. Or you could hold my hand. Or put your head on my shoulder or…” you didn’t want to think of his head on your lap again. You would not be able to control the urge to kiss his forehead and eyes and tiny button nose and of course, the pretty lips.

“But you have a boyfriend…”

“Huh?” You’re taken aback now. What was this? “I have a boyfriend I don’t even know about?”

“That boy, Minho? You went out on dates with him?” He looks confused. You bite your lip, “Oh. No, I lost interest. We didn’t date, at least seriously.”

“Oh," you saw the clouds in his face clearing.

So he was worried about your boyfriend being uncomfortable with a grown man hugging you for emotional support? Jeez. What did he think your taste in men was?

"Can I make another request?" God, what's this tone? You had never heard it before but you could sure get used to it. Pouty-faced, soft voiced Jeonghan was definitely your favourite. As if you could ever say no to him.

"Hmm, go on?"

"Can you sleep in my room today?"

You wish you could say no to him.

“In your bed?”

“No, I think your bed can be shifted to my room? It’ll fit also. It’s a single, thin bed.”

You know it will fit. You also know your room is big enough to fit another queen-sized bed. But when you’re that close, how will you be able to tolerate the distance?

“Hmm. I think it could fit. But I think it’s too heavy for me to carry today… maybe I can ask some help from neighbours or friends tomorrow and set it up in your room? Meanwhile today… I could bring a mattress and sleep on the floor.”

“No!” He cried out. “I mean- you can always sleep next to me.” He smiles, a little angelic, a lot devilish. You know he’s teasing now.

You take away your hand from his, and you can see him begin to whine at the loss of warmth. “On the floor then.”

But yet again, as dawn breaks, he screams awake again, and you notice tears rolling down his cheeks also. He hides his face from you when you sit next to him to calm him down, embarrassed of his tears. You wipe them away with your hands (and not with kisses).

And that’s how he falls asleep again. He lies down fairly far away from you, at least an arm’s distance. But your hand is still in his, and you can’t sleep, overly conscious about drifting towards him in your sleep. You’re content just taking in his beautiful face through the sunrise, drinking up his features like you’re parched, wishing you could put your fingers at each spot on his face, feeling the bone and the muscle and the skin, feeling his breath.

“If you don’t mind me asking… what triggered your nightmare?” You ask him the next morning. Good heavens, it’s a free Sunday after ages, and you had been looking forward to this for weeks now. You had so many plans- ordering food for brunch, catching up on your favourite k-drama, buying a new pair of shoes. But you realised- all of these plans involved Jeonghan. You couldn’t imagine doing any of this without him.

You’re sitting with Jeonghan in the small balcony of his apartment, which overlooks the city almost entirely. It’s a serene view, the sunshine not too harsh, and Yoon Jeonghan hasn’t let go of your hand ever since last night. You hadn’t pushed him too far for answers yesterday, thinking it was a one-time thing. But today, you were getting more curious and worried.

“Ummm… I’m not too sure myself? I just have a lot of thoughts these days.” You stroke the thumb of his hand which lies in your palm now. “What thoughts? Do you miss your members? Your fans?” “Yeah, I do. But it’s not like that just…” You know he’s hesitating, but he’s seconds away from crying. “Jeonghan-ssi. Go on. I’m here.”

After a VERY long pause, he says softly.

“You know how the doctor said I’ll need at least another month, even after this hiatus of three months, before I can go back to my normal self, being an idol.” You hum in between his pauses. “I’m scared, Nurse L/N. I’m scared… they’ll forget me. And even if they don’t, I’ll be disappointing them. I won’t be able to meet my fans’ expectations anymore. They won’t get what they deserve from me.”

“No one deserves anything from you. You don’t owe them anything.”

“You don’t understand,” you can sense his voice getting hoarse and louder. “Fans aren’t easy to explain to- and to be honest, which fan wouldn’t be upset seeing their favourite idol isn’t going to dance well any more? Hell, I’m probably no one’s favourite idol anymore.” He looks away from you, his hand already retracted from yours.

“Jeonghan-ssi. Firstly, if you really care about your fans so much, they most likely care about you a lot too. Of course, they’ll understand. And secondly, have you checked twitter? Or instagram? They keep talking about your health, and look forward to your live videos-”

He smiles, “Yeah, they’re asking about you too.” You ignore the statement and continue, “I understand where your vulnerability is coming from- but you can only improve your mindset by not thinking of the worst case possible.”

He doesn’t say anything. His face is still sullen, dark clouds storming in his eyes.

“Jeonghan-ssi, you’re not that easy to forget, and less easier to replace. I don’t think your fans will forget you so soon.”

He looks at you, his lips pursed in a hopeful trance. You know he’s still extremely scared of the future, but then, who wasn’t? It was only natural to be afraid of uncertainty. You gently pat his head, and ask, “Is one of your band members going to come today? For bathing and dressing you…?”

Frankly, you didn’t understand why they couldn’t keep a full-time caregiver who would be professionally trained to do all the work required. But you had seen Jeonghan’s attitude the first time you suggested this. No. I’m not an object for pity, and caregivers will pity me. Plus I don’t trust them. I trust you, I trust my members. I’m only safe in your hands. You had wanted to ask why he trusted you- was it because he knew you really needed the money and a good place to stay? But you had simply nodded and left the issue.

“No. I didn’t ask any of them to come today. They have a shooting schedule today.” His voice sounded even more feeble. He probably missed being on set with them, laughing as a whole, playing games, singing and enjoying themselves. From the videos of their show, Going Seventeen, which Jeonghan had himself shown to you, you had noticed how solid their bond was, and how comfortable they were around each other, easier than friends, stronger than family members.

“Oh.” This meant you would have to bathe him. Shit.

“I’m throwing my shirt!” “Yeah.” You waited outside the door of the washroom as Jeonghan stripped inside, and threw his shirt through the slightly open door. You had become extremely flustered at the thought of dressing and undressing him, but he had provided a simple solution.

Although you doubted how simple it was, when you could hear him struggling to get his pants off. “Nurse L/N. I think I’ll just bathe with my pants on!” “No! Don’t be a dirty boy. Do you want me to help?” You asked, breathless. “No,” you could hear his sigh, “I’m fine. I’ve got it off. Here, catch!”

Then there was the sound of the shower opening, the slight squeak of a tap, and a tune being emitted by the man showering there. You left quietly.

It was around 3 in the afternoon when you both had finished bathing, lunch, folding up laundry (you) and singing random songs (him), watching one episode of a k-drama (him) and wondering why hearts ached without any attack (you). “I’m going to take you out. Enough of staying indoors. It’s eating into your brain.” You announce.

He almost jumps with you, but then winces. “But where? I don’t want to make a public appearance to collect sympathy and pity.” “You’ll see. You said you trust me, right?” He smiles, “Ayy. Human trust doesn’t go that far.” But you can see the excitement build in his eyes. “It’s a surprise.” “Surprises are not nice.” You tie up his eyes with a blindfold, leaving him no option but to huff and puff and whine and sulk.

But this surprise is nice. Jeonghan’s face lights up like a million watt bulb when you take off his blindfold and reveal him sitting in his dance practice room, all his members standing around him. He squeals in joy, and they all start talking instantly, making it too loud a chaos for you to decipher. Hell, you haven’t even been able to tell their voices apart yet.

The man you know as Channie, comes to you and bows. “I’m so thankful to you for bringing Hyung here. Thank you for taking care of him!” Another man, Seokmin, joins him, and they both smile at you widely. You blush, suddenly caught off guard by the attention, and excuse yourself from the room, leaving the boys to their antics. You text Jeonghan that you’re going to meet up with your childhood best friend, and you’ll be back to pick him up whenever he calls.

But he never calls you back. The members carry him around- they go to some restaurant, eat barbecue and drink a hell lot of beer, and then they drop him home. You had returned a couple of hours back, and when you see three strong able-handed men entering the house with Jeonghan, you take the chance.

“Jeonghan-ssi. Do you still want me to bring my bed to your room?” Although the other three men stare at Jeonghan quizzically, he solemnly nods. Seungkwan asks you, “Are you sure that’s okay with you? I t’s a really weird request!” Mingyu adds, “Yeah, Hyung, if you need her anytime, you can just call out for her, she’s anyway in the same house.” But Jeonghan won’t have it. “Yah, please. Nurse L/N, please.” You sigh and say, “He’s not feeling strong enough to sleep alone. It’s okay, I’ve done this before. I understand the need for physical comfort.” “Are you sure?” Seungcheol asks you, and you nod your consent. Then he says, “We’ll help you bring the bed then!”

That night, Jeonghan slept on his own bed, and you on your own, but he said he felt more relief knowing you were around him. I’m worried for you too, you know. Worried? What on earth for? Nothing, just. I’m feeling over-protective for everyone who matters to me right now. It was safe to say you slept in a constant dream-like state. Jeonghan did not wake up that night, and even if he did, it didn’t wake you up. You woke up only to your alarm next morning, breaking your haze of dusty, autumn dreams of blonde ponytails, flowers in a garden, and a pretty face belonging to the man lying next to you.

Third month in, and you were feeling a little under the weather. Perhaps it was the flu passing around in your college for a while now, but you had been strictly banned from going to the hospital (an order you had cried and begged your supervisor to take back, fearing this was the premature end to your internship, but he had calmly asked you to come back when you were well). Jeonghan, meanwhile, was now out of his wheelchair, and simply walking about using a pair of crutches. He was in a better mental state now, as the nightmares became fewer and less intense, and his general moodiness also dissipated.

But of late, he was being too affectionate towards you. Perhaps it was the reason behind you falling in. His sickly sweet smile whenever you complimented him for walking well, his blush of shy satisfaction when he completed any small task you gave him. One day you stepped into the house and almost screamed before the man sitting on the sofa turned around and showed you that it was none but Jeonghan, with his hair dyed black now.

And dear heavens. That black mop of hair would kill you.

For, if blonde Jeonghan was an angel, an embodiment of sunshine, a picture of innocence, black-haired Jeonghan was all of that but a slight rough edge to him, making his features even sharper and his eyes even deeper. It was all you needed to stab a dagger in your heart every day. Now that you’re stuck at home on a leave for 10 days, you have nothing to do except look at this man, laugh at his antics and calm down the growing anxiety in your heart as to what you’d do after these three months got over and your contract would expire. And even though you never voiced your worries out loud, Jeonghan somehow caught them.

“How many months are left till you graduate?” “About five months?” “Hmm. You can actually stay in my apartment throughout and not go back to the shitty place you showed me pictures of.” You gawk, “You’re crazy, how could I ever do that!” “No I’m serious, Nurse L/N.” You stick your tongue out, not interested in his pity offers. “You know what your problem is, Nurse L/N?” Your face is still turned away from him. “You’re just so stuffed with pride. That’s why you’re not taking the medicines I’m giving you at correct times.”

Oh, how the tables have turned.

“I’m fine.” You stress on every syllable, but Yoon Jeonghan can’t seem to take the hint and buzz off.

And that’s your biggest issue. He doesn’t even tease you as much as he is genuinely caring for you now. As if you’re really his friend. You wonder what has brought about this kind of absurd change in him. It’s not like anything had changed in how he saw you. Nurse L/N.

You were wrong about his teasing nature mellowing down. The next morning, when your supervisor had called, you had been in the washroom, and instead of just letting the call go until you returned, he had picked up the call and introduced himself as your Oppa.

Indigestion just had to hit you that very day.

You had no option but to let your blood boil in embarrassment as you overheard the entire conversation, helpless and frustrated.

“Yes, umm… she’s really stupid. She keeps forgetting stuff, you must know hahaha. No wonder she’s totally forgotten about mentioning me. I’m her local guardian haha.”

You hoped he would clarify something about the Oppa tag. Mention that he wasn’t your boyfriend. Mention that he was your brother or something. Or even an older friend, but in vain. Jeonghan was hell-bent on spreading rumours in the hospital about your love life, one would think.

“Yes! I know. She’s recovering now, I’ve been taking good care of her.”

“Oh no, she doesn’t have any family per se. She just has me.”

“Aaah no no, it’s no like that…” you could hear his voice ambiguously trail off, leaving several loose ends. This must’ve been a question about that-

“Oh sure! Thank you. I’ll let her know asap. Yes, yes tomorrow. Thank you.”

After three minutes when you emerged from the washroom, pissed and stressed, Yoon Jeonghan was smiling to himself while watching a video on Youtube.

“What was that call for?”

“Which call?”

You stare. He budges. “Oh, your supervisor had called. He was asking if you can join back tomorrow. I said yes.”

“Why did you pick up?”

“Why not! Would you rather lose the one chance your supervisor gave you to come back?” He smirks, knowing he had hit your weak spot. “But even then. You’re not my Oppa.” “Huh? I’m four years older than you!”

“Jeonghan-ssi. Just because you’re older than me doesn’t mean you can introduce yourself as my Oppa. Are you dumb or do you not understand the connotations of such an introduction?”

There was a pause.

“What would you suggest I’d introduce myself as? I didn’t want to say my name-”

“Her friend would just do. Or her neighbour. Or her classmate from college.”

“Those wouldn’t have had similar connotations? Any boy answering any girl’s call would have similar connotations, Y/N-aah.”

Another pause. Maybe he hadn’t realised he had called you by your first name.

“Then you should have just introduced yourself as the patient I’m taking care of in the night shift. Everyone knows about that, Jeonghan-ssi. Honestly, anything but Oppa. You’re not my Oppa.”

Before he could reply, you take your phone from the table and lock yourself into your room for the rest of the morning, too overwhelmed to say anything else or even look into the eyes of that dangerous man.

There had been very little conversation between the two of you through that day and the next, before you left for work again. He had tried a lot to initiate conversation with you, weird questions interrupting the silence now and then. But you were honestly too stressed to take any of his excuses and forgive him.

How dare he call himself your Oppa, when in three weeks he was going to simply forget you totally? How dare he even call you by your first name and break the professional formalities that were standard? You had thought the first time, that night, had been a slip of tongue in feverish delusion. This was no delusion. In bright daylight, he had crossed the line and called you by your name.

Although it shouldn’t matter much, you rationaled. Oppa could mean a dozen different things. No one would assume it meant boyfriend.

But oh, you were so so wrong. You knew it as soon as you stepped into the hospital after an extremely tiring day at university, and saw people staring at you. You reached your supervisor’s cabin to mark your attendance, and he too gave you the weirdest looks. The peak of the entire farce was when Hyerin, your closest friend at the internship, whispered to you after hugging you warmly to welcome you back, “YOU DIDN’T TELL ME YOU HAD A BOYFRIEND?!” Aargh.

“He’s not a boyfriend. He’s just the patient I’m taking care of. He randomly messed with me and introduced himself as my Oppa.”

“BUT I HAD NO IDEA HE’S LIKE A YOUNG GUY? I thought he’s a sixty-something fellow, no offence to old men who call themselves Oppa-”

“Yeah he’s a young guy. I told you he had broken his leg?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. Breaking legs doesn't require the person to be old. It was an accident while he was crossing the street.”

“Still! This changes thing, hmmmm” she smirks, and you know where it’s headed. “Being in close quarters with a man only slightly older than you… are you sure he’s not dashingly sexy? Not a sugar daddy type? I could come and help you in your nursing job then.”

“No, and no. He is pretty good-looking, but I don’t care. Now move and let me start my work before boss comes and sends me on a leave again.” Hyerin wasn’t that close to you to know about the deepest secret of your heart. No one except your one childhood bestie knew about it. And you both had sworn on your childhood rings to never divulge secrets.

To make matters worse, you played a voice note sent by Jeonghan loudly, as soon as you got out of the operation theatre. Right in the corridor.

In your defence, he had sent three messages just before and after that, definitely impatient that you hadn’t heard his voice note, saying URGENT!, and you had fallen for the bait. Instantly playing it, without realising your volume was full, you cringed and almost threw your phone away instantly.

Napipopeta piripu pipiretta. Napi-

“You’re watching Instagram reels at work?!” Somehow your supervisor had also come out into the corridor and had heard the voice note. “You know social media is banned when you’re on duty!”

“Sir, I was just listening-”

“No arguments! So irresponsible. You’ll be staying back till 10 pm today, Y/N!”

“Okay Nurse L/N. Enough of the silent treatment. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be something I’m not… I just didn’t think of the consequences as much. Sorry, please?” He gave you the softest puppy eyes ever given by humankind, as you ate the ramen you had made for dinner.

You hadn’t uttered a single word since returning, just too upset and tired. But now you had to say it. “Was that voice note a joke?”

His eyes widened, “I- I just sent it… thinking your mood would become better hearing it… my fans really like that song…”

You bite your lower lip.

“My boss heard me playing it. That’s why I came home late.”

He stays silent for a minute. “I’m sorry if it got you into trouble. I just thought…”

And out of spite, just out of spite, and pent-up emotions spilling over, you say the worst thing ever.

“Your voice can never make my mood better, Jeonghan-ssi.”

Something had snapped between the two of you since that day.

You had tried to build up a wall between you two, trying to keep distance that you felt was necessary to get your heart used to what was just coming within two weeks. He tried to break that wall, going out of the way to be with you, even helping you study for an exam coming up. He was needing lesser and lesser care by the day, as he regained strength in his legs, and was quite determined to live by his old habits. He would leave the house without waiting for your support, he would cook sometimes, he would also do the laundry.

He did everything to make you feel lesser and lesser wanted in the house.

And you really took the cue. You started minimising your interactions. Even sleeping in the same room became too difficult for you, and you spent many hours on the couch before going to your bed, waiting for him to fall asleep. You would limit conversation to the necessities, taking all possible steps to reduce his dependency on you.

“Why are you doing this?” He asks you, one night, after you both had lied down in your beds but it was obvious that sleep eluded you.

“What?” You whisper back, hesitant. “This. Becoming far away from me.”

There are massive pauses between your replies, and you can hear him holding in his breath through the entire pause.

“You anyway don’t need me much. It’s only best if I move away from you.”

“Physically perhaps- but I thought we could be…”

“Hmm?”

“Friends. Are we not friends?”

Friends. You had stopped wanting to be friends for a very long time now.

“It’s not possible. You and I belong to different worlds, as cliche as it sounds. We can’t be friends.”

“Why not?”

“Have you seen how your fans have taken to stalking me on my social media? I’ve had to delete my accounts everywhere. If they find out who I am, they’re not just going to kill me, but the contract and all the payment I got from this job will be forfeited.”

“Kill you? Isn’t that too extreme?” You can hear him shuffle closer to your end in his bed, his voice closer to you now.

“They’re going to brand me as a golddigger. And even if they don’t kill me, I’ll definitely kill myself then.”

“There, again you and your pride.”

“You’re laughing at my self-respect?”

“No, I respect it. Not many can be so stoic.”

“Goodnight, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“Nurse L/N.”

You don’t want to reply. You pretend you’re asleep.

“Y/N-aah.”

You know he’s heard the change in your breath and he continues. “There are really just six days left?”

“We can reduce it if you like.”

“Can you not be so snappy? It’s really not funny anymore.” He sounds agitated, his voice on the verge of breaking.

“Are you really saying this to me? Why do I have the responsibility to make it seem funny? You have a problem with me having real emotions too?”

“I never said I have a problem with anything. But this attitude of yours is, frankly, uncalled for, in my opinion. Or you’re not telling me something I should know. And this is bothering me.”

Another pause before you reply.

“I’m going to leave in six days, Yoon Jeonghan. You better stop being bothered by me.”

You don’t know what’s come over you. Suddenly you can’t breathe in the house anymore. You don’t even want to call it home these days.

Ever since that conversation, Jeonghan had stopped putting in as much effort. You had far overstayed your welcome, and he really needed you to be gone now. Maybe get a girlfriend to visit him. Must’ve been sad without sex for three months for him. Your heart ached every morning when you saw him as soon as your eyes fluttered open- an angelic face, his mouth slightly parted open as he slept in his dream world. You wanted to kiss him (honestly every minute nowadays you did, even if you burnt yourself up, that desire did not disappear.)

It was a crush, you convinced yourself. Finals were coming up, you’d get busy, you’d forget about him. Easy peasy. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to delete the little gallery of pictures you had formed in your phone- including photos he had sent you, photos of him that you had taken, and the three photos of you two together.

The first had been clicked on the night when he had let go of his wheelchair and first taken up the crutch. Many of his bandmates were there, and they had all cheered loudly. Because you had been standing right next to him, holding his arm to stabilise him, Wonwoo had clicked a photo of you too right at the moment when he was looking into your eyes with the joy of letting go of the wheelchair, and you were looking right back at him. It was a coincidental photo, and a photo meant to be only of Jeonghan, but you kept smiling when you looked at it. It almost gave the illusion that it was … for lack of better words, a photograph of affection.

The second was a selca. Correction, it was Jeonghan’s selca, which he had clicked without you even knowing, so you were obliviously watching the drama on the television, eating ice cream. He had even posted it on Weverse, blurring you out obviously. But his fans had caught the second hand in the photograph, zoomed into it, and somehow figured out it was a female hand, and then conducted several polls amongst themselves whether it was his girlfriend, his sister, his mother, his friend or his nurse (how would they ever know though?). The results of the poll had been varied, and some had even claimed: guys we don’t know if the nurse and the girlfriend are different people hehehe you know what i mean!! Ugh, these conspiracy theories.

The third one had been the most recent one. You were on a video call with your childhood friend, and he had just entered the room without knocking. He had said hi to your friend, who had smirked and giggled and tried to make suggestive comments until you winked at her to shut the fuck up. Finally he had left after asking you some really redundant questions, making you wonder why he had even entered your room. Your best friend had taken a screenshot of the two of you talking, and she had practically squealed over call god, he’s so handsome!!!! And he’s so in love with you!!! Did you see how he was doting on your face with every word you uttered?! AWWWW! Y/N, I’d say wife him up immediately!

You had laughed then, and you laughed at it now. Every time you scrolled through this secret gallery, you had nothing but a fond smile tugging at your lips, no matter how distant you wanted to make yourself from the man, who had slowly, but surely, taken up all of your heart, and was showing absolutely no intention to leave.

You packed your bags and stood in front of the door, waiting for Jeonghan to bring whatever he was looking for in his bedroom. He had vehemently protested against you helping him, and as a result, a search that could’ve been completed in seconds, was now taking minutes.

Eventually, he appeared. He had a bag for you in his outstretched hand, and you silently took it from him. Peeping in, you saw everything was wrapped with paper. “What’s this for?” “Thank you, Nurse L/N for taking care of me.” He smiled, continuing, “I don’t know why you’re angry at me. But I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you in any way. Please accept my gift.” Your heart was melting with each step he took towards you, eventually so close that you could see your reflection in his eyes. It was too close for you to breathe, but you realised you wanted to get used to this proximity.

“Thank you, then. Jeonghan-ssi, you’ve been an excellent employer these past three months. Thank you for taking good care for me, as well” and you lightly bow.

“How do I see you again?” You’re stunned. Why does he want to see you? “Do I have to break my leg again?” his whispers grow ragged.

You try to crack a joke, “Or you could break an arm,” but he doesn’t smile. He seems impatient for an actual answer. “Or you could call me. We can hang out once every couple of months, if you’re free. Or you could just… you know, call and talk.”

He wants to say something, but your phone begins to ring. Your best friend must have arrived downstairs to give you a ride to her house. You had decided to stay with her for the remainder of the university term.

“Goodbye, Yoon Jeonghan-ssi.”

“Goodbye, Y/N. I’ll miss having you around.”

You don’t believe him. You think he’s just being nice. But oh, somewhere deep down, you hope it’ll be true. You smile at him, tight-lipped, but genuine. He doesn’t smile back.

And just like that, you’re gone.

The next month, you don’t hear from him at all. Your internship has also ended, and you’ve started studying hard, applying to various specialisation courses, and basically trying to forget him. It works, frankly, because with your closest friend around, you have your mind on other things. Such as her extremely toxic situationship, which she doesn’t even realise is harming her, but you keep warning her to step off. Such as her mother baking cookies for you as winter sets in. Such as visiting your own mother’s grave once every week, to give her flowers, a new ritual you’ve set up.

It’s on one of these bus rides to the park which has her grave that you cross the hospital where you had your internship. And you spot, your eyes instantly going wide, a certain familiar someone standing at the bus stop right outside the hospital.

You’d have recognised him from miles away. Even if it’s really late in the evening, the twilight setting in, you can recognise him.

You want to look away and continue the ride to the original destination. You want to ignore him. You want to push away the thought of him waiting (for who?) in front of the hospital where you worked at while staying with him.

But you can’t. You immediately step out of the bus, paying your fare, and walk up a little bit to reach the spot he’s standing. He’s looking the other way so he doesn’t really notice when you come and stand behind him. Until you cough a bit.

And you’ve never seen Yoon Jeonghan smile this brightly before. Never. Not while you were in his house, not even in the videos of him that miraculously come up on your Youtube algorithm now.

“What are you doing here?” you don’t know why, but your voice cannot go beyond a whisper. In the empty streets after dark, he can hear you clearly though.

“You came.” he whispers back.

“You were waiting for me?”

“Who else would I wait for in front of the hospital you worked at?”

“I don’t work there anymore. My internship is over.”

“So I heard. But I had no idea where you live now, and apparently it’s not safe to go to your university if I have to keep you a secret.”

“But waiting in front of a hospital in the dark is safe?”

“It’s a hospital. No one is looking at me here. I’m not the important person here, for anyone.”

You can’t help but say, “You are, for me.”

The stars are out, the cars are flashing by, and you’re walking alongside Yoon Jeonghan on a silent road. Sometimes your arms brush, sometimes he smiles too much for your heart to take, sometimes you look at him for so long that he breaks eye contact. For once in your life, you don’t want to overthink this. Even if tomorrow you wake up and realise this was a dream, you want to live the best dream of your life till the end.

“Hey,” he whispers when you zone out. You’re standing under a streetlamp now, the smell of flowers from the trees around you filling the air. You’re 100 metres away from a tteokbokki stall, and you want to ask him if he wants to eat some, but he holds your hand at that moment.

“Y/N.”

“No more Nurse L/N?”

“You’ve stopped being Nurse L/N for me for a long time now.”

Your heart stops. He grazes his thumb over your pulse point. You think you’ll combust.

“Your palm is sweaty, Y/N. Are you nervous?”

How can you not be when he’s right there, in front of you, so close… but still so far? You don’t know how you landed up like this, after an entire month of avoidance, but knowing that he came every evening to look for you in front of your hospital, waiting till the shift was scheduled to get over, has melted your heart beyond control.

“You’ve cut your hair again.” You finally say.

“Is it looking nice?”

“Hmm… makes you look sharper.”

“Huh?” His eyes are becoming wide now.

You take your other hand out of your pocket and touch his hair with a featherlike touch. “But it’s still so pretty. You won’t cut me, will you?”

He smiles, and leans in, and you can sense him breathing you in. You must be smelling like sweat and grime by now but he doesn’t seem to care. Eventually he places his chin on your head and time has stopped. You can’t help but snuggle into the warm cavity of his body, gently placing yourself against his strong chest, as you can feel now. And somehow, his hands leave yours, and wrap themselves around your back.

It’s a hug.

And then it’s a kiss on your forehead. A kiss on your scalp. And a kiss in your hair. And you snuggle deeper and deeper into him.

He pats your hair gently, and you mumble into his chest. “What took you so long, Hannie? Why didn’t you come to me sooner?” it’s half feverish you know, you don’t even expect him to reply. And yet he does.

“Oh, but Y/N-ah, I’ve been coming to you forever, why did you keep pushing me away, baby?” And you spread your hands around him too, pulling him deeper, until you’re both too squished, and have to move apart for air.

But only a little bit, just enough so that you can see his face, and he holds your face in his big palms.

“Y/N-ah. Do you want to come home with me? I want to watch a new episode of the k-drama with you. I’ve really fallen behind it without having you to watch with.”

You smile, his eyes glitter up with the reflection.

“Of course. But only if you promise to hug me more.”

“No. No more hugs. Can I kiss you?”

You suck in a deep breath, lips parting already, at the wonderful tingle going through your body. You could cry right now, with the time he takes to move in and place his lips on yours gently.

And you do cry. One stray tear escapes your closed eyes, and he kisses that away too.

“Hannie…”

“I’m yours, Y/N-ah. If you’ll have me, forever yours.”

“Of course I’ll have you.”

“Sorry if I kept you waiting for long.”

“It’s okay. You’re worth the wait, anyway.” You smile as you press a kiss on his nose, his little button nose you’ve always found cute. You stand up on your toes and kiss his eyes and his eyebrows and his forehead, but then he stops you. “Baby, let’s go home and then you can kiss me?”

How can you ever say no to Yoon Jeonghan? How could he even think that you’d say no?

“Of course, Hannie. I love you.”

“And I love you, baby.” Another kiss on your lips, and you know you’ve seen heaven. Because if Yoon Jeonghan isn’t the equivalent of heaven, you don’t want to know what is.

#jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #svt #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt fluff #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan x reader #seventeen jeonghan #seventeen fanfic #MY FIRST SEVENTEEN FIC LESSGO #svt my heart #the night shift

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lovevalley45 · 9 months ago

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#fictober24 - day eight

"Are we happy?"

original fiction (power payback)

word count: 605

“Geez, isn’t it supposed to be fall?”

“Global warming,” Magni said. “And the fact that we live in a desert doesn’t help.”

Sprout joined him at the patio table, shucking off her gardening gloves. “Yeah, but I’m not moving to Connecticut or whatever.” She sighed. “You feeling better?” she asked, pouring herself a glass of lemonade.

“I’m out of bed,” he answered. It was good enough.

Magni’s involuntary sabbatical from Hillson Consulting had started when he realized he’d been ignoring his boss’s calls for a week. He hadn’t been feeling well, staying in bed during the day and unable to sleep at night. Sprout rightfully called him on the fact that he only left his room to make them dinner, then barely ate what he actually made. It was then that he could step back and remember this wasn’t normal.

“I need some time,” he’d told Hillson over the phone. “Just a couple of weeks.”

“I ought to give you one week since you’ve been ghosting me. Is that what the kids call it? Ghosting?” With a huff, Hillson had finally said, “Hell, fine. You haven’t been as sharp lately. Rest up.”

It wasn’t his first time finding himself in such a slump. But since his first bout of depression in college, he’d never dipped so low.

“Did you call Dr. Perry?” Sprout asked him.

“No,” he admitted. “I know, I should. But she’ll just try to prescribe me antidepressants again.”

She took a long sip of lemonade. Magni knew she was holding her tongue against telling him he was wrong, and some part of him knew she was. He’d dug his heels in then, still sore from his bad stint of suppressors.

“I’ll call her tomorrow,” he caved.

Sprout sighed. “Alright.” She leaned back in her seat.

“You know, you didn’t have to take time off to watch me.”

She glanced his way. “Who said I took time off to watch you? I took a day off because I wanted to.”

Magni picked up his lemonade. “Insurance getting too boring?”

“Yeah,” Sprout said. “When I convinced you to switch your major to criminal justice with me, I figured it’d be… more exciting. Your job is plenty exciting. But I sit in a cubicle and make sure shit adds up. I just got hired because I was good at memorizing insurance law.”

“You could always go to law school like my mom keeps telling you,” he said. “And consulting isn’t that exciting, anyways. Not when I get pinged with ‘hey Magni, use your technopathy for this case’ every damn day. I’m stuck in a damn cube and feel like a zombie walking out.”

The complaints spilled out of him like a confession. No wonder he was so drained. His throat suddenly felt dry, and he picked up his lemonade.

“Wow.” She drummed her fingers against her glass. "Do you ever wonder… are we happy? Like, really happy. We've got good jobs, but-" She stopped, and shrugged.

Magni chuckled. "Yeah. I know." He shut his eyes. The warmth of the day still seemed so heavy in the afternoon shade. "I remember that conversation. Obviously. We had dreams that we'd try and get our PI licenses and go into business together."

"We still can," Sprout said. "We're still young. You know, study together, do the exam."

"Come on. Be real. We were just college kids, fantasizing about the future."

She leaned over the table, grabbing his hand. "We can try."

"Hell." He turned his hand to give hers a squeeze, feeling the scars against his palm. "I guess it won't kill me."

Sprout grinned. "Famous last words."

#alli writes shit #fictober24 #power payback #magni quinn #sprout marotto #fun fact i'm posting this between my classes. bc that's how my tuesdays are lol

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moku-and-his-madness · 2 years ago

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First few pages of Ghost Stories (by me) is Out!!! Enjoy!!!

!heads-up! i put any other language in red for it to be easier to read, the story basically self explains the sentence and translates it for you so need to worry about language!!!

Languages Contained: Spanish, Portuguese. (more but we'll have to see how the story progresses)

GHOST STORIES

By Unt1t3d

Position for Hire: “J”

I don't like offices. I don’t know if it's because they mean that something uncomfortable is being discussed or that I didn’t organize anything myself, knowing that contents are probably where they don’t belong. This tossed here, That cast aside there. But this office I hated the most. Not only was I uncomfortable, I was being pestered about “How I felt” and, “What I should do to get on a healthier path in life”. I’ve never liked the ‘this is a safe space’ shit they rant.

I didn’t need to get healthier mentally, I needed to get better physically. I needed money. “Justice, are you alright?” The Therapist was nagging me, I noticed. “Huh? Oh, Yeah. I agree.” I spaced off a lot so I just pretended I knew what anyone was saying in a conversation. “ I was just saying that you should get your work papers in order. I think a job might be just what you need to get yourself in the right headspace.” She said like she was talking to a toddler, writing notes on her notepad. Wow, I’m touched, she’s concerned. Aren't they all? I’ve had enough of the sympathetic 'Are you alright?’s Honestly, a ‘you're a crazy mother fucker’ once in a while is perfectly fine to balance out the chaos.

“So is your medication working? Do you still see…them?” She's talking about the shadowy friends of mine! Yeah, I still fucking see them even though you have me on enough meds to call me a drugaddict! In fact, I saw one on Tuesday, SUSAN. I’ve always been able to see them, even when I was younger, and they blamed it on a very rare, very young case of dementia. But these…things, aren't just figments of my imagination. They have minds of their own, taunting me all the time. It's the reason he’s gone.

“Yeah, I haven’t seen them in a while.” I say with a smile, so that she won’t prescribe me another pill. “Don’t we end in a few?” I say to hurry her along. She taps her skull, as if she’s just now remembering I have a life. “Oh, you’re right! Then we’ll pick this up next week.” Ew, I didn’t want to pick this up again next week. “Um, I’m going to get my papers organized, remember? I’m getting that job. So, if I just notify you, I don’t think meetings will be necessary as of right now.” I say impatiently with a weak smile, tapping my foot at godspeed. Man, she’s slow on the update. Maybe if She's smart enough she’ll realize what I’m trying to say.

She gathers her things, clearly not in her right headspace as she throws it all recklessly in a tote bag. My OCD impulses twitch. “Oh, wow. Yeah, that is right! You have a way better memory than me!” she said over-enthusiastically. No wonder she was alway re-scheduling. “I suppose that’s alright, but if you're ever stressed, or need someone to talk to, call my number.” She said with a deeply concerned look. To be truthful, I lost her Number, but that’s just between you and me. “Yep. In fact, I’ll have you on speed-dial, just in case.” I tell her, my enthusiasm weak and my social battery draining fast. “Okay! You have a good rest of your day then!” She says with a cheery smile. Right, like hell I will.

Yup. Sure will. Time to go home to Mamá and step-daddy and scrub the house clean, and cower away from David’s leather belt. I hate to be brutally honest like I always am, but they’re half the reason I’m in debt for these damn medical bills. I walk down the long flight of stairs and out of the building. Ugh, finally, I’m free.

-X-

I hung my keys and walked into the kitchen and shouted, “I’M HOME!”. No response, of course. I opened the door to my room and took a deep breath. Now I’m home. I closed the door because, privacy ya’ know? I hung my messenger bag on a decorative rung I had 3-d printed in sophomore year of Computer Design. I glanced at my neat wall of vinyl records with bands like “Nirvana” and “Los Campesinos”, right next to the picture of me smiling with my father. On my desk was a stack of books, things I was borrowing but now belong to me, a cup of pencils, and my PC setup I made myself, stickers plastering the frame.

I flopped on my bed, tired as hell. I pulled out my phone and selected a playlist, closing my eyes and drifting in and out of sleep. I dream of the shadows and VHS tapes changing and a loud static in my head. Everything is so unilluminated, and I’m scared, frightened out of my wit at whatever could come out of the wispy darkness. “Jay '' someone says. I look in the darkness, trying to detect where the voice is ringing from. “Jay” I feel a hand on my shoulder. I jolt awake and rub my eyes. When my vision focuses, my mom is standing in the middle of my room, cigarette in hand. “You were screamin’ again. Did you take your damn pills?” No, I hadn’t. I was supposed to take them even if I took a two minute nap. Or else I screamed like a madman.

“David isn’t coming home tonight.” She said, taking a drag of the cancer creator. “ ‘Work’?” I say, not looking at her. She breathes out. “Yeah, ‘work’. I figured you could use the stove tonight then.” She takes one last look at my room and walks out, her shirt askew across her small curved shoulders. She’s not the same anymore. After my dad died in that plane crash, she’s been doing all the wrong things with all the wrong people. I don’t understand why she would want to be in a relationship with that abusive fuck ‘David’ or whatever anyway.

But she still does little things like this, letting me know if and when David’s going to be home, and letting me use the stove to make my empanadas and arroz Rojo or ‘foreign food’ as David calls it. He doesn’t let me cook because it’s too ‘spicy’ for him.

I pull out all my spices and ingredients, ‘Summerland’ by Half Alive still playing in my ears. I’m in the zone, everything how I want it. Cooking the arroz and frying the meat and sauce for empanadas, carefully avoiding the paper cuts on my hands when dicing the jalapeno and cilantro. In the midst of cooking, I decide to make dessert, having a hard time picking either Tres Leches or Concha Bread. I would ask Mamá, but she was half asleep on the tattered La-Z-Boy in the parlor. So I just decide based on what we have the most. A few hours later, mom wakes up, the smell of authentic Mexican food calling her. “Gracias por la comida hijo.” She says, eyes only half open. “De nada mami.” Spanish is another thing David doesn’t like. He can’t understand ‘taco bell’ as he calls it. “Pronto conseguiré un trabajo.” I’m getting a job, I tell Mamá. “¿un trabajo?” she says with no surprise. “¿Sabes cuál?” Do I know which one? I was so focused on getting out of my meetings for a bit,that I hadn’t actually thought of what I would do. “Quizás algo en informática. Se paga bien.” I told her about my computer science classes and how the area of work paid well. Well enough to finish paying the debt to the bills I owed.

“¿Cuándo te convertiste en un hombre tan adulto?” When did I become such a grown man? She looks at me. “uh, el mes pasado mamá.” I had just turned 18 last month on November 7th. I was already an adult, technically. Mamá just looked at me and shook her head. “Ya sabes a qué me refiero, joven.” She said sassily. I laughed, enjoying our little corner of the universe, where we were safe. I brought out the Concha Bread and Mamá’s eyes lit up. “Mi Favorita! ” I smiled at her happiness, “¡Solo para ti! “. Just for you! “Hijo, ¡me estropeas!” You spoil me, She says with a laugh.

We finished dinner, and I tucked Mamá into bed. I piled up the dishes, planning to do them tomorrow, and pulled out my phone to look at available jobs in my area. I pulled up Yelp and look for an IT job. No such luck. I tried Indeed next, again, nada. The hours passed, websites were searched, and still, no IT or Cyber Security jobs in my area.

I give up and try to find a decent paying job not too far from home.There are some alright ones and then there's the ones that look a little shady. I filter out my results so I don’t wish myself an early funeral. And then I found it, THE GOLDEN JOB!!! The golden job is this thing me and my computer friends would do when we were job hunting. You search for a job, filter it, and whoever had the best job at the end could dare anyone to do anything (within reason of course). One time, my friend Alex won and he got everybody to buy him something from DQ.

But this job seemed too good to be true. Just down town in the suburbs, away from the city, is a fancy estate house. The owners died a few years ago and this little old lady is looking for someone to clean it up for resale, as she is getting on in her years. The pay is good enough to pay for my bills though. All that's left now is to make the call…

Question Everything: “Wil”

Do you ever get that feeling that you’re constantly being watched? Like eyes are constantly trained on you? As if existing is a cause for concern. “Hey Wil,can you pass me the arroz?” I snap out of my daze, “Huh? Oh sure, Tio.” The house is hectic today, cousins running around and Aunts and Uncles drinking and talking. Nobody in the family liked to be around me and Tio Hector felt bad about that, so he sat with me at all the family meets.

“Ei, você está bem?” Tio says, I smile dancing on his lips. I play along, “Sim, só pensando... e você?” I’m just thinking, what about you? I say this with the same smile playing on my lips. Tio just laughs, “You silly, I’m always fine! Como foi a terapia hoje?” He asks about therapy. He cares but I don’t need therapy. We’re just wasting money we don’t have. “Ah, o mesmo de sempre. Ela apenas traz à tona as mesmas coisas…” Same old, Same old. The lady doesn’t even have a plan for me to get ‘better’. Tio just smiles and says, “Talvez ela esteja louca!”. He bursts out with laughter, making the house feel a little more homely.

Some more family members enter the kitchen, filing up on more drinks and food. I feel so uncomfortable around them, as they do around me. A hate/hate relationship, I guess. Tio sensed my unease and acted as necessary. “Ignore-os, eles estão aqui apenas para ficar bêbados e conseguir babá de graça.” He said they’re alone at the event to get drunk and get free babysitting. He knew this would make me smile, because not only was it funny, it was true.

I stand and push in my chair. “Vejo você mais tarde, tio. Tenho que ir para casa. Trabalho ocupado para ser feito.” Tio stands, “Trabalhar? OK, te vejo mais tarde. But don’t stress yourself! Or else you’ll end up like Aunt Maria!” He laughs. We hug and I leave, off to drive to my small apartment.

-X-

I got in and locked the doors and tossed my keys anywhere, I didn’t care at this point, my stuff was already everywhere. Boxes were still piled up from a month or two ago, from when I left the family house and moved out on my own. I toe my way on my cold floors, slowly inching my way to my room. LED lights are strung up, drawings and sketches hung up from AP Art classes. A picture of me and Tio sits on my nightstand. We were at a fair, eating bad funnel cakes and playing games. He won me the very avocado plushie that rests on my bed right now that day.

My laptop rests on my desk, covered in stickers I had designed myself, still open on my DAW program with a music track in queue. I slam it shut, too tired to even think about any actual work. I collapse to the bed. I don’t fall asleep, but just lay there. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with more scars. I lay horizontally, drinking in the late afternoon sunlight, absorbing all the details of my room. It’s kinda like when you’re waiting for something but can only leave at a certain time, so you wait and actually notice all the little things in your life.

A boom rings from upstairs. Ugh, the neighbors. I finally decided that I had rested long enough and had to do something productive. The therapist said something about getting a job or whatever, so that I could ‘get myself in the right headspace’. I already had a job, but it was one my family didn't approve of, and if I mentioned that to the therapist we would have a WHOLE discussion about ‘how that made me feel’ or, ‘what I could do to change their perspective’.

I didn’t have the time for that, and hell, I needed a buck. So, restlessly, I snatch my laptop and open Yelp and Indeed and other numerous job websites and applications. Hours later, you would think I would discover a decent art job! Even a graphics designer looking for an assistant in the heart of New York! But Nada. I gave up a half hour later, deciding to just filter my results for easy, high paying jobs in a calm area (so that way I wasn’t lost in Time Square).

What comes up is some crack-head craigslist kinda shit but some of the jobs are promising. I filter again to get rid of the cuckoo's and 9-5 jobs, settling for something more temp style. This narrows down my search even more, drastically not giving a fuck about my opinion, and only showing one or two results. Eenie Minie Moe later and I found the thing to shut Susan up about the job. A cleaning job, high pay, pick my own hours, AND! When the estate sells I get 2% of the profit sold. It’s this little old lady, selling the home and land of her dead son and daughter-in-law, just wanting to get it in shape before resale.

I applied for the application and got it sent. I go to the kitchen to eat some trashy dried ramen in a bowl I haven’t washed in a week, and decide what time my body wants to deal with sleep and pain.

-X-

I woke up late that morning, my knees bloodied. Fuck. I tip-toe to the bathroom and get out my huge first aid kit. I disinfect and clean, avoid infection and patch it all up with a huge band aid. I've learned the art of self-aid with my eyes closed and hands tied by now. Fixed, for now.

I checked my phone, surprised to see a notification from the lady with the estate this early. She says my application checks out and that the latest I can start today is 11:30 am. Well, at least I can choose when I leave. I glance at the clock, gauging how much time I get to blow before leaving to find the property. 10:29…okay. Shower, skip breakfast today, and attempt to clean. Like hell I'm gonna clean. It’s just not in my nature anymore.

Flashforward and I’m running to my car to get there on time because my sense of time is horrible. I showered and barely had time to get my boxers on. So, looking like a lunatic, brandishing my disheveled hair and soggy bandaids barely hanging on by a thread, I booked it to my car.

more to come soon!!

tagging:@thinkingaboutctommy @paldeanbooper (my writer buddy:@wiblursaystuff) @vibestillaxxx @gay-mooshrooms @colleenispunk @wormsinsdirt (another writer buddy:@teagica)

#al was here!#hector estaba aqui!#proceed with caution at my blog #my work!!#al writes...#Hector escribes...

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rhysiana · 3 years ago

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Here we go: NiF Jingsu dreamsharing AU, because it's been haunting me for months. (Gifset that sparked my initial thoughts for reference/visuals, if you want them: https://rhysiana.tumblr.com/post/655545822279352320/hardwareabstractionlayer-jingsu-wuxia-au)

~~~

When Jingyan returns from Donghai, he learns many things, not all of them as fast as he should have. Eventually, the thing he learns most is to keep his thoughts to himself and not appear to care about anyone too much. (He’s not particularly good at either.)

It’s lonely and isolating and he barely ever gets to see his mother after he’s essentially banished from the capital. Others find him icy and rigid, difficult to like, a stark contrast to his sunshine youth by Lin Shu’s side. (He isn’t allowed to mourn Lin Shu.)

He is fairly certain these things could break him—that they are in fact intended to—if he didn’t also have the dreams.

In his dreams, Lin Shu is not dead. He is hale and healthy and as teasing as ever, and they have leisurely adventures through the jianghu like they always said they would, whispering to each other late at night.

The first dream was not happy. The first dream happened when he was still on a ship, and was full of fire and blood and endless falling, until he woke up clutching Lin Shu’s pearl like a lifeline.

The other dreams didn’t start until weeks later, just before he got back to the capital. He would have thought the first one just an unconnected nightmare if not for the troubled way his mother ran a finger over the line of cliffs at the northern border on her map.

She didn’t tell him they were just dreams. She didn’t prescribe him tea or incense. She asked him for every detail he could remember, and then sat patting his hand absently for a while.

“You must tell no one else about these dreams,” she advised, and the frightened hush of her small, ill-favored palace only served to drive the point home. “What do you think they mean?” he pressed, quietly desperate. “His spirit is with you… wherever he is.”

In the months and years that followed, he takes a great deal of comfort from the ambiguity of that answer.

He is sent to the border, young and inexperienced, with men who were never part of Prince Qi’s household, who never trained with General Lin.

In his dreams, he and Lin Shu ride on dusty tracks along the plains. Lin Shu complains of the heat, and teases Jingyan for his thirst.

He studies maps and strategies seriously, terrified he will make a mistake, terrified the men in his charge will suffer if he attracts the emperor’s notice again.

Lin Shu laughs at him from across a small table at an inn, leans in to refill his wine cup. Their fingers brush.

He trains with his men assiduously, rising early but sleeping well. (He has never been so eager to sleep.)

They are at a beautiful brothel. Lin Shu is winning a poetry competition against a man all in white. He looks annoyed but eventually concedes, toasting them.

Days spent on campaign are long and slow, unless they become fraught and dangerous. There is more paperwork than Jingyan expected.

“Look!” Lin Shu points to the sky. “A messenger pigeon. I wonder what Lin Chen wants now?” They head out on another adventure.

His father calls him back to the capital. He has done too well to be ignored; he is awarded a concubine. Her ill health is likely an insult; he is privately relieved.

It is raining; they are stuck at an inn. Lin Shu catches his hand, brings it to his lips. They pass the time.

As quietly as he can, he asks questions of anyone who had a friend or relative in the Chiyan Army, trying to piece together a picture of the truth.

Lin Shu studies his face in the mirror.

“Why the sudden interest in disguise?” Jingyan asks.

“Because I can’t exist anymore.”

A rare holiday visit with his mother. Furtively, he asks about memorial tablets. She shakes her head sharply.

“But surely you don’t have to be dead here!” he argues.

“Especially here.” Lin Shu’s new face flickers in and out. “You must believe it in your heart.”

A new year, a new campaign to serve the emperor as far from the capital as he can be sent.

He sits with Mei Changsu in a teahouse.

“Rumors,” Mei Changsu murmurs. “Gossip. We need to get better at listening.”

“Isn’t it dishonorable?”

“Knowledge is power. We must learn to anticipate.”

He is sent to mediate a border dispute. He knows he is only sent because the court believes he will need to suppress a rebellion.

Lin Chen sends a pigeon with coded information about both leaders. Mei Changsu advises him on how to use it.

The dispute ends peacefully.

His reputation for being firm but fair grows. He harbors his words and people call him forthright. His men tell everyone he suffers no fools.

Mei Changsu never lies, but he is becoming a master of implication. Jingyan would disapprove if he weren’t so busy admiring his skill.

Jingyan’s men are incredibly loyal to him now. It’s probably good they are kept so far from the capital (and the emperor).

Mei Changsu is forming a jianghu alliance. He learns what is most important to each of his people and finds a way to get it. A flying boy attends him.

Rumors say the battle between the princes is heating up. They seek a strategist. Jingyan makes note of the rumors and does not give an opinion.

“Mei Changsu is invited to the capital. When you see me there, you must not know me.”

“Wait, what?”

Jingyan wakes up.

Frustratingly, he barely dreams on the way back to the capital. He barely sleeps. The summons to report to the emperor on the changing of the guard he was overseeing commands his presence in three days, so he will only be timely if all goes smoothly.

He’s never been able to decide if these commands are due to advisors in the court having no real idea of distances, or if one of his brothers is specifically trying to make him look bad for their own gain. They needn’t have bothered.

He wonders if it’s an omen that the first person he meets outside the gates is Mu Nihuang. “Are you off somewhere?” he asks, surprised—even he has heard of the tournament for her hand. (He imagines her feelings on that are as conflicted as his own.)

“No, I’m just here to see Dong-jie off. She’s been assigned a case.”

“Another conspiracy?” It slips out more caustically than he intended. He must be more tired than he thought.

Xia Dong frowns at him, sour, before appearing to pretend he’s not there.

The Mei Changsu that lives in the back of his head sighs and Jingyan grimaces back internally. Men who only live in dreams have more room to be forgiving, he thinks. In any case, there’s nothing to be done about it now. At least she’s on her way out of town.

He squares his shoulders and continues toward the gate. He has a report to make. On time.

They’re left standing outside for two hours, of course. Posture resolutely straight under the weight of his armor, his mind wanders, turning over Mei Changsu’s last dream statement obsessively.

Even an imaginary, disguised version of Lin Shu would know better than to come back to the capital, surely? What does it mean? It’s almost a relief when the emperor finally calls him in, despite having to deal with his brothers’ petty sniping over his appearance.

He delivers his report, remains calm, and doesn’t roll his eyes, so all in all he considers it a successful interaction. He wonders how soon he can get his men settled so he can seek his own bed.

Perplexingly, Mei Changsu appears that night not in one of their familiar jianghu settings, but in a house with walls that sparkle like snow and ominous shadows pulsing in from the corners. Mei Changsu ignores these things, simply inviting Jingyan into the courtyard to spar in the moonlight.

Jingyan is entirely unprepared when he runs into them in one of the palace walkways. He’d just finished delivering some reports and intended to check on Tingsheng quickly when he hears the yelling and the crack of Nihuang’s whip.

There is a man in scholar’s robes kneeling with Tingsheng when Jingyan arrives. It feels strangely disorienting to look at him; then he looks up and it’s all Jingyan can do not to stagger.

“Who is this?” he asks, knowing he must sound unnaturally stiff, especially to Nihuang, but she also seems distracted and off-kilter as she introduces “Su Zhe.”

The man bows politely, face giving nothing away as he promises to find a way to bring Tingsheng out of the palace.

Jingyan both does and doesn’t remember the rest of the conversation, small details shining with vivid clarity while the words swirl away from him. The slight quirk of his lips, the clench of his fingers in his sleeves, the line of his nose.

He both is the Mei Changsu of Jingyan’s dreams and isn’t. The scholar’s robes have appeared in the dreams, in teahouses and inns, but the frailness of the body they cover is shocking. His face is dearly familiar, but this is not a man with whom he could spar under the moon.

His thoughts circle unproductively for days, and his dreams remain mundane, forgettable, dissipating like smoke as soon as he wakes each morning. Gossip confirms he is Mei Changsu of the Jiangzuo Alliance, but also that he famously knows no martial arts. What is the truth?

When Nihuang and Mei Changsu conspire to get Tingsheng out of the palace for the fight with Baili Qi, he can stand it no longer and goes to… confront him? Demand the truth? Learn whether he is losing his mind? He’s not really sure, but he has to do something.

His breath catches when Xie Bi leads him to Snow Cottage, the glittering walls of the dream suddenly given context. The boys are practicing in the courtyard, and he tries to concentrate on their technique. He is genuinely concerned about both Nihuang and Tingsheng, after all.

Still, he is glad when Mei Changsu tells Fei Liu to take them off to play. (The flying boy is apparently also real.) Mei Changsu gestures him inside gracefully. Jingyan watches him with concern; Lin Shu was never so measured in his movements.

He forces himself not to take Mei Changsu’s hand or offer his arm in concern. They are strangers. Nothing about Mei Changsu’s carriage invites familiarity: he is controlled, self-contained, aloof. (Words Jingyan has heard applied to himself in the past decade.)

They settle at a table next to an unnecessary brazier. Mei Changsu pours tea and presents the cup to him; he reaches for it out of politeness and their fingers brush. He gasps and looks up before he can help it. Mei Changsu is staring back at him, frozen with the cup held between them.

“Are you…” Jingyan has to clear his throat to continue. “Are you real?”

“Yes,” Mei Changsu answers gravely.

Jingyan sets the cup aside and grips Mei Changsu’s hand as firmly as he dares. The fingers are longer, thinner, less callused than he expects, but he doesn’t want to let go.

“Do you also dream of the jianghu?” he ventures.

“I am from the jianghu,” Mei Changsu temporizes, agonizingly.

Jingyan throws caution to the wind and lets his desperation show. “Do you dream of me?”

Mei Changsu’s hand tightens on his. “It is all that has kept me sane.”

“Xiao-Shu,” Jingyan breathes, and is around the table in an instant, gathering Mei Changsu to him in a firm embrace. For a moment, he worries he is mistaken after all, but then Mei Changsu’s arms come up around him too and he feels a shuddering exhale against the side of his neck.

Eventually, they separate to sit properly at the table again, though Jingyan does not let go of Mei Changsu’s hand, still needing that grounding reality. “What happened to you?” Jingyan asks, and then flinches away from the memory of fire and falling. “I think I may know a little…”

Mei Changsu’s fingers tighten in his again, this time more purposefully. “There is much I need to tell you, but not enough time today.”

Jingyan draws a breath, steadies himself at the implication they will have time later. “Why did you come back here? You were safe.”

At this, Mei Changsu’s eyes flare, and Jingyan suddenly sees Lin Shu in a face that is otherwise completely changed. “For the future of Da Liang.”

Jingyan frowns. That can’t be right. “You’re going to advise one of the princes?”

Mei Changsu’s gaze pins him. “I’m going to advise you.”

Jingyan wants to laugh, but he’s sure it would come out hysterical. “Xiao—” He cuts himself off and starts over. “Sir Su, I’m not sure you understand how out of favor I am.”

Mei Changsu quirks half a smile at him. “I understand.” But then, more seriously, “Prince Jing, do you trust me?”

“With my life.”

“Then please believe me when I tell you I have a plan.”

This too is like the Lin Shu of old. “Tell me what I must do,” Jingyan says, and it almost feels like resting.

~~~

(This line is where this naturally wanted to end, but please know I have a lot of thoughts about how MCS is still able to fight in dreams, a how much Jingyan conspires to care for him in the waking world once they have the tunnel established.

I just really wanted to think about what would happen if MCS started dreamsharing to cope with pain, and that accidentally eliminated his ability to hide his identity from Jingyan.)

Now also on AO3: Fragments of a Life Lived in Dreams

#please clap - I originally wrote that back and forth dream section within the space allowed by tweets #~*stunt writing*~#dreamsharing AU #jingsu #nirvana in fire #rhys's stuff

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

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Beautifully Spent

aka Five Times Lan Qiren Left The Lan Sect Behind

- Chapter 3 -

“No classes for the remainder of the day today,” the teacher said, and everyone, most of them already long ago having started to drift off in the hazy afternoon, sending longing looks towards the windows, turned to look at him, surprised. Even Lan Wangji couldn’t help himself – not that he’d been looking away, of course.

(He’d been not-looking at Wei Wuxian.)

Their teacher smiled indulgently. “A special treat for today, in anticipation of the special treat you will all be receiving tomorrow.”

“A treat?” Nie Huaisang asked, sitting up straighter. “What treat?”

“The sect leader’s brother has returned for a visit –”

“Teacher Lan?” Jiang Cheng exclaimed, looking irrepressibly excited, and abruptly the entire room burst out into a flurry of speech. It was only that they had all met him or heard of him, in his years of wandering through the cultivation world – the teacher of whom it was said that he could teach anyone, turn even the most dissolute waste into a proper and upright gentleman, deserving of respect. It seemed as if everyone had an anecdote to share: some visit they’d heard of, some trick or talent, an opportunity to hear him play…

Lan Wangji maintained his composure through an effort of will. No matter how much he might want to leap to his feet and rush out the door, going to find his uncle at once, there would be no point: his uncle was a stickler for decorum, and he would first pay his respects to his brother, Lan Wangji’s father, and then to the memorial hall. Only in the evening would Lan Wangji have a chance to see him and speak to him, and even then there would be a limited amount of time before they all had to go to bed…

Lan Wangji found himself rising to his feet despite himself.

“Hey, hey, Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, bouncing over to him and grabbing at him, tugging on his sleeves as if to get his attention. His hands felt hot as a brand, and Lan Wangji could only be relieved at the protective layers of clothing that separated them. He felt his ears go a bit hot regardless, undoubtedly affected by Wei Wuxian’s unnecessary spreading of warmth. “Teacher Lan, he’s your uncle, right? You must have met him lots of times – you must have the best stories – tell us some!”

Lan Wangji leveled his best glare at him. It was a good glare, one that the junior disciples found quite frightening and made guest disciples avoid him.

Well. Most guest disciples.

“Noisy,” he said, disapproving, but Wei Wuxian was undeterred.

“Teacher Lan says that I learn best through action,” he boasted. “Quiet contemplation is wasted on those with too much energy; it’s necessary to excise the energy first, and to channel it, and so for people like me, it’s best to confront things directly, to see things with my own eyes and confront me with puzzles to challenge me!”

That seemed like a remedy his uncle would have prescribed. Lan Wangji could imagine the slightly-amused, mostly-long-suffering his uncle’s eyes would have had when he had recited it, undoubtedly in the same monotone he always used which for some reason seemed to irritate other adults so much.

“It was amazing!” Wei Wuxian continued. “I got to go on night-hunts two years early, thanks to him!”

“He also said that you needed to be smacked on a regular basis lest you get too full of yourself,” Jiang Cheng interjected, and that also sounded very much like something Lan Wangji’s uncle might have said. “Also, remember when you called him a boring old stick in the mud?”

“Argh, Jiang Cheng! Don’t mention that, you’ll embarrass me in front of Lan Zhan –”

Lan Wangji belatedly realized that Wei Wuxian was still holding his arm and felt his ears go from slightly hot to very hot, feeling somewhat attacked even though he knew it wasn’t something Wei Wuxian was intentionally or maliciously doing towards him. He shook Wei Wuxian off and slipped out the door.

He had to talk to his uncle right away.

His uncle, he thought, would know how to fix his current malady: the one where he thought about Wei Wuxian all the time, whether during the day or at night. The way his temperature rose, his heartbeat accelerated, how he couldn’t control his emotions or maintain his discipline the way he should…

His uncle would fix everything.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done it. He’d gone wandering through the world long ago, well before Lan Wangji was born – before Lan Xichen was born, even before their father ever met their mother. He’d been barely older than Lan Wangji was now, in fact; it had been far earlier than it should have been, in the normal course of things. There had been some dispute, though whether it was with Lan Wangji’s father or grandfather remained unknown; indeed, Lan Wangji didn’t know anything about it at all, only that his uncle had left without looking back.

He’d first been a traveling musician, but eventually he had developed a reputation as a teacher. It was said that at some point when he was staying as a guest in some small sect or another, he’d run into some disastrous good-for-nothing of a person, useless and bitter with it, and somehow managed to figure out how to help them cultivate properly – or was the first one he��d helped a beastly hellion who wouldn’t learn anything, and he’d taught them both their letters and how to study, turning them into a scholar?

It didn’t really matter which had come first. In the end, he’d gotten a reputation for himself as a valuable teacher in the same vein as some legendary marvel of an itinerant doctor, the sort that could only be hoped for but not invited, and a bit of an adventurer besides – it was said that he’d saved Lao Nie’s life through some unspecified circumstance, averted Cangse Sanren’s doomed fate through happenstance, helped repair Jiang Fengmian’s broken marriage, and was even rumored to have had a brief personal liaison with the terrifying Sect Leader Wen…

Not that Lan Wangji listened to such things, of course. Talking behind other people’s backs is forbidden…although naturally, as the head of the discipline hall, he had more reason than most to need to know about all the wildest things people were saying.

At any rate, it was all beside the point. Lan Wangji’s uncle had gone out, made a reputation for himself, and then, just when he might have been tempted away for good somewhere else, had come home and won back his place in the Lan sect from his brother. Indeed, Lan Wangji’s father had reason to thank him more than most – it had been upon hearing what had happened with Lan Wangji’s mother, all those years ago when his parents had first gotten married, that Lan Wangji’s uncle had returned. Perhaps it was his years out on the road that had given him the strength and boldness to reject the solution the elders had devised, to castigate them all viciously and demand a better result – it wasn’t really clear.

What was clear, though, was that no one knew the Lan sect rules better than Uncle Qiren, and he’d developed a temper at some point during his travels outside; he’d attacked the whole arrangement from start to end, insisting that they come up with some other way to balance love and justice, protection of the person and protection of the sect’s face. Lan Wangji’s mother to this day swore that if she’d actually been locked up in a little house for the rest of her life, she’d have been long ago died of sheer boredom.

Of course, now that she was a little older, she tended to stay at her Gentian House most of the day regardless, disdaining the outdoors. But her home there was a place with windows open and people coming and going at all hours – it was a place of joy and happiness, laughter and light. Lan Wangji’s father tended to go there when he was starting to revert back to how he’d been before, those not-so-good days when Lan Wangji was young, and he always vastly improved after getting a tongue-lashing or two.

Lan Wangji wasn’t sure how many of the stories about his uncle were true and how many were rampant exaggeration – his uncle claimed the latter, but his mother insisted on the former, and his father, who rarely spoke without careful contemplation, eventually opined that it was somewhere in the middle.

In fairness, Lan Wangji didn’t much care, either. He had long ago taken his uncle as his role model, trying to fashion himself to be just like him whether in righteousness or rule-abidingness or even in musical talent. He was sure, deep in the depths of his soul, that his uncle could solve just about anything he put his mind to.

And yet he was sure, sure, that his uncle could never have encountered a problem like Wei Wuxian.

“Wei Wuxian?” his uncle said, blinking and rubbing his eyes – he’d stepped out of the memorial hall just now as a result of Lan Wangji’s urgency. “Oh, yes. I remember him. Bright boy. I thought you’d like him.”

Lan Wangji shook his head resolutely. How could he like someone like that?

Someone who made him feel…the way he did?

“Explain further.”

Lan Wangji did his best.

Irritatingly, about three-quarters of the way into his stumbling description, his uncle began to smile, his eyes curving just a little, and eventually to chuckle quietly.

Lan Wangji stopped, frowning – his uncle rarely smiled, and even more rarely laughed.

“No, no,” his uncle said. “Forgive me. It is a serious matter.”

Lan Wangji knew it!

“I will spend some time carefully observing Wei-gongzi,” his uncle continued, and Lan Wangji frowned again, suddenly anxious. “I promise, I will not let anything escape my gaze.”

Lan Wangji’s anxiety spiked even further: his uncle was quite strict regarding the rules in the Cloud Recesses, and Wei Wuxian had already broken so many – he would undoubtedly be found out, and punished. It was no more than Wei Wuxian deserved, really, and yet – at the same time….

He cleared his throat. “Uncle, are you sure that’s necessary?”

“Oh yes,” his uncle said. “I must make sure he’s acceptable if he’s to be my in-law, isn’t he?”

Lan Wangji stared.

“You’re my beloved nephew,” his uncle said. “Naturally I must make sure that anyone you like is up to standard –”

“Uncle!” Lan Wangji cried out, feeling deeply betrayed. Possibly by himself.

His uncle shook his head. “Forgive me, Wangji. I will stop. But that is the explanation for your symptoms. I have observed similar things many times.”

Lan Wangji sat down, distressed. It hadn’t even occurred to him, although knowing his parents as he did meant that he was very familiar with the notion that love was not necessarily an enjoyable feeling, and perhaps especially not when you were first afflicted by it. “But…what do I do about it?”

His uncle touched his shoulder lightly, offering comfort. “Having emotions is a good thing, Wangji; it connects you to the rest of the world,” he said. “Understanding them, and knowing what action to take, is a matter of experience, for logic is of limited use in interpreting the heart.”

Lan Wangji nodded. “You will help, then?”

“…I will do my best,” his uncle said. “I may need to consult on the matter from those that understand certain aspects of these sorts of things a little better than I. But I promise, you will not have to face it alone.”

Lan Wangji nodded yet again, deeply relieved.

They would figure it out.

They would fix it.

His uncle would help.

#mdzs #lan qiren #lan wangji #wei wuxian #wangxian #my fic #my fics #beautifully spent

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thebibliosphere · 5 years ago

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In case you’re wondering what it’s like to be in the ER right now for non Coronavirus symptoms, allow me to say on behalf of all the medical professionals in the US and indeed the entire world right now: STAY THE FUCK INSIDE AND ADHERE TO SOCIAL DISTANCING GUIDELINES AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE TO HELP FLATTEN THE CURVE AND REDUCE THE SPREAD OF INFECTION.

I experienced my first ever “thunder clap” (x) headache this morning, the pain was so intense it took away my ability to think. I couldn’t move, speak or even scream. It subsided in under 5 minutes, but those were the longest 5 minutes of my life, and I’ve had root canals done without anesthesia. I’ve fractured my spine, gotten up and carried on walking.

We called the nurse helpline only for them to say they’d call us back. They never did. ETD ended up driving me to the ER, where we debated going inside. The administrator told us we would need to separate, he couldn’t come any further than the red line marked on the floor. I was escorted through empty corridors toward a space that used to be inhabited by seating cubicles used for IV lines (can you tell I’ve been here a lot?), that had been turned into prefabricated rooms. The nurse leading me through the corridors had a walkie-talkie strapped to his front. He kept up a running commentary of where we were at all times. I asked him if it was because I might be contagious, and he told me frankly, yes.

I was asked several times if I had flu like symptoms, did I have a cough, did I have a fever. I told them I did not. They didn’t seem to know what to do with me. I was seen first by a junior doctor, who for reasons of importance later on, I need you to know looked like young John Mulaney

“She doesn’t have flu symptoms, what should I do?” he whispered to the nurse from behind the plastic curtain separating me from the rest of the world.

“Well what symptoms does she have?”

Stroke. Possibly. Or a brain bleed. It was possible, with my history of neck injury. My blood pressure certainly implied something was wrong. A senior doctor was called in, who re-performed the neurological testing, which was all fine. They continued to panic over my blood pressure, however, right up until I said “if you let me lie down I’m sure it will normalize.”

“Why?”

“We think I have POTS, I’m seeing Dr X at this hospital.”

“Why isn’t that in your medical file?”

“She doesn’t want to label me with a disability because of how she thinks it will negatively impact my outlook on life.”

“...as opposed to actually having POTS?!”

“Yes.”

Which was the first time I’ve ever actually heard a doctor say “What the fuck?” loudly and emphatically. In my head I nicknamed him Sassy Senior Doctor. It was evident he was standing on his last nerve and had stopped giving a shit about everything that wasn’t keeping people alive.

“What else is missing from your file?”

“Ehlers Danlos Syndrome and Mast Cell Activation Syndrome.”

“Oh my god why are those missing?!”

“Ehlers Danlos is a new diagnosis from outside [Network] and my files are pending release. MCAS was because the allergist at this hospital told me it’s a made up disease.”

“No it isn’t!”

“Tell that to the allergist.”

I was allowed to lie down and my blood pressure normalized. They concluded I was not having a stroke.

It was during this conversation that junior doctor, Dr. Young Not John Mulaney, came back into the room, and the Nurse, not missing a beat said “looks like we’ve got a zebra*, not a horse in the hospital.”

They were all wearing masks, but Dr. Young Not John Mulaney’s facial expression was clear. Outside the plastic curtain, Sassy Senior Doctor made a sound something like what I imagine an owl being given the Heimlich maneuver would sound like.

“We’re trying to figure out what to do with you.” Dr. YNJM said. “You’re the only patient in here not for respiratory problems.”

I was once again asked if I had any flu like symptoms, or if anyone in my family had. “My husband’s had bronchitis for six weeks.”

“That’s too long to have bronchitis,” said the Sassy Senior Doctor. “What did they give him for it?”

“Prednisone.”

“Jesus H Christ. Is he staying home from work? What do you mean no? Is he an essential healthcare worker? No? Tell him to stay home. For his sake and yours. I don’t want to see you back in here with a collapsed lung...”

They consulted with a neurologist via tele-medicine, who said the excruciating burning sensation I described lancing through the side of my face, sounded like trigeminal neuralgia (x). “She needs to come see us. It might be TN, or it might be her neck pinched a nerve. EDS can be like that.”

“Can you take her right now?”

“Are you kidding?”

They could not take me right now. Apparently I will have to wait until we are not facing a global pandemic.

“Can you feel your hands?” Sassy Senior Doctor asked one more time. “Can you wiggle your toes? Can you grip my hands. Do you still not have any flu or flu like symptoms? No? Excellent, get the fuck out.”

The nurse assured me he meant it kindly, and I believed her.

They prescribed me muscle relaxants I can’t take because of my EDS, but said it might help, in a pinch—no pun intended.

“Stay home and stay safe” was the final parting advice I was given, and then they let the zebra out of the hospital.

---

*There is a common expression in the medical community: when you hear hoof beats, look for horses, not zebras, meaning that if a patient presents with X symptoms, they probably have the most likely diagnosis, which is Y.

Unfortunately for chronic and genetic problems like Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, this means our health issues are often brushed off as mental health, life style choices, or sometimes maliciously as attention seeking. This has lead to the community adopting the Zebra as their mascot, because sometimes when you hear hoof beats, it’s worth looking for stripes.

#chronic health tag #I am fine #I am at home resting right now #got an ice pack wedged under my skull #going to try and nap #long post #wall of text #medical talk #dental #dental mention #injury mention

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sorryimanon · 5 years ago

Text

Character: Katsuki Bakugou

Warnings/tags: heart warming fluff, language, and suggestive themes

Word count: 2.5k

In which your boyfriend takes it upon himself to pamper you on his day off.

Author’s note: some self indulgent fluff. this is a continuation of dad!bakugou and torch daughter. there will be more. enjoy :)

D/N= daughters name

Katsuki heavily relied on you to babysit your rambunctious four year old daughter during the days when he'd be on patrol from dusk till dawn. Very rarely would he be home before the two of you tucked yourselves in for the night, leaving him to eat the leftovers from dinner alone at the table. As sad as it is, it didn't bother you in the slightest. In fact, knowing Katsuki was keeping the crime rate of Japan low, you were more than happy to become a stay at home mom. Most of your friends tried to talk you out of it, but you were already settled after giving your two weeks notice at your low paying job. Waking up and seeing your daughter first thing in the morning is better than staring blankly at a bright screen all day behind a musty wall, running on nothing but decaf coffee, and sluggishly going to and fro like a zombie.

Ever since your daughter manifested her quirk, you’ve been trying your best to maintain her sudden outbursts while at home. The doctor prescribed it as Torch: the ability to become a human torch and ignite flames throughout your body and fingertips. For now d/n is only capable of setting herself on fire, using the flames as a barrier to protect her from any harm instead of combating. However, sometimes she'll forget to extinguish herself, having you to manually use an actual fire extinguisher on her. Burn marks would litter the outskirts of your shirts, the aftermath ash smudged on your face, and the tiny hairs on your forearms long gone after handling d/n.

Your boyfriend appreciates the way how you compose yourself around d/n, not allowing the temptation to fling the little gremlin out the window prevail, because if the roles were reversed it'd be a whole different story. Sometimes he sits back in his desk chair, after a long night of meandering around the city, and tries to remember the last time you were properly treated. Of course, Katsuki never fails to remind you day and night he loves you through his actions, some including selfish indulgence late at nights, but all in all he didn't lack being the hopeless romantic counterpart for you. He wanted you to take a break from it all, have him handle the at home duties and the slimy daughter. Leaning back against the chair with his brows furrowed slightly, he began to mentally plan out your day already.

It was a Friday when Katsuki forced himself out of the comfortable security that is your arms and walked with light feet to his daughters bedroom. Today is his day off, so he has to make sure everything goes smoothly or else he's going to have more burn marks on his office desk.

He didn't bother knocking first and saunters in the familiar space, the faint snores from d/n somehow relaxing him. Her walls were freshly painted a light shade of blue, the contrast not too saturated to peel the attention away from her posters that covered every inch of her room, all of which were pictures of his prohero colleagues. D/N had to beg for her father to purchase a Deku poster, one of which she saw don display when the both of you brought her to the mall for a quick trip. He internally cringes every time he makes eye contact with the lifeless eyes of Deku when he enters her room.

Katsuki neared his daughter and kneeled down to where his head was leveled with hers, chuckling lightly when finding a small pool of drool collecting on her cheek.

"Wake up little shit," he whispers, nudging her uncovered shoulder with his knuckles, startling her eyes to flutter open. D/n nearly gasped at the sight of her father. The covers that were wrapped snuggly around her fell at the foot of her bed when she jolted up in surprise, eyes brimming with excitement.

"It's today right? Mommy's day!" Katsuki covered her mouth with his abnormally large hand, not wanting her obnoxious voice to blow their cover.

"Yes, but you're gonna have to be quiet for daddy. Don't want to spoil the surprise for mommy, you understand ya little brat?"

Hand still attached to her mouth, d/n nodded her head feverishly, hands clenched into tiny fits. Once he thinks she's shimmered down a little, he finally removes his hand and motions her to follow him.

Meanwhile in the other room, you were still fast asleep, limbs not once switching from their position over the cozy blanket. The chill breeze from the propped window regulated your body temperature nicely, along with the beautiful songs sung by the birds that reside in the trees close by. You stirred awake momentarily, feeling the loss of a presence that's usually laying beside you during these times of slumber. Katsuki's side was empty, the indent from his body molded onto the foam mattress, leaving you to believe he woke up not that long ago.

After convincing yourself to leave the comfort of your bed, you decided to search for the missing blonde. You crack open the door to a weird combination of radio music blaring throughout the house, and the delicious smell of something cooking in grease. It's no doubt your boyfriends doing. He always likes to impress you with how skillful he is in the kitchen. He hasn't made a dish you disliked yet nor will he allow himself to do so.

Standing side by side, minus the height difference, d/n and Katsuki both were too immersed in their cooking to notice you leaning against the island counter, trying very hard to not cry instantly at the sight in front of you. Watching them interact together was definitely something you'd be treasuring for the years to come.

A rush of savory and sweetness infiltrated your senses, the scent strong enough to knock you back to sleep. As if he read your mind overnight, Katsuki took it upon himself to prepare your favorite breakfast dishes. The dinner table made for three already set by none other than d/n, who currently looked proud at her work and craftsmanship. A large vase was propped in the center, a collection of vibrant flowers stuffed to the brim, the water inside almost overflowing. Attached to one of the stems of the flowers was a tag, the handwriting sloppy and hard to decipher.

To my dumbass, love ya - K.B

You felt the delicate touch of your daughter wrapping her hand around yours, giving it a slight tug before pulling you into the kitchen again. Katsuki flicked his gaze to you now, flashing the same mischievous grin you grew to love. his hands simultaneously worked on the food while taming the animal, that is indeed your daughter, from bumping into the pan handles.

"What's all this for?" You asked, the question directly appointed to both your boyfriend and daughter.

"Oh, so I can't treat my sexy girlfriend to a good meal?" he teased while setting the burners to low, letting the food cool off before plating it. Your daughter audibly gagged at the comment and swatted Katsuki's arm.

D/N's tiny legs were faster than yours and reached the cabinet where the plates and cutlery were stored at. To her dismay, the cabinet was higher than she anticipated. trying her best to waiver down the disappointment as she climbed on the sleek marble counter top, losing her footing here and there. Katsuki caught her in time before she misplaced her footing and almost toppled onto the floor.

"May I need to remind you not to climb on the damn counter tops anymore d/n?" he scolded as he put her down before grabbing enough plates for everyone.

Pursing her lips tightly, she crossed her arms and said, "But if I'm going to be a future hero then I have to battle my way through tough obstacles!"

U.A's immense training and work studies came in handy when dealing with d/n's hard headed ideologies. It's been a stressful reoccurrence, having to constantly teach her the importance of being a hero at such a young age. Her impulsive tendencies mirrored the blondes old habit of taking action before thinking. But there was always a saying when storing away your fear and facing danger head on.

"That's true, but sometimes a little teamwork wouldn't hurt. Your father should know a thing or two about that when he was a young U.A student," you said as you patted her head.

"What'd you say shitty woman? Talking crap so early in the morning already?" a strange popping sound alerted you to turn around, only to find Katsuki flaring his flashy quirk with a glare that could splice you open.

But his alarming gaze wasn't the thing that was scaring you at the moment.

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT USING YOUR QUIRK IN THE HOUSE! YOU'RE GONNA SET OFF THE FIRE ALARM AGAIN, IDIOT!"

You thought the smorgasbord of a breakfast was the last of your boyfriends romantic gestures, but you should've known better once he demanded you to change out of your sleep attire and into something to wear outside. Not thinking twice about where he was dragging you to, including daughter, you decided to play it safe. He approved on your choice of ripped jeans, synthetic tank top, and thrown on cardigan once heading off to the car.

The car ride to the mysterious destination was short lived as your boyfriend pulled up into the driveway of his old house. Mitsuki stood waiting by the threshold of the doorway, waving her fingers sweetly to whom you can only assume was you and not her only son. She stepped off the porch once Katsuki shifted the car in park, unlocking the doors as well. His mother reached the side where d/n stayed strapped in her seat and yanked the door open.

"Ah my little princess! How have you been? I missed you so much!" She unbuckled d/n's seat belt and flattened her in a tight hug, squeezing till her eyes popped out. "I can't wait to spend the weekend with you baby girl! Are you excited to have a little fun with grandma?!"

"Calm the fuck down, you're gonna kill her if you keep squeezing!" Katsuki's voice boomed out of the window.

"Oh pipe down you little shit I'm not harming her! Also don't talk to me like that! You're old enough to treat me with some respect by now!"

"SHUT UP YOU OLD HAG! JUST TAKE THE LITTLE GREMLIN AND GO!"

After the heated exchange, Katsuki eventually calmed down and drove the two of you back to the house in complete silence. It was quite a shift in a sense of environment wise. By now d/n would be begging you to make her some pudding or pour her a cup of lemonade, then place yourselves in front of the tv watching a random kids program till evening. Tonight you lend the torch to your boyfriend, allowing whatever devious plan he conjured up to unfold.

Before you could shuffle into your shared bedroom, Katsuki placed his calloused hands onto your cramped shoulders. Merely centimeters from your ear, he laid a chaste kiss on the area beneath it, smiling at your innocent reaction to his sudden actions and nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You smelt the familiar scent of caramel and men’s soap, both of which you undoubtably loved when combined.

“Suki?” Upon hearing his nickname, Katsuki quirked an eyebrow at you. “What’s with all the romantic gestures lately? Cooking my favorite breakfast, the flowers, and our daughter. Don’t get me wrong, I love her! It’s just nice not to worry about if she’ll set the curtains on fire again.”

You felt the vibrations of him chuckling behind you.

“Isn’t it obvious? I just want to fuck the shit out of you,” you sat paralyzed by his bluntness. his tuft hair tickled the underside of your chin, earning him an acute giggle from you. “I’m just kidding, pretty face. I figured you needed a weekend where you just relax and did nothing. Let me do all the work. That’s including getting rid of the brat.”

Shifting in his arms to where you can face him, you can now see the adoration oozing from usual heated glare of his vermillion eyes, the scowl long gone and replaced with a soften feature not so many from the outside can witness. To think this was the man you devoted yourself and love for, to allow him to bare witness anything and everything you endure. He’s a man of showing his compassion through his actions, not lousy words of affirmations that anyone could sputter out and proclaim its love. No, he reflects back everything right with the world, even when you felt the weight of it searing through your system, dragging it down with you. The same explosive blonde awaits patiently by the opening for you to enter, no matter how long it’ll take for you to accept his love. Because he’ll be there. Waiting.

And here he is waiting. In your arms to repeat those three words you made out from watching the movement of his lips.

The words leave your mouth effortlessly, the proclamation hanging in the air between you two.

“I love you too, Katsuki. Thank you so much, for everything.” Like so, you kiss the plump flesh of his lips, the same inflammation of your heart burning as before. The strong muscle of his tongue prods your entrance, practically begging by licking your bottom lip. Katsuki grabbed your chin as gentle as he could muster, titling it for a better leverage to explore your mouth in return. Your hands trailed across the defining shape of his collarbones, rubbing any part of his body so that your fingers remained busy. Both of you hum in satisfaction, relishing in the feeling of the intimate moment. To your disliking, he removes his lips from yours and hovers instead, panting from the mini-make out session seconds ago.

“I’m going to marry you some day, mark my words. So don’t act fucking stupid when I pop the question,” he hotly proclaims, not once removing those piercing red eyes from yours. That’s when you knew he wasn’t bullshitting. If there’s one thing you learned about Katsuki over the years of dating, is that he doesn’t throw out promises in the air nonchalantly without keeping them. You can vaguely hear the ominous sound of wedding bells in your ears.

“Sounds intriguing. I always wanted to see you in a suit and tie.”

“Ya know, maybe someday might be tomorrow-.”

You cut him off with a scorching peck, making his eyes widen and dilate with every given second you laid your lips onto his. “Shut up babe and ravish me already.”

A mischievous grin forms on his mouth as he links his arms around the back of your knees and hoists you over his shoulder. He erupted into fits of laughter after hearing you squeak from the abruptness. The door to your shared bedroom came into view, your boyfriend kicking it with his free foot before entering through the threshold.

“You’re in for a long night sweetheart. Now that our daughter isn’t here, I’m not holding back on anything,” he threatens as he lays you down on the comforter.

Another thing you learned from your relationship. Katsuki is always true to his word.

#mha imagines #bakugou headcanons #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #mha x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #dad!baku #bakugou smut #kacchan #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsukibakugou #bnha katsuki x reader

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edelegs · 4 years ago

Text

so I have a very specific interpretation of the Edelgard/Hubert dynamic that I don’t think is particularly common, but I feel is worth sharing. This is largely because some people end up diminishing the importance of this relationship when pairing each of them with other people. It’s disappointing because I personally prefer these external ships (namely Edeleth and Ferdibert, for reasons I will make clear) but often see either Edelgard or Hubert reduced to some jealous, cuckoled cockblock in them. Honestly, that’s just . . . boring.

(Long post under the cut)

TLDR: Edelbert is fascinating because it can be argued that Hubert’s feelings are born from guilt and shame rather than romantic love. This dynamic is unhealthy but deeply interesting, and it deserves to not be diminished in fan interpretations of these characters.

Something that makes Edelgard so compelling is the fact that she’s full of contradictions. She can’t stand people/creatures with more power than humanly possible, yet she must use her own superhuman power and cooperate with what she despises to achieve her end goal. More specific to Edelbert, this end goal is equality, yet Edelgard is not allowed to be equal to anyone. She is a detached, untouchable princess who needs to learn how to meet her friends where they stand. It is through her connection to Byleth and to the other Black Eagles where she learns how to adapt her ideals to work in reality - and to be human.

Unintentionally, Hubert does the opposite of this. His devotion to Edelgard began as an inherited role and evolved into something he does out of personal conviction. Either way, he is putting her on a pedestal and addressing her as a vassal rather than as a friend. Many of his supports with others involve him comparing them to Edelgard and telling them they’ll never reach her level. He takes it as his personal mission to protect her from those “unworthy” of talking to her. I don’t think this is intended to be selfish or malicious. I think that because of his role as her vassal and his failure to protect her from the Hresvelg experiments, he takes on this absolute devotion and prescribes it upon everyone else.

Their relationship is unbalanced as a result. Edelgard makes constant reference to “fighting alone” and being prepared to end up isolated and maligned. The line “the solitary reign of Edelgard has come to an end” in her S-support is particularly telling. While she clearly views Hubert as someone important to her, she does not seem to view him as someone she can be fully open with. Hubert’s constant addressing of her as “Lady Edelgard” implies that he would not take the opportunity to call her “El” if it was presented to him. Edelgard and Hubert are both so caught up in the weight and scope of their revolution that they begin to enable each other’s bad tendencies. Hubert doesn’t dare challenge her, because he thinks of her as untouchable, and this devotion allows Edelgard to take him for granted. It is not a healthy relationship. I don’t think this is a particularly hot take. Their external supports are crucial for shifting these patterns of thought and allowing these characters to grow.

What I think may be unpopular is this: I don’t think Hubert’s feelings for Edelgard are actually romantic.

(For context, I am aro and just really hate m/f friends getting shoved together romantically. It may be easy to dismiss my thoughts as just me being bitter that we can’t have a m/f friend pair without one of them catching feelings but allow me to argue my point.)

Hubert was assigned to Edelgard at a young age and told it was his house’s sacred duty to serve the Hresvelg family. He loathes his father for his involvement in the Insurrection of the Seven, which happened when he was ten. It goes without saying that this largely shapes his devotion to Edelgard. I would even say these events traumatized him to some degree. He mentions this in their A support, where he declares that his loyalty has been to her alone since she returned from the Kingdom. The path that these two share is informed and shaped by trauma - what Edelgard went through and Hubert’s powerlessness to stop it. More critically, these events radicalized them both and created the “shared vision” mentioned in his B support with Dorothea.

That particular support jumps out to me. When I first played the game, I felt unbelievably validated by it. Hubert denies accusations of unrequited love in an edgily self-aware way (the line ”do I really look like the kind of drooling simpleton to have that kind of motivation?” made me literally cheer) and goes on to describe their relationship as walking the same path. He then highlights the qualities he feels towards Edelgard (gratitude, respect, awe, empathy, trust, and hope). None of these require romantic attraction. Dorothea then goes on to say that “loving another is really about wanting to be loved . . . I’m pretty sure that’s different from how things are with you and Edie”. This scene spoke a lot to my own experiences - my feelings for my best friend largely echo Hubert’s (though way less dramatic, of course) and I found the form of deep platonic love I feel for her reflected in that conversation. The acknowledgement on Dorothea’s part that it was different from romantic love (whether or not she truly believes it) is what blew me away. This is honestly one of the few times where a piece of media made me feel seen which makes me forever mad about the Edelbert A support.Though it could be argued that he’s just closed-off and could easily pull off lying about it, I know those feelings well. Others might see this as definitive proof of Hubert’s unrequited love for Edelgard, but I just can’t and I wanted to articulate this perspective because it means so much to me. Close, all-consuming, and important relationships can be platonic.

I know better than to claim that the confession scene never happened. It is interesting to evaluate because it shows Edelgard finally calling attention to Hubert’s unknowing perpetuation of the gap between them. When Hubert states his feelings plainly, he is as composed as ever. Edelgard blushes and states that “you never cease to surprise me”. Hubert laughs this off, and that’s the end of that. It clearly is supposed to be a genuine love confession, but I think it’s more interesting to consider a man with only one real close friend misinterpreting his blind devotion towards her as love because he doesn’t really know what it is. I think it adds to the kind of fucked-up nature of their relationship (is it love or obsession? How is he supposed to know if a connection borne from trauma stems from love or guilt?). It also speaks to how difficult it is to identify romantic feelings when you’ve never truly felt them.

That being said, I actually do ship Hubert with other people. I love Ferdibert because their personality clashes create a sense of mutual growth that helps Hubert learn to openly challenge Edelgard rather than subvert orders he disagrees with and it’s honestly just really funny. I also love Hubernie because the idea of a terrifying man and a girl who’s scared of everything learning to meet each other halfway shows similar character growth. I just think that for many years, Hubert’s devotion to Edelgard gave him a really fucked up understanding of human relationships, both romantic and platonic. There’s a tendency to erase the weight and importance of the Edelbert dynamic when both are shipped with other people as well as a great opportunity to show that strong platonic relationships can and should be perceived as equal to romantic ones. I have read so many Ferdibert things that suggest that their love is all-encompassing and Makes Them Whole. Wouldn’t it be more in-character to explore how they navigate the web of relationships in their lives? I love the Black Eagles’ interpersonal relationships so much and each one shapes the characters more and more. I’d love to see that reflected in ways that center platonic relationships!

#long post #hubert is a demiromantic bi king and we stan #fe3h #hubert von vestra #edelgard von hresvelg #ferdibert #edeleth #character analysis #black eagles

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thedomesticatednerd · 4 years ago

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Headaches, bad jokes, and cute siblings.

A little Tech whump for late Tech Tuesday. Also you get him and Omega being cute and telling bad jokes. Hunter is there too.

Warning: Light mentions of drug use.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

After three days and two missions for Cid, Hunter couldn’t take it anymore. He had been watching Tech and his brother was off, even though he’d assured Hunter he was fine. But Hunter knew something was wrong, his enhanced senses told him something was wrong. Tech was tense, his movements was stiff and short, he kept his eyes down, but the most telling was his scent.

Tech’s scent changed, he still smelled like himself only it was laced with neuropeptides, Tech was in pain. He decided that enough was enough.

They were in hyperspace when Hunter confronted Tech. His little brother looked worn thin, he had his goggles off and was rubbing his eyes when Hunter entered the cockpit.

“Tech, we need to talk,” Hunter watched Tech flinch. “You’re going to tell me the truth.”

Tech hummed an answer and fixed his goggles lazily. Hunter stepped closer to him and crouched down. “What’s wrong?” Hunter asked softly now.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” rested his head in his hands. “I have had a headache for three days.”

Hunter sighed. “You’re my brother, Tech, you’re not a burden. Have you taken anything?”

Tech looked at Hunter, the look said do you think I’m an idiot?

“Right,” Hunter smirked but frowned. “When was the last time you slept?”

Tech shook his head slowly. “I do not wish to answer that question.”

Hunter stood up. “Let’s go.”

Tech didn’t argue with him, either because he knew it was futile or he was just that worn out by his headache. Hunter led him to the ship’s berthing and pulled back the blanket on Tech’s rack. Tech began fumbling with his armor to get it off, seeing his little brother struggling with such a simple task, Hunter immediately began to help him and took over. Once his armor was off Hunter pushed him down to his rack and pulled the blanket over Tech’s shoulders once the younger clone laid down.

Hunter pulled Tech’s goggles off and put them under his pillow. He sat next to Tech and started threading his fingers through his baby brother’s light brown hair. Tech sighed and closed his eyes, probably remembering times when Hunter use to comfort him after a particularly bad simulation or nightmare of his eye surgery.

Hunter waited until Tech was asleep before moving. He stood up and turned towards the gunnar’s nest after feeling eyes watching him ever since he sat down next to Tech. Omega was peeking around the curtain, he gave her a smile and she started climbing down.

When she got to Hunter Tech jerked, they both stilled, after a couple of seconds Tech let out what sounded like a mournful moan. Omega looked up at Hunter with wide worried eyes.

“He’s ok,” Hunter whispered as jerked his head towards the cockpit. He closed the door behind them and she took a seat in the pilot’s chair. “He’s does that when he’s exhausted.” Hunter told her as he sat down.

“So he’s alright?” She asked.

“Yeah, he has a headache and he hasn’t slept in a while, but he’s alright,” Hunter smiled but it was half hearted. “He probably won’t sleep long. He went through a lot when he was young, it left him with a lot of anxiety.” Hunter wasn’t sure how much he should say, he didn’t want to burden his little sister.

She nodded, as if she understood clearly what Tech went through. After a few minutes she yawned.

“You should go back to bed,” Hunter told her.

Omega slid off the seat. “Ok,” she didn’t protest as usual, instead she left the cockpit, closing the door behind her.

After an hour, Hunter went to check on Tech. His youngest brother would be waking and he was going to try to get him to go back to sleep. He exited the cockpit and made his way down to the berthing. To Hunter’s surprise, Tech was not alone in his rack.

Omega lay on her back sound asleep. And Tech, his gentle nerdy little brother had his head next to her’s with his arms wrapped around her. Hunter could hear Tech’s slow rhythmic heart beat, indicating he was asleep.

It warmed something in Hunter’s chest seeing them sleeping so soundly together. Whether Tech unconsciously held Omega or he knowingly did it, it was an unexpected find since Tech struggled with emotions and rarely let anyone see him express any emotions at all. Hunter had suspected it had something to do with Tech’s personalized training.

There were many nights he sat with a young Tech that just stared off into an invisible distance, though Hunter could sense his distress. As Tech got older he became more and more emotionally distant. Though Hunter knew his baby brother loved them, he could thank his enhanced senses for that.

Hunter smiled down at them and pulled the blanket up a little higher around them. Tech sleeping for more than an hour or two at a time was a precious oddity. He wouldn’t dare disturb them, so he left them and went back to the cockpit to watch the stars stream by.

…..

Omega slipped through the door from the cockpit after Hunter suggested she go back to bed. She tiptoed pass Tech and climbed up to her makeshift room. Even though she was tired she couldn’t sleep. When she heard a frustrated sigh she concluded she wasn’t the only one.

Climbing down she made her way to Tech’s rack. He turned his head towards her and squinted his eyes, she almost wondered why he was making that face but realized he didn’t have his goggles on.

“Omega, are you alright?” He whispered.

She nodded. “I’m ok, I just can’t sleep.”

He frowned and blinked, she knew he was thinking but the he spoke slowly. “Do you wish to share my rack?”

She nodded. Tech scooted over as far as he could and lay on his side, and Omega climbed up and slipped under the cover. Tech was stiff beside her and it gave her an idea.

“Want to hear a joke?” She whispered.

“Ok,” he looked a bit intrigued.

“Why can’t you trust atoms?” Omega smiled, and Tech stayed silent. “Because they make up everything.” She grinned.

Tech snorted in amusement. “I have one.” He whispered.

She rolled over to face him.

“What do you call…” he paused, trying not to smile. “What do you call a teacher that won’t fart in class?”

Omega was smiling at him and shook her head and he finished. “A private tooter.”

They were both trying to stifle their laugher when Echo barked at them. “Quiet down you two!”

They composed themselves. “I didn’t know you knew any jokes.” Omega whispered.

“I have data files full of bad jokes,” Tech whispered back.

After a few minutes she spoke up again. “Does your head still hurt?”

He sighed. “Yes, however it is not as bad.”

“You should try to back to sleep,” Omega laid her right hand on his cheek gently, his skin was warm under her hand and it slightly worried her. He closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath and exhaled it, his face was tilted down so he was breathing on her face.

“Only if you do,” he whispered.

She smiled and rolled over on her back again and closed her eyes. After a few moments he shifted his arm under the pillow and wrapped his other one around her and pulled her close against him. She let out a surprised quiet giggle as she was pulled closer.

She listened to his breathing change as he fell asleep, and she could feel his heart beating against her shoulder. With the hum of the ship and Tech holding her she found it hard to keep her eyes open.

Soon she was drifting off to sleep beside her big sweet brother.

…..

He wondered how long he’d been asleep. Probably not long. He was never asleep for long.

If it wasn’t because they were in a situation that didn’t allow for long periods of rest then it was his anxiety that kept him from sleeping long periods at a time. Most of the time he’d just get up and find something to tinker with but right now his head was trying to burst open. He was surprised he could put together a coherent sentence when Omega appeared at his rack. He felt intrigued when she asked if he wanted to hear a joke, and even though his head hurt he recited a joke from his files.

Laughing definitely didn’t help his head, but it was worth it to hear her giggle and he felt strangely more at ease. He suddenly realized how much she meant to him and how he really didn’t mind her sharing his rack with him. The emotion wasn’t new, he’d felt this emotion towards his brothers, it was love. He loved her, he loved his little sister. He was glad they went back for her, she belonged with them.

For once he wasn’t the youngest member of the team anymore, he had someone that looked up to him now. It was a heavy realization, but one he didn’t mind.

After they fell quiet he found it becoming increasingly hard to stay awake and he also had an overwhelming need to keep her safe, even if they were on the Marauder. So he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Holding his little sister was doing something to his brain, his thoughts slowed down and a tightness in his chest, that he didn’t even realize was there, uncoiled and he felt lighter.

He’d only experienced this kind of release when he experimented with recreational drugs, he’d had a lot of explaining to do when Hunter found him, his experiment ended that day. Hunter had been worried about him for a long time after that, even after Tech reassured him multiple times he wasn’t trying to use drugs as a coping mechanism, he really was just curious and recording his findings.

But this was better than any kind of drug, recreational or prescribed. This alone was chasing away his headache. Who knew cuddling with his little sister would make him feel better and sleepy all at the same time.

Maybe he’d get more than a few minutes of sleep next to her.

He had a feeling he would.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

(A/N: in the scene when Tech is asleep and he jerks and moans was actually a dream I had in Tech’s POV, in my dream Hunter reassured Omega just like he did in the scene. My body did a full out jerk and I rolled over and moaned, but I was still asleep(?) Also, the experience Tech is having with Omega when he feels sleepy and protective is actually the feeling I get with my daughter when she sleeps with me. Also laying with The Nerd Operator instantly puts me to sleep when we’re cuddling on the couch.)

#Tech Tuesday #tbb tech #tbb hunter #tbb omega #Echo is grumpy that his younger siblings woke him up #tech whump #headaces bad jokes and cute siblings #Tech never gets enough sleep #don't do drugs kids

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

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Tedious Joys - Chapter 7 -

- Ao3 link -

“You could have mentioned that your father likes to kiss his saber,” Lan Qiren hissed at Nie Mingjue, who flailed helplessly as both of them tried to whisper outside of Lao Nie’s hearing – a task only rendered possible from the fact that he was currently scrubbing his hair extremely vigorously to get rid of all the dirt and grime, Lan Qiren’s extended hand firmly on his back. The jade pendant was back to hanging at his waist, since hasty experimentation had revealed that the physical contact with Lan Qiren was the key aspect, although the jade pendant seemed key as well - removing it appeared to make the contact less effective.

“He didn’t, did he? Are you all right?” Nie Mingjue asked, and he looked so serious and earnest about it, like he was going to march up to his father right then and there and challenge him over Lan Qiren’s honor or something if Lan Qiren implied that he should, that Lan Qiren’s irritation faded away at once.

“Only on the hand,” Lan Qiren assured him. “He didn’t take any liberties.”

That last part was more of a joke than anything else – however intimate Lao Nie was with her, Jiwei was still a saber – but Nie Mingjue looked alarmed. “You’ll say something if he does anything you’re uncomfortable with, right?” he asked anxiously, and Lan Qiren stared at him.

“Nie Mingjue,” he said stiffly, attempting to quell a little bit of possibly hysterical and definitely inappropriate laughter. “Is there something you need to tell me about you and Baxia…?”

“Tell you – oh! No, no, nothing like that,” Nie Mingjue said, turning bright red. “That’s not what I meant, Teacher Lan! Really, I swear!”

Lao Nie poked his head out of the water briefly to look at them both suspiciously, but accepted it when Lan Qiren shook his head at him and turned back away.

Nie Mingjue waited until his father was distracted to continue whispering. “I just meant – our sabers may be our partners, but it’s not…it’s not an equal distribution of authority, you know? In the end, they’re the weapons and we’re the masters.”

Lan Qiren frowned, finally understanding the nature of Nie Mingjue’s concern, and it was much more astute than he’d initially thought. “I see. So if Baxia refused to cultivate with you…?”

Nie Mingjue shifted uncomfortably from side to side. “Well, I mean, I wouldn’t, personally,” he said. “She’s my friend. But A-die’s always saying I’m too soft on her, that I need to take her more firmly in hand, so…I don’t know. It’d definitely be a few days before he forces the issue – uh, that is – I mean – not that he’d ever –”

“It won’t come to that,” Lan Qiren assured him. “A few days will give us enough time to come up with a plan, and at any rate I would not allow him to mistreat me.”

Nie Mingjue looked relieved, which was a flattering if perhaps not entirely accurate reflection of how strong he believed Lan Qiren to be.

“A good night’s rest will help more than anything,” Lan Qiren continued. “For him, and for you. I suggest you take advantage of it at once – actual sleep, not meditation.”

Nie Mingjue nodded again. “But he’s going to be all right?” he asked, anxious. “Eventually?”

Lan Qiren glanced at his friend, happily humming some bawdy song and appearing likely about to break out into actual singing at any moment, and felt a pain in his chest at the thought of what might be necessary.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I really don’t know. We’ll do everything we can for him.”

Nie Mingjue accepted that, taking a deep breath and centering himself, then striding away – he would probably go and do some work before he actually retired, rather than actually go straight to sleep, but Lan Qiren did not call him out on it. There was still a chance that Nie Mingjue would end up as sect leader, and then he wouldn’t have a choice in it at all.

After being tormented briefly by some rather off-key singing and extremely dubious lyrical choices, Lan Qiren found himself bundled off to Lao Nie’s quarters and into his bed, with Lao Nie curling up quite happily against his back.

“There are rules about judging other people,” Lan Qiren mumbled, staring at the wall and ignoring the feeling of Lao Nie’s chin on his shoulder. It was pointy, and they didn’t quite fit – Lan Qiren was the just barely taller of the two, although Lao Nie was broader, and his arms were heavy around him – and all in all Lan Qiren was not especially enjoying the experience of sharing a bed any more than he had any of the previous times it had been forced upon him by necessity, luckily small in number. “I am currently breaking it. I will need to think of a suitable punishment for myself later.”

“Judging me, sweetheart?” Lao Nie said into his ear, sounding amused. “What did I do?”

“Sleep in the same bed as an extremely sharp and angry blade, apparently.”

“Only when you’re angry at me,” Lao Nie said, completely shameless. Lan Qiren really didn’t know why he’d been expecting anything different, really. “You know, it’s much easier to hold you in my arms when you’re like this, all soft, even if your hips are a bit knobby. I like it.”

Lan Qiren sighed.

The next morning, Lan Qiren woke at the prescribed time and performed his morning ablutions in the time before Lao Nie woke, settling himself down beside the bed to play calming music and think about what could be behind Lao Nie’s current fixation on believing that he was Jiwei.

He thought it must have something to do with the jade pendant he had cultivated on Lao Nie’s behalf. Indeed, now that he thought about it, that might in fact be the problem – he had cultivated the pendant, not Lao Nie, and he had done it using Jiwei’s spiritual energy. A Nie saber had only one master, but he had apparently won enough of Jiwei’s respect for her to allow him access to some part of her; just as Lao Nie had intertwined himself with his saber, so to had Lan Qiren, albeit unknowingly and at a distance. There was certainly no overly intimate sharing of qi between them, but they had an undeniable connection. That might explain it.

There was also the ongoing mystery of why the pendant burned so fiercely. It had always been reactive to Jiwei’s anger, full of her spiritual energy and spillover rage as it was, but Jiwei was gone – shattered. Whose energy was powering it now? And how could it maintain such a high level of energy, so hot as to damage someone like Lan Qiren, who while not martially inclined was still a powerful cultivator in his own right?

He had more questions than answers.

Unfortunately, he did not have a great deal of time to find answers. If Lao Nie’s condition persisted – he hoped that it wouldn’t, that his friend would wake knowing who Lan Qiren was and not in a horrible rage, but he wasn’t optimistic – they would need to find a solution, and fast. Lao Nie was the unquestioned master of his sect and even he’d only managed to leave it behind for a month and a half before his duties forced him to return; Lan Qiren was a substitute for his brother, a pale and inferior custodian put in place solely to fill the time between the generations, and his sect elders would never let him forget it. There was no way he would be able to stay away so long.

And if he left…

“Jiwei,” Lao Nie murmured in his sleep, which had become restless. His face had gone from a neutral expression to a frown, twisted in anger and pain, and when he opened his eyes, they were once again red. The music was not helping. “My saber – Jiwei…where is my saber?” Lao Nie struggled to sit up. “Where is it? Give her to me!”

Lan Qiren stopped playing and reached out his hand, interlocking his fingers with Lao Nie’s as if they were back once again to all those years ago when he had been a slow, stuttering child and Lao Nie a kind young adult, taking him in hand to show him the basics of night-hunting without worrying about him falling over his own feet.

He watched as the red slowly faded out of Lao Nie’s eyes – not gone entirely, still there, a thin pink film that seemed as though it could be blinked out of existence.

He sighed.

“My friend,” he said. “I am going to need your help with this.”

“Anything,” Lao Nie said, then paused and amended to, “Anything that won’t cause undue harm.”

“It involves research.”

“…one could argue that that would be undue harm to my ability to enjoy my free time.”

Lan Qiren shook his hand lightly. “You are in need of healing. Do you understand what I am saying?”

The humor slowly faded out of Lao Nie’s face.

“You had a qi deviation,” Lan Qiren said bluntly. “The one you’ve been afraid of, the one you always knew was coming – it happened. You went mad, years before your time. But you did not die, and so there is still hope…but I will need your help. I will need you to try to get better. I cannot do this without you.”

Lao Nie looked at him, lips pressed together tightly.

Lan Qiren waited, patient. Whatever the reason for it, Lao Nie regained much of his clarity when they were in contact – and if he could think, he could be an ally in this. He would have to be.

“The strangers weren’t strangers, were they,” Lao Nie said abruptly, and it wasn’t a question. Lan Qiren looked at him. “A-Jue…I was the one who did that to him, wasn’t I? I was the one that hurt him. That’s why you wouldn’t tell me about it yesterday.”

Lan Qiren nodded.

Lao Nie looked away, angry – real anger, this time, and entirely self-directed – but it was only a few moments before he collected himself and looked back, his eyes bright with tears but fiercely determined. “What can I do to help?”

“For now, answer my questions, no matter how unusual,” Lan Qiren instructed, and Lao Nie nodded. “First question: who am I?”

“…Jiwei.”

They were still there, then, although Lao Nie sounded much less sure about it than he had the night before. Lan Qiren fumbled for the pendant at his waist. “Can you sense the spiritual energy in this? Whose is it?”

Lao Nie reached for the pendant and focused. “Also Jiwei.” This time, he sounded more confident.

“The energy in the pendant exceeds what I previously put in there,” Lan Qiren said. “Do you know why?”

Lao Nie frowned down at the pendant. “I’m not sure,” he said. “Have you cultivated with it recently?”

Lan Qiren arched his eyebrows, think that that would be rather difficult without Jiwei around to transfer energy from. “No, I haven’t. Why?”

“There’s something strange about it, that’s all.” He shook the pendant lightly. “Familiar. Same as you, but not; same as me, but not. It wants to fly.”

Lan Qiren stared at him blankly.

Lao Nie shrugged and scratched at his beard. “What did A-Jue say about it?”

“…Mingjue?” Lan Qiren asked blankly. “Say? About what?”

Lao Nie blinked at him. “Well, he’s the only other one with a similar pendant, right?”

Actually, Lan Qiren had made one for little Nie Huaisang, too – he used it as the base of his fan tassel, transferred from one fan to another – but it wasn’t really relevant to him yet, weak cultivator that he was. But that was a good point: in his fear for Nie Mingjue’s health, his worry for his safety, he had forgotten that Nie Mingjue was the closest thing they had to another perspective on the connection between pendant and saber.

Lan Qiren frowned at his oversight. “I’ll ask Mingjue to join us.”

Nie Mingjue looked better already, even if Lan Qiren’s heart hurt at how cautious he was around his father, at how Lao Nie could barely stand to look at the colorful bruises littering his son’s face. “What can I do?”

“Take this pendant,” Lao Nie said, holding it out.

Nie Mingjue extended his hand in return and Lao Nie dropped the pendant into it before Lan Qiren could intervene and point out why it was a terrible idea to just hand it over to someone who was both unprepared and little more than a child, however talented a genius he might be. The second it touched Nie Mingjue’s palm, he yelped and nearly dropped it, Lan Qiren snatching it away from him with his free hand before it could fall to the floor.

“It hurts!” he exclaimed, as Lan Qiren might have expected.

What he did not expect, however, was that Baxia abruptly drew herself, hurtling out of her sheath to hang in midair, emanating the distinct sensation of rage that was the characteristic of a Nie saber.

The pendant abruptly flared up, the heat in it rising as if in response to Baxia’s challenge, and Lan Qiren had to temporarily free himself from Lao Nie to quickly loop a guqin string through the pendant, letting it dangle away from his flesh, and then returned his hand to his friend before the red got too far into his eyes.

“What in the world is going on?” he demanded. “Lao Nie – explain.”

“I have no idea,” Lao Nie said, rubbing his eyes as if he realized something had happened to him in the brief interlude where they were separated. “They’re…fighting. I think? How can they be fighting? Why would a saber start a fight with a piece of jade?”

“Can you ask Baxia?” Lan Qiren asked Nie Mingjue, who was still clutching at his hand and looking blankly at them both. “I know it doesn’t exactly work as cleanly as all that, but your father always said you had an unusually strong connection…”

Nie Mingjue reached out and caught Baxia by the hilt, brow creased in a frown. “It really doesn’t work that way, Teacher Lan. All I can tell is that she’s angry.” He hesitated. “She feels betrayed.”

“Betrayed?” Lan Qiren asked, surprised. “But – how can she be betrayed? That would imply an initial association, familiarity, that something changed…”

“Jiwei,” Lao Nie suddenly said. He was staring at the pendant swinging in Lan Qiren’s hand. “Jiwei’s in the pendant.”

Nie Mingjue glanced at Lan Qiren, clearly concerned that his father had simply started seeing Jiwei in everything, but Lan Qiren bit his lip, thinking it over seriously.

He had initially thought that the reason for Lao Nie’s mistaken impression of him was because he had cultivated with the pendant using Jiwei’s energy, acting in Lao Nie’s place, and thereby he had been imprinted with the qi of the saber, that it had been that shadow upon him that Lao Nie had recognized.

But what if he had thought about it backwards?

“Is it possible,” he said slowly, wishing he knew more about the saber spirits, wishing that he’d had more time, wishing even that his Xinfei could speak as clearly as a saber could, “Mingjue, is it possible that Jiwei’s spirit is in the pendant? The saber spirit itself, I mean, as opposed to the physical saber?”

Nie Mingjue goggled at him. “In the pendant, Teacher Lan? A saber? But how?”

“I tied the two together using resonance,” Lan Qiren explained. Poor tone-deaf Nie Mingjue had never really understood what he was doing with his music, which Lan Qiren couldn’t blame him for – it was esoteric even by musical cultivation standards. He’d more or less made the entire thing up over the past few years. “Adjusting the internal music of the jade to match Jiwei, so that the two recognized each other – and, once recognized, forged a connection between them. That’s what allowed me to continue to draw out Jiwei’s anger even from a distance.”

Both Nie nodded, listening intently. Good students, both of them, for all their occasional faults; if only he had three dozen like them. As a teacher, it was the highest compliment he knew to speak.

“The unusual heat started, as far as we can tell, when the saber shattered,” he continued, now thinking out loud. “If Jiwei’s anger can transfer from one container to the other through the pathway forged by the resonance, why couldn’t the rest of her spirit do the same? Why couldn’t she come to possess the jade if she so wished?”

He wasn’t sure what to do with that idea, in all fairness – he might speak of questioning the sabers, might have reluctantly accepted them as having some form of sentience, but the idea of an entire spirit transferring from one body to another within the same lifetime in a method not unlike possession was rather disturbing. But at the same time he couldn’t imagine any other reason for Baxia to try to challenge a jade pendant to a duel.

Proud, strong Baxia, the only match to Nie Mingjue’s matchless talent, so fearsome that even other saber spirits yielded before her…

“But –” Nie Mingjue glanced sidelong at his father. “Teacher Lan, he also thinks you’re Jiwei.”

“Because I cultivated the pendant,” Lan Qiren said, because it made a certain amount of sense. “There are two types of spiritual energy in there: Jiwei’s and my own. Perhaps when I offered him the pendant, he recognized Jiwei in there, and also me, and thereby conflated the two…”

“I’m right here, you know,” Lao Nie interjected. “Being talked about as if I’m not.”

Lan Qiren leveled a quelling look at him.

Lao Nie gave him an arch look in return. “Just reminding you that I understand spoken speech, in the event you’ve forgotten.”

“Very well,” Lan Qiren said tetchily. “In that case, who I am again?”

Lao Nie paused, eyes traveling between Lan Qiren, the pendant dangling from his hand, and Nie Mingjue.

“You feel like Jiwei,” he said hesitantly. “But – the strangers felt like strangers, and weren’t. So you’re – not Jiwei. You’re…” He glanced at Nie Mingjue again, seeking external confirmation that his senses were misleading him; Nie Mingjue nodded eagerly. His gaze slide back to Lan Qiren. “Qiren?”

“Well done,” Lan Qiren said, full of relief. “Full marks, passing grade. Would it be possible for you to stop calling me ‘sweetheart’ and ‘darling’ now?”

Lao Nie – despite being the shameless scoundrel that he was – abruptly flushed bright red, while Nie Mingjue covered his face with his hands.

“I understand, of course,” Lan Qiren assured him. “What passes between a man and his spiritual weapon is very private, and –”

“Stop talking,” Lao Nie growled. “Just – stop talking.”

#mdzs #lan qiren #sect leader nie #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #tedious joys

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innerstar-u · 3 years ago

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Okay, AG did terrible with the HP line, regardless but I am a conservative trying to understand.. are people just mad because she doesn't have the same POV, because what I got from her tweets was she was being so polite about having a different opinion, even saying she supports lgbt, more than AG even is.. and as for her racism.. is this only because of fictional racist commentary? because it's fair to acknowledge it is a problem also in the fictional world too.. doesn't mean the author is in fact...

all that being said and I still think she leans left, probably is feminist anyway, and did not support trump or the conservative party even in Britain.. so are we all just going to assume she is all the above... as in are we to assume conservatives are as such, and that she must be one ??

my other question is, who is JKR talking about... like is she actually referring to trans women who are using the platform wrongly, as in taking advantage of women's sports and privacy? or is she really meaning harm to the entire community... I just think there needs to be context considered, and rules as well as exceptions because we do have young girls to protect either way. most importantly why are we buying AG when they never show their support for LGBT to begin with.. ever..

Just to make it clear to everyone who follows me, this is an American Girl blog.

I don’t want it to become a political blog. That’s why I’m responding to a bunch of asks in one post so it doesn’t clutter up the dash more than the previous asks already have. The only reason I’m even discussing JKR or trans issues is because of the AG x HP collab. Bear that in mind before sending me another ask in the future.

Read the entire post below the cut before sending me another anon about JKR, trans issues, or religion as it relates to views on LGBTQ+ issues.

Also I genuinely have no idea who sent what anon, so I’m going to reply to a few of the asks in my inbox that all have the same kinds of questions. I’ve put them in the order I think they go in. I think there are two of you at least? A couple of these messages are more polite than others, so going forwards don’t come at me making assumptions, regardless of who sent each one.

Sticking it under a cut because this could get very long. Also TW for discussion of sexual assault and general transphobia.

First thing I'm going to say is I don't really care where JKR leans on other political issues. I'm not interested in talking about conservatives vs liberals. I'm talking about transphobic views specifically. At no point have I referred to JKR as a conservative, so I’m not sure how this got brought up in this discussion.

I’m also not interested in discussing trans rights and personhood as a whole through the lens of potential criminality. The number of transgender people “using the platform wrongly” is so, so, so small, if it even exists at all.

- We have literally no evidence that there has ever been a trans person who assaulted a cisgender woman or girl in a bathroom. Or a locker room. Or anywhere that’s designated as being exclusively a space for women. Or really anywhere. (It doesn’t even matter how someone identifies in whatever bathroom because sexual assault is still illegal. Please just let people pee comfortably while minding their own business.)

- Transgender people are far more likely to be sexually assaulted than cisgender people. Full stop.

- There is not enough research done on transgender athletes to make a blanket statement about whether they should be allowed in sports or not. We are doing the research now. From what we know right now, trans women have some advantages in sports...but they also have some disadvantages as well. I strongly suggest you read the article in full because it’s the most thorough, least-biased article I’ve found on the topic.

While we’re here, did you know that cisgender women undergo hormone replacement therapy all the time? After menopause, many cisgender women have to take hormones (the same ones prescribed to transgender women) to replace estrogen no longer made sufficiently by their own body. You didn’t bring that up at all, but I’m bringing it up because I think it’s always important to remember that the dividing line between "cis person things” and “trans person things” isn’t so clear-cut. We’re not some foreign species. Trans people are just like you.

Now, onto JKR.

You ask “is she really meaning harm to the entire community” and to that I say it doesn’t really matter. She IS harming the entire community. Her rhetoric has been used to strike down important protections for LGBTQ+ people.

The number one concrete thing that tells everyone that JKR does not support trans people is her repeated support of the LGB Alliance. This organization claims to support lesbians, gays, bisexuals, and other individuals under the gay umbrella. However, the LGBA is an anti-trans hate group. If you don’t believe me, name one single campaign that the organization has funded that does not involve trans people or gender identity. Everything they put money into has to do with blocking transgender people from accessing healthcare and other necessary services, rather than helping gay, lesbian, and bisexual people.

She has expressly denied the fact that transgender women are women and gotten upset at others for affirming that fact. This brings me to some issues with how she and other trans-exclusionary feminists define womanhood. Are we really defining “woman” as a set of genitals? That seems demeaning, especially given that there are many people out there who are literally born without functioning reproductive organs. What about the idea that men are physically stronger than women? What happened to the feminist ideals from the 1970s where “women can do anything men can do”? Also I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to cross someone as strong as Rhea Ripley, regardless of what gender I was assigned at birth. JKR’s narrow definition of womanhood denies the womanhood and even personhood of people who don’t fit the stereotypical ideals of the female sex. That’s not just trans-exclusionary. That’s blatant sexism, probably of an internalized variety. You know a woman is having a tough time in life when she’s stereotyping and demeaning her own gender.

Additionally, another not-so-great thing JKR does to both trans and cis people: whenever someone agrees with her views on transgender people being some sinister threat to women, she’ll post their support message in a screenshot where she blocks out their username. When she doesn’t agree with them, however, she puts them on blast, retweets them directly, and sends her supporters after them to harass them. That’s dangerous behavior.

You ask “are people just mad because she doesn't have the same POV” and to that I say it’s certainly not about that. A “different viewpoint” does not demean other people. We call it hatred and bigotry. A normal, healthy, different viewpoint is something like “I think we should put tax money into space exploration programs,” not “I think transgender people are criminals who shouldn’t be a legally protected group.” And that’s exactly how many people see us. That’s how JKR talks about us. JKR makes it clear at every turn that she sees transgender people as criminals waiting for an opportunity to attack someone in a bathroom, even though studies show we do not do that. How is that a neutral viewpoint? How is that just a different POV that should be respected? I don’t respect people who demean others for just living their lives.

As for her racism, it’s not just the core Harry Potter books. It’s not just allusions to chattel slavery and antisemitism, though those are pretty bad if you actually reread the books through a critical lens. Her expanded-world “American” wizards take a questionable turn. She rewrites Native American/Indigenous legends and claims them as her own. Imagine if your family wrote a really good story and then some wealthy woman who doesn’t share your history or culture decides to rewrite it, misrepresent you and your family, and claim the royalties as her own. Native American and Indigenous people from tribes all across North America have been begging for all people to treat their stories with respect for generations. However, a rich, white, British lady is making bank off of stories that she isn’t even representing properly. That’s not cool. Rewriting a culture’s history for one’s own benefit is a racist thing to do.

while i understand people are capable of being religious and good, then why do we have a hard time accepting JKR or some conservatives that share differences, but both to me can be respectful about it, unless you think only small minded about conservatives or conservative leaning. because it just seems like you don't share the same feelings about politics, even though we know just like you said, religious people can be allies, or otherwise be respectful people why are you not extending the same treatment? it just seems hypocritically biased, and on top of that how do you believe in any religion that shares the commandments that openly talk against lgbt still..like do you just ignore it..?

This ask makes no sense because we jump from religion to JKR to me not being conservative to the Ten Commandments. I don’t know where to start on this ask because I’m not totally sure what the question is.

I think you’re asking “If religious people can respect LGBTQ+ people, why can’t you respect JKR for having a different viewpoint?” If I’m reading that right, that doesn’t make sense. Those are two separate issues. It seems you are equating JKR and transphobia with having religious views, despite the fact that she has never cited a religious reason for being against rights for trans people.

We’re still not talking about conservatism as a whole. We’re not talking about religion as a whole. If this is the anon who sent that first ask about religion, AG, and LGBTQ+ rights to me, you apparently did not read my response at all. You can be religious and/or conservative and also support human rights, something that you state and then proceed to forget in the above ask that I’m responding to now (once again assuming this is the same anon).

Also you need to read the Ten Commandments again because they say literally nothing about being LGBTQ+. Literally nothing. The parts in the Bible that some people interpret as talking about being gay likely had more to do with temple prostitution, rape, and incest. (TW for anyone reading that link for discussion of those topics.) And there’s some theological evidence that Adam and Eve were the first transgender people. I can’t find a link for that (I’ll update this post when I do), but in summary some theologians consider this because Eve, a woman, came from the rib of Adam, a man. In order for this to happen, Eve would have to be transgender and/or Adam would have to be initially genderless.

btw I am a different anon, that other one was rude, doubt they are conservative also.

??? So everyone whose tone you disagree with is not conservative? Maybe check that logic, anon, because I think you’ll find that many people, conservatives included, can be jerks on the internet.

like if you say boycott Jkr, but aren't telling people to quit religion that purposefully won't marry lgbt couples, and believe you're sinning..and then the same with supporting AG who is obviously supportive of jkr.. I just mean to say your hatred towards one woman, who was abused by her first husband btw, is more than the religious leaders that enforced conversion therapy etc... like how is that something to get past?

You’re making assumptions and putting words in my mouth. Where have I said that people should keep beliefs that are homophobic under the guise of religion? Where have I said I support conversion therapy or the refusal to marry LGBTQ+ couples?

People can follow a religion and not hold homophobic or transphobic beliefs. People who do hold those beliefs should challenge them and work to become more supportive of people who are just trying to live their lives. End of discussion.

Where have I even said I hate JKR? I actually feel sorry for her because of all the times she has made it clear that she doesn’t have faith in women to be strong and make their own decisions in life. I hate some of her views, not her. Views can change with time, but I won’t be supporting her financially until change happens. JKR actually holds a few views that I agree with, but she disagrees with my mere existence. She demeans me and my fellow transgender people. She insults the intelligence and strength of female-bodied people. As a result, I don’t want her or her works in my life, and I think any other rational person shouldn’t either. Simple.

I am still open to talking about the above issues, though future replies may be much shorter or simply a link to this ask because I feel like I’ve said most of what needs to be said already. Read the whole post and the links before sending me another ask on these topics.

As per usual, anything that is directly and obviously transphobic or otherwise bigoted will not be published or responded to. I won’t reward purposeful and open hatred with attention.

Genuinely, I hope this post was helpful to people who actually want to learn. I hope those people have a good day.

#ask #oh boy howdy this is a long one #I think the mobile formatting for this is going to suck so my apologies to everyone on mobile #I can't fix that but let me know if the desktop version is wonky and I'll see what I can do

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mymedlife · 4 years ago

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Guys, the pandemic has broken me. Every time we seem to be making any progress I feel like we get set back again.

Sorry for the long rant ahead, but I feel like I need to get it out of my head.

Back in the beginning, last March or so, when the state I'm living in shut down, I felt like I could do it. Daycare shut down for almost 3 months to prevent spread.

My husband's job changed his hours to 10a to 8p since everyone was working remotely so they could all be working on the same time zone.

My cofellows were generous enough to switch shifts so I could work all nights and weekends and watch my kiddo during the day. Which kind of sucked, because she doesn't play independently for very long, o was tired, hubby wanted it quiet, and everything was closed so there wasn't anywhere to go to break up the monotony.

Work was filled with frequent changes around what protective equipment we have and what is required to be worn where. I got fitted for 3 different N95s because we kept running out, despite having to check them out and have them sterilized between uses.

I had frequent discussions about how COVID is real with families who refused testing. Parents lied about their symptoms to be allowed into the hospital with their kids, including one who collapsed mid visit due to respiratory failure. Several people ended up having to quarantine because they weren't wearing their N95s during the resuscitation as it was unexpected (at the time we were only wearing N95s during aerosolizing procedures including bagging). This lead to a new rule on not stopping in to help until you have the proper equipment on (which makes sense, but but is so hard).

Early on I spent some time volunteering for the COVID hotline for my state. Most of the questions I got were people upset that things were closing. There were very few health calls.

My aunt died. My sister, a psychologist, argued with her boss she should get a raise for being a frontline worker. My other sister, who is immunocompromised, was mad that all her friends continued to party guilt free and we kept telling her to stay home. My husband began to enjoy his new schedule to the point that he would stay up until 3am playing games after work (the kid was asleep and I was working) and sleep until he had to work at 10 am. My friends talked about their new lock down hobbies, including my co fellow who spent her time creating a new lecture series for the residents. I felt like I was trending water, I started getting behind on fellowship things and I was so tired. My kiddo was happy that I was spending more time with her, and it all was temporary, right?

Eventually things started opening up again. Daycare returned. Two days later my husband was fired. Thankfully he found a job within a few months, but during that time was quick to anger and his staying up all night playing games and sleeping most of the day got worse. He dismissed anything I had to say about it and frequently promised to sleep earlier, later saying he had to stay up because the kid had a nightmare that I slept through.

During this time, many of my pediatrician friends were called to see adults due to high patient volumes and doctor shortages. Luckily I only had to see kids, but there was still a lot of mystery surrounding symptoms and the discovery of the multi system inflammatory syndrome.

My kiddo got sent home a few times from daycare for vague symptoms that necessitated a COVID test, and at one point she was at home with me for 2 weeks due to a COVID positive exposure in class. My husband's job was new so he couldn't take off time to help. At some point things shifted so I was now doing all the daycare pickup and drop-off as well as all the bedtimes (unless I was physically at work).

Following Breonna Taylor and George Floyd there were large scale protests around the downtown area, where my hospital is located. I wholeheartedly support the movement, but someone told my kid it was dangerous to go downtown, and she became fearful of me going to work. This combined with the break in at our home lead to sleep refusal. Something I had to help he with, leading to bedtime taking hours, because my husband would yell at her. Most nights I was too tired after getting her to bed to do much, which lead to more work piling up.

Job hunting was not as fun as I had hoped it would had been. I had one in person interview, everything else was virtual. Thinking about working at a place I've never seen was terrifying.

Many places simply ghosted me. Lots weren't hiring. A few went on a hiring freeze after my interview.

Every interview asked what hobby I developed during lockdown. I admittedly could have answered this question better, and explained that I survived the lockdown with a toddler and that was an accomplishment.

My home institution decided to go with my co fellow over me. When I asked my mentor why she said they felt she had more to contribute to medical education than I do. I'm convinced that in part this has to do with all the lectures she wrote during lockdown.

I was able to get a job, but it's at a smaller community ED where we have a few beds in an adult ED. I mentioned to my associated program director I was a little disappointed, and suddenly everyone is telling me to be thankful for what I have.

I can be thankful and disappointed at the same time.

I think the biggest thing is a fear that if I hate this job I wont ever be able to find another one.

I also kind of resent my kid and husband, if I had more support or time to focus on fellowship things may have been different.

But life goes on. The vaccine was created, things opened up, and now those who aren't vaccinated can stop masking.

The my body my choice people who previously refused to mask are pleased, and now there are barely any masks when I go out (despite a not great vaccination rate in my area).

My kid is 3 and cant get the vaccine, so we still wear them. She loves to whine about how the others don't wear their masks. "It's not fair."

No, it really isn't.

Masks are still required in the hospital, which parents complain about daily. Recently every time I recommend a COVID test it has been refused. The pandemic is over. Kids can't get COVID. And other nonsense.

Kids as young as 12 can get vaccinated. However there is real concern about post vaccine myocarditis. Now everyone who comes in with chest pain wants to complain, even if they are unvaccinated.

Things have been stressful, and my kid is picking up on that. She still has trouble sleeping and has started having tantrums. We recently had a meeting with daycare and they want us to have seen by psych to get her evaluated.

I've found that I've lost interest in most of my hobbies, not that I have a lot of time for them. Fellowship finished and I have the next two weeks off before starting my new job. I was planning on spending it sleeping, cleaning the house, getting out the baby stuff as we are expecting a new little one in a couple of months, and rediscovering my hobbies.

Today I had an awful migraine. I cant take the meds I usually take because of the pregnancy, and my OB wont prescribe anything because he is worried about masking signs of preeclampsia. My husband refused to get up to watch the kid because he was tired, so I pushed through until he was ready to get up.

I lay down to try to get a nap and I get a call that there has been a case of COVID at daycare, and they will be closing for 2 weeks. They will open up the day I start my new job.

And this my friends is what has broken me.

I was so looking forward to finally have time for self care, and now I get to play stay at home mom again with my kid who is in isolation.

After that call I got up and left the house. I'm sitting in my car at the park writing this, and while I know I will go back home eventually, I'm tempted to drive off and let my husband deal with this for a change.

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funkymbtifiction · 4 years ago

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INTJ or ENTJ?

Hi Charity,

I'm hoping you can help me figure out my type, I’m stuck between INTJ or ENTJ. I feel like neither of them fit completely, but I know that I use Ni/Se and Te/Fi.

I relate a lot to the Ni posts you made. I have a very personalized worldview, that I find impossible to explain (I have confused a fair amount of people in attempts made). I think things through before engaging most of the time....

You give stronger evidence for INTJ than ENTJ. Most of your "tert-Se" behaviors are more likely for inferior Se (sometimes leaping in too fast, miscalculating, but being sensory-aware and enjoying pleasures and aesthetics) than a Te/Se looper (ENJs tend to lose sight more of how things will rebound on them and make short-sighted tert-Se decisions when problem-solving sometimes, just to "rush" the process to completion) and you seem emotionally mature in a tert-Fi way (ETJs have real trouble connecting to people on an emotional level and not substituting physical contact for emotional closeness).

#question #intj #mbti

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woman-loving · 4 years ago

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I’ve been reading some articles about lesbian identities in Indonesia, from the late 80s to the 00s, and wanted to share some quotes that highlighted a couple trends that I’ve also noticed in reading about butch/femme communities in other countries.

1) There are different expectations about sexual distinctiveness and marriage to men are attached to butch and femme identities. There is a greater expectation that femmes will marry men, and femmes more often do marry men, though some butches do as well. Marriages to men seem to be for convenience or in name only, and women may continue to have female lovers.

2) Distinctions are made between real/pure/positive lesbians (butches) and other lesbians (femmes) who are “potentially normal.” This shows the flexibility of lesbian identity, where they can be gradations and contradictions in what it means to be a lesbian (e.g. a woman being a lesbian but not a “real lesbian"). The category has cores and peripheries, rather than everyone being equally lesbian or else completely outside of it.

3) There are disagreements between members, which cross butch/femme lines, about the meanings of these identities and whose lesbianism or community involvement should be taken seriously. The first passage describes femmes as engaging in a “more active appropriation of lesbianism as a core element of their subjectivity.” The boundaries of lesbianism can potentially expand or contract as people struggle to define it.

4) People don’t always meet the community expectations attached to their identity.

I think these passages help complicate the picture of what lesbian identities can look like, and some of these same tensions and debates are common features of lesbian identity in many different cultures. I also think these issues--the (differential) weight given to relationships with men, the notion of positive versus negative lesbians, and the active appropriation of lesbianism by peripheral members--are relevant to bisexual interest, since these questions also shape bi women’s engagement in lesbianism/lesbian communities. (And we can say that without claiming that any particular women in these narratives are “really bisexual.”)

Anyway, without further ado... (this first one picks up right in the middle of a passage because I couldn’t get the previous page on the google preview :T)

From “Desiring Bodies or Defiant Cultures: Butch-Femme Lesbians in Jakarta and Lima,” by Saskia E. Wieringa, in Female Desires: Same-Sex Relations and Transgender Practices Across Cultures, eds. Evelyn Blackwood and Saskia E. Wieringa, 1999:

“[...]negative lesbians. We are positive lesbians. We are pure, 100% lesbian. With them you can never know. Before you know it, they are seeing a man again, and we are given the good-bye.”

Father Abraham, who had entered during her last words, took over. “Let me explain. … Take Koes. Again and again her girlfriends leave her. Soon she’ll be old and lonely. Who will help her then? For these girls it is just an adventure, while for butches like Koes it is their whole life.”“Yes, well, Abraham, … my experience is limited, of course, but it seems to me that the femmes flee the same problems that make life so hard for the butches. So they’d rather support each other.”

“In any case,” Sigit added, ‘they have become active now, that’s why they’re here, isn’t that so?” And she looked questioningly at the three dolls behind the typing machine, Roekmi and my neighbour. The most brazen femme had been nodding in a mocking manner while Sigit and I were talking.

“So we’re only supposed to be wives? We’re not suited for something serious, are we? Maybe we should set up a wives’ organization, Dharma Wanita,[23] the Dharma Wanita PERLESIN? Just like all those other organizations of the wives of civil servants and lawyers?” …

“Come on, Ari,” Sigit insisted, “why don’t you just ask them? You could at least ask them whether they want to join?” Ari found it extremely hard. Helplessly she looked at the other butches.

“Do you really mean that i should ask whether our wives would like to join / our / organization?” One of the butches nodded.

“Ok, fine.” She directed herself to the dolls.

“Well, what do you want? Do you want to join us? But in that case you shouldn’t just say yes, then you should also be involved with your whole heart.”

“You never asked that of the others,” the brazen femme pointed out, “but yes, I will definitely dedicate myself to the organization.” Roekmi and the two femmes at her side also nodded. (Wieringa 1987:89-91)

The above example is indicative of the social marginalization of the b/f community. it also captures in it one of its moments of transformation. The defiance of the femmes of the code that prescribes the division of butches and femmes into “positive” and “negative” lesbians respectively indicates a more active appropriation of lesbianism as a core element of their subjectivity. At the same time it illustrates the hegemony of the dominant heterosexual culture with its gendered principles of organization.

Yet, however much the butches conformed to male gender behavior they didn’t define themselves as male; their relation to their bodies was rather ambiguous. at times they defined themselves as a third sex, which is nonfemale[…]. [...] [Butches’] call for organization was not linked to a feminist protest against rigid gender norms. Rather they felt that nature had played a trick on them and they they had to devise ways to confront the dangers to which this situation gave rise. Jakarta’s b/f lesbians when I met them in the early eighties were not in the least interested in feminism. In fact, the butches among them were more concerned with the case of a friend of them who was undergoing a sex change operation. They clearly considered it an option, but none of them decided to follow this example. When I asked them why, all of them mentioned the health risks involved and the costs. None of them stated that they rather preferred their own bodies. Their bodies, although the source of sexual pleasure and as such the object of constant attention, didn’t make it any too easy for them to get the satisfaction they sought or, at least, to attract the partners they desired.

From "Let Them Take Ecstasy: Class and Jakarta Lesbians," by Alison J. Murray, in Female Desires: Same-Sex Relations and Transgender Practices Across Cultures, eds. Evelyn Blackwood and Saskia E. Wieringa, 1999:

Covert lesbian activities are thus an adaptation to the ideological context, where the distinction between hidden and exposed sexual behavior allows for fluidity in sexual relations (“everyone could be said to be bisexual” according to Oetomo 1995) as long as the primary presentation is heterosexual/monogamous. It is not lesbian activity that has been imported from the West, but the word lesbi used to label the Western concept of individual identity based on a fixed sexuality. I have not found that Indonesian women like to use the label to describe themselves, since it is connected to unpleasant stereotypes and the pathological view of deviance derived from Freudian psychology (cf Foucault 1978).

The concept of butch-femme also has a different meaning in Indonesia from the current Western use which implies a subversion of norms and playful use of roles and styles (cf Nestle 1992). In Indonesia (and other parts of Southeast Asia, such as the Philippines, Thailand’s tom-and-dee: Chetame 1995) the roles are quite strictly, or restrictively, defined and are related to popular, pseudo-psychological explanations of the “real” lesbian. In the simple terms of popular magazines, the butch (sentul) is more than 50% lesbian, or incurably lesbi, while the femme (kantil) is less than 50% lesbian, or potentially normal. Blackwood’s (1994) description of her secretive relationship with a butch-identified woman in Sumatra brings up some cross-cultural differences and difficulties that they experienced and could not speak about publicly. The Sumatran woman adopted masculine signifies and would not be touched sexually herself; she wanted to be called “pa” by Blackwood, who she expected to behave as a “good wife.” Meanwhile, Blackwood’s own beliefs, as well as her higher status due to class and ethnicity, made it hard to take on the passive female role.

I want to emphasize here that behavior needs to be conceptually separated from identity, as both are contextually specific and constrained by opportunity. It is common for young women socialized into a rigid heterosexual regime, in Asia or the West, to experience their sexual feelings in terms of gender confusion: “If I am attracted to women, then I must be a man trapped in a woman’s body.” Women are not socialized to seek out a sexual partner (of any kind), or to be sexual at all, so an internal “feeling” may never be expressed unless there are role models or opportunities available. If the butch-femme stereotype, as presented in the Indonesian popular media, is the only image of lesbians available outside the metropolis (e.g., in Sumatra), then this may affect how women express their feelings. However, urban lower-class lesbians engage in a range of styles and practices: some use butch style consciously to earn peer respect, while others reject the butch as out-dated. The stereotype of all lower-class lesbians whether following butch-femme roles or conforming to one subcultural pattern is far from the case and reflects the media and elite’s lack of real knowledge about street life. […]

The imagery of sickness creates powerful stigmatization and internalized homophobia: women may refer to themselves as sakit (sick). An ex-lover of mine in Jakarta is quite happy to state a preference for women while at the same time expressing disgust at the word lesbi and at the sight of a butch dyke; however, I have generally found that the stigma around lesbian labels and symbols is not translated into discrimination against individuals based on their sexual activities. I have been surprised to discover how many women in Jakarta will either admit to having sex with women or to being interested in it, but again, this is only rarely accompanied by an open lesbian (or bisexual) identity. I have found it hard to avoid the word “lesbian” to refer to female-to-female sexual relations, but it should not be taken to imply a permanent self-identity. It is very important to try and understand the social contexts of behavior, in order to avoid drawing conclusions based on inappropriate Western notions of lesbian identity, community, or “queer” culture.

From “Beyond the ‘Closet’: The Voices of Lesbian Women in Yogyakarta,” by Tracy L Wright Webster, 2004:

Most importantly a supportive community group of lesbian, bisexual and transgender women is essential, given that these sexualities are thrust together in Sektor 15. Potentially, a group comprised of women from each of these categories, that is lesbian, bisexual or transgender, may prove problematic to say the least, given that the needs and issues of each group are different. Clearly the informal communities already in existence in Yogya are indicators of this. Any formal or organized groupings would certainly benefit by modeling on current, though informal organisations. In the lesbian network, transgendered women (those who wish to become men or who consider themselves male) are not affiliated, however many ‘femme’ identified women who have been and intend to be involved in heterosexual relationships in the future, are among the group in partnership with their ‘butch’ pacar (Indo: girlfriend/boyfiend/lover).

Organisations of women questioning sexuality have existed in Yogya in the past. A butch identified respondent said she was involved in the formation of a lesbian, bisexual and transgender network in collaboration with another Indonesian woman, who also identified as butch, 20 years her senior. The group was called Opo (Javanese:what) or Opo We (Jav:whatever), the name highlighting that any issue could be discussed or entered into within the group. Members were an amalgam of both of the women’s friends and acquaintances. The underlying philosophy of the group was that “regardless of a woman’s life experience, marriage, children…it is her basic human right to live as a lesbian if she has the sexual inclination”. The elder founding member of this group, now 46, married a man and had a child. She now lives with her husband (in name only), child and female partner in the same home. Although this arrangement according to the interviewee “is rare… because the husband is there, she is spared the questions from the neighbours”. Here I must add that it is common in Java for lesbians to marry to fulfill their social role as mothers, and then to separate from their husbands to live their lives in partnership with a woman. This trend however is more common among the ‘femme’ group.

From "(Re)articulations: gender and same-sex subjectivities in Yogyakarta, Indonesia," by Tracy Wright Webster, in Intersections: Gender and Sexuality in Asia and the Pacific, Issue 18, Oct 2008:

Lesbi subjectivities Since gender, for the most part, determines sexuality in Java, sexuality and gender cannot be analysed as discrete categories.[64] For all of the self-identified butchi participants, lesbi was the term used to describe their sexuality. This is contrary to the findings of two key researchers of female same-sex sexuality in Indonesia. Alison Murray's research in Jakarta in the 1980s suggests that females of same-sex attraction did not like the term 'lesbian'[65] due to its connection with 'unpleasant stereotypes' and deviant pathologies.[66] In 1995, Gayatri found that media representations depicting lesbi as males trapped in female bodies encouraged same-sex attracted women to seek new, contemporary descriptors.[67] The participants in this research, however, embraced the term lesbi as an all-encompassing descriptor of female same-sex attraction and as Boellstorff has noted in 2000, Indonesian lesbi tend to see themselves as part of a wider international lesbian network.[68]

The term lesbi has been used in Indonesia since the 1980s, although not commonly or consistently. Lines, les, lesbian, lesbo, lesbong and L, among others, are also used. Female same-sex/lesbi subjectivities in Yogya are not strongly associated with political motivations and the subversion of heteropatriarchy as they were among the Western lesbian feminists of the 1960s. By the time most of the participants in this research were born, the term lesbi had already become infused in Indonesian discourses of sexuality among the urban elite (though with negative connotations in most cases), and has since become commonly used both by females of same-sex attraction to describe themselves, and by others. Most learnt from peers at school and through reading Indonesian magazines.

However, public use of the term lesbi and expression of lesbi subjectivity has its risks. Murray's research on middle to upper class lesbians suggests that females identifying as lesbi have more to lose than lower class lesbi in terms of social position and the power invested in that class positioning. This is particularly in relation to their position in the family.[69] Conversely, her work also shows that lower class lesbi 'have the freedom to play without closing off their options.'[70] As Aji suggests, young females, particularly of the priyayi class may not be in a position to resist the social stigma attached to lesbianism and the possible consequences of rejection or abuse. Yusi faced this reality despite the fact that s/he had not declared herself lesbi. Hir gendered subjectivity meant that s/he did not conform to stereotypical feminine ideals and desires.

With so much at stake, many lesbi remain invisible. Heteronormative and feminine gendered expectations for females in part explain why lesbians may indeed be the 'least known population group in Indonesia.'[71] Collusion in invisibility can be seen here as a protective strategy. The lesbi community or keluarga (family) is what Murray refers to as a 'strategic community' of the lesbian subculture.[72] The strategic nature of the community lies in its sense of protection: the community provides a safe haven for disclosure. Invisibility, however, also arises through the factors I mentioned earlier: the normative feminine representations of femme, their tendency to express lesbi subjectivity only while in partnership with a butchi, and their tendency to marry. Invisibility, as a form of discretion, however, may also be chosen.

Gender complementary butchi/femme subjectivities [...] Due to the apparently fixed nature of butchi identities and subjectivities and their reluctance to sleep with males, they are seen as 'true lesbians,'[79] lesbian sejati, an image perpetuated through the media.[80] Similar to the butchi/femme communities in Jakarta, in Yogya, butchi are identified by their strict codes of dress and behaviour which include short hair, sometimes slicked back with gel, collared button up shirts and trousers bought in menswear stores, large-faced watches and bold rings. Butchi characteristically walk with a swagger and smoke in public places. In her research in the 1980s, Wieringa noticed that within lesbi communities in Jakarta the strict 'surveillance and socialisation 'may have contributed to the fixed nature of butchi identities.[81] In Yogya, this is particularly evident in the socialisation of younger lesbi by senior lesbi (a theme I explore elsewhere in my current research).

The participants held individual perspectives on butchness. Aji's butchness is premised on hir masculine gender subjectivity and desire for a partner of complementary gender. Yusi expresses hir butchness differently and relates it to dominance in the relationship and in sex play. The participants who told of the sexual roles within the relationship emphasised their active butchi roles during sex. As Wieringa suggests, this does not necessarily imply femme passivity as femme 'stress their erotic power over their butches.'[82] It does, however, indicate one way in which the butchi I interviewed articulate their sexual agency.

Femme subjectivities, on the other hand, are generally conceived of as transient. As many of the interviews illustrate, femme are expected by their butchi partners to marry and have children: butchi see them as bisexual. In public, and indeed if they marry, they are seen as heterosexual, though their heterosexual practice may not be exclusive. In the 1980s, Wieringa observed that femme 'dressed in an exaggerated fashion, in dresses with ribbons and frills...always wore make up and high heels.'[83] In the new millennium, the femme I met were also fashion savvy though not in an exaggerated sense. Generally they wore hip-hugging, breast-accentuating tight gear, had long hair and wore lipstick and low-heeled pumps. Their feminine representations were stereotypical: it was through association with butchi with in the lesbi community that femme subjectivities become visible.

#what is a lesbian #butch femme #indonesia #lgbtq #wlw #lgbtq history

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lavishedinjimin · 5 years ago

Text

a little bit of sugar, daddy [9]

↳ pairing: taehyung x reader

↳ genre: smut, CEO! au, sugardaddy! au

↳ rating: 18+

↳ word count: 11.5k (This is the longest fic I’ve written so far oops)

↳ warnings: dom tae, sub reader, cussing, big dick taehyung, unprotected sex (FUCKING GLOVE THEM UP BEOTCH), rough sex, choking, handcuffing, use of gag ball, dirty talk, face fucking, multiple orgasms, and many more :D

— synopsis: Taehyung - a sugardaddy and a businessman, a man who derives his life from sex, pleasure, and money. Y/n - a girl working at a small cafe, whose sex life is as dry as the weekly delivered coffee beans. Will Y/n adjust to the new lifestyle she agreed to, and keep up with all of the dirty antics with Taehyung?

THIS TOOK TOO FUCKING LONG. Sorry for any errors, grammatical mistakes or typos! Check out my masterlist to see more!

The sound of your phone’s alarm clock wakes you up from your deep sleep, cutting off your dream about you and Olivia. Quickly sitting up to remove the sleepiness away from your body, you stretch your arms upwards, groaning from the satisfying feeling. You feel the fresh morning air and the sunlight coming through your blinds, painting your sheets with a faint yellowish tint.

Grabbing your phone from the desk, you text your best friend.

You [6:23 AM]

– Liv! I had a dream about you.

– You probably won’t see this until later though

– But I dreamed that we were at a strip club and you were so wasted that you climbed up on one of the poles and you twerked

You [6:24 AM]

– But instead of the people cheering you on

– They laughed because you had no butt to shake

– And you cried… yikes

A giggle escapes your lips, trying to remember more of what happened in your dream but that one scenario was the only one stuck in your mind. Leaving your phone on the bed, you scramble to the bathroom to shower.

You had an appointment with your doctor today regarding your birth control. It was Taehyung’s request, and you had no choice but to do what you were told. There was no point in saying no, too. You figured that there’s no harm in using it. And besides – you researched that being on the pill is safer than pulling out!

After you showered, you wore a beige sweater and black skinny jeans paired with your black low-cut converse. It was a good thing that your first period at school today was at eight-thirty, and your appointment at seven o’clock, leaving you enough time. Arranging your bag for school, you grab all your necessities before heading out with your keys, locking the door.

Somehow, you didn’t feel trapped around Taehyung at all. There was no suffocating feeling, he wasn’t pushing you to do anything you didn’t want to. He always made sure that you’re okay with everything.

You liked it. You like that someone was finally taking care of you when your own parents couldn’t.

You called a cab, smiling brightly at him to freshen his day as you sat on the backseat. “Good morning sir!”

Sir. Ahh, how you miss Taehyung.

“Good morning to you too, young lady! Where are we off to today?”

The driver was so nice, making your heart warm. You saw that he was 50 years old from the I.D he stuck behind his seat. He’s bald, looks very young for a middle-aged man.

“Umm, Mrs. Raya Kim’s clinic? It’s at 3148 Doctor’s Drive…” you mumble.

“Ah yes. Understood.”

You release a pleased sigh, trying to relax your body at the uncomfortable seat.

You feel nervous, not going to lie. You feel tense for the appointment even though Mrs. Raya was a trusted doctor. Olivia told you that a gynecologist would’ve been better, but you knew no one you could rely on and you did not want to go outside of the city.

The ride was quiet, and you smile when you hear the driver humming an unknown song. It was kinda creepy from how joyous he was – you've never seen a cab driver this bubbly in the morning!

“We’re here,” the driver says and you quickly scurry inside your bag to find your wallet, giving him three dollars.

“Thank you,” you bid farewell before opening the car door, slinging your bag over your shoulder. Before you can even shut it close, the man yells.

“Miss! You dropped your phone!”

Your heart jumps out of your chest when you see your phone ditched on the dirty carpeted floor of the cab. You cringe, forehead wrinkling as you quickly pick it up and wipe the device using the hem of your sleeve. “Oh my god, thank you so much!” you say dolefully, eyebrows furrowed, “Please drive safe!”

The man chuckles, “I will. Please be mindful of your belongings.”

You nod your head, finally closing the door shut and the car drives away.

God, that was close. Good thing he didn’t just leave and drive away.

You'll probably cry if you lose your phone.

Placing the event that just happened at the back of your mind, you make your way in front of the clinic, slowly pushing the door open. The bell at the top of the doorframe jingles, indicating your presence.

The doctor’s office always scared you, even back as a child. Even though you’re already twenty, you still had that tinge of uneasiness whenever you walked into a room. You wish you had someone here with you. Striding your way to the front desk, you force a smile out of you.

“Good morning,” you start, “I have an appointment with Mrs. Kim at seven?”

The man over the counter starts to look through her files, “Name?” he states blandly.

“Y/n ___.”

Going through the papers, he emits a satisfied sigh when he finds your folder of records. He looks through the beige folder, nodding his head, “Alright, Mrs. Kim is still working with another patient right now so please have a seat, and I’ll call you when she’s ready.”

“Okay, thank you.” You grip your bag strap tightly, finding a vacant seat in the lounge to sit in. Good thing there were not a lot of people, about five of you inside the area, and you can sit in peace.

Checking the time on your phone – 6:50 am, it reads. You had ten minutes left to kill so you decide to call Taehyung so that your nerves can rest for a little while.

Your heart thumps faster in your chest, pressing the call button with your thumb as you chew on your bottom lip.

Bringing your screen to your right ear, you wait for him to answer.

Taehyung was in the middle of signing documents when he heard his phone ring from the other side of the room. He furrows his brows, standing up from his leather chair as he follows the sound of his ringtone. He picks up his phone from the couch and immediately smiles when he sees the caller I.D.

“Hello, angel.”

The deep, raspy voice quickly made you squeeze your thighs together, preventing a whimper. You can never get used to his hot voice.

“Hi,” you quietly say, “I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you…”

“No, no, absolutely not,” his mood brightens up immediately as he hears the pleasing tone of your voice, “You never disturb me. I’d rather talk to you all day, baby.”

The way he was saying those words, a sultry, teasing vibe was making your legs quiver. You shouldn’t be feeling like this! Not when there’s other people around. Maybe calling him was a mistake…

“Taehyung, I’m at… I’m at the doctors.”

“What? What for?!” he suddenly blurts out, thinking that you got sick or got into some kind of trouble. He sits down on the couch, placing his right leg on top of the other as he rests his free arm out on the backrest. “Are you okay?”

You giggle, chewing on the inside of your cheeks, “Do you remember when you told me I should get prescribed for birth control?”

Taehyung, right after you said those words, hangs his head low while he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. Black strands of his hair cover the front of his eyes as he stares at his lap. He smirks cockily, “Yeah?”

Yet he doesn’t let you reply though, answering before you, “Are you about to?”

You nod, but you remember that he wasn’t actually there to see you. “Mhmm, I’m quite nervous though.”

Taehyung sighs as he can’t hide the growing smirk on his face. He hates how his mind was absolutely going straight to the gutter, but he tries to keep most of his composure. “Ahh, why are you nervous, angel? There’s nothing to worry about, right?”

You slightly frown, your fingers starting to pick on the fabric of your jeans. “I know, but,” you blush, “I wish I had company.”

“Oh, angel,” he breathes out, feeling a stinging pinch in his chest. “You should've told me so that I can be with you.”

“Yeah but,” you protest, “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You know that’s not a problem, Y/n. You should know that by now.” You gulp from the sudden use of your first name, his tone becoming strict. “I can make time for you. Why didn’t you tell me that you had it scheduled today, hm? Especially now for an important matter.”

Your eyes widen, feeling your mouth go dry as you try to find a quick answer. Just the way he was speaking as if he was talking to an employee of his or a client – firm and stern, made you tremble in your seat. You did not know when you’ll get used to it.

“I’m sorry,” was the only thing that you can say, breath hitching up.

Taehyung squints his eyes and bites his lip for a quick second, enthralled by the soft tone of your voice. He decides to play with you, keeping in mind that you were in a public place. “Sorry? That’s the only thing you can say?” he teases.

You can’t hide back your whimpers as you felt electricity run through your spine and down to your core.

“It w-won’t happen again.”

“Remind yourself who you’re talking to.”

“Sir. I’m sorry s-sir,” you half-whisper, careful so that others won’t hear you. You were blushing so hard, not believing that this was happening right now. The air suddenly gets hot around you, feeling butterflies in your stomach when Taehyung growls softly.

“Good girl,” he chuckles, amused, “Look at you, whimpering. Wanna tell me why, baby?”

Bouncing your knee up and down, you emit a shaky sigh. His voice was turning you on so much, but it was hard to keep your emotions to yourself when there were other people around. The room wasn’t loud, but quiet enough that if you listen closely, you’ll hear what other people are talking about.

You worry if these strangers can hear you too.

“Tae – sir, please,” you beg, “not right now.”

“Aww, why?” he fakes an upset tone, pouting his lips, “you don’t want people to hear you, huh? Hear how desperate you are?”

You feel yourself slowly soaking your panties so you cross your legs together, trying to relieve some type of friction. “Mmm, s-sir,” you mewl, shutting your eyes while your fingers grip the phone tighter, “I can’t…”

Taehyung feels his dick harden through his pants, curling his other hand into a fist as he digs his nails into his palm. He likes messing with you like this. Yes, it was cruel of him – but you had to get used to it.

This was only the beginning.

“If I was there I’d have no problem with teasing you, angel. Resting my hand on your thigh, dragging it close to your cunt? Hm? I don’t care if people will look at us,” he laughs darkly, “I’ll even let them watch.”

“Sir,” you whine, “I- i/please. I want y-you but I can’t.”

“Oh, baby, baby,” he coos, “I know. Can’t handle it? You just want me to be there with you right now? Is that what you need?”

“Yes!” you declare too loudly, causing an elderly man to whip his head in your direction. Instantly looking down at your feet, your cheeks flush in a deep shade of red. You feel so embarrassed!

Taehyung has never heard you like this, sounding so needy. He finds your little noises so adorable, wanting to just snuggle you up in his arms, stroke your hair, and fuck you against the wall. It was crazy how the little things you do turns him on, having such a huge effect on him. Deep inside, he was afraid of how whipped he was for you.

He can imagine your red face as you struggle to shut your mouth, how you were probably biting on your lip. He wants to see your cute blushing face in person so badly, wants to hold you in his arms and play with your cunt, wants to see you cum – but he has work to do. So, he settles on dirty talk.

“I bet you’re wet right now, angel. Hmm? My dick’s throbbing for you baby,” he grunts when he brings his hand down to palm the tent his cock has created. “Wanna have my way with you so bad.”

You knit your eyebrows together in frustration, licking your dry lips. You didn’t know what to do anymore. As your foot nervously taps on the white tiled floor, you feel your palms getting sweaty.

He growls, making you release a quiet moan. “Fuck, you make me go crazy. I want you so bad, angel. Want to fuck you here in my office with the door unlocked so that people can easily come inside. You want that, hmm? People catching us fuck? Bet your cute little pussy’s begging for that, huh?”

“S-sir, mmh” you whimper with pursed lips, getting wetter and wetter each second. Taehyung knows that you can’t do anything in this situation that you’re in, making him have all the control.

Yes, you can just hang up, but you don’t want another punishment.

“Miss Y/n?”

Your head instantly snaps up when you hear the man call for your name from the front desk, and you quickly try to get yourself together.

“Yes?” you reply with wide eyes, heart pounding rapidly.

“Mrs. Raya is ready for you.”

Taehyung hears this and chuckles.

“Okay,” you nod furiously, forcing a fake smile.

“Sir—Taehyung, I have to go.”

Taehyung frowns, purposely making his tone deeper, “Oh, so you’re gonna leave me needy, huh?”

”Tae!” you clench your hand into a fist, punching your knee in frustration, “I’m sorry, but I have to go!” He finally stops teasing you, sighing as he replies with an ‘okay’, saying his goodbye. You scatter to put your phone back in your back pocket as you stand up, fast-walking to Mrs. Raya’s office.

Damn him for making you feel this way.

Your hand grip the door handle as you slowly twist it open, carefully pushing the white wooden door. The smell of rubbing alcohol instantly hits your nose as you step foot, your doctor instantly greeting you with a kind smile.

“Y/n, good morning!” she chirps, welcoming you with open arms.

“H-hi,” you smile, shutting the door. Even though Mrs. Raya is already in her 40’s, she still looks radiant and blooming. She has very white teeth and a gorgeous smile, brown chocolate skin, and luscious curly hair. She motions you to sit on the other side of the desk and you oblige, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“May I ask your age before we proceed?” she asks politely as she sits across from you. “My record of you here is,” she suddenly whips out a white folder and checks through papers, “not updated at all.”

“Oh,” you chuckle, “I’m twenty.”

Mrs. Raya nods and gathers a pad of paper in front of her to write on. She starts teaching you all about the contraceptive pills and how it can affect your body and its possible side effects. But most of the time you were tapping your foot on the ground, fiddling your fingers together in nervousness as you try to calm down. You were acting like such a child, yet all you can think about is Taehyung. Your eyes disconnect from your doctor's gaze and they land on the white desk.

You were still on Cloud 9 from the previous incident, thinking about the deep timbre of his voice.

“Miss Y/n,” her voice suddenly snaps you back into reality. “Are you even listening?” she asks with knitted brows.

“I'm sorry,” you quickly apologize, stopping your foot from drumming on the tiles.

Mrs. Raya sighs while intertwining her hand together. “Please listen, Y/n. I know it's too early in the morning for this but this is very important. I recommend giving you pills, unless…”

You gawk at her with wide eyes, “Unless?”

“Unless you're up for IUD?”

“Uh no, thank you,” you quickly deny. You learned what IUD is and what it does during high-school health classes and to be honest, you were just scared of the procedure – even though it's the most safer option. Plus you had no guts to do it.

Inserting a little hook-looking device up your uterus? Nope. Not for you.

“Okay, okay,” she immediately acknowledges and stands up, facing her back to you. She ponders to her array of cabinets, going through all kinds of boxes. “Do you have classes right after?” she asks.

You hum, scanning around the room to find a clock anywhere. Your eyes land to a small desk clock to your left, reading 7:28 am. “Yes, I do.”

“Let's get started, then.”

“You fucking bitch.”

Olivia’s voice suddenly made your body jump as she sits on the bench in front of you. You cover your mouth with your right hand, muffling your laugh.

“It’s not my fault that I had a dream like that!” You tolerate, watching how she rolls her eyes.

“I’m not mad about the fact that I was a stripper, heck – thank you I’ll accept the job. But just know that if everything goes to shit and I turn broke, I’m using your money to get a butt implant.”

“My money?” you smirk, “I don’t know what you’re talk–”

“Oh, stop that Y/n. You know what I mean.”

You giggle as you give her some of your food. The cafeteria was filled with noisy seniors whereas they were getting ready for their graduation pictures. Girls were doing each others’ makeup while the boys were sharing hair gel. You had been watching them chit-chat with each other for the past ten minutes while you waited for Olivia to arrive. You can't wait for the end of the school year to arrive.

“Moving on. Will you go to Yoongi’s party with me?”

You slam your hand on the table, eyes wide, “Liv! You know what happened to me when I went to one of his parties last time. I'm not going to another party.”

Olivia pouts, pushing her brown hair back away from her face, “Pleaaaaase? I promise I’ll stay with you! I won’t leave your side, I swear! You know how iconic Yoongi’s parties are before the year-end. He holds them annually!”

“Yeah, and I tend to run away from it. C’mon, Liv. I don’t want to drink like that anymore.”

You suddenly remember Taehyung’s voice ringing in your head, how he strictly reminded you not to drink so much but you didn’t comply. You wonder how you’ll survive a massive gathering if you can’t even stop yourself from drinking too much at a fucking pool party.

“I mean, you can choose not to drink.” She simply states, stealing your unfinished sandwich.

Snorting, you say sarcastically, “Oh yeah and I’ll read a book while at it.”

“Y/n…” Olivia frowns. There was a ten seconds silence before you finally replied. Rolling your eyes, you throw your hands up in defeat, “Okay, okay, Jesus…”

She instantly holds your hands while an excited squeal leaves her lips. Her eyes turn into little slits, waving your arms left and right. She was such a child! “Yay, thank you, thank you!”

“You’re so lucky I’m your best friend.” You blankly stare at her. “Just don’t get me wasted.”

She gives you a thumbs up, smiling as she flashes you her teeth, “You got it!”

You and Olivia were walking alongside the soccer field to go to the main building for your next periods. Hugging your binder closer to your chest, you watch your school’s group of athletes having their training, their coach yelling at them while soccer balls fly across the field.

Suddenly, you spot a familiar looking face. You squint your eyes, slowing down for a second while you grip Olivia’s arm.

“I didn’t know Park Jimin plays soccer,” you mumble, watching how he pushes his black hair back, tilting his head upwards. Jimin high-fives a teammate with a big smile.

Olivia chuckles as she tugs on your arm and forces you to walk faster, “He does! You really don’t know anything, do you?”

You give her a disgusted expression, opening your mouth to retaliate but she immediately cuts you off. “Hey! Remind you that i’m a top stu–”

“Hey! Park Jimin!” Olivia starts to wave frantically, getting Jimin’s full attention.

Starting to panic, you try to block her view by stepping in front of her, trying to force her arm down. “Liv! No, don’t! I was just asking!” Olivia jumps up and down, flailing her arms around and she looks like a huge clown. Grunting, you can't help but laugh at her actions, “Olivia! “

But your efforts are useless when you hear Jimin’s reply. “What?!” He yells. You slowly turn around and there he was, walking to you and Olivia. Your shoulders slump, wanting to slap your best friend yet you keep your composure.

“Y/n here says hi!” She giggles.

You quickly wave your hands in front of you, faking a smile, “Uh, no. S-She’s just messing with you.”

Jimin comes closer with a smug look on his face, crossing his arms together. Your eyes involuntarily checks him out, eyeing him from top to bottom. He looks so different from when you last saw him. Your gaze flies down to his thighs, eyebrows knitting together when you see how muscular and thick it was. You gulp. Jimin looks very well-put in his uniform too, even though he was covered in sweat.

“Y/n?” Jimin’s voice snaps you back. He laughs at your widened eyes, “You good?”

“Yeah.” You state.

“Good.”

No one talks for a while and the awkward silence kills you. You look down to the floor as you try to find the right words to say without sounding like an idiot. “Anyway,” Oliva breaks the tension, “You remember her right? The one that acted like a ragdoll when drunk during Yoongi’s party?”

You groan, “Olivia,” an exhausted sigh leaves your mouth, “leave it alone.”

Jimin grins at you as he lifts a single brow up, “Of course I do.”

“Please don’t. Pretend that it didn’t happen please?” you say, hearing Olivia giggle behind you and you want nothing more than to hit her with your binder.

“Aw, why?” he suddenly walks closer until there is a three-feet distance between the two of you. “You’re cute though.”

Your breath hitches up as your jaw gapes, his words shocking you. You shake your head, laughing nervously. “Ah, heh, t-thank you?” You grab Olivia’s hand and you start to walk away from him, “S-See you around Jimin!”

“See you.” He sends you a playful wink, causing you to jolt your head forward in surprise. What the hell was that?!

Jimin watches as you force your best friend to run, dragging her behind you. He laughs and shakes his head side to side, jogging back to his teammates. Hoseok furrows his eyebrows as he seemingly watched everything that had just happened.

“What’s up with them?” he nods in your direction. Hoseok sees how you accidentally drop your binder on the ground, hearing your loud grunt as Olivia laughs.

“Remember Y/n from Yoongi’s pool party?” he starts. Hoseok hums, “The girl we played beer pong with?” Jimin tilts his head to the side for a second as he rests his hands on his hips.

“Yeah. She’s hot.”

Hoseok smirks, “You know what to do.”

Jimin feels himself getting hyped up from the idea. He starts to jump up and down, warming himself up when they hear their coach blow his whistle. “Can’t wait for the party.”

You were in your microbiology class when you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Looking around the laboratory room to know if your professor can see you, you reach down to your jeans and unlock your phone.

Taehyung [2:12 pm] - Justin will pick you up. Do you go off at 3 today?

Damn, he didn’t even say a single hi? You chew on your bottom lip, using your thumbs to type a reply.

You [2:12 pm] - Yes. Where am I going?

Taehyung [2:12 pm] - My office, angel. We have unfinished business.

Your heart suddenly pounds faster from the text. Was he referring to…?

Deciding to play with him a little, you giggle.

You [2:13 pm] - Oh, we do?

You [2:13 pm] - I wasn’t informed…

Taehyung, on the other side of the screen, smirks devilishly. He tuts as he sends a reply.

Taehyung [2:13 pm] - Act like that one more time and let’s see where it takes you, Y/n.

You [2:14 pm] - To your bedroom I hope

Suddenly, you see a hand slamming down on your table and you quickly disregard your phone back to your pocket. “I’m s-sorry professor…” you stutter, wide eyes gawking at your teacher. His eyes flash you a warning, “Who are you talking to, hm? Is he more important than this?”

“No,” you shake your head, wincing from the harsh tone of his voice.

“Focus, Y/n.”

You nod, getting back to where you were. You turn on the switch for the microscope, sighing to yourself. How can you focus when Taehyung’s words were the only thing clouding your mind?

Walking to the parking lot after a long, productive day at campus, it was concerning you that you can’t find anyone that’s called Justin around. Besides – your initial plan of stopping every adult-looking male and asking if their name is Justin and if they’re looking for a woman called Y/n was ridiculous.

Your shoes clad on the rough concrete of the pathway, the cool breeze blowing your hair away from your face. You notice a dark-haired man in a suit walking up to you and it was definitely clear that he looks like he works for a millionaire. You smile, trying to appear kind.

“Y/n?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah. That’s me,” you giggle nervously. There were students walking past and were looking at the two of you with a confused expression, skeptical.

“My name is Justin, I’m Kim Taehyung’s PA. He told me to pick you up and head straight to the office.” He suddenly starts to walk and you follow behind him. Why is everyone so strict these days?

“Oh, I know. H-He told me,” you chirp, hoping you'll get a reply back but there was none. You follow his footsteps in silence, staring at his black loafers until he stops in front of a black shiny Mercedes. Your jaw drops, feeling like your eyes have been blessed by such a hot-looking car that costs triple your rent.

Justin opens the passenger side door for you and you enter with a thanks. The car smells so expensive, it has a lot of buttons that make your fingers itch to press. Once he starts the engine, the car roars loudly and it is enough for you to giggle in amusement. He mumbles “seatbelt”, and you do what you were told.

“So, uh,” you try to make a conversation, “Do you perhaps, o-own this car?” you ask politely as possible.

Justin smirks the tiniest bit and shakes his head, “Nope. Mr. Kim’s.”

You place your bag comfortably on your lap while your mind goes back to the time where Taehyung showed you his collection of high-end cars. You weren’t surprised.

The ride was complete silence, the cold air conditioning of the car hitting your exposed skin while you stared outside the window. You suddenly wonder if Justin had met every single one of Taehyung’s past flames, picking them up just like what he was doing now. Was he always asked to buy Taehyung's partner's clothes just like the time you stayed over at his house? Frowning, there was an uncomfortable feeling building up your chest. No, you can’t be jealous. You’re not in a place to be, right?

“Hey, is it okay if I can ask you something?” your voice was soft-spoken, glancing at him.

“Sure.” He simply replies.

“How long have you been working for Taehyung?”

Justin suddenly snickers and you can see the creases on the sides of his lips. “As early as he started his company.”

Your eyes grow bigger, he was working for Taehyung for so long! He must know everything about him…

“Do you know how many relationships he had?” You gasp at your own sentence, pursing your lips shut as you slam a hand over it. Justin laughs, his shoulders bouncing up and down. “I’m so sorry!” you apologize.

“No, please. But I can’t answer your question, Y/n.”

Hanging your head down, you feel a little ashamed. “But,” he continues, your eyebrows lifting up. You gaze at him with expecting eyes, “This is the first time I’m meeting you in person, and I must say that I’m quite shocked when he told me that I was picking up a girl from college. You look very young.”

“I-Is that a bad thing?” you gulp, “I’m twenty.”

“No! Not at all, Y/n. Don’t get me wrong,” he chuckles, “It’s a good thing!”

Nodding your head in acceptance, your lips curve in a smile. “Thanks.” But then, an abrupt memory crosses your mind.

Isn’t that what Marie – Taehyung’s housekeeper – said to you when you first went to his house?

‘“It’s a shocker though. It’s the first time Taehung has ever brought a young-looking girl into his house.”

What was up with everyone being so appalled? Was he usually into older girls? Crissy doesn’t even look that old…

You had to ask him. You were desperate for an answer.

Stepping back inside the building made a lot of flashbacks to reoccur in your brain. All the things you and Taehyung did, inside the elevator, inside his office up at the 20th floor, everything was coming back to you. Almost everyone was dressed in business-formal outfits and you’ve never felt more out of place with your sweater and black converse.

But your body freezes when you spot the blonde-haired woman that was occupying your thoughts a couple of minutes ago. Based off of the irritated expression on her face and the blank stare that the lady at the front desk wore, they were having an argument.

Crissy sees you and smirks to herself.

You were stunned when she suddenly strides over to you and harshly grabs your arm, pulling you to her side. Your heart beats faster.

“She’s with me! You’re seeing Taeyung, right!?” she exclaims, her high-pitched voice ringing in your head.

“No, I’m not.” you roll your eyes, but Crissy only grips your arm tighter. You wince in pain, struggling to escape but she just pulls you closer. “Stop lying. We both know you have nothing else to do here but hug his legs.”

What the fuck is she talking about?

The exhausted lady ignores Crissy and turns her attention to you, “Can I confirm your name?”

“Y/n ___,” you say, and she reads something on her monitor and nods once. “Kim Taehyung has ordered you to meet him on the twentieth floor. Please go ahead.” She motions her hand to the right, directing you to the elevator, and you smile gratefully.

Crissy gasps, eyes turning into little slits as she looks at the desk lady in shock, “How come she goes and not me? I know Taehyung myself and I don’t think I need his permission!”

“I'm sorry ma'am but that's not how it works here. We have strict rules and you're not allowed to see the boss if you have no schedules for it.”

Crissy was speechless, not knowing what to say. You tried your hardest not to giggle as you slowly walked away from her.

“But this is important!”

The lady finally snaps, clicking her tongue. “If you don't go out of this building now I'm gonna call the guards to escort you out.”

You didn't hear what Crissy’s reply was because you were already making your way to the elevator which was thankfully vacant. “Ah, finally,” you sigh. What was Crissy doing here? And what does she want from Taehyung?

You were about to press the close button until you hear heels clicking against the marble floor. Looking straight ahead, your eyes widen when you see Crissy making her way to you with a smirk on her face. She was walking fast, making sure to catch up. Your breathing gets heavy and heavy, immediately pressing the button furiously - praying that the doors would close faster.

You were holding your breath - you can’t be stuck in an elevator with her! No way!

“Please please please,” you mumble under your breath, lips pouting when the doors won’t close faster as you wanted it to be. Crissy has a mocking expression on her face, inserting her hand between the doors so that it wouldn’t close on her. Quickly, you step to the very corner of the elevator, hugging your body as you felt intimidated by her appearance.

“Oh, Y/n,” she shakes her head side to side, laughing to herself. Crissy presses the 20th button using her baby blue acrylic nails, whipping her hair. “You think a stubborn little lady at the front desk will stop me?”

You’ve never wanted to pull her hair so bad until now.

Crissy studies your figure up and down, a sour look on her face as if she just ate a lemon. “You’re going to see him looking like that?” she scoffs, “Couldn’t you at least dress up like me?” She looks down at her outfit, wearing a black skin-tight dress that hugged her perfect body.

You look at her through the reflective walls of the elevator, staring at her hazel eyes, “At least I don’t have to try to get his attention.”

The brattiness in you jumped out, and Crissy gasps from your sentence, clearly offended. Crossing your arms together, it was your turn to rake her body, “I don’t have to be pathetic like you.”

“Me?! I’m the pathetic one?” she suddenly walks closer to you, further cornering your body into the wall. You gulp the big lump in your throat. Crissy was taller than you, making you look up at her as her towers over you. “Coming from a broke college student?”

Fuck. What have you gotten yourself into?

Crissy backs up a little to take a good look at you. She lifts her eyebrows up, her stance defensive as you just stand there, hanging your head low. You can’t look at her face, you were mortified.

“You don’t deserve Taehyung, Y/n. He doesn’t need someone like you. He needs me.”

She whips her blonde hair again, moving it to her right shoulder while she looks at her manicured fake nails. She continues to argue, “He needs someone experienced. I know for a fact that that’s what he likes.”

You hold yourself back. You knew better than to fight her. Even though her sharp, cruel words were hurting you - hurting you so bad, you keep your guard up.

Crissy leans down until she is face to face with you, cooing when she sees the fear in your eyes. “Aww, look at you. What a weak little thing. You’re delusional if you think Taehyung even likes you.”

“I didn’t ask for him in the first place.” You hiss, “He came up to me.”

“Of course he did! He wanted to help a poor, pruney little virgin – that’s why.”

Oh no she didn’t. Your hands curl up in tight fists on your sides, eyes narrowing at her as you feel your nerves firing up. How dare she call you that when she doesn’t know a single thing about you?!

“You don’t know me.” You say through gritted teeth, “You have no right to say that.”

Crissy smiles and shrugs her shoulders, “I’m allowed to have my own opinion!”

You swear you just felt your head hurt. “What are you even ta– you know what, whatever.” Rolling your eyes, you turn away from her. Your nails dig into the skin of your palm, surely getting red. You hated each second as the time passed by.

“What are you doing here anyway?” she says, sizing you up. Crissy lifts an eyebrow, waiting for your response.

“I don’t know.” You say, closing your eyes shut in annoyance. “How about you? What do you want from him?”

Before she can answer, the elevator dings, signalling the doors open and Crissy was the first one to step out. You follow behind her, the irritating clicks of her heels were making your head spin. She answers, a smirk evident from the tone of her voice, “Trying to get back what’s truly mine.”

You felt your heart crush into a million pieces.

“You have a boyfriend, Crissy!”

“And?” You feel sorry for Taehyung, and sorry for Crissy’s boyfriend.

However, you stop your tracks when the door going to Taehyung’s office swings open, and he absolutely snaps when he sees her.

Crissy smiles, about to say something but Taehyung shuts her up, immediately backing her against the hallway. He slams the door shut with a loud bang, making you jump. Taehyung was completely furious, nostrils slightly flaring as he held her wrists tightly. Crissy winces, but she doesn’t show the pain because she keeps a straight, smiling face. “Tae–”

“Shut up. Why the fuck are you here, huh?”

“Calm do–”

“No. Answer the fucking question! How did you get up here?”

Your chest tightens, afraid of Taehyung’s sudden change of aura. He was raising his voice at her, and you haven’t seen this side of him. You feel yourself getting small, holding your hands together behind your back as you watch them with wide, afraid eyes.

“Taehyung, they let me in of course! Why wouldn’t they let someone who previously worked here inside the building? I wanted to visit you!”

Taehyung growls animalistically, removing the grip he has on her wrists and instead places his hands on her shoulders. He grips her firmly, eyes dark in anger. He towers over her while Crissy can’t push him away even if she tries to. “Stop. Fucking. Lying,” Taehyung fumes.

“It’s true!”

Taehyung shakes his head and suddenly whips his head over his shoulder to look at you. You look like a deer in headlights, frozen in your place as he burns holes into your eyes.

“Tell the truth.” He states firmly. You feel your throat drying up, your mouth gaping open but no words seem to come out. “I-I, uh.”

Taehyung clenches his jaw, waiting for a reply. It was obvious that his patience was bearing thin. “Tell me the fucking truth, Y/n!”

You remember his words ringing in your head - not to lie to him. It was the one thing he despised the most.

“S-She,” you clear your throat, fiddling with your fingers in a habit of nervousness, “I don’t know, the lady at the front desk told her to exit… but she sneaked inside the elevator with me before I can close the doors.”

You felt ashamed, even though you did absolutely nothing wrong. Looking down on the floor, you were unable to meet Taehyung’s harsh, angry eyes. You just wanted to curl up into a little ball and cry from how intimidated you are.

Suddenly, Jungkook appears from inside the office and chuckles as he sees the situation that was currently happening. He gives Crissy an ugly glare, walking up to you. “Hey, hey,” he purrs, holding your body, “Don’t be scared, hm?”

You slowly tilt your head up, looking at him with wavering eyes. He smiles, his dimples peeking out, “Don’t worry.”

Taehyung bites the inside of his cheek as he watches Jungkook caress your arms, the closeness making his stomach turn. This angers him further, turning his attention back to Crissy who was smirking the entire time.

“I hope you know this is your last straw, Crissy.” She was about to retort but Taehyung was faster to cut her off, “I’m placing you on our blocklist. And if I ever see you here, at my house, or if you even think about getting near Y/n, I won’t hesitate to place a restraining order against you. You won’t be able to see me – or Y/n – ever again.”

You hear everything he says, sighing in relief. Why didn’t he do this much earlier?!

Crissy has her mouth open although nothing comes out. And by chance, you hear rushing footsteps down the hallway and you turn to look to see who it was. Justin has called for security and the guards rush to grab a hold of Crissy. She tries to escape, pulling her arms away but the bulky, muscular men were obviously stronger. She yells in frustration, “Fuck you, Kim Taehyung!”

Taehyung scoffs bitterly, watching the guards escort her down the hall until they were finally nowhere near in sight. She was gone at last.

There was an uncomfortable feeling, something you can’t explain. It was so weird and new to see Taehyung like that, he was obviously hurting her yet Crissy looked as if it didn’t affect her. You didn’t like that side of him. You tried your hardest to not cry, holding your tears back as you squeezed your eyes closed.

“Angel,” Taehyung’s voice gently calls out for you, and you can hear his footsteps coming closer to you.

“Jungkook, please excuse us.” He tells, and Jungkook nods his head knowingly. He understands the situation and walks away.

Your body jumps when you feel Taehyung’s arms wrap around your body, pulling you into a tight, warm hug. He rests his chin on top of your head, swaying your body side to side as he waits for you to calm down. “Angel,” he whispers, “you’re good now. You’re okay.”

“Hm?” he places two fingers underneath your chin and lifts your head up. He pouts when he sees your glossy, tearful eyes. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

“You scared me.” You whisper, voice slightly cracking. Your heart was still pounding while Taehyung sighs.

“I know, fuck. I know baby. I won’t scare you like that ever again, I was just s-so angry and I couldn’t stop myself. I won’t ever talk to you like that, understand me?”

“Yes, Tae.”

Sniffing, you rest your cheek against his chest, arms wrapping around his waist. The warmth of his body radiates into yours, slowly calming you down. It was like you saw a different person just a minute ago. You can’t speak, not having the energy to do so.

“Let’s go home, okay?” He says, and you nod your head. You want nothing else than to be alone with him.

You puff out a large huff of breath once the two of you have stepped foot inside his house, Taehyung locking the front door. He removes your school bag and places it neatly on a nearby counter. Without wasting any time, he suddenly swoops you off your feet and carries you bridal-style.

“Tae!” you squeal, the nickname making him blush. He starts to walk up the long flight of stairs up to his room while you tightly hold onto his shoulders, trying not to fall back.

Once you both arrive in his room, he carefully rests you down on the soft comfort of his king-sized bed. Taehyung takes off his suit jacket and you watch him put it on a loveseat’s armrest. He takes his shoes off, instantly feeling butterflies when he flashes you his winning smile.

God, was he always this hot?

“What are you doing?” you whisper, palms slowly getting sweaty as Taehyung runs a hand through his black hair. Taehyung feels something primal inside him, his mind racing with lewd thoughts while your body unconsciously writhes on the bed. Why are you like this? Why do you always have to look so pure every time he's about to ruin you?

You watch him walk over to his closet, a smirk glued on his face as he rummages through his belongings. Taehyung bites his lip as he goes through all of the toys he's bought at the sex store a few days ago. He wonders what he will use next on you.

Whips? Floggers? No, he's not going to punish you.

Anal beads? The hot pink butt plug he chose for you? Not today.

Rope? Maybe next time.

“Ahh,” he muses, releasing a dark chuckle when he finds something he can use. You can't see anything besides his broad back facing you, yet you can hear how he laughs devilishly.

“Tae?”

His heart clenches from hearing the soft tone of your voice, just like a little kitten's meow. Fuck, he didn't know that a sound like that can turn him on so much.

He swiftly turns around for a moment, observing you with a raised brow. He stands as if dripping in dominance, his arms crossed together. Your eyes can't seem to connect with his because you're afraid that you'll literally melt beneath his hot gaze. The atmosphere seems to thicken, your mouth going dry when you took note of the large tent underneath his pants. You unwillingly close your legs together, biting your lip as you feel your pussy throb.

Taehyung clenches his jaw at the sight, “Hm?”

You immediately shake your head side to side, a blush forming your cheeks. “N-Nothing…”

He abruptly walks up to you and crawls on the bed, moving up until he is face to face with you. You suddenly can't breathe. He lowers himself until you can feel his crotch against your covered cunt, feeling how hard he is. A moan goes past your lips, “O-oh, Tae…”

Suddenly, he wraps his big hand around your throat, squeezing it tightly enough to choke you. The feeling was different than you expected, it feels good. He snickers, watching your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Tae? Is that my name, hm?”

“A-ahh,” he squeezes your throat harder, your pussy clenching as you can confirm yourself dripping onto your panties.

“Answer, baby girl, or I swear to fucking god,” Taehyung taunts with a growl, grinding his crotch harder against you. He tries to calm himself down before he can go overboard, before he goes past your limits. And by the way you were looking at him so innocently, so purely – was making it harder for him.

‘Calm down, Taehyung.’ He thinks to himself.

“I'm s-sorry, sir.” You purr, staring up at him with lust-blown eyes.

“That’s right,” he grunts, fluttering his eyes close for a moment as he drives his hips a little bit harder. His cock was aching, begging to be released.

Your hands grip on the white sheets, not knowing where to place them. Your chest was heaving up and down as you feel your stomach turning, your mind hazy while the sensation was already so much for you. His deep groans and hums were making you lose your sanity.

“Arms up,” he commands, and you do just that. He grins while he pushes your sweater up and throws it somewhere on the plush carpeted floor.

Taehyung cocks his head to the side for a second, eyes obviously ogling your pretty chest. He bites his lip from the sight of your bra, the cute pastel pink color somehow made him hornier. You cheeks blush horribly, wanting to cover your face but Taehyung was quicker to hold them up, grabbing your wrists in one hand. “Nuh-uh, baby girl. Let me see this adorable face, hm?”

You can’t look straight in his eyes. If you will, you’d absolutely crumble beneath him. Taehyung lowers his head down until his lips come in contact with your collarbones, peppering wet and seductive kisses all over your chest. You can feel that he was smirking. Goosebumps arise from your skin when he suddenly licks a wet stripe from the base of your neck and up to your jaw, sensitive as you feel his hot breath.

You can’t help but whimper, tugging on your hands but Taehyung holds your wrists tighter.

“If you keep whimpering like that, baby girl,” you gasp when he bites your shoulder, “You’re gonna make it harder for the both of us.”

What does that even mean? You look at him in utter confusion although he only chuckles. Taehyung stands back up to get something from his closet. You were already sweating and he’s only getting started!

“Remove your pants for me, angel.”

Again, not wanting to disobey him, you fumble with the buttons of your jeans and you tug the clothing down as fast as you can, throwing it down on the floor.

Your eyes widen when Taehyung suddenly, without any delay, holds out two pairs of steel handcuffs and a pink leather – choker looking thing – with a black rubber ball attached to it.

What the fuck was that?!

Taehyung chews on his bottom lip as he studies your reaction. He places the toys on the bedside table before he strips himself in only his boxers. Unwillingly, you lick your dry lips from the sight of the prominent outline of his big cock.

“Sir,” you mewl, eyes drooping down as if begging for something, “W-What’s that?” You point at the leather toy, your heart suddenly pounding out of your chest.

He kneels on either side of your hips, sitting on your lap as he grabs the toy. His smirk never wears off from his face and you were sure that he was utterly cruel. You feel small under him, not having any control.

Yet that’s what you like.

“This is called a gag ball, angel.” He utters in an authoritarian tone, looking straight at your glistening orbs. “It’s to keep your pretty mouth shut.”

“Oh,” you whisper, the toy intimidating you. The ball was so big though! “Wouldn’t it be uncomfortable?”

Taehyung leans down on your ear and chuckles deeply, the vibrations going straight down to your dripping core, “That’s the fun of it all, baby. Letting yourself completely submit to me, allowing me to play and torture your body, giving me all the control. It’s what you signed up for, isn’t it baby?”

Gulping the huge lump in your throat, you nod once.

“Do I have your consent to all of this?”

“Yes sir.” You say wholeheartedly. You weren’t merely doing all of this for his own pleasure, but for yourself too. You want to explore a lot more and discover new things about yourself that you wouldn’t figure out without his help. Taehyung’s a person you can trust, you’ve come to learn that.

“Good girl,” he growls, satisfied from your words while his hands reach to grab the handcuffs. “Pick a safe word.”

Oh god. What will he do to you that requires a safe word?

Your mind fumbles with random words until you settle with something; “Coffee,” you grin.

Taehyung hums, nodding as he gets the reason why you chose that word, “Very good, angel.”

Hearing the metal clinking with each other as he cuffs your wrists to the headboard was making your body tremble. You were so used to gripping on the sheets, on his hair, wherever. And allowing him to remove that sense of touch away from you will make it exciting for him. Taehyung feels his dick tremble when he finally finishes cuffing you, forehead creasing from the hot sight.

“Shit, baby girl,” he grunts, “Try to pull on it.”

The metal clinks on the headboard and it slightly stings your skin. Taehyung brushes his hair back, “Mhmm, that’s good. Gonna bruise your wrists – wouldn’t it?” he mockingly asks you as if he doesn’t already know the answer. Before, he used fuzzy handcuffs on you and it didn’t hurt your wrists that much, yet now without the furry material, you were a hundred percent sure that it’s going to mark your skin.

“Yeah,” you mewl, “It’s gonna hurt.”

“Aww, you’ll get used to it angel. You wouldn’t even feel the pain when my cock’s pounding in and out your tight pussy.”

Taehyung uses both hands to grope your breasts, feeling your hard nipples poking up the thin, flimsy material of your bra. He growls and as if something snaps inside of him, he rips your bra in two.

“Ta– sir!” you gasp, eyes wide. He doesn’t waste any time and he dives his mouth on one of your nipples, sucking harshly as his tongue flicks vigorously. “Oh, mnghh,” you tug on the cuffs and you hiss from the stinging pain. “S-Sir!”

“I’ll buy you a fucking new one,” he moans, “A much sexier one.”

He twists your abandoned nipple with his thumb and index finger, your back arching upwards when he applies a tight pressure on your sensitive bud. He growls, licking around your areola. “A-Ahh, sir! Fuck…”

“Like that?” he mutters teasingly, raising a brow at you as he runs his tongue along your boobs, running it to the valley of your breasts until it reaches your other nipple. He gives it the same treatment, sucking harshly, nibbling sharply. The pain makes your body arch, arms tugging on the restraints again and you wanted to cry.

“Ohhh, baby,” he fakes being sincere, your cute whimpers and whines feeding the utter dominance in him. It was only getting him riled up even more. “That hurts, huh? Mhmm does it hurt baby?”

Before you can reply, he does it again – but harder. He digs his teeth on your abused bud and bites on it, rolling it along his teeth as his tongue flicks it again and again. “Aahh! Oh my god!” Taehyung growls and tugs it upward, and you can feel your body burn in pain and pleasure as if you just got electrocuted. He releases your nipple, letting it snap back to its original place.

You whine loudly, your hand instinctively wanting to grope your boob to ease the pain but the cuffs restricted.

Taehyung throws you an evil smirk, “What is it, hm, little one? Wanna touch yourself?”

Nodding furiously, you beg with your eyes droopy, “Please,” you whisper.

“Too fucking bad.”

He grabs the gag and wraps it around your head, your eyes getting a little bit watery. Taehyung looks like a completely different person above you. If his normal self was already intimidating then imagine how he’d be now. He was like an animal, a predator playing with it’s prey before he digs in. You were scared for your life.

“Open your mouth.”

He places the ball at the anterior of your mouth and you thought that you’re supposed to put the whole thing in, but no. He instructs you to bite on the ball, leaving it half-inside your mouth. You furrow your brows, it wasn’t even that bad! You look up at him in confusion yet he only scoffs, knowing what you’re thinking about. Taehyung fondles with the clasp of the toy, and suddenly it gets tighter.

You couldn’t bite on the ball anymore because it automatically feeds inside your mouth, forcing your jaw to slack as you struggle to breathe. You remind yourself to breathe through your nose.

Taehyung leans down and presses a tender, loving kiss on your forehead as he strokes your hair away from your face. “Hmm, is that okay angel? Not too tight?”

You nod your head. Letting him know that you were alright. Even though you felt helpless, you’ve already completely submitted yourself to him and there’s no going back.

“Good girl. Since you can’t speak anymore – I want you to kick me when it gets too rough for you, okay? Understood? And I’ll stop completely.” Taehyung breathes out the last sentence, eyeing you up and down like you were some delicious eye-candy. You look beautiful.

You badly wanted to talk, to address him as ‘sir’ like you were taught to, but you guessed that this was part of everything. You nod fully.

And with that, he pulls your soaked panties down wastes no time to push his long, slender middle finger in.

Taehyung hears the handcuffs jingle and your muffled moans as he works his digit in and out, not giving you any time to adjust. “Be a big girl and take it.” He grunts, adding a second finger in. He stretches your walls out, doing scissoring motions as his eyes drink in the sight of your juices flowing out from your drenched hole and to the sheets.

“Mmm, look at this pretty mess,” he chuckles, “So fucking wet for me already. I don’t even get to do anything and you’re already soaked.”

Taehyung starts to fuck your cunt with his fingers. Wet, squelching sounds fill the air as your eyes roll to the back of your head. He fucks you knuckle-deep, making fast ‘come here’ motions as his fingers were in a quest to find your g-spot.

You whimpered into the silicone ball, bucking your hips up as you feel more needier for his cock. You wanted to beg, to yell, but everything was preventing you from doing so. You can feel a layer of sweat form in your forehead and on your back, the air in the room getting hotter.

“Mm, so tight baby,” he muses, “So tight around my fingers.”

He dives down and circles your clit with his tongue, your nerves instantly firing up as the hairs on your skin stand from the intoxicating feeling. He smirks, sucking on your clit as his fingers finally found the spongy feeling of your g-spot. He focuses his fingers there, thrusting in and out as he flicks his tongue at an inhumane speed. Your wrists were burning from all of the pulling, hips trembling uncontrollably.

Your mind gets dizzy in pleasure, moaning loudly when he unexpectedly prods a third finger inside. Three fingers stretch your walls out, your eyes closing shut tight while you yell into the ball. You feel a tight knot in your stomach already as Taehyung continues to abuse your poor cunt.

“Stretch this pussy out nice and good for my dick,” he growls, “Yeah? You’re already close aren’t you?”

You can’t even force yourself to nod as you remove all control from your body, letting him do whatever he wants to you. “Cum on my fingers, baby girl. C’mon, hm? Let me taste your cum.”

Somehow his words send you over the edge, hearing him release deep grunts from the feeling of your walls tightening around his fingers. Your mind clouds in lust as the knot in your stomach snaps, finally gushing your cum out of your system. His fingers were coated in your thick juices when he pulled out, not hesitating to lick it clean.

The sight was alluring, making your tummy twist. He keeps his eye contact with you and stares at you seductively, sending you a wink as he licks his fingers clean. “Taste so fucking delicious, baby girl.”

Taehyung hovers his body above yours, whimpering when he starts to remove his boxers. You can never get used to his size.

His cock was dripping in precum that oozes out of the angry, bulbous head, shaft thick and covered in prominent veins. Instinctively, your hips buck up in need and Taehyung chuckles, the vibrations resonating in his chest as he muses your reaction.

Taehyung firmly grips his dick and strokes it a couple of times while he watches how your eyebrows dip down, toes curling. You’ve never felt so hungry and desperately his cock since right now. You throw your head back, the gag muffling your moans when he suddenly starts to rub his length through your wet folds, the tip of his cock hitting your sensitive clit. Taehyung mutters curses under his breath, your legs twitching.

“Fuck, what a sensitive little angel I have right here,” he snarls, slapping your pussy a couple of times. “How can you handle my cock then, huh?”

“Mmmph, s-sir,” you try to say, batting your eyelashes at him. He cocks an eyebrow up, cupping your throbbing pussy with his large hand, “Yeah? Can you handle it?” He leans down and whispers darkly in your ear, “Can you take this cock?”

Nodding up and down, “Mhmm!”

“Good girl, baby.” He kisses your forehead delicately and hums, pressing his tip against your entrance. Closing your eyes shut, Taehyung firmly grasps your hips with one hand. “Mmm, that’s right baby, breathe for me, breathe…”

Your nails dig into the skin of your palm as you feel your walls stretch from his thick cock. You let out a throaty moan, legs quivering while he tries to calm you down by scattering kisses all over the crook of your neck. You pull on the handcuffs, your body arching back once again, his dick almost halfway in. He was so large, feeling him hit all of the unexplored nerves inside you.

“Fuck, Y/n, your pussy’s so tight, shit.” His words paired with that deep, raspy voice was making your head spin in pleasure, wanting nothing more than to tug on his hair or scratch his back, but the goddamn cuffs weren’t letting you. You can’t even speak coherently! You feel so good, yet the stretch was burning your cunt.

Your pussy flutters tightly around his dick when he goes even deeper than before, filling you up. Taehyung suddenly growls while shutting his eyes for a brief moment. And the second he reopens them, there’s a much darker shade of black in his eyes, irises blown out. “Stop fucking clenching so tightly or else. Do you wanna get punished, huh? Y/n?”

You shake your head no, mewling as you try to relax your muscles.

“Good. You wouldn’t want that anyway.”

Before you can even comprehend his reply, he pulls his dick all the way out – leaving just the very tip in, before he shoves all of his length inside.

“Aaaah, fuck!” You can feel his dick throb inside of you as he starts to pound your cunt, pulling all the way out and slamming it back in. Hearing Taehyung growl right above your ear made the butterflies in your stomach flutter furiously, your hole clenching around him so tightly. He mutters deep mhmm’s and grunts, lost in the feeling of your wet walls.

He was thrusting at an unbelievable speed, hips moving like it was made to fuck. The pleasure was overwhelming, still so sensitive from your last orgasm and it wasn’t hard for you to grow into another climax. You involuntarily close your legs shut but he places his hand on your thigh, forcing it back open. “Don’t.” He groans, “Don’t fucking close your legs.”

Whimpering into the toy, you stare at him with glossy eyes while his dick hits your g-spot. “R-Right there!” you yell in a muffled voice, earning a harsh, deep thrust from him.

Taehyung keeps fucking you into the mattress while he thinks about how absolutely torn you looked. Underneath him, cuffed up and gagged. He couldn’t believe that he finally got you in this position, after all his dirty, filthy fantasies. He was so fucking excited that everything he wanted turned into a reality. The way that your eyes looked as he pounded you was driving him wild. Your big, innocent-looking eyes just staring at him while he destroys your cunt - the contradiction of it all - was so amusing to him.

Something about you that he couldn’t explain. You were ethereal. Like an unhealthy drug for him. He was addicted to you.

“You like that baby girl, yeah? Like my big cock slamming into you?” he muses, feeling your walls tightening around him. He chuckles when you struggle to answer, noticing strings of saliva dripping down your chin. He fucks you deeper.

“Ohh, what a messy little angel i’ve got here…” he leans down and licks the saliva off of your chin, making your body chill from the surprising action. “Drooling all over herself.”

And it was there again, your climax coming faster than the previous one. Your legs shake as you try to hold it in but it was all too much, happening too fast. You cum all over his cock without the energy of saying anything, your whole body trembling as the sheets rustle underneath you. Taehyung gasps, furrowing his forehead. He can’t move or a brief moment from how tight you were squeezing his dick.

“Fuck, cum baby, that’s right. Make a fucking mess on my dick.”

You feel so euphoric, never feeling this amount of pleasure in your entire life. Your vision blacks out for a quick second, seeing little white stars while he continues to thrust his hips a little bit slower this time.

Taehyung can’t seem to take in anymore so he reaches his hands behind your head and unclasps the gag, removing it from you. You inhale a large breath as you can finally breathe properly. “Sir,” you whimper, your energy drained out, “S-So sensitive.”

“Shh, shh, baby,” he coos, removing his cock out as your cum drips down to your asshole and down to the sheets. He was still rock hard, and you feel bad for it. “Don’t worry angel, c’mere, let me fuck your throat.”

You nod, looking up with weary eyes while he straddles your chest, placing the tip of his angry-red cock right above your lips. You open your mouth immediately, making him chuckle, “Good girl.”

Taehyung pushes his cock past your lips and you instantly moan from the taste of your own cum. He throws his head back, holding onto the headboard as he starts to slowly thrust himself in and out. “Suck on it, angel. Use your tongue.”

You hollow your cheeks the best that you can, slacking your jaw while you try to take his cock in the best that you can. He was so thick, the tangy-sweet taste of your own cum coating your tongue while you swirled around his tip. His deep moans and grunts were turning you on, encouraging you to do better. Taehyung stops halfway when your mouth chokes around his cock, gagging sounds make him roll his eyes back in bliss. He grabs a hold of your head and forces his dick a little bit deeper, the vibrations of your moans were electrifying his body.

He quickly starts to fuck your mouth, shoving his length in and out like an animal. He wasn’t thinking clearly as he focuses on the sound of your whimpers and the feeling of your throat closing around him. His cock twitches, your tongue sliding against the underside of his shaft. Your saliva drips down to your chin again as you look up at him with watery eyes. He bites his lip from how hot you looked with his cock choking your mouth.

“Fuck yeah, that mouth feels so good,” he gasps, “I’m gonna cum angel, gonna cum down that pretty throat.”

The choking sounds were music to his ears, feeling your throat closing around him repeatedly until he finally spills his hot, sticky load down. Your eyes widen in shock and Taehyung pulls out, starting to stroke his length vigorously. Strings of cum come shooting out, coating your chest and a little bit on your face. You’ve never felt dirtier in your entire life. Taehyung moans out your name, drenching his cock to the very hilt.

Taehyung never once judged you for who you are. In the beginning, you worried if you’ll ever even reach the expectations given to you. Being his submissive means letting him control your body and letting him do whatever he wants to you with consent. You wouldn’t think in your entire years of living that you’ll agree on something absurd like this. But as intimidating as he is, Taehyung happily gives you the ropes and helps you climb it. You love how he never lets you walk alone. He was always there to guide you – and you love him for that.

But love? That’s a word holding so much weight.

Even though you’re starting to learn how to be open and bold, there’s still one thing you’re afraid of.

Catching feelings.

You’re still just a normal college student! It’s normal! But when you’re with someone who’s constantly making you feel butterflies in your stomach and making you blush, someone who’s always taking care of you like nobody did – more than your parents did, and someone who makes you feel special – it’s hard not to fall for someone like that. Like Taehyung. And it’s so fucking scary to know if he ever loves you back.

Thanks for reading and being patient! The taglist is closed, and I apologize if I couldn’t/forgot to add you <3

@taehyungmakesmeoof @cuddleyashlee @jkthethief @reflectionsthings @bangvateez @soft-pjimin @jiminiesthiccthighs @sugarkinky @allforjenrene @inutiledediscuter @hoeseokworld @tata951230 @bangtansubyeondan @bboop-bro @megasecretme @sjt-kpoplover @pipwhale @fetchingtae @creepysweet @nama4 @cami–yg @nanna022 @honeyhyuckles @lightskintae @zimzimseulgi @bangtan-myhome @taehyungmakesmeoof @rain-fall-2019 @chvrcs @shreya-pjm @dubtae @a-florxscer @aphrotints @livorna @nerdylunagrl @phillixie @jjk-bunny @itskitten123 @jooniejune @kookie-and-sugar @zxlla

#taehyung smut #btswritersguild #btsbookclub #btssmutcentral #btswriterscollective #thekimlinenet #jungkook smut

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