#today I’m going to rot in bed and just scroll or write

[meowdei]

Good morning my little blog citizens 😚

[everyonewooeverywhere]

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ bf!vernon x f!reader

synopsis ✭ when you come home from a less-than-perfect day, your boyfriend is nowhere to be found, but you don't want to call him and ask him to come home while he's out with friends. even though he'd drop everything if he knew you were struggling.

content/genre ✭ smut 18+ MDNI, established relationship, non-idol!au, hurt to comfort, relatively fluffy

word count ✭ 2.5k

notes ✭ hey hi! this is just a reworking of "minor nuisance." when i originally wrote it i was between writing it for jongho or hansol, so i figured i'd rework it for hansol ☺️

i said this in the original, but i'll say it here too. the mc in this is heavily based on my experiences with adhd. so this is a little personal but it was very therapeutic to write at the time.

✭ ✭ ✭

It was a terrible day. One of the worst you’d had in a while. Nothing seemed to be going your way. You’d ripped your favorite pair of tights this morning when getting ready in a hurry after waking up super late. You’d locked yourself out of the apartment. The seven dollar coffee you’d bought for yourself to cope with aforementioned events had spilt all over your desk, ruining the book you had just received as a gift from a coworker. And, to top it all off, your boss had demanded you to stay late to finish what was supposed to be his job.

So when you finally made it back to your apartment, after waiting in the lobby forever waiting for your landlord to let you in, you wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch with your boyfriend and fall asleep in his arms. 

You were plagued with fatigue as you slipped out of your work shoes and made your way through the kitchen and into the living room, not finding him anywhere. The bedroom the two of you shared was also completely vacant. Nothing had changed since you’d left this morning. He hadn’t been home all day.

Maybe he’s just working late, you thought, slightly defeated knowing you’d have to wait for him, not knowing how long it would take. 

Trying to take your mind off of it, you scrolled on your phone for a completely indiscernible amount of time, feeling completely defeated with the day you’d had. Moving in with Hansol months ago has been an incredibly helpful step for you. Before the two of you had lived together, you were a master of procrastinating your own feelings. Constantly letting yourself rot away in your bed and letting the day pass you by. Only to be plagued by that crushing guilt that came with letting a day go by unproductively. Living with Hansol had given you someone to hold you accountable. To pull you out of bed because sometimes it was impossible to do it on your own.

But on nights like these, where your boyfriend was nowhere to be found, which was not a common occurrence, you felt yourself slipping back into the endless cycle of losing yourself in your phone for countless hours. 

Hours passed and the sun was almost completely down before you received a text from your boyfriend.

| hannie 💗: hey love, sorry i had to stay late for work today. i’m gonna go get some drinks with my coworkers.

| hannie 💗: that ok?

God, you felt so helpless. How horrible and controlling of a partner would you be to tell him ‘no?’ Did he ask? Yes, but you desperately didn’t want to be the girl who always needed to be by her boyfriend’s side. Telling him he couldn’t go out with his friends would make you feel like such a nuisance. You stared at the screen for a good two minutes, biting your thumb, trying to think of how to respond.

| hannie 💗: y/n? 

| hannie 💗: i can see you read the message. is everything alright?

Before you could even draft a response, his name flashed across the screen. Taking a deep breath, you slid your thumb across the screen, answering the call.

“Hi,” you picked up.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You could hear some of his coworkers in the background. He must already be at the bar. 

You held in a sigh, “Nothing, I’m alright. Why?”

“Y/n, you read and didn’t respond to my message. Like you were overthinking a response."

You didn’t say anything. Overthinking yet another response.

“Love, I don’t even want to be here that badly. If you need me to come home, I will. But you’ve gotta tell me.” He was being so patient with you. So much more patient than you thought you deserved, though he would certainly disagree with that.

You took a deep breath, nearing tears, “I–” this was so incredibly hard, “Can you please come home? I didn’t really have a great day.”

“Of course, I’ll be there in about thirty minutes. Do you want me to stay on the phone?”

“No, it’s alright. I just need to see you.”

“Ok, just hang in there alright. Why don’t you hop in the shower, and we can watch a movie when I get back. I’ll pick up some takeout on my way, too.”

When you hang up, you force yourself to get out of bed and get in the shower. It’s so rewarding and feels so relaxing that you can’t imagine why you ever couldn’t get out of the bed in the first place. But, of course, you say that every time. 

✭✭✭✭

By the time you had gotten out of the shower and dried your hair, Hansol had made it home with the takeout he’d promised in hand. 

When you left your bedroom, you saw him sitting on the floor in your living room. He’d lit a candle on the coffee table and set the food down with it. You could tell he’d changed out of his work clothes into a hoodie and basketball shorts, mirroring your almost identical outfit. He didn’t notice you at first. He was chatting to someone on the phone, seemingly a friendly conversation, and not one you wanted to interrupt. When he saw you, though, you heard him say goodbye to whoever was on the line. 

Throwing his phone down on the couch, he got up from the floor and met you at the door of your bedroom. Pulling you into a big hug, he placed a kiss on the top of your head. 

“No pressure, but, if you wanna talk about your day, we can.”

You shook your head, “Not really. I just wanna eat, I think.”

The two of you ate, sitting in comfortable silence on the floor in your living room. You noticed as you took in the scene around you, that Hansol had turned off all the overhead lights in the room. Leaving only the candlelight and the string lights around the ceiling to illuminate the room. There was something about warm lighting that made everything feel so much more cozy and comfortable. 

Your boyfriend wasn’t the most physically affectionate individual, but he never failed to make you feel loved. He always noticed the small things. He was hyper aware of your emotions in the least patronizing way possible. It was little moments like bringing home food for you and turning the cool-toned overhead lights off that reminded you that this man knew you better than anyone.

And that wasn’t something that happened overnight. He tried harder than anyone you’d ever met to know you. Your likes, dislikes, discomforts, phobias, and even your little habits. He knew it all. What he knew most is that you desired so bad to have someone to pull you out of your slump. Which is why he had come home early.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t stay out with your friends,” you whispered, staying focused on the food in front of you.

“I didn’t come home because I felt any obligation to. It’s not that I couldn’t stay out with my friends. It’s that you needed me here at home, and I wanted to come home and comfort you.” He ran a hand over your hair as he finished up his own food. 

That was another thing you loved about him. He wasn’t saying this because he wanted to make you feel better. He wanted you to know that you were not alone. That you were free to feel your feelings, and he’d always be right beside you to comfort you through them.

“Thank you,” you looked up at him, “I love you, you know that, right?”

“How could I ever forget? I love you, too.”

✭✭✭✭

After the food was gone and the coffee table was cleared, Hansol had put on a movie laid down on the couch, holding out his arms for you. When you finally sat between his legs and leaned into his chest, he pulled a quilted blanket over the two of you, wrapping his arms around you.

You paid very little mind to the movie playing on the TV. Instead you were focused on the rhythm of his breathing, the steady beating of his heart, and the minor movements his chest would make when he let out a soft laugh whatever he was watching.

He played with your hair, running his fingers through the strands, softly brushing his fingers over your neck with each pass. This position couldn’t have been more comfortable. Being with the man you loved as he comforted you in the way he knew best with absolutely no complaint was more than you could’ve ever dreamed of.

Hansol would claim that it was the bare minimum, but you always felt the need to let him know how much he really amazed you. 

When you reached your hand up to his cheek to brush your thumb over the skin, he looked down at you, completely forgetting about the movie playing. He grabbed your hand from his cheek and kissed your fingers, your palm, the back of your hand, the inside of your wrist.

Pulling yourself up to his face, you kissed him as softly as he’d done to your hand. Everything was so soft. From the way he kissed you to the way he caressed the skin under your hoodie right above the waistband of your shorts. From the hand you had in his hair to the way he lifted you to sit more comfortably in his lap.

He kissed your neck just as softly. You sighed contently. Fully basking in the way he took care of you. His movie was fully disregarded at this point as he gripped the bottom of your shirt.

Looking into your eyes he asked, “can I take care of you, love?” You nodded, helping him lift the sweatshirt over your head. 

Before you could even comprehend the nakedness of your chest, he lifted you into his arms and carried you to your shared bed. Laying you on your back. Your bare skin taking immense comfort in the softness of your sheet. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw his pants off to the side.

He immediately went back to kissing you. Hands moving from your cheeks, down your neck. His thumbs caressed your collarbone as his lips brushed the crook of your neck and then your shoulder. You shuddered when one of his hands took your breast. His lips met the other one, causing you to let out a breathy moan and weave your fingers through his dark hair.

He continued to kiss and touch every inch of your torso. When he got to your waistband, he left a small kiss under your belly button. His big brown eyes meeting your own as he pulled your shorts and underwear off together. Tossing them to the side of the bed. 

Lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder, he kissed your inner thigh, still meeting your eyes. The eye contact wasn’t broken until his thumb met your clit. Brushing over it slightly, making you toss your head back into the pillows under you. His mouth replaced his thumb, slowly teasing you. 

With his free hand, he took your own hand, the one that wasn’t gripping his hair, and threaded his fingers through yours. Thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

He felt so good. His tongue working so hard to make you feel pleasure. Everything was so gentle, but felt so euphoric. His fingers pumping in and out of you as he sucked on your clit. You felt like you could’ve floated away with the way he caressed your hand and your thigh. It wasn’t long before you were washed with a wave of pleasure. Everything was hot. You felt it rush through you from your ears down to your cunt. He kissed your thigh one more time after you came, fingers pushing you through the finale of your orgasm. 

Your breathing was ragged when he made it back up to your face, kissing you tenderly. Reaching a hand beneath the pillow under your head. He pulled out a condom. Before he could open it, you plucked it out of his hands, tearing it open as he stripped himself of his own underwear before you rolled the rubber onto his length. He groaned at the touch.

“You ready?” He asked, grabbing your arm and kissing your wrist.

You nodded, smiling, “yes. please, baby.”

When he pushed into you, you gasped and threw your head back again. He kissed your neck and shoulder, slowly thrusting into you. On most occasions, you’d beg him to go faster, but his subdued nature in this moment was so incredibly comforting. His thumb massaged your clit.

He kissed you deeply as he thrust into you. Completely overtaking your lips with his own. His kisses were so full of passion that your head spun. His adoration for you was so evident from the way he looked into your eyes when he stopped kissing you. Your foreheads pressed together, separated only by a thin layer of sweat. 

“I love you so much, y/n,” he says, just above a whisper. So close that you can feel his breath tickle your lips when he says it.

You moan softly, feeling yourself reach a second high, “I love you, too.”

It’s only a matter of minutes before you reach your orgasm. You grip his shoulders tight as he coaxes you through your climax. Walls fluttering around him as he finishes inside the condom. 

He kisses your lips once more before pulling out. He pushes himself off the bed to throw it away. When he comes back, he slides back into bed with you. Breath still slightly ragged. 

You laid on his chest, listening to his heart beat once more.

Running a hand over his stomach, you said, “Thanks for coming home early today.”

“Of course, love. You know I’d drop anything to come home to you if you were struggling.”

“I just feel like such a nuisance asking for you to come home,” you groaned.

He ran a hand over your hair, “I will never ever see you asking for help as a nuisance. Sometimes you just need a little push. Or sometimes you just need to lay in someone’s arms. I will always be there to do that for you. No matter the circumstance, ok?”

You wanted to protest, tell him he was too much, too good to you, but he kept going, “I trust you. I know that when you ask me to come home, it’s not because you're insecure or controlling. It’s because you need help, and I want you to always feel comfortable asking for it.”

He’d left you just a little bit speechless. All you could respond with was a gentle kiss on his lips.

For him, though, that was more than enough.

[onlystylesangels]

Silent Struggles

Anon: I might have a request … :) so what if harry found fem!Y/N’s pack of cigarettes and he didn’t know she smoked bc she never mentioned anything and he talks to her bc he’s concerned?/ Anon: H's girl seems to be acting off and he confronts her and it turns out she's been dealing with some depression and anxiety and she's been to scared to let anyone in or... reader seems to be going through something and hasn't told anyone about it and starts smoking cigarettes; dealing with her problems alone.

Warnings!!!: talks about anxiety, talks about depression, smoking, fluff, Harry being a supportive boyfriend, reader feeling insecure

A/N: Hello!!!! I know it's been a very long time since I have posted a new Harry writing. But here it is, lovies! I hope you enjoy this one. !!!***Before you read I want to start by saying that you are loved and you're precious to this world. I love you, yeah, you the lovely person that's reading this. I care about you and there are so many people around you that care for you too. Please if you're going through something, don't fight alone. Please tell someone what you're going through. Please be safe. -A <3

It happened as always. At night you would wake up from a nightmare, open the drawer from your nightstand and rummage for your new pack of cigarettes, the plastic wrapper still intact. You took two cigarettes out and grabbed your lighter. You walk into the balcony and start the fire. You inhale a sharp breath and let out the hollowing contents of nicotine. It felt nice. Feeling the nightly fresh air hit your exposed arms, goosebumps adorning your skin as you puff out smoke from your mouth. It happened as always, as a freshly new night routine. 

The next morning you woke up with the bitter taste of nicotine filling your senses and feeling a bit dizzy when you sat up from bed. You quickly grab your phone and look at the time. It was already 9am and you were positive that you were going to be running late to the local bookstore. 

So, you take a shower and put on clothes that may or may not have matched together to create a decent outfit, but fuck it. You were about to be late so you had to work with what you had. You quickly dashed to the kitchen and prepared a quick breakfast and made sure to message Harry. 

“Hi bubba! I’m heading out to work. I’ll see you later today, okay? Love you.”

“Sounds good, love. I love you too. Make sure to drink enough water!” 

Harry, always the caring type. You loved that about him. Having a person loving you for you and always making sure that you were doing okay was one of the blessings that you took for granted. If only it were that easy to show that same love to yourself.   

“Richie! Did you get a chance to call Davy? His favorite book just came in and he had first dibs on the book” You shout out to your coworker who always seems to be too busy to work as he is sitting at the back corner of the bookstore, scrolling through his phone. Pesky phones, fucking culprits of rotting out your brain.  

“Haven’t gotten a chance, Y/N. Why don’t you call ‘em?” Richie sends you a head nod and immediately looks down at his phone. Fucking twat.

You roll your eyes and walk towards the front desk and call Davy. But before you start pushing down the buttons on the phone you see someone come in.

“Hey Y/N! Has that book come in here yet?” The man of the hour. Davy, the active reader and loyal customer of the Blues Blues Bookstore. 

“Hey there, Davy. I was literally just about to call you. I got that book reserved here for you. Hold on.” 

You walk towards the back of the store and retrieve the book that had a bookmark with his name plastered on it. You walk towards the entrance and hand it to him. He quickly takes the book in his hands and begins turning the pages. 

“I love it! Thank you again, Y/N! Glad I got here as quickly as possible.” 

You turn towards the computer and begin typing away, clearing the book for Davy.

“My pleasure, Davy. Just make sure to always come back. You’re keeping us in business, remember?” You joke, making Davy laugh and giving you an eye roll.

“Yeah, yeah. I recommended some people to come by to the store. Not sure if they found their way in yet.”   

“Haven’t seen any new faces lately. I would ask Richie, but that twat doesn’t do anything here, so I guess no new customers.”

“Hmm, you should bring that up to Daya. I’m sure she’ll fire the guy.”

Firing Richie, tsk, that guy is literally family to Daya. Even if you tell her that Richie doesn’t do anything in the store she’ll find a way to defend him and tell you off. There is no way that you would ever start a conversation regarding firing Richie to Daya; she’ll never believe or listen to you. 

“We’ll see.” Is all you say as Davy puts his new book in his satchel.

“I’ll see you around, Y/N.” Davy says as he starts walking towards the doors. “Oh, and tell that boyfriend of yours hi. I haven’t seen that English man in a while.” 

You smile at the thought of him bringing up Harry. 

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll tell him you said hi. See you Davy.” You wave goodbye to him as he does the same. 

During your break time you try to sneak in some time to smoke a cigarette and make sure that the door you come out from is shut tightly. You feel dumb for hiding your recent cigarette intake from people, but then again, people see you as the nicest and innocent person on earth. Yeah, sure. But you kept thinking about the deadline. Your personal deadline that you set yourself to meet someone at the law college that you have been researching on. 

For a couple of months now you’ve been thinking about applying to a local law college in your city and were afraid to continue the process. You continuously had non-pep talks about how you would be a terrible law student and that you may not make it to getting accepted into the college. This and telling anyone about it was just too much for you to handle. You didn't even tell Harry yet. You knew why you didn’t want to tell anyone; you didn’t want to burden them with your problems. Problems that you knew were affecting you mentally and emotionally. 

= = = 

After the break you couldn’t stop the thoughts running through your mind. The mere thought of reaching out to the law school representatives and going to that mandatory interview to see if you were worth being a candidate for their college was already too much to think about. And so you continue your work in the bookstore. Putting new books up on the shelves and welcoming customers into the bookstore. Parents accompanied with their children as you reach for the candy jar under the front desk to offer to the children. You liked your job at the bookstore, but you felt like you needed a change of scenery, especially after working there for four years. And the thought of leaving this job and trying something new frightened you.

A couple of minutes before you were off. There was a ding heard at the entryway.

“Sorry, we’re closed. You can come by tomorrow at-” You look up from the front desk and notice that it’s Harry. Carrying a bouquet of flowers in his hands. His hair started to grow from the buzz cut he got months ago. Gray trousers and loose fitting t-shirt that was starting to rip at the neckline. You told him to throw that shirt away but he always replied by saying that it was his lucky shirt. Did you believe him? Of course not, but if he claims it is his lucky shirt then it’s his lucky shirt.

“Harry!” You run towards him ignoring the stack of books that were in front of you that needed price tags. 

Harry smiles and hugs you back as he kisses your cheek. “Hi, my love.” You walk back a bit and finally take notice of the bouquet of flowers in his hands. 

“And these?” 

“Oh, I got ‘em for Richie. You know that marvelous coworker of yours,” He lies through his teeth, your eyes rolling at the mention of his name. He notices your change of mood and lifts your chin with his thumb. “Hey, lovie. I’m joking. These are for you. I saw them at the local flower shop and thought that you would like ‘em.” Your lips start curving into a smile and you give him a kiss on the lips.

“Thank you, Harry,” you smell the flowers and softly touch the flower petals, “They’re gorgeous.”

“You’re welcome, my love.” Harry follows you as you go towards the backroom. Retrieving your things and ready to call it a day at the bookstore. 

“Ready?” Harry asks you. You smile in response and immediately grab his hand as he leads you both to the exit. You lock the doors to the bookstore and leave walking hand-in-hand with Harry.

You reach your apartment and unlock the door to your little home. You walk in along with Harry and make your way to the sink and grab a vase under the sink cabinet. Harry watches you as you fill the vase with water and stick the flowers in it; he admires your acts and just leans his weight on the kitchen island and stares at you as if you were this beautiful undiscovered galaxy. 

You catch him staring and you get shy all of a sudden. You get a bit self-conscious, but then that feeling goes away when Harry walks towards you and cups your cheeks. 

“You’re so pretty, Y/N.” You feel your cheeks get hot and you quickly turn your head away from his gaze; not even hiding the smile that you had. Harry chuckles and swiftly turns your head back to his gaze. “Don’t hide from me, love. It’s just me.” Harry teases, the back of his hand smoothly running down your cheek. 

“You make me nervous, Harry.” You confess, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you making me shy.” 

Harry picks you up and walks towards the couch. He keeps you on his lap as you continue hiding away from him. You both have been dating for over a year and so you must’ve at least gotten used to all those times that Harry gets you all flustered, but you haven’t yet. It’s like falling in love with him for the first time. That’s how you feel right now. Your body is so close to his and his arms wrapped around your body as he just holds you. Appreciating your presence; he held you in strong arms as if he was afraid to let you go. And he was.

For the rest of the evening you both order takeout from two different restaurants because you were craving two of your favorite foods. Harry happily ordered from the two restaurants as he left you in an excited mess. Excited that you were finally going to eat those foods that you craved for so long. The food doesn’t take long for it to arrive at the apartment and so you and Harry eat on the couch and watch some movies to pass the time. You both joke around about the characters from the movie that you were both watching and made the night pleasant. 

As the night went along, you were laughing along with Harry and enjoying being in each other’s company. You wished you could be there on the couch all night, but you were starting to yawn and your eyes starting to droop from how sleepy you were. Harry noticed and turns off the tv and grabs your hand and leads you both to your bedroom. He lets you go into the bathroom first to start your night routine as he lies down on the bed scrolling on his phone. 

You walk out the bathroom and stand over the bed and lean down to meet Harry’s eyes. He plops his phone down on his stomach and you take this opportunity to kiss his pink lips. 

“Mm, I don’t want to shower anymore.” He whines in between kisses. You chuckle and grab both of his hands and try your best to lift your boyfriend up from the bed. Jeez, you weren’t an active gym-rat, but from just lifting up his body you felt like you did a whole workout.

“Damn, Harry.” You swipe a hand over your forehead. Harry laughed in response. 

“My bones are heavy, love.” He simply responds as he walks towards your dresser and opens up his designated drawer that has some of his clothes in it. “Be right back, lovie.” He looks behind him and sees you starting to make yourself comfortable on your side of the bed. 

“Don’t take too long.” You respond

“I’ll try not to.” He walks to the bathroom with a new pair of clothes hanging on his shoulder. He leaves the door open; the showerhead turning on.

A couple of minutes pass and Harry walks back into the bedroom; drying his hair as best as he could. It was easier for him to dry it now that it was shorter. You lift up the bed covers inviting him inside the warm cocoon. You both lie together, Harry spooned you from behind and as you brought one his arms up to your chest. You both fall asleep into a quiet slumber. 

But you wake up after a couple of hours. You didn’t even bother to check the time as you opened your eyes and slowly removed Harry’s arm from hugging your body. You sit up and walk towards your bedside drawer; already knowing your nightly routine. You grab the pack of cigarettes that were hidden under some of your favorite books and miscellaneous items that you kept forgetting to get rid of. You also get a lighter that was stashed inside your purse and go outside to the balcony.

The butt of the cigarette blazes to life as you take a breath in of the substance and slowly let a breath out. Your thoughts once again start to disappear with every intake of breath you take. It numbed them, made them disappear, but only temporarily. You knew that smoking was making your lungs get sore and your nose wrinkling still not getting used to the smell of the smoke, but you didn’t care at that moment. It numbed everything, it numbed your problems and it made everything feel-- better.

As you continued puffing out air of smoke you continued looking up at the sky, stars aligning the horizon randomly. With each puff of smoke you felt the anxiety slowly go away. You were almost down to the brim of the cigarette, so you could comfortably go back to sleep. Once you were about to inhale one last breath of nicotine you heard footsteps making its way towards the balcony. You freeze and hold the cigarette in your  fingers, bringing your hand to your side. 

“Y/n?” Harry says as he rubs the sleepiness out of his eyes. “What are you doing out here, it’s la-” He stops himself once he notices what’s in your hand. He looked confused, he didn’t know you smoked. 

“Harry.” You reply. The cigarette is still in between your fingers, burning away. 

“I- I didn’t know you smoke.” Harry begins slowly walking towards you, concern sketched in his eyes.

You look down at the cigarette that continues to burn away and you feel tears start welling up in your eyes. You bring the cigarette up in front of you and stomp it on the floor, watching as the smoke starts consuming your nose. Regret. Regret is what you were feeling as you turned to Harry’s presence, his demeanor causing you to feel like a deer in front of headlights. You’re sorry. Sorry that you never told him that you picked up smoking because of not having anything else to control your anxiety. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t know what else to do.” 

Harry runs to you and embraces you with all his might. “Oh love. Come here.” You snuggled into his embrace and began crying. You held onto his arms so tightly that you were clutching onto him afraid of him letting go. Letting you go.

“I was scared. I just wanted to help… myself.” You mutter.

Harry held you as he ran his hands down your back. He would occasionally massage your head. “I promise you baby, I am going to be here for as long as you want me to, then you can let me in and help you.” He held onto you tightly and he kissed the side of your face. Harry let you cry on his chest as he rubbed your back soothingly, trying best to comfort you.

“I just felt alone.”  

Harry steps back a bit and looks you in the face, concern written all over his green irises. He held your hand in his and met your eyes filled with tears.“You have me, darlin’.” Harry said, his fingers lightly brushing away the stranded tear on your cheek. “I’m right here, Y/N.” He reassures you. Bringing you close to his body again.

“I’m so sorry, Harry. I’m sorry.” You let out, Harry cupping your cheeks trying to calm your nerves. 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. You have nothin’ to apologize for, lovie.” He looks at your bloodshot eyes. Seeing you sad like this he felt broken. Broken that he didn’t know how to make you feel better, broken because he hated seeing you without a smile on your face. Broken that he wasn’t aware that you were hurting. “Is it okay if I ask what’s going on?” He said with a soft voice. 

“I– I just been sad and overthinking, okay.” You let out, your hands coming up to cover your face. You felt ashamed, as if a parent just witnessed the most disappointing act from their child. You hated feeling insecure in your own skin; you felt worse that it was Harry that was looking down at you with concern in his eyes and his body weight shifting to softly take your hands in his and seeing your face. 

“Hey, hey. Y/N, baby, you’re scaring me. What are you sad about,” Harry steps back a bit giving you room to speak and mostly giving himself self-control from forcing you to share what’s been making you sad. “Baby, I’m right here, okay. It’s just me.” 

You slowly turn your head away from his gaze and look at the sky. Your hands no longer covering your flushed face, but now twiddling with your shirt, Harry’s shirt. You feel bad that you now created droplets of tears on the collar of his favorite shirt. 

“I just have been dealing with a lot of negative thoughts and I just… sniffle… I didn’t want you to worry about me.” Your hands constantly were moving from your face down to your shirt. Harry catches your little antics and walks towards you, slowly, making sure that he has a good distance between you two before he starts again.

“Y/N. I had no idea that you were going through something. I had the feeling that you were acting a bit different, but never thought that something was affecting you,” He waits for your permission to come in closer and so he takes no time and has his hands cupping your cheeks. Tears staining your beautiful cheeks that he so dearly loved taking his time in kissing and feeling your soft skin against his ring-clad fingers. “I wished I knew you were going through something.” He confessed, sensing a feeling of regret that he felt for not seeing the signs of you feeling depressed and not being your energetic-self. Now as he looks back, he noticed your change of behavior. Being a bit more reserved, but still communicating with him which led him not sensing a shift of you. 

 “You always told me that it was your period messin’ with ya mood. I was so stupid to believe that. Baby, I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you.” 

It’s true. You shared to him that the past couple of months when he would suggest going out to shopping outlets and going out for dinner you would simply reply that you weren’t in the mood to go out in public. That your period was getting the best of you and drained your energy. It was true that you had bad days when you were on your period, but you made him believe that it was your menstrual cycle being the culprit of you feeling drained. 

“I’m sorry, Harry.” You cried out, his hands holding your head as he hugged your frame and landed kisses on your head. 

“It’s okay. I know now that you haven’t been feeling good. Jus’ let me help you, yeah?” Harry looks down at you, your eyes bloodshot as a soft smile creeps up on Harry’s lips. You follow suit and slowly mimic a smile back. 

Harry leads you back to the bedroom and lets you sit on the edge of the bed. “‘M going to start a bath for you. Is that okay?” 

You nod in agreement and he starts turning on the bath faucet, making sure that the water is warm enough to calm your body and hopefully make you feel a bit better. As he is sure that the water is at the right temperature he comes back to the bedroom where you are still sitting on the bed. He kneels in front of you and looks up at you, his hands running up and down your arms gently. 

“The water is almost ready for ya. I’m gonna get those bath bombs you like so much and light up some candles.” He says, reaching towards your head and landing a kiss on your forehead. You softly smile at his action and continue looking at his beautiful eyes that you could never get tired of looking at. 

He goes back to the bathroom and takes a blueberry muffin scented bath bomb and throws it inside the bathtub as he watches the water fizzle and quickly change into a dark blue hue. He then lights up a couple of candles and sets them on the sink cabinet.

He comes back to the bedroom and Harry motions for you to stand up and you do and follow behind him making your way to the bathroom. He’s about to leave you alone in the bathroom for you to get undressed, giving you privacy.

You quickly reach towards his hand and he stops from walking out the bathroom. He looks back at you waiting for you to say something. 

“Stay, please.” You mutter softly. His hand slowly intertwines with yours as he shuts the door behind him and walks towards you. Nodding in agreement as he follows suit and starts undressing. You motion for him to help you unclasp your bra and he quickly does it with ease. 

You step into the warm water and instantly feel the water relieving your tired muscles. You didn’t even realize how tense your muscles were. Harry then follows you and lands both feet on the warm bathtub. He lies down first and motions for you to lie down against his chest. You carefully situate your body close to his and feel his thick thighs wrap around your own legs, his arms wrapping around your mid area. Your breasts touching his forearms. Your skin sinking into the warm embrace of the scented water as you shiver, goosebumps trailing on your skin yet again from the cool air coming from the bathroom. Harry cups his hands into the water and brings it up to splash water on your chest and remaining skin that has yet to make contact with the warm water. You smile from his gentle mannerisms as you lean back into his chest, your head cradling on top of his chest. You look up at him as he smiles down at you, dimples on full display. 

Harry kisses the top of your head and you close your eyes and smile in response. His soft touches always make you feel relaxed.

“You want to talk ‘bout it?” Harry asked, his hands making small circles on your belly.  

“No. But I need to talk about it,” You reply, holding onto his free hand that’s holding onto the tub. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that I have been thinking about going back to school. Law school.” You confess, playing with Harry’s fingers and tracing his knuckles.

“That’s exciting, love. I’m happy that you’re thinking about going back to school.” He soothes your belly some more. 

You turn your head just enough to catch his gaze. “Yeah, but I know how much you want to move in together. I want to move in together too, but law school isn’t cheap.” 

“We’ll figure it out together. I can always pick up extra shifts at the tattoo parlor and maybe sell some of my songs on the side.” Harry assures you. 

“But, I don’t want you working too hard for my sake. That’s one of the reasons why I was afraid to tell you this.” You turn your attention back to Harry’s freehand and continue tracing his knuckles. 

Harry catches this and softly tilts your head so he could see your eyes. “Hey, lovie. We’re in this together. If you have dreams of your own I will stand by you and help you achieve those dreams. We’re a team, yeah?” 

You smile up at him. Tears slowly start to blur your vision. You have always been like this. When new problems would arise you would shut-off, you wouldn’t tell anyone about what you were going through and it was hard for you to ask for help. You were that friend that always told people to reach out to you if they were going through something, but that’s the exact thing that you don’t do. Leaving yourself to fend for yourself; self-sabotaging yourself. 

You look away and land your hands on your knees, feeling tears starting to slide down your cheeks again. “I feel like such a loser. Why is this small thing bothering me so much?” You quietly say. 

Harry shifts his body just enough so he could see the state that you’re in. He moves a couple of your wet strands away from your face and tucks it behind your ear. “Hey, don’t call yourself that. You’re not a loser. You’re my beautiful girlfriend who's the strongest person I’ve ever known.” 

Pfft. “Strong?” You repeat, feeling an urge of disgust with yourself. 

“Hey, whatever you’re feeling, we’ll get through it together. You’re strong for sharing what you’re going through.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, Harry.” You turn your head and stare at his eyes. Wanting to feel his lips against yours.

“It’s okay, baby.” He kisses your shoulder and notices how your gaze looks at his lips. He meets your eyes and leans close to kiss your lips. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his body closer to yours, feeling his body heat. Your arms run down his tattooed arm and leave his lips wishing for more as you start kissing his swallows on his chest. 

He brings your face close to his. “We’ll do this together, lovie. I promise.” He says through kisses, kissing every crevice of your face, making you smile from his facial hair tickling your skin. 

As you two finish up bathing and drying your bodies and changing into clean clothes; you started to feel better. You weren’t sure if it was because you finally told Harry what you were going through, or if it was because you had Harry with you being that only person to see you at your lowest and comforting you. You didn’t know, but you felt good.

You both get ready for bed. Harry finishes brushing his teeth and putting a serum on his face that you recommended him to try. You lay down on the bed waiting for Harry to walk into the bedroom. He discards his shirt and throws it somewhere in the bedroom. Thinking about that in the morning he’s going to be looking for that garment all morning. The thought of it makes you smile. 

Harry walks to the bed and lies down. He motions you to climb on him and you do as you carefully situate one of your legs to be between one his legs. You look at him to check if he looks comfortable.

“Is this okay?” You asked, he nods and slides a hand under your shirt, his hand running up and down your back. He kisses the crook of your neck. You lie your head on his chest and hear his heart beating in a steady rhythm. With the thumping of Harry’s heart you begin drifting off into sleep. 

“Goodnight, lovie.” Harry whispers to you. But you were already out. Harry takes it as a clue that you have already called it a night when you didn’t respond back. He smiles to himself and continues running his hands over your back, feeling your body relax to his soft touch.

That night was the first night that you felt good, happy even. You felt relieved, this was one of the first nights that you slept through the whole night. You didn’t wake up to a nightmare clouding your unconscious mind. You had Harry next to you, hugging your body, feeling his warm breath hit the crevices of your neck, feeling his arms wrapped around you as if you were his only safe haven.

The next day…

“You want me to be there with you while you fill out the college application?” Harry asks you as he takes a sip of his tea. 

You hold the mug of freshly brewed coffee and smell the vanilla hazelnut creamer and instantly making you melt. 

“You would do that?”

“Of course. I want to be in every step of the college process, if you let me.”

“I would love that, Harry.” You smile as you set down your mug. 

“Okay, my love,” Harry kisses the top of your head and whispers "I love you” to you. “I’m going to get something for us to eat. I’ll be right back.” He takes his wallet and spare keys into one hand and leans towards you where you sit in the kitchen island. “Kissy?” 

Kissy. A cute little phrase that you would both ask each other to ask for permission for a kiss. A phrase that started since you two were dating for five months. A little phrase that was childish, but you both didn’t care. It was cute. 

You smile up at him. As you took another sip of your coffee, then another one. Teasing Harry as a pout started to appear on his face. He then started blinking his eyes furiously making you stop drinking from your mug. He got you there.

“Kissy.” You lean over to him and kiss him. You cup his cheek and run your freehand into his hair. He moaned into your touch making you smile in response. 

“I’ll be back, yeah?” 

“Okay. I love you Harry.” 

“I love you.” 

He walks out the door with his spare keys being the only thing you hear as he makes his way down the corridor. Leaving you alone with your mug of coffee half-way filled in front of you. You walk to the living room and grab the laptop that was on top of the coffee table and bring it back to the kitchen island. You set it there and wait. You stare at the black screen of the laptop as your reflection looks back at you. You continue taking small sips of your coffee and wait until Harry comes back. 

////////

“Hey, darlin’ I got your favorite snacks and lunch from that Vietnamese restaurant you like.” Harry enters into the small apartment and takes you by surprise. You were reading a book that you always put off. He walked towards you and set the bags of food on the kitchen island in front of you. 

“Are you ready, lovie?” 

As time passed you completed the university application and stopped yourself to double check on every detail that you added on the application. You felt nervous, anxious about completing the whole college application process, but you knew that it was going to be worth it in the end. You were glad that you had Harry with you filling the application, because you wouldn’t have had the courage to fill it out on your own. You were happy that you were accompanied and had his support. Harry didn’t ignore the anxiety and the way that you would play with your fingers while filling out the online application. This was a lot for you and he understood that you needed a well-deserved break. 

“Hey baby, take a small break,” Harry grabs the laptop and closes it, but making sure that he saved the application before doing so. “Here, get some foodsies.” Harry passes you the large bowl filled with your favorite pho. 

You take a mouthful of the delicious seasoned soup and sigh as you feel the warmth of the soup comforting your body, leaving you in a relaxed state. “Thank you my love,” you take a napkin and wipe the corners of your mouth. “I missed pho so much.” 

Harry smiles in response as he takes a bite of his own pho. He sits closer to you as his knees touch yours. He gave you frequent glances as a way to know that you were eating well and keeping note of your reactions. You were comfortable which made him happy. 

The night went along well. You finished applying for the university and only waited to get a response back. A couple of weeks it would take before you would get a response. So you continued going to the bookstore and you were starting to share more things with Harry, something that you didn’t do before. You shared more about your past, your family. He knew about your parents and other closer family members, but you never went into depth with other important people that you grew up with back home. You were happy to share more of your life with Harry. 

You both spent more time with each other more often. If you called Harry that you were feeling down, Harry would drop what he was doing and quickly get to your apartment as fast as he could. If you were on your period and Harry knew about it he would stay the whole week to make sure that you were taking care of yourself and to obviously spoil you. Just because flowers were his favorite habit of showing you that he loved you and would randomly gift you little crochet stuffies from a local independent shop. He eventually got you so many that you were running out of spaces where to put them, but you loved every little crochet plushie, they were just so cute! 

The more time that you spent with Harry you hadn’t picked up a cigarette. After Harry found out that you were smoking to relieve what you were feeling he didn’t judge or tell you that you had to stop smoking. Instead, he didn’t mention it, but acknowledged that it was something that you picked up when you were feeling depressed. So, you were grateful that he was there with you along the way of you figuring out how to slowly stop smoking. 

Weeks later…

And so you waited two weeks. In those two weeks a lot happened. Harry was getting his stuff ready to officially move in with you. Nothing much happened, just helping Harry move in his boxes and get him situated in your now shared apartment. He was excited to start living with you and as he said it “Happy to wake up next to my lovie every mornin’.” You were ecstatic to live with Harry, and, well, he already was living in your apartment when he would stay some nights, but this was going to be different. You were going to wake up next to him every morning and being grumpy on Saturday mornings because Harry would wake you to go on morning runs. On a Saturday out of all days! But you were getting too used to him living in your shared space.

Later that week you received an acceptance letter from the university that you applied at. When Harry came to the apartment from work that same day you told him out of excitement. He hugged you tight and gave you so many kisses that overwhelmed you, but you didn’t care you were too happy. The following week you spent a whole week getting school supplies. Harry came along of course picking out the most random things that he swore that you would use in college. Who needs three white boards and two big packs of big sticky notes? You were content in getting one white board and one big sticky note pack just to make Harry feel better. 

“But you’re gonna need two of ‘em, lovie.” 

You chuckle at his antics, “Why two Harry? I just need one.” 

Harry stares down at the plastic covered white board in his hands. “Cause ya gonna need to jot down our date nights. You can’t fit everythin’ on one white board.” He reminds you.

“Bubba, one is enough.” 

You take the white board and pack of stickies with you along with some other supplies. Harry followed behind as he kept putting in colorful markers and journaling stickers in the cart. He definitely made that shopping trip amusing. And you loved every moment of it. 

Four years later…

You sat at every class lecture and followed along what the professors talked about. You were present, you were dedicated and it paid off. There were times where you had breakdowns because of the workload that law school brought to you and it was a lot to handle. The anxiety that was kept at bay was slowly creeping onto you during those troubling school semesters that were always heavy with coursework, but you always had Harry there to guide you through breathing techniques. It was a lot, but you were happy that you were pushing through those semesters for you, for your future and Harry’s. You were proud all those days that you showed up to class prepared to learn the material and to later take the bar exams.

Those four years really did pay off. Cap and gown on and a smile on your face as you waited for your name to be called on the intercom. You walked onto stage as you had the urge to cry, but you stopped yourself because you knew that this was your moment. You were ecstatic that you finally met your goal. Going to school and having Harry and your close family members with you during this long journey. Happy that you were no longer alone… well, you were never alone, but you finally knew what it felt to let people in, let people care about you and let them hear your struggles. You were no longer suffering in silence. You were now walking down the stage with a diploma in your hand, holding onto your biggest achievement and you were excited to see what the future held for you. You knew that whatever life would bring you, you would no longer fight it alone, because you had people and you were no longer going to struggle in silence.

[floridabaiter]

Lonely People (Not Us, Though)

George shoved him, “You’re crazy, we’ll get all wet.” 

“So what?” Dream was practically tugging George by the arm at this point “C’mon. Please? For me?”

And who would George be to deny that?

-

Dnf, george/dream , getting together , first kiss , probably ooc as fuck , tooth rotting fluff. Y’know, the good stuff. Dancing in the rain <3. We’re just egtting back into writing if its bad be nice to us :[

everyone say ty to anon btw 

George hated rainy days.

They made his body fatigue, mind hazy with the lazy pitter-patter hum against the rooftop as he lost himself. The touch-starved need to have someone with him keeping him distracted. Focus was always cast aside for clambering up into his bed, piles of blankets on top of him while he scrolled through his phone. 

Losing his productive drive for one day, in his mind, was the worst thing that could ever happen in the moment. His first rainy day in Florida since he arrived was spent huddled under several layers of fabric. It was far too hot and sticky for the humidity, poking his legs out to gain freedom as his torso was baked in the hot compartment he’d created himself.

The morning was spent so lazy, he found himself slipping into a state of haze- approaching footsteps and a rapping knock on the door dragging him out of it.

“George?” He heard through the door, “Geooorge, c’mon! I know you’re awake.. I’m bored.”

A groan.

“If you don’t open up I’m coming in there.” The warning was nothing if not lighthearted, concern hovering just below a teasing twinge meeting his ears as the door was pushed open.

What Dream was then met with was a heap. A heap of blankets, George sunk under them and nearly dozing off if it weren’t for the twitter feed in front of him.

“George, are you sick?” 

He shook his head.

“Tired?”

A nod.

Without warning, he was being picked up from his place of slumber and slung into his friend’s arms bridal-style; struggling to get out of his grip.

“Dream-!” George thrashed a bit, “Let me down!!” It was met with low chuckles, eventually his own laughter pouring out into the air- muffling the rain’s harsh sounds.

When the laughter died down, George was still being carried. 

“Could you put me down now?” He asked, receiving a shake of Dream’s head.

He grinned, “I know your tricks, you’re small. And slippery. You’ll somehow get back upstairs.”

The corners of George’s mouth tipped a bit downward, “Let me go.”

“Why?” Dream teased “Are you afraid?” 

George shook his head. 

“No-” He sighs, “Let me down, please.”

Dream sets him down to the floor without a second thought, helping George steady himself.

“Can I ask..? Or is it not something you want to talk about?” It was tender, no teasing intended. Welcoming, warm.

George scoffed, arms folding tight over his chest.

“It’s stupid.”

His friend made a face.

“It’s not stupid to me if it’s bothering you.” Dream swiped away something like a tear from George’s cheek, “You can tell me anything, you know that. I’m not going to judge you George.”

He paused.

“I just.” He bites the inside of his cheek, thinking. “I don’t like the rain, okay? It makes me feel… I don’t know. Alone?”

Dream looked back down at him, holding a hand up to the other’s arm.

 “You don’t have to feel alone, I’m right here.” He cleared his throat, “In the-yeah. In the rain, I mean. You don’t have to feel alone in the rain.”

“Thanks for the clarification.” Dripped with lighthearted sarcasm, a hand snaked around George’s waist. 

“Come in the rain with me. Right now.”

George shoved him, “You’re crazy, we’ll get all wet.” 

“So what?” Dream was practically tugging George by the arm at this point “C’mon. Please? For me?”

And who would George be to deny that?

----

And so, essentially through his own inability to say no to Dream, he found himself standing on the front-steps of their home. He let himself get dragged out further, slipping off socks in favor of bare feet on the concrete and water against his skin.

He stood there for a moment, watching Dream have the time of his life while he bit back a smile.

“Y’know Georgie,” the voice made him jump unexpectedly, he’d gotten lost in his own little world for a moment. “You could join me..” An arm was outstretched to him.

And again, who was he to deny Dream?

George stepped out, water dripping off his skin and rolling down in the aftermath. His hand was slotted in Dream’s- who was for the third time today dragging him somewhere as he caught up to where he was being taken.

The middle of the road was humid and drenched, water panged off the darkened concrete and barely spring back up to create little splashes that sprinkled for a moment before ceasing completely. It soothed him, almost. Made him dislike it a little less, made him like being in it a little more.

He thought of something that made him huff out a giggle.

“Hey- Dream. Dream.” He stifled his full-blown laugh. “Y’know this is a break in a heat-wave right?”

It was Dream’s turn to scoff.

“Pandering!” It was said sarcastically, larger tan arm bumping against George’s. “Dnf! Dnf! Green and blue!”

George found himself barrelling with much-needed laughter, head landing straight into the crook of Dream’s neck as he did; arm draping over his shoulder. He felt hands snake around his waist.

The shorter man moved his head to glance up at Dream, eyebrows ruffled and lips quirked.

“Who are you pandering to now?”

Dream’s face went a bit pink at that, his turn to nip at his lip. His heart pounded in his ribcage, thumping in his ears- him not being the only one to notice that.

“Oh, y’know. Uh. Patches?” 

George rolled his eyes. Slotting his head back to the crook, eyes poking out to peer above Dream’s shoulder- he began to sway them back and forth. 

They stayed like that for a while, swaying. Dream hummed under his breath, water hit their heads and shoulders and backs but it was okay; holding each other made it okay for anything to happen.

“I think I’m in love with you.” 

The world stopped, but not their slow dancing in the road.

There was a beat of silence.

“Really?” George hid his smile, but it was evident that Dream could feel that and the heat of his cheeks against his shoulder, “was it before or after the heatwaves joke?”

Dream felt his breath hitch.

“Is that a no then?”

George looked up, making eye contact.

“Shut up, get out of your own head for a minute.” He leaned in close, breath ghosting against Dream’s lips; “This okay?”

“More than okay.”

And so, in the slow-moving stormy afternoon, for the very first time;

George kissed him.

[savoryscribbles]

“Depression Sucks And You Don’t Deserve It”

Main masterlist

Haikyuu masterlist

Hewo once again I’m back, with a another self-indulgent fic hehe, and they’ll all be self-indulgent till I have more requests, so like idk, I love Kenma so fuckin much. And here’s some stuff Imma write(I haven’t writen it yet). And I heard a rumor(Umbrella Academy anyone?) that he is a CEO when he grows up??? So like CEO!Kenma. I really enjoyed writing this. I love Kenma so much, and yet I haven’t written much for him. Like I said I’m really proud of this and hope you enjoy! This is very different from my usual diologe heavy fics, Idk why I’m saying thay, it’s just something I’ve noticed. It’s a writing style I love, because I love descriptions, I live for paragraphs of the characters describing they’re love, it truly brings me to my knees.

Synopsis: The reader(you) are in a depressive slump, and don’t know how to get out of it. Luckily your loving husband Kenma, is here to help you, but what happens when he finds out the reason for your depression?

Warnings/tags: tooth rotting fluff, hurt/comfort, people being mean, Kenma not having any of it,

TW: MENTIONS OF DEATH THREATS AND THINGS SIMILAR, AS WELL AS SLUT SHAMING DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE EASILY AFFECTED BY SUCH THINGS

Word count:1300

⊱ ❀ ✿ ꕥ ✿ ❀ ⊰

Kenma didn’t love a lot of things. He could count on one hand the things he loved:

1. You

2.Spoiling you

2. His company

3. Video games

4. Apple pie

5. Kuroo

In that order. He felt so lucky to have you in his life. And hated it when you were down to yourself, hated it when you would shut everyone and everything out of your life. Luckily he alway managed to slither his way into your life whoever you would do that, and pull you out of the hole you dug yourself. He could always tell whoever you needed saving from yourself, and he would always be there to save his wonderful spouse.

So when he came home after a long day of work, and noticed you weren’t in the front rooms, he knew something was wrong.

Kenma is quite, he observes from afar. So he’s sad to say he didn’t really do anything for the first few days. He noticed your mood change though, he however did not know if it was just a little slump, or if you needed help to get out the hole you had likely dig yourself.

But he drew the line at you crying. It was a normal day, he fully expected to arrive home without a greeting, as he had for the past week. Something he was not prepared for was your soft sniffles coming from your shared bedroom.

He already knew that today was the day he was going to talk to you about your slump. This just pushed him farther.

It started as a one off remark.

‘I bet they’re just with him for the money’

Those kinds of comments didn’t affect you, and long ago had you learned to ignore them. The only reason that this time was any different, was that they didn’t stop there. What once was only a comment on an Instagram post, turned into private DM’s telling you to kill yourself.

One might say this is what comes with beings and online presence. But no one should be told to kill themselves, no one should be called a whore, just for living your life.

It was not the first time things had gotten quite bad, but this time had to be the worst. It caused you to lock yourself up in your room, and only come out for dinner. You cried when Kenma wasn’t home, and did your best to hide it.

You tired to push the thoughts away, you tried to ignore the comments, but they all kept a tight hold on your mental stability.

‘You’re just a gold digging whore.’

‘They don’t deserve Kenma’

‘They’re just a low level bitch using him for his money, I bet they’re cheating on him’

‘He’s so nice to them, gives them everything they want, and what does he get in return? Nothing. Cause they’re just a gold digging greedy whore.’

You couldn’t stop. You scrolled, reading every rude remark, every mean comment, every DM. At this point your tears were never ending, only stopping when you had become to dehydrated, but you didn’t have the energy to get up.

One day, you did your daily scroll through Twitter later than usual. This was because it was getting bad, you woke up hours later than normal, you had lost all your energy to move, it took you an hour or so just to move your hand to the bedside table. And it had taken another 30 minutes to just look at your phone.

You’re cry’s were to loud for you to hear the door open. And you had just barely noticed your bedroom door being opened. And you hardly registered Kenna’s voice.

“Why are you crying?” He asked you dipping down to see your face more clearly. You didn’t respond to him, just starring blankly at the screen. He noticed and slowly took your phone form your grasp, making you finally look at him, only causing you to burst into another round of tears. You turn around, your back facing him, afraid that once he saw you he’d realize how much you don’t deserve him.

‘He doesn’t deserve me. I’m just an ugly lazy bitch. What have I done this week? Stayed in bed all day. I’m useless. He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t love me’

Kenma looked down at your phone, putting two and two together. What he saw astonished him. He saw comment after comment of rude remarks toward what he assumed was you. He scolded himself.

‘How did I not see these? Is this what caused them to be down this whole week? Why didn’t they tell me? They would have told me if it got bad right? Right?’

You felt him tug at your shoulder, signaling for you to turn back toward him. You ignored this, favoring your self-loathing thoughts.

“Love, I need you to turn around.” Kenma said, tugging a little harder. You sill ignored him, causing him to sign, and eventually let go. You thought you were free, and he was going to leave you alone, but oh how you were wrong.

Kenma took off his dress shoes, blazer, tie, belt and pants, opting for the most comfortable he could be, knowing he most likely was going to be in bed for awhile. He then walked around the bed and climbed in. Quickly wrapping you in his arms before you had a chance to turn around or pull away. He muttered a thanks to whatever god was up there for maintaining his setter reflexes from high school.

“I read some of the comments you were looking at. You know none of them are true right?” He whispered, trying his best to comfort you. Even though he had greatly mutured, he still had a lack of social and comfort skills. He often opted to buy gifts as a way to show love, which is where most of those rude comments got their fuel from.

You didn’t respond, and tried your hardest to not melt in his chest. It was so easy to love him, he was amazing. And you didn’t deserve him. He noticed your lack of response and decided to just hold you tighter, knowing you’d talk when you’re ready. You felt your resolve crumble as you wrapped your arms around Kenmas neck, holding him as tight as you could.

“I’m- I’m sorry! I’ve been- been just laying here doing nothing this whole week, I’m useless, I don’t deserve you!” You balled into him. He was shocked, he hadn’t expected you to say such words, such lies. You were far from useless, even if you didn’t work, you were amazing, you cooked dinner, sometimes did house chores, and most importantly, kept Kenma happy, he would have given up a long time ago if not for you, you and your high spirits, never letting him give up. If he was being frank, he didn’t deserve you, you were perfect, an angel, a goddess, a god.

“You aren’t useless, you my love are amazing, truly amazing, you could never be useless, even if you didn’t lift a finger for the rest of your life. You deserve me, hell I’m not even sure I deserve you.” He responded seriously. He would never let you think bad about yourself, and if you did he was always going to be there to put an end to it, he tried his best to help you see yourself to the angel you were.

You just held him, crying until you couldn’t anymore. He didn’t say much either, he had said all he needed to say. He just held you tightly, waiting for you to speck, or fall asleep, or pull away, something.

When you pulled back, he heard your stomach growl. He whipped your remaining tears from your face before ducking down to kiss you. And oh how he missed, it had been a week, of course he missed it.

The kiss was a long passion filled one, expressing all the love you both weren’t able to.

“I’m hungry.” You muttered when you eventually pulled away.

“I think I can help with that.” He said carrying you to the kitchen.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Sorry for no story today- have these WIPs I will probably never finish instead

Kitty get punched

“Where is Joan?” A crew member hissed, looking frantically around the stage and wings. “She should be here by now! The show starts in five minutes!”

“I saw her earlier,” Maggie said. “So she’s here, at least.”

“But WHERE?” The crew member said, exasperated. Maggie shrugged helplessly.

“Maybe she’s getting changed?” Parr offered.

“She should have done that a long time ago,” Aragon reprimanded.

“And when does Joan ever get ready late?” Anne added, tittering slightly.

“I’ll go find her!” Katherine piped up, “Don’t worry!”

With that, she bounds off to find the music director.

—

Joan was paler than the moon, a somewhat sickly color painting her skin. Her checks were kissed with a slightly pink flush, spreading to her forehead as well. Underneath her eyes and against her pale skin, were dark rings. They hung under her eyes like curtains, pulling her eyelids so they could close. The color contrasted with her skin, making it more vibrant and more noticeable. Anyone could have guessed it; Joan Meutas did not sleep well last night. Now that, was an understatement.

Joan had not slept well in the past week. She was constantly up late at night working on this damned show that was wringing her dry. She was completely exhausted. She felt like a dead fish. Her entire body ached from her head to her toes. The only thing that seemed to keep her going was coffee, and it’s now come to the point that she’ll feel sick if she doesn’t drink any.

The show only increased Joan’s stress level. Everyone always seemed to need her; the queens, the techies, the costume crew, the managers- the demands for her aid or work was never ending. By the time she finished whatever was asked of her, it was time to perform, meaning she had to do her own music director work later in the evening, usually well into the night.

It was just hell. Literal hell.

At that moment, she could feel a headache starting to become apparent. It burned her vision, floating around and flashing like a neon light, tormenting Joan. It only grew worse at the loud clamor of the crew getting ready. And through the blurred and temporary blinding aura, she saw her coffee. It looked revolting to her.

Just the sight churned Joan’s stomach. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. She was so tired, and her headache was so bad. The chance of getting a sensory overload became more and more likely, which wouldn't be completely crazy, especially since she was so tired she could hardly think practically.

Approaching footsteps sounded like drumbeats pounding in Joan’s ears and the creak of the door nearly imploded her eardrums.

“Joan?”

Great. It was Katherine Howard.

Joan, too tired to reply, huffed in annoyance and buried her face further into her arms. She’s hunched over the desk in her dressing room with only half of her costume on, since she had given up trying to put it on. As Katherine stepped into the room and approached, she tried to ignore the throbbing in her head head, and the dizziness and nausea settling in, as well as the queen.

“Joan,” Katherine nudged Joan’s shoulder, earning a low hiss of warning. “What are you doing? We got a show.”

“I’m not going out today.” Joan grumbled, not lifting her head.

“You have to,” Katherine continued.

“Oh, but that one time you had a panic attack and didn’t go on was fine?” Joan snapped, getting angry. She lifted her head and glared at the young queen.

“There was an alt here,” Katherine defended herself, “Plus, a panic attack is different than...whatever is making you refuse to go on.”

Joan is grinding her teeth, now. Katherine is either too stupid to notice or ignores the warning sign and continues on anyway.

“I’m not going on.” Joan said again.

“Your dep isn’t here.” Katherine reprimanded.

“I’m not going on, Katherine!” Joan yelled, finally rearing up with a slam of her hands against the desk. The way Katherine flinches back a little is satisfying. “Get out.”

“Joan-“

“I said get out!”

A horrible crunch filled the room, followed by a sharp yelp. Katherine’s hands fly up to her face, while Joan’s fist returns to her side. Blood is pouring out in between the queen’s fingers.

“Leave me alone.” Joan whispered, taking deep breaths to quell her anger.

Katherine doesn’t budge, too shocked to move.

That only fuels Joan’s rage, which she gives up on taming.

“Leave me alone, you bitch!” Joan yelled, shoving the queen. Blood drops splatter to the ground, but she could care less. She just keeps pushing and kicking until Katherine stumbles out the door, to which she promptly slams shut. She can head soft crying coming from the hallway, but she just rolls her eyes and slumped back at her desk.

———

Tour!Howard is Tour!Bessie’s biological mom AU

The day started out perfect- Silver rays of morning sun were slipping through soft pink curtains, bathing the bedroom with warm beams. They hit Howard’s face, which has a smile painted on it, even in her rest. The grin only grows once she woke up- she was beaming. And for good reason, too.

She leapt out of bed, but quickly quieted her steps so she wouldn’t make too much noise. She greets the two cats in her room- Sombra and Hermès. She had a hunch where the third feline, Turtle, was.

On sock-padded feet, Howard made her way across the flat and to the second bedroom. She peeked inside and smiled brightly.

There, laying in the bed, was a young girl, barely thirteen, with bleached white hair.

It had been Howard’s idea to do DNA testing. Bessie agreed. Howard had been sipping her coffee, checking through her mail, when she found the document that stated the results came back positive. Tears dripped down onto the paper. Her mug shatters against the floor.

She found her daughter.

Bessie was equally shocked when the news was given to her. She had went very still, eyes bulging, mouth slightly ajar. Just as Howard started to worry that she was repulsed by the turnabout, she leapt right into the woman’s arms, sobbing in bliss.

———

i don’t even know, something with Joan being jealous

February was Kitty’s month. Like how (whenever she died) was Aragon’s month and (whenever she died) was Jane’s month. Whatever month a queen died in was their month, apparently. That unspoken rule didn’t go to the ladies in waiting, even if they could remember the exact month they died in. They weren’t deemed as “important” as the queens to get such a thing. Maybe they could get a week, or a week at the very least, but nothing more.

So, yes, February was Kitty’s month. The different thing about her month than the others was that EVERYONE doted on her. She got tons of gifts, tons of sweet words, tons of hugs and affection and attention. Tons of attention from Jane.

Before you start griping, yes, Joan knew why it was this way. Henry made a law just to chop her head off- yes she KNOWS, she hears about it almost every day, she KNOW SHE KNOWS. You don’t have to bring it up because she’s well aware. Everyone knows about poor, poor Kitty and her horrible life.

And, yes, it was horrible. Joan knows that she will never be able to relate her pain to Kitty’s pain, but, damnit all, is it so bad to want a fraction of what she gets from it?

Kitty got everything. Every-fucking-thing. And whatever may be left were mere scraps upon the ground, fragments of what Joan used to have.

———

Courtney!Anne comforts Joan

Stagedoor was an unpredictable thing. It wasn’t all hugs and compliments and pictures- sometimes there’s a fickle critic or an angry historian that’s mad about the portrayal in the show. Other times there’s the slightly weird, but charming fans who recite facts about the queens, hoping to impress them. But a slushy being thrown into someone’s face? That was new.

Anne only caught a glimpse of it- one moment all was normal; she had just finished taking a picture with a beaming young fan, and then there was an uproar of mocking laughter and several gasps, accompanied by loud splattering sounds. Anne looked to the side and was shocked to see SIX’s music director soaked in a coating of red, blue, and purple slush.

Joan was stiff and still, as if the cold beverage had frozen her. The colorful residue slides into the creases of her horrified expression, which slowly become more and more humiliated as seconds ticked by. Then, her wide eyes glance around wildly for a moment and she sprints back into the theater.

———

Wings of Fire AU

The worst part of Parr’s day was approaching- closing the library. She always hated leaving the peaceful, serene cavern at the end of each evening, but Aragon insisted she slept in an actual cave. Arguing against this proved to be fruitless- the queen just had an aura to her that was impossible to beat in a bickering match, so she retired to her room each night.

Sighing, Parr rolled up the current scroll she was working on, cleaned the ink from her talons, and swooped down from her writing ledge. She walked down the aisle of polished mahogany shelves, observing each one to make sure everything was in place and not burnt (there were some younger dragonets weaving in and out earlier that day- she never trusted them with the scrolls).

———

Zombie Apocalypse AU

You get used to the smell. Rot, decay, organs, blood, death- you get used to the scent of the end of the world real fast. If you don’t, it may just drive you insane. More insane than seeing the actual cause of the odor, maybe. Some people react to things differently. But one thing everybody has in common is that nobody gets used to killing. Nobody gets used to sacrificing others, nobody gets used to putting their loved ones or even strangers down.

Nobody gets used to the damn Walkers.

But it’s the way it is. The apocalypse doesn’t seem like it’ll be having curtain call anytime soon, so you have to make do. Learn how to shoot, find a group, get shelter, don’t go hungry- those are the basics. Or just put a bullet in your brain and don’t even bother with survival. In the end, it’s your choice.

Sometimes Joan considers shooting herself in the head. The will to live is still kicking within her, but it gets hard. Being alone doesn’t help, either.

Well-

Scratch that. She wasn’t alone. She had some company.

“Hey, will you cool it?” Joan snapped, tugging on the rope that was around her newest Walker’s neck. She found this one wandering on its own in the woods and decided it would have to do- one quick slash of her knife removed the rotting bottom jaw and rendered the thing useless. At least when it came to infecting others. Its scent will keep away lurkers. Hopefully.

[ajokeformur-ray]

What’s going on with me.

I feel very whiny and like maybe there’s... not actually anything to be feeling so heavy about but I’m pushing past that and posting it anyway. I’ve got nothing to lose. It’s under a cut; there’s no obligation to read this if you don’t want to. The part where it does get emotionally heavy is very clearly marked.

Word count so you know what you’re in for: 1, 577.

I’m terrified. Of everything. All of the time. It feels like I’m stuck in my own skin and like I can’t breathe and I’ve been watching so much horror over the last few weeks just to feel a different kind of fear, just to feel something else which I know I can turn off when I’ve had enough. Even when I turn off the horror, I’m still so scared and it’s quickly becoming a new normal. I’m scared and angry and upset and I feel so heavy and even when I’m just sat down on my bed, my heart is pounding and it’s just really hard to sit still. But at the same time all I want to do is just sit on my bed and let myself waste away. Yesterday was the most emotional I’ve been for the last few weeks; I kept crying and the slightest thing would set me off; a message from someone on here was the most common thing to make me cry because it meant they were okay, at least in the time they had sent the message.

Dad got sick with a stomach virus from work, which I just found out he still has over a week later, and due to a traumatic time in my life I now have a very embarrassing (but still valid) fear which is closely linked to dad’s sickness. I am deeply troubled by the idea that I or someone else will get sick in the same way and to balance this, I haven’t been eating as much because if I avoid food, then I won’t need to use the bathroom so often. Plus, gluten free food is expensive and the less I eat, the less my parents have to go shopping and this reduces their exposure to the virus. None of this is logical and it’s definitely detrimental to my own health, but fear is never rational. To be clear, I am eating... just enough to keep my parents off my back about how little I’m eating; which is usually two meals a day. I rarely eat more than that, even if I’m physically cramping from hunger. My parents have called me up about it a few times but I just... don’t want to eat. I’m so, so scared of people getting sick or dying. I don’t care so much about what happens to me, but my loved ones...I’m terrified.

 I keep having nightmares of people dying. I had a nightmare a few weeks back in which someone on here died and I woke up in a cold sweat to message them and to just... make sure they were okay. They were definitely okay and if they’re reading this, then they know who they are. Not last night but the night before, I had a horrible dream in which I was outside and people’s masks were just dropping off their faces without anyone touching them, or they would move so the mask would slip off their nose and only cover their mouth, and my mum in the dream said, “you may as well take your mask off, you’ve probably got it by now” but it wasn’t the mask which slid off my face; my entire face melted away and dropped off and I woke up crying. I was also kind of impressed by my imagination; it was gory and it actually hurt; my dreams are so vivid it takes me like an hour to realise i'm actually Awake and everyone's okay and i'm so scared that people are gonna get Covid and die and i'll never hear from them and just wonder what happened to them. I’ve had an internet friend die in real life and I never found out what happened to her; I don’t even know if she is dead but one of her last messages was harrowing and no one’s heard from her since. This was two years ago so I can only draw my own conclusions and they’re heartbreaking. 

I lay awake at night unable to sleep, or if I can sleep, I don’t want to, because what if one of you dies in the night and I missed your last message? Tumblr is my sanity right now; I’m furloughed from my job (and I don’t even know if I still have a job, that’s up in the air as well because I work at a small cafe) and I’m graduated from university so all I have right now is my writing and the lovely people on here. This is my biggest coping mechanism and by now it’s probably tipped into the unhealthy region but I don’t care, not right now. The world’s crumbling around us and any coping mechanism, especially if it involves the imagination, at least to my thinking, is essential for survival right now so I’m letting it happen. If I'm not writing, I’m not being productive, which means I’m wasting my day and if I’m wasting my day, why am I here?

Aaand, speaking of... (this is where it gets emotionally heavy so feel free to tap out if you’re reading this! Fair warning 🥰)

I just... want to fade out and not exist anymore. I'm so fucking tired and I've had enough. I'm just so scared it's like I can't even breathe. I don’t even know if my thoughts are mine anymore; on the one hand I feel whiny and like I’m making up things to be scared about but on the other hand I know that I’m valid in my emotions. I feel like I should just shut up and deal with it and focus as much as I can on others because the trap of thinking that suffering is a competition is easy to fall into, and every time I think I can handle the fear it just gets stronger and I’m just.... I wanna get out. Of everything. I’m so tired. I also keep losing time... I'll stare at the window and when I look back at the clock it’s been like twenty minutes and I didn’t even notice. 

I just want to sit on my bed and let myself rot; I don’t want to eat, I don’t want to sleep. I just want to... fade out and away; to lay down and go to sleep and not wake up again. My mum keeps asking me what I’m going to do with my future now that I’m graduated (the career questions started three days after I graduated, I? Give me a breaaaaak), and I can barely see past today, what makes you think I’m thinking of a future I no longer believe in? I already said to her that I was taking a year out, a gap between graduation and deciding on a career, because a) I genuinely need and want a break and b) what’s the rush? I’m only 23; life doesn’t stop at 25. I still have lots of time to figure myself out. But my mum says that I’m not getting any younger, either - and that’s true. She wants me to go into teaching and that’s... not what I want to do. “Oh, but you can be a professor - “ Mum, that’s still teaching and I don’t want to do that but then she accuses me of not caring and... honestly, she’s right but I can’t tell her that. She cares, she does, and I know that she loves me, but shit. Can’t a woman breathe?

I did know what I wanted to do in my life... and then just at the point where my dreams were becoming a reality, I found out that the savings I’d been working so hard to save up for during the three years I was in university weren’t enough even with how hard I’d worked, and then the pandemic happened.... I had Real Plans to fly out to my dream on the fifteenth October this year and I feel like I’ve wasted my life, to boil it right down. I am twenty three. I have plenty of time but I also feel like I’ve ruined and wasted my life. In many ways, I feel like a ghost. I feel like I’ve literally died and I just haven’t noticed yet. I am a shell of myself due to unhealed traumas, I am a ghost of the Erika I once knew... she’s in there somewhere, I just have to coax her out. I am so, so scared that I’ll be forty and nothing’s changed and then the next thing I know, I’ll be dead and... all I can feel is fear.

I’m doing what I can to focus on and to help others because I feel like that’s a better use of my time than sitting and letting myself rot (also a tempting thought...) and I find genuine joy in supporting people. Everyone is suffering and I so often end up just crying over my laptop because my heart’s breaking for everyone and I wish I could just give everyone here a hug, wipe their tears away and be there for them. But all I have to do that with is a laptop and it never feels like enough and I just... I feel very heavy and tired and scared and I don’t know what to do. I have no idea how to help myself. It’s an effort even to brush my hair - half an hour thinking about it while I mindlessly scroll tumblr, another twenty minutes to find something to watch on YouTube while I do it, and then maybe ten minutes to actually brush my hair. Everything’s a chore and an effort and I’m. So. Tired. I’ve had enough and I just want my Joker. I don’t even know what he’d think or do about all of this...

[bubmyg]

Hi 👋 Can you maybe write a fic where Jungkook introduces his girlfriend on his YouTube channel since they haven’t seen her before? (I know you’ve already written a few YouTube fics with Jungkook already, but I thought it could be cute) and then later, after the video has gone up, they both look at the comments together, but the reader is kind of nervous about the result, but of course she doesn’t need to since their all positive 🤗 If you do, then thank you ❤️🧡💛

genre/warnings: youtuber!jeongguk, again.....the most tooth rotting fluff with the tinniest bit of angst but you may need glasses to see it

word count: 1,631

a/n: i think i’ve said this but all my youtuber!guk drabbles are non chronological but all exist in the same timeline so obviously this occurs before anything already on my masterlist atm :’-)

“We don’t have to do this, you know.”

You ignored the press of Jeongguk’s lips to your cheek, staring down the bulk balanced on top of his tripod carefully centered at the end of his bed. It was the outlet to his fan base, the tiny glass lens that opened up his budding creativity to love and criticism all the same, that allowed him to monetize carefully placed vulnerabilities of his life on a dangerously slippery slope, some pieces chosen on his own accord, others pried out, speculated on, fussed over. 

It was something he’d chosen to expose this time, unlike his phone number on Jimin’s livestream or his address when he’d filmed a little too far out on the street of his building. 

“Everyone already knows,” He tried, “This is just like...confirmation.”

“I know,” Your eyes wandered from his camera equipment to his apprehensive gaze, “I’m just a little nervous, is all.”

“I can turn the camera off right this second,” Jeongguk offered explicitly this time, curling warm palms against your cheeks, “We can go back to pretending like you, my friend, just so happen to be here every morning. And every night. I can keep editing out you forgetting your role and kissing me—” You whined and he kissed you on reflex, “—until you’re ready. There’s no rush.”

You cupped his hand holding your face, lightly brushing your thumb against his knuckles. Softly, you inquired, “Do you want to do this?”

“I have seven unlisted videos ready to post that are giant love professions hidden behind fancy editing and royalty free music,” He chased the embarrassed drop of your chin with his lips, “but I can make how many ever more in the time it takes to wait on you. I don’t love you any less because I haven’t got to tell the Internet yet.” 

You were silent for a handful of heartbeats before mumbling, “Well I’m not helping you set these lights up ever again, so get over there.”

Jeongguk’s eyes lit up when he pressed his forehead to yours, “You’re sure?”

You suppressed the urge to knee his thigh in response. “Go.” 

He kissed the tip of your nose for good measure, taking careful strides to his camera, questioning eyes wavering to your appending glare only for a moment before he was pressing record and bounding to the end of the carefully made bed. 

You mocked his intro out of habit but also to calm the flutter of nerves in your stomach, grin shaky at the tiny giggle that escaped Jeongguk’s lips when he cast a glance at you. He stretched backward, tiny smile turning full featured as he placed his hands behind him, back arching, and in that moment did you finally see the tiniest hints of nerves seep into his aura, in the awkward lean of his stature, the sideways cast of his eyes away from the lens, the dimple in his cheek when he bit the inside of his mouth, the prolonged hums in between his words that you hadn’t heard him do since watching his years old vlogs. 

“...so, yeah, as you can tell, today’s a little bit of a different video. An update? Yeah, I guess it’s an update—” He was staring at you now, arms outstretched and fingers wiggling, voice a drastic contrast to the childlike innocence of his gestures, tender and low in his request, “—come here, baby.”

Your hesitation was brief, a part of your lips and a panic in your eyes but Jeongguk mouthed it’s okay with the tiniest of smiles and tilts of his chin and suddenly the lens prepped to project your relationship to the world felt minuscule in comparison to the glittering astral bodies adored only to you in the gentle light of his sparkling irises. 

“The update is...” He was speaking while you fit yourself into his arms, letting him pull you down against his side with his nose nuzzling into your hair. “...that this one refuses to leave my house. So if you all have any suggestions to get her out—”

“Can’t leave when you won’t let me,” You countered, nerves falling out in the slight stutter of your tongue but you managed to elbow his stomach none the less. His actions seemed to affirm your words, arms twisted around your waist so you were half sprawled across his thighs, cheek pressed against the top of your head. 

"No, uhm...” Jeongguk pulled away to look at you, the softest of smiles meeting the seam of his lips the longer the fondness of his eyes streaked up and down your features, “...meet my girlfriend, everyone.”

Soft touches trailing down your spine woke you, the loving affections carrying to the lips that were pressed against your forehead. He hummed, the vibrations renewing the jump of your heart, “Are you awake?”

Something like a noise of negation groaned past your sealed lips and you hiked your stature higher on Jeongguk’s chest to press your nose into his neck. “No. Still asleep. Leave a voicemail. Call back later.”

He’d ordered a nap after posting the video, dragging you out of his office and into his embrace on the couch while your social medias stayed as dark as the screens of your sleeping phones. He combated your itch to mindlessly scroll Twitter in search of that one negative comment by promising you could read the feedback on the video, together, after a nap. 

It was enough for you until you suddenly wanted the nap to last forever so you never had to know. 

Jeongguk squeezed your waist, rolling until you were underneath him with digging fingers tickling at your sides. He swallowed your loudest squeals, ones of I’m awake, I’m awake! — lips sweet into the part of your mouth.

The exchange between your steady gazes was silent until he nodded, “Are you ready?”

You trailed him by attachment to his hand wrapped securely around your digits, following him with furrowed eyebrows back into the depths of his office. “Why can’t we just look on our phones?” You pouted while he fiddled with the lighting settings, dropping the room into a gentle purple. You continued to glower when he let go of your hand, dropping into his chair with outstretched arms. “I’m not ready for Y/N reads hate comments about herself but in size seven hundred font on Jeongguk’s seventeen different monitors—” 

“Baby girl.”

Your teeth sank so deeply into the your bottom lip you tasted the hint of metal. “Yeah?”

“I’ve got you. I’ve always got you,” His chin tilted, hands flexing once more in your direction, “Come here.”

You tried to make yourself as tiny as possible in Jeongguk’s lap, immune to the periodic stumble of his mumbling mouth against your skin as he clicked around on the screen, shades of whites and blues contouring the concentration in his features as he sought out the touch of your skin against his lips. There was a stutter in his chest when he inhaled, properly nudging your temple with his lips, hand leaving his mouse to wrap around your hip. 

“Well, the top comment is a petition for you to make your own channel,” You felt his lips curl against you, “It has a thousand thumbs up. And counting.”

You shifted to press your cheek to his chest instead of your nose, “Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Jeongguk’s mouse clicked as he scrolled, “this one just says ‘I knew it!’ with, uh...eighteen hearts after it.”

You dared to squint at the screen, not catching much in his absent scrolling but stretching your arm out with the tiniest of gleeful smiles. 

“That one—” He paused vaguely after following the line of your finger, “—I used to think I wanted someone to look at me the way he looks at Jimin but now I want someone to look at me the way he looks at her :-(.” 

“Why not both?” Jeongguk teased against your hair and it took you a moment of feigned shock to realize he’d stretched out to type it in reply to the comment. 

“Are we going to be one of those couples that has those cheesy the way he looks at her edits now?”

“We have been,” He continued scrolling, “Sprinkled in with Jeongguk annoying Y/N for four minutes straight.” 

“They could only find four minutes of footage? Must be a new subscriber...”

His monitor dimmed as he pulled away from it, hugging you tighter underneath his chin as the chair spun in a slow circle away from his desk. 

“Are you okay?” When you nodded underneath him, he teased, “Well, then I don’t want to say I told you so but...”

“Shut up—”

“No. Look at me.” 

You complied, fitting your chin into Jeongguk’s awaiting palm, one that curled around your features. 

“I wouldn’t have put you, us, in that situation if I didn’t know,” His thumb strayed from pressing into the corner of your lips to stroke your cheekbone, “I’ll always protect you to the best of my ability.”

“Good, does that mean we can skip the obligatory couples yoga challenge? You’ll crush me.”

Jeongguk whined, high pitched and dramatic as his head hit the back of his chair and your surroundings whirled as his foot turned you in another looping circle. “Announce our relationship to the whole Internet and you can’t even let me be sentimental for five seconds—”

You kissed him, chaste and everything you weren’t good at articulating. 

“I love you.”

He smiled against your lips and you missed his arm that outstretched to drag your figures closer to his desk again. 

“I love you...” Jeongguk trailed off and you squinted when his monitor lit again in your peripheral, “...so how many of these videos of you will you allow me to post tonight—”

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Writing Commission - A Gift of Sunshine - Chapter 1

My oh my it has been a while, everyone! You have my deepest apologies for the lack of content you've seen from me lately, but I've been busy with finals, graduation, and so much else! Finally, though, things are settling down and it's time to get right back to it!

This is my latest story that was written through my commission work and I had absolutely no doubt that you all would love to see it! It's already fully complete and I'll be uploading a chapter a day until it's all finished! It's quite a bit of an AU, but I'm sure you all will enjoy!

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Summary: It is the worst day of fifteen-year-old Aizawa Shouta’s life when he trudges home after a failed entrance test to U.A. – the school made for heroes. His worst day abruptly turns strange, however, when he gets home to find a beautiful sword on his bed with a scroll attached that is addressed from his grandfather.

It turns out that his entire family was descended from a samurai (unsurprising considering he lived in Japan) and the sword was meant to help him become a hero. Shouta hadn’t been expecting the sword to talk, however, and he especially hadn’t expected the sword to have a voice as warm as sunshine itself. 

It’s a long journey to become a hero like he wants, but Shouta has a feeling that he and Hizashi are going to do just fine.

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Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia    

Relationship: Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic/Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead

Characters: Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead

Rating: Teen Audiences

Word Count (Total): 35,935  

Transaction Amount: $250 (USD)

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                  Check out my writing commission information here!                        Pledge to my Patreon to get exclusive content! 

                           Read and follow the story on AO3!

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                                             <<Next Chapter>>

                                                Chapter One 

                                                        ⁂

When imagining the different ways in which his dreams could have been crushed and ground down into a fine dust that would never again be thought of, Aizawa Shouta had not bothered to contemplate that his world would end due to robots, yet U.A. had, very firmly, set him straight. 

Shouta mused to himself, as he trudged into his empty home and kicked his shoes off, that he had been prepared for how difficult the written exam would be. U.A. was one of the top hero schools in the country for a reason, after all, and it was logical to assume their entrance exams would be just as rigorous.  

He had also been prepared for the scorn that he would face once his quirk was revealed. An Erasure quirk was rare enough in their world of quirks, but one that could specifically ‘steal’ someone’s quirk when merely looking at them? Shouta had been accused of being a villain-in-the-making more than once, something he took a few bitter seconds to fester over as he trudged to his room, bag thrown somewhere into a corner to rot. 

Shouta truly thought that had been prepared for a lot, including a rigorous physical exam that would test the potential students to their limits, but robots? Erasure could be a powerful quirk if used correctly, but it didn’t do shit against something like robots. There had been a chance, at least, if he had been matched against other students. Then, at least, he could have evened the playing field and won just through taking his opponent off guard. 

There weren’t any ways to take a robot off guard, as Shouta’s bruised, battered, and exhausted body could fully attest to. It was fine, though. It was fine, because his written exam score would, if nothing else, ensure him a place in U.A.’s general studies program. He would still be getting into U.A. even if it wasn’t as a hero. 

Getting into their General Studies department was an achievement all on its own, Shouta knew, but that seemed to do little to stop the frustrated tears that were burning his already dry and aching eyes, forcing him to painfully scrub them away as he stumbled into his room and prepared himself to collapse on his bed and sleep his grief and anger away. 

At least, Shouta had been about to collapse and sleep his grief and anger away until he noticed the sword that had already taken his place with a scroll attached to the hilt. 

The sword was nice enough, Shouta supposed, with a golden sheath that reminded him of days in the sun and a cord that tied the hilt and sheath together that was as red as Shouta’s own eyes when he used his quirk. The hilt, honestly, was both the oddest and nicest part, being made from what looked like jade that was carved with neatly etched swirls that seemed to follow an unnoticeable pattern. 

It was a nice enough sword that Shouta was immediately backing out of his room and looking around the hallways suspiciously, straining his hearing to see if either his parents were about to ‘surprise’ him or if some thief had broken in and put the sword there as an unspoken threat to not interfere with his business. 

When nothing happened except Shouta’s pain making itself known the longer he stood still, he relaxed and stepped into his room, attention turning to the scroll that looked like a real scroll as opposed to something that could be bought in one of the train station novelty shops.

A quick inspection revealed that there was nothing that made it seem as if it were a trap, Shouta carefully wiggling it free from where it was under the sword before he was unrolling it just as carefully, scanning the words of the ‘letter’ before his breath came out of him in a rush at seeing his grandfather’s name elegantly scripted at the bottom. 

“There are phones for a reason, Grandfather,” Shouta muttered to himself, taking the scroll to his desk and finally sitting down, taking a few moments to let his body rest before he was looking at the scroll properly. His grandfather was an eccentric man, but he had never been the type to write his letters as scrolls all while leaving swords on Shouta’s bed. Settling into his seat, Shouta let his eyes trail back to the top, heart sinking as he read the first few lines.

My dearest grandson,

If I’ve timed the arrival of this properly, then you’ve just arrived home from the entrance exam to the hero school you have your heart set on. You have also failed the physical portion of the test, as my quirk informed me that you would.

Shouta’s grandfather had a quirk that was deemed useless by hero standards, but incredible by the family standards. Bloodlines was a quirk that allowed his grandfather to see future moments that would happen to him or anyone within his bloodline - one of the reasons the Aizawa family was as successful as it was today, Shouta mused. Still, for his grandfather to have seen his failure and not told him… He wasn’t expecting it to hurt that much. 

He was half-tempted to put the letter aside, certain that it would be full of platitudes and promises of how his life would be successful even if his dreams of being a hero never worked out. Shouta was tempted, but he was also curious to know why his grandfather wrote to him on a scroll of all things; a scroll that had been attached to a sword.

I don’t need the use of my quirk, however, to know that you no doubt spent minutes debating just now whether you should continue reading this letter or not and suffer through my pointless reassurances, but let me reassure you just once that this letter is not to tell you that you’re better off not being a hero. It’s rather the opposite, in fact. It rather makes sense that of all of our descendants today, it would be you, the little boy who couldn’t stand illogical choices and harmful behavior, to be the one to decide that the world should be more fair than it is cruel. 

The sword on your bed, Shouta? It is a gift to you just as it once was to me. In my great-grandfather’s words, and in his grandfather’s words, and so on back to the beginning, it is “a gift of sunshine” that will light your way. In my own words, however, it is a passing of wills, a hope for the future, and a promise. 

A gift of sunshine? Shouta frowned as the words seemed to batter at something in his chest, aching fiercely as glanced to the bed where the sword still laid. It glinted in the soft afternoon sunlight and looked less like a dangerous weapon and more like something Shouta almost wanted to call soft.

This is a gift to you because I know that you will not lose your dream here, something that again I have no need of my quirk to tell me. You are too stubborn a fool to accept your loss as anything more or less than a setback, and so this gift will inspire you to not give up on your beautiful dream. 

It is also a passing of wills, however, in the way that our family was not always successful with numbers, as in your father’s case. Once, long, long ago, before quirks were ever even dreamed of, our family descended from a samurai.

Shouta couldn’t help his startled snort of laughter that he was sure he would be scolded for if anyone had been in the room with him. His grandfather had always been an eccentric and serious man, but to write on a scroll so seriously that their family was descended from a samurai, well… There were very few families in Japan that didn’t claim such a thing. 

Looking back down to find his place, and seeing the words ‘stop laughing,’ Shouta felt mildly chastised and mostly annoyed. Even when his grandfather lived hours away in the countryside, he could still never get away with anything. 

Stop laughing, young man, I know what you’re thinking! I was rather amused myself when my great-grandfather told me all of this when I was around your age, but the stories are true - and so is our recordkeeping. Aizawa Adachi was born a farmer’s son before he went on to serve the lord of his land at the time, becoming a fearsome and undefeatable opponent. 

He lived and fought with this sword, this sword that he had won through a duel gone wrong and stood by his side afterwards, during the time of the Meiji Restoration and through the end of the Edo period - the end of Feudal Lords, samurai, and the wicked things that crept through the night, or so everyone believed. Wicked things are always good at blending in, as we know even today.

That part, at least, Shouta could believe. There was a reason that heroes had appeared at the start of the age of quirks, and that was because villains had appeared, too. Quirks were beautiful, amazing, and powerful things that defined a person as much as anything else, but they could also be dangerous; they could be deadly. 

That much was true, but Shouta still couldn’t figure out why his grandfather thought to put all of this in a scroll and send it along with a sword, especially when they called every few weeks and visited every few months. Hopefully his grandfather would get to the point soon, but Shouta was doubtful. If it was one thing his grandfather could do, it was talk. 

Adachi refused to leave his ways of protecting others in the past and traveled the land as one of the ronin, a wandering swordsman who always used his sword to help people and keep them safe during the turmoil that followed the Revolution. He used the same sword that now lays upon your bed.

Because that certainly wasn’t creepy, Shouta snorted to himself, glancing over to his bed to see the beautiful sword that certainly didn’t look as if it were hundreds of years old. 

In the old days the Aizawa family kept to Adachi’s oath, protecting Japan from threats both inside and out and keeping the people safe from what lurked in the dark. The times have changed, Shouta, but our wills have not, as proven with you and your desire to protect. You want to be a hero? The names change, but the heart never does.

Quirks may have come into this world, dear boy, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the same world that it’s always been. I know you failed your exam, but I also know that this will be nothing more than a setback to make you work even more fiercely than before.

This sword is a hope for the future. I have seen what it will be through the times surrounding you, Shouta, and I wish I could say that you will be safe, but we both know that the path you have chosen will never be safe again. 

You will bleed from the pain that is required for you to follow this path. You will break from the pressure of your dream that is placed upon your shoulders. You will fall apart piece by piece one day and, for a very long time after, you will feel as if you were not put back together right. I have seen all of this, Shouta, and you will know pain and suffering by becoming a hero.

The rest of the words faded away, Shouta jumping at realizing his hands had been shaking enough for the scroll to slip out of them and fall to his desk in a flutter of movement. As much as he wanted to pick the scroll up and keep reading the last few paragraphs, he couldn’t make his heart stop pounding as if it were ready to burst. 

It wasn’t new information for Shouta. Everyone knew how serious it was to be a hero in these days, and everyone knew that it wasn’t an easy life. It was possible for most heroes to die while they were active, and pro heroes who lived to see retirement were rare and few. It wasn’t new information, but Shouta had never seen it stated so bluntly in something addressed to him. 

To know that his grandfather had seen his future and saw the pain he would go through if he stayed on his path to become a hero, it… It was terrifying. He was fifteen and an entire possible future for him had been seen and recorded. That was as terrifying as something could get, and yet- Well. And yet. 

And yet Shouta still wanted to help people with his power. And yet he still wanted to keep people safe the way there were heroes that made him feel safe. And yet, even with his future known, he didn’t want to change his path for anything because his grandfather’s visions meant he did it - they meant he had become a hero. And yet, after the realization that his future would be full of pain, Shouta picked the scroll back up and kept reading. 

And yet you will be the most magnificent hero, my Shouta.

You’re so intent on becoming a hero that even if I told you in detail what I saw, you would not waver. So, since you’re so intent on becoming a hero, on becoming a warrior that will protect Japan and all her people, I knew it was time for this sword to be passed onto you. 

This sword’s name is Hizashi and once you unravel the red cord that binds sword to sheath, you will be bound by our family’s oath to, one way or another, keep these people safe. 

This sword is a gift. It is a passing of wills. It is a hope for the future. It is a promise.

So, if you truly want to be a hero, pick up this sword. 

The letter ended there, his grandfather’s signature following in the space left behind with no further explanations. 

Setting the scroll down carefully on his desk, Shouta pushed himself to his feet with a wince of pain before walking over to his bed, arms crossed as he stared down at the beautiful sword that sat there, looking more decorative than something that had actually been used in battle and had no doubt killed people. 

Uncrossing his arms and leaning over, Shouta trailed his fingers across the sheath, feeling something that he could almost call familiarity before it faded away. “So, your name is Hizashi, huh?” Shouta’s eyes traced the bright golden colors of the sheath, a slip of sunlight falling into his room through the window and hitting a portion of the sheath just so to make it look like it had become sunlight itself. “The perception of sunlight… I suppose it fits for you, doesn’t it?” It was a good name for this sword. 

“Apparently my grandfather thinks I actually know how to fight with swords and that, when I become a hero, I’ll use you. He’s never been wrong before, but, between you and me, he’s going mad in his old age.” Taking a seat on the edge of his bed, and still trailing his fingers over the sheath, Shouta sighed softly to himself as he realized that he was talking to a sword, instead of being sane and merely talking at a sword. 

Glancing back down to the unmoving sword, Shouta shifted and made himself comfortable. “I suppose if you’re just going to sit there, then you can listen.” Gathering his thoughts and making sure to take a moment to be certain that no one was home that could overhear him, Shouta tapped his finger against the sheath of the sword as if trying to get the attention of someone. 

“I failed my school entrance exam today, the one that would teach me how to be a pro hero, because the tests weren’t fair. They were geared towards physical quirks, and mine, Erasure, can only erase quirks. It can’t help me against robots.” Shouta was at too big a disadvantage physically when it was just him on his own. He knew a bit about fighting, but fighting robots with nothing except his hands? It wasn’t logical. His grandfather seemed to think the same. 

“I suppose that could be one reason that you were given to me,” Shouta mumbled softly, feeling his other hand clench hard enough to have his nails digging into his palms. “I don’t have the type of quirk other heroes have. All I can do is level a playing field that I can’t even touch.” It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he wanted to do nothing except help, and he was instead given a quirk that was seen as a villain’s quirk. 

Leaning forward, Shouta carefully pulled the sword into his lap, eyeing the red cord that kept the sword bound inside its sheath. There was a ‘spell tag’ there for decoration that was dramatic even by his grandfather’s standards. Still, Shouta couldn’t help but to feel something like anticipation. 

“Grandfather said you were a promise,” Shouta said softly, feeling something in the air that made him choose his words carefully. “I need to be stronger than I am now. I need to be strong enough that I can protect others without losing myself.” 

Shouta’s nails dug under the spell tag, removing it and shivering as he felt something like static burst across his fingertips. For the first time since he realized he had failed his entrance exam, Shouta felt something like hope. “I’m not giving up. I won’t.”

With those words clear in his head, Shouta tugged at the red cord until it came undone, falling limp around his hands and wrists as Shouta looked down at the unbound sword, declaration leaving him before he could think it through or take it back. A strong, clear, “I’m going to be a hero.”

There was a burst of something, Shouta feeling as if the air had been sucked out of his lungs the same time pure energy slammed into him, hands tight around the sheath of the sword that almost looked as if it were glowing. 

‘A hero, huh?’ A crystal clear voice spoke brightly from inside him, Shouta staring at the sword and feeling as if it were smiling, of all things. ‘That sounds like it could be fun!’

[saxxxology]

THE CURSED - Ch.12

Being an English Princess in 1739 is everything for Y/N, a Princess from a prosperous, powerful kingdom, to be happy about… until her parents arrange for her to marry a Prince from a nearby kingdom against her wishes. Unable to join her on her journey, the Royal family hires the Winchesters, two experienced Rangers, to guide her. However, the Princess and the younger brother begin to display affection for each other, and when her heat threatens her life, Sam makes a possibly deadly decision to save it.

PAIRING: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

WORD COUNT: ~2100

OVERALL WARNINGS: a/b/o dynamics (heat/rut, claiming, knotting), age gap, smut of varying levels, descriptions of injury and gore, a tad of dub-con and 18th-century sexism from time to time, occasional bits of angst, fighting, and violence, eventual minor character death

NOTE: Edited by @crispychrissy and @quiddy-writes - please heed all warnings! Please keep in mind that this series is set in the 18th century - society is not what it is today. I do not control where your eyes go; if you feel disturbed or think something may trigger you, it is your responsibility to either stop reading or scroll past.

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The hound didn’t return that night either. Sam came back to the room in the early hours of the morning, angrily shaking his heavy cloak and jacket away before staring out the window. His eyes were red-rimmed, and Y/N wondered if he’d been crying.

“It didn’t work,” he finally mumbled, “we set livestock around the perimeter, men in the watchtower… the damned thing didn't come back. Could smell it though… must have been within a couple miles.”

“Have you thought about going out with a hunting party?”

Sam scoffed. “I remember what happened the last time I left my Omega alone…”

Y/N sighed and stroked his hair. “Well, if it’s getting closer, then maybe tonight’s the night.”

He closed his eyes and stroked the bare skin of her arm. “Maybe. I don’t feel like I’m going enough for them… I want to go home, put this all behind me.”

“Sam, you’re helping just by keeping watch all night,” she touched his cheek and tried her best to cradle him in his arms, “you’re not… blaming yourself for Hannah’s death, are you?”

His body trembled slightly at her words. “I feel that I should have seen it coming.”

“How could you have?”

“Because I killed this thing’s brother,” Sam’s voice grew thick, “and it wants revenge. I know how it feels to want revenge… which is why it wants to take you away from me.”

Y/N sat up. “I want to help you kill it, then.”

Sam sat up too and promptly shook his head. “I’ve already forbade you from doing so.”

“You’re not my husband, Sam. You may be my Alpha, but you have no authority over me, not that you would even if we were married.” Y/N retorted angrily. “Try and stop me from helping you, I dare you. You had a nightmare, Sam, it’s hurting you deeper than you think.”

Sam reached under the bed and grabbed the coil of rope he’d brought from their cabin. He held it up, shaking it in front of her face. “I bought this for a reason, Omega. You will listen to me or like I said earlier, I shall tie you to the bed and lock the door.”

Y/N folded her arms. “Do that and I won’t spread my legs for a month.”

“A month isn’t so long,” Sam smirked down at her and waved the rope. “And if you remember, Princess, I had years of being alone before I found you.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and tucked her wrists into her sides. “There’s nothing you can do that won’t stop me from helping you.”

Sam arched his eyebrows and tossed the rope to the floor. He crawled on top of her, pinning her wrists by her head. “I could simply make love to you until you’re too tired to move… I’ve done it before.”

Y/N shivered at the memory from the past winter; the week where they’d been in heat and rut simultaneously and Sam had taken her as if each time would be their last, mating her over and over until she lay trembling on their bed, unable to move or speak as pleasure radiated through her.

She struggled underneath him, fighting the urge to smile as he held her down. “And if I refuse?”

“Then I’ll allow you to,” he replied, dipping his head to kiss her, “but I’ll still tie you if you make any move to join us tonight and only let you out when it’s all over. I’d rather have you alive and angry with me than dead and happy I’d let you come along.”

“You could’ve just changed me two weeks ago when I asked and then me joining you wouldn’t be a problem.”

“I already said that I’m not ready to put you through the pain,” Sam growled, “I will keep you safe and human until I decide. Until then, I don’t want to hear any more of it. Do you understand?”

Y/N frowned up at him, but nodded anyways. “Yes.”

Sam cocked his head. “Yes… what?”

“I’m not going to say it.”

“You’re that angry with me?”

“Yes.”

Sam smiled down at her. She was so beautiful when she was angry, he couldn’t even find the capacity to care that he was the main target of her anger. “I still love you.”

“And I love you too, but I’m very unhappy with you.” She returned. “And I will torture you if you force me to stay behind.”

Sam groaned. “We have a plan already. I honestly don’t care if we have to stay in town for another week, I am not allowing you to put yourself in danger. And anyway, how could you possibly torture me? You’re half my size.”

Y/N bared her teeth, which only made Sam laugh before he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek and stood. “I already said I wouldn’t make love with you for a month. But me walking around with no clothes, swimming in the lake, lying out in the sun… you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me.”

Sam closed his eyes and tried to keep his cock from twitching in his pants. “And you’re probably right. But, if keeping my hands off my Omega for a month means she’s safe and alive, then it will have been worth it.”

He stood, brushing his pants off and watching as she closed her eyes, arms still folded. “Y/N.”

“What?” She frowned at him.

“You do know I’m not trying to be mean to you.”

She sat up and looked at him. “I know. You’re trying to protect me. I’m just being stubborn.”

Sam nodded. “I won’t let anything happen to you. If you’re going to—if you’re ever going to turn, and that’s a firm ‘if’—I refuse to allow an animal like a hellhound be the one to do it. It’s going to happen on my terms.”

***

That night was the last night the village of Dolgellau lived in fear.

Sam was perched on one of the wagons, bow loaded, sword heavy on his side. The night was frigid, and the stench of rotting fruit and wet dog was heavy in the air. Dean was by his side, and several men from the village were spread out in the courtyard, armed with blades and torches.

He had left Y/N asleep in their room, locking the door behind him and warning Father Michael not to let her out under any circumstances. He knew she’d be furious with him, but it was for the best.

“It’s close,” Sam breathed, “I can smell it…”

Dean sniffed the air and grimaced. “Don’t remember the one back home smellin’ nearly as bad.”

“Neither do I,” Sam replied. “It’s getting worse.”

Dean glanced at his brother. “I think I know why.”

Sam stared out into the line of trees. “Then enlighten me.”

“It smells Y/N.” Dean felt Sam stiffen next to him and exhaled slowly. “You’ve been cooped up with her all day long, she’s all over you. You stink.”

Sam roughly elbowed his brother in the side. “I could say the same for you. You’ve not bathed in days.”

“As have most of the people in the bloody town,” Dean took a long swallow from his hip flask, “you shouldn’t be such a prude about it.”

“I like to be clean,” Sam returned, “and so does Y/N.”

“Oh, she does like to keep you clean,” Dean scoffed, “making love in a church, I never thought you had the nerve.”

“It was one time.”

“Still counts.”

“Shush.”

“Sinner.”

“No, Dean, I mean it, shut up…”

The brothers fell silent. From the woods a low rumbling issued, followed by a wave of the same rotting stench they’d been smelling for over five hours. Sam turned and motioned for the men in the courtyard to gather together, back-to-back.

The snarling echoed again, closer, and Sam felt a chill run through his bones. Anger swelled in his chest, and he bristled at the thought of the vile creature lurking in the shadows, attempting to scout out a weak spot in their small group.

With a roar, the creature sprang, claws extended. The men shouted in surprise as it landed mere feet from them. Snarling, it swiped at them, sending three of them to the ground with howls of pain. Dean leapt back at the last second, swinging his sword at the hellound’s paw. The animal roared as the flat side of Dean’s blade stung its leg, and Sam nocked an arrow, then let it fly.

The shaft buried itself in the hound’s side, but Sam had missed his mark. The hound screeched in pain and backed away, haunches raised. The other men could barely see it, but Sam saw the thing in perfect detail, every wisp of matted fur, every tooth as his lips pulled back in a vicious snarl… it was just as big as Yellow Eyes had been, maybe fifteen-hundred pounds, and Sam knew exactly how much power lay behind just the animal’s bite.

Then, it lunged, throwing Sam to the ground. He hit the stone hard and felt his teeth bite into his tongue. For a second, he thought he heard Y/N screaming his name, and the animal paused mid-turn, its entire left side to Sam. He yanked an arrow from his quiver and jabbed it up, hard, heard the hound yelp in pain, and then he was on his feet. He pulled a torch from the wall and swung it fiercely, and the hot metal smacked right into the animal’s yellow eye.

Sparks and embers exploded everywhere. The resulting screech of pain was deafening. Sam actually had to cover his ears as the animal fell away, snarling and whining. He could have killed it right there, rammed his sword right through it, but he wanted to see it suffer, wanted to fight until the thing was begging to be put out of its misery.

His shoulder ached where it had been crushed beneath him, but he pushed himself to his feet and drew his sword, swinging it in the air as the hellhound stalked him in a circle. Dean raised his own blade and made to step forward, but Sam bared his teeth. “Stop!” he bellowed. “It’s mine! Don’t you lay a finger on it! It’s mine!”

He stalked in a circle, watching as the hound snarled and snapped ferociously at the air. Blood leaked from the gash on the side of its face, and it was limping slightly from when Dean had caught its front leg with his sword.

“Come at me, you bastard,” Sam growled, “if you’re going to hurt the people of this town, you’re going to have to kill me, and I’d like to see you try.”

The hound leapt, knocking Sam off his feet. He stumbled back, but kept his footing, swinging out with his sword. His bow was caught around his shoulder, and he angrily ripped it free, throwing it to the ground. With another snarl, the hound struck out again, and Sam matched the blow with his sword. Blood spurted, and the hound stumbled, a deep gash in his side. He brought his blade down again, but missed, and the hound knocked him to the ground. Pain shot from his shoulder down his arm, and he yelled as he felt the muscle strain, the joint popping loose.

He heard Y/N scream again, heard Dean shout to the other men to stay back. Blood roared in his ears as the hellhound reared back, jaws agape to deliver a bite that would surely kill its prey…

Sam struck up, his blade piercing the hound’s chest. It gave a loud, gurgling yelp of pain, and Sam sliced down. Warm, black blood and gore cascaded over him, and the hound fell to his side, twitched, and then stopped moving.

“Sam!” Dean was by his brother’s side immediately, scanning him for any major injuries. “Sam, are you hurt?”

The doors to the church crashed open, and both brothers looked up to see Y/N streaking towards them, her white nightdress trailing behind her, face wet with tears. Father Michael and several other priests followed, with villagers trailing behind, but all Sam could see was her.

“I’m all right,” he grunted and rolled onto his side, spitting blood from his mouth. His shoulder throbbed terribly, and the taste of the hound’s blood on his tongue caused nausea to roil in his stomach. “I’m all—”

He retched, emptying what little was in his stomach onto the pavement as Y/N collapsed by his head, not caring that her nightdress was slowly becoming soaked in the hellhound’s blood.

“Sam,” she cradled his head in her lap and stroked his hair away from his forehead, “Sam, I’m here… it’s over, love, it’s okay.”

The last thing Sam saw before the world went black was her tearstained face.

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TAGS FOR THIS SERIES ARE CLOSED

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[shallowpoools]

and here's me actually blogging on my blog for a change

because i just have a lot of thoughts i need to clear out lmao. feel free to scroll past, this is just a giant word vomit i'm doing on tumblr mobile to reflect on whatever the fuck is going on with my head today.

i feel like i suck so much that i haven't even been able to keep up with my virtual activities let alone ones in real life. i can't tell if it's the fibromyalgia or the depression but i'm just sapped of all energy to the point where if it's not my job, i don't even feel like i physically can do work.

like i'm fine. i don't want anyone to think this is a cry for help. i see my therapist every other week and i literally got home from a psychiatry appointment an hour ago. i'm not in any danger and me and my doctors are all trying to help me overcome my disorders and disabilities to be the best me i can be.

but in the meantime i'm just sad, i guess. even my psychiatrist tells me that the medication i'm on has done about the best it can do for someone in a situation they're unhappy with. "you don't need a medicine change, you need a life change", is how he puts it. and i can't say he's wrong.

i feel like i'm stuck and i'm not even close to where i want to be in life. it's weird because last year around this time, i was searching for a job and couldn't wait for the time when i'd be employed and comfortable enough in my position to practically run on autopilot, which is where i am now. but instead of feeling like some comfortable familiarity it feels like a bleak reminder that i'm rotting in a lifestyle that isn't getting me anywhere closer to a future that i want in a minimum wage part time job where my potential goes to die. i'm grateful to be employed, i'm grateful that my home is a group-funded one that allows me to currently only work the hours that i can because it doesn't rely solely on my income. as much as i feel like a kept brat when i put it into words, i know what a privilege it is to be living with my mom, who carries our household on her back.

my little brother entered the room and interrupted my train of thought lol where was i.

i guess what i'm trying to say is that i'm thankful to be in the position that i'm in because it could be so much worse but it frustrates me because it's not where i want to be in life. i get mad at myself: i'm not driving, i'm not going to school, i dropped out and never got a degree, i'm not working more hours, i'm not even working in a job that i like, i reserve all my energy for a corporate job that wouldn't care if i die tomorrow and then don't have anything to put into my own life and happiness and hobbies. i don't write, i don't draw, i barely even roleplay let alone spend time on my fucking blog, a minimal effort activity. and then i get down on myself: is it really my disabilities? maybe i'm just being lazy? no, i know better than that, that's just the ghosts of my abusers talking to me. except, maybe they knew better. maybe they could see that i just don't want to do anything. no, i know better. i want to do everything. i'm someone that thrives on creation and performance and social interaction stuffed into an overweight, overstimulated, overwhelmed body that feels pain and fatigue simply by existing and a brain that doesn't want to get out of bed or do anything more than burrow into a nest of online nothingness and idealization of what i could be like instead.

i'm sad that i'm not doing better. i'm sad that my house is a mess and that my family barely interacts with each other and that all my friends are far away from me and i don't know anybody here. i'm sad that i know almost everything is fixable but that my own defects prevent or just slow down the process. i'm sad that i have all of these ideas about stories and plays i want to write and bands i want to form and videos i want to make and how my house could be cleaned and flipped to the gods if i just had the momentum, and that i follow all of these online personalities with kids because i know i want one so bad but i in no way am ready now so i live vicariously through as many people as i can to try and curb the void, and that i'm trying so hard to eat better and lose weight and feel healthy but i barely feel charged enough to leave my room let alone actually have an exercise regimen.

i'm sad that i have a better life in my head that seems so doable if i wasn't so physically and mentally out of shape.

i'm sad that i can't just clean my fucking room lmao. and instead i felt the need to vent about how sad my life is on a blog i'm barely even using these days.

i do feel better talking about it though. so thank you for your time if you read this. i'm gonna go try and do something to make myself feel better now. xx

[kikisfics]

Flowers

@hummingbirdweek

So this was a completely unplanned posting and I got inspiration for it, using the Season prompt for Flown North/Hummingbird Week 2k18. A certain someone posting her cosplay pics inspired this teeth-rotting fluff. (Really, I’m not complaining because this is an adorable piece and I enjoyed writing it.)

Title: Flowers

Links: [AO3][FFN][Wattpad] Or read beneath the cut

Chapter Rating: K+

Characters: Summer Rose, Qrow Branwen, Raven Branwen

Summary: Mistral is beautiful in the spring.

Preview:

“S-Summer, what—”

“Your sister.” She dropped the bag onto the bed and flopped down, staring at the ceiling. She loved Raven, she really did, but it didn’t mean she liked everything about her. Summer though she was stubborn, but she had nothing on Raven.

She felt Qrow settle next to her on the bed and he looked down at her, a soft smile on his face. “Yeah. Now imagine growing up with that.” He chuckled softly and she managed a small smile. It was a running joke between them at this point. Regardless, she reached up and rested her hands on his cheeks, one of his hands coming to rest over hers.

Summer had known that spring was a big deal for the central Mistrali; the culture classes during Beacon had explained as much. She’d seen students from the region dress in traditional clothes and have picnics outside as the flowers started blooming. She’d always found the bright colors and patterns beautiful, but she’d thought it was simply for them.

    Apparently, being there changed things.

    Her face burned as Raven dragged her into a shop and spoke to the tailors in their native language. The fast, frantic pace as they held up garments and then put them away left her breathless. Removing her cloak had not been fun, but she’d had little choice: once Raven sat her mind to something, there was no stopping her. She’d learned as much over the past four years.

    Eventually, though, Raven shoved her out of the shop, bags in hands with their purchases. She clapped her hands together, crimson eyes shining. “Let’s go back to the hotel and get changed! Oh, the flowers are beautiful this time of year…” Summer just bled a mixture of frustration, confusion, and impatience to her best friend. They had a mission to complete and she didn’t like being held back from it. Ozpin had sent them himself which meant it was important.

    Raven just stuck her tongue out, eyes still full of warmth. “Oh come on, Summer; don’t be such a spoilsport! Ozpin told us to enjoy the culture a little bit! Plus, it’s just one day and the essence of the Mistrali concept of mono no aware.” Summer’s blood continued boiling and Raven just rolled her eyes, putting her hands on Summer’s shoulders. If she’d been team leader, they’d be going straight to take care of things. Work first, play later. She didn’t care if Ozpin had told them otherwise; they needed to get their work done.

    Unfortunately, all she could do was let Raven push her back to the hotel. She stopped and turned an icy glare on her friend before heading into Qrow and Taiyang’s room, slamming the door behind her. Summer blinked and stared when she saw Qrow tying an obi around his waist. He jumped and swore when the door slammed shut, the cloth falling to the floor. One of the lightbulbs hissed as it gave out and color entered his cheeks. “S-Summer, what—”

    “Your sister.” She dropped the bag onto the bed and flopped down, staring at the ceiling. She loved Raven, she really did, but it didn’t mean she liked everything about her. Summer though she was stubborn, but she had nothing on Raven.

    She felt Qrow settle next to her on the bed and he looked down at her, a soft smile on his face. “Yeah. Now imagine growing up with that.” He chuckled softly and she managed a small smile. It was a running joke between them at this point. Regardless, she reached up and rested her hands on his cheeks, one of his hands coming to rest over hers.

    “I can’t say I expected you to get into this, Qow.” She really couldn’t. It was odd to see him just roll over and accept one of Raven’s crazy proposals without an annoyed huff. It just didn’t make much sense.

    It at least earned a chuckle. “Yeah, I guess I just have a few good memories of this time of year.” She nodded, knowing he probably wouldn’t say anything beyond that. He didn’t speak of the tribe in positive terms like Raven, so it was definitely a strange moment. She knew it wasn’t as bad as he made it out to be but…

    “Uh, Qrow, since you seem to know what you’re doing, mind helping me get dressed?” Instantly, red cheeks replaced his soft smile and he gave an awkward cough.

    “Shouldn’t you ask Ra—” The sharp look silenced him and he ran a hand through his hair, cheeks growing redder. She’d had enough of her partner for a few hours. “I-If you’re sure…”

    “It’s just skin, Qrow; it’s nothing to get worked up over.” She sat up and unclasped her cloak, letting it fall onto the bed, followed quickly by the ammunition belts, shirt, and pants. She could only let out an amused noise as he turned away, one hand covering his eyes. She full well knew about his feelings for her, but even so, it was still hilarious to see Qrow of all people so off guard. “Seriously, Qrow, you can look.”

    He let out a small noise of embarrassment and sighed before looking at her. She just grinned and his blush deepend further before he turned his attention to the bag. “Uh, yeah. Getting the kimono itself on isn’t too hard; it’s the obi that’s the real challenge…”

    Over the next forty-five minutes or so, he helped her with the seemingly endless reams of cloth until she felt like a wrapped present. It wasn’t suffocating, but it was uncomfortably tight. When she took a step, she almost fell and it was only Qrow’s quick reflexes that saved her from hitting the floor. She let out a long string of swears as she looked up at him. “I don’t like this; I can barely move.” Even with her cloak, she’d gotten used to having a free, full range of motion if she needed to react to something.

    Qrow just smiled and helped her stand up, straightening her obi a little. “It’ll be all right, Summer; you can lean on me and I’ll help you.” She gave a reluctant nod and sighed, blowing at her bangs. She still hated not being able to do simple things on her own, but she knew by now she could rely on her team.

    He reached into the bag and she blinked, flushing a little as he put a decoration in her hair. Had Raven slipped it in? She hadn’t noticed it before. Regardless, her attention drew away from it as she heard him exhale. “You look wonderful…” She flushed and looked down, digging her scroll out of her cloak.     “Thanks… Think you could take a picture?” This reminded her a lot of both Vytal festival dances… His reaction to her… The warmth and care…

Hh nodded and took her scroll after she unlocked it and snapped the photo, a light tinge to her cheeks. She stashed it in her obi, smiling as Qrow offered her an arm. “Ready to go?”

She managed a small smile and nodded as she attached to him. “Yeah.”

The day proved to be much more fun than anticipate. A wide array of booths lined the streets with silly games to win cheap toys. Summer tried her hand at a few, but Qrow’s Semblance (per usual) foiled her efforts. It still led to both of them laughing at the misfortunate for once rather than Qrow getting down on himself (much to her relief).

Night started to fall, though, and she heard Raven’s ringtone go off. Hey, are you near the central park? She raised an eyebrow at the odd question. Why was she asking? She was ready to crash in the hotel after all the activity.

Yeah, but I’m exhausted.

Come to the tree at the top of the hill on the park’s tallest hill. Just a little longer! Please? She felt Raven’s excitement bleed over to her and she sighed. It was so hard to ignore her best friend. She was like an excitable puppy half the time…

We’re near an alley. Just come get us. She didn’t feel like walking all that way. She felt Qrow exhale and looked at him, a mischievous smile on his face. Somehow, she didn’t like it.

“Tell her we’ll walk.”

Why did she not like this?

Qrow says we’ll walk. See you in a bit.

;)

Summer blinked as Qrow lifted her into his arms. Her embarrassment radiated out, though his only response was a chuckle. He smiled at her warmly, placing a kiss on her head. “It’ll be all right, princess; I got you.” She shot a glare at him, only get another amused chuckle.

Even for as big as the city was, the park quickly became rather dark as they headed up higher on the hill. Really, it was more like a small mountain with how much it raised. The trees thickened and her grip on his neck tightened. She still hated more naturalistic environments due to the sheer unpredictability, but at least this one was manicured to a degree.

Eventually, they reached the top of the hill and Qrow sat her down, her silver eyes wide. A blanket sat underneath a massive cherry tree, the full moon’s beams dappling the ground. Raven smiled and gave a small bow before leaving, though her crimson eyes shone as she did.

Summer walked over to the blanket and sat down, Qrow sliding next to her. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, gesturing to the sky. It took only a few moments for fireworks to start and she smiled, resting against him fully.

“Hope today wasn’t as bad as you thought it’d be.” His soft tone warmed her and she closed her eyes as she shook her head. Fingers combed through her short hair and she leaned into the gesture.

“…Yeah, it was really great.”

[monstersinthecosmos]

things about me

This was originally like a Munday thing but I don’t count as a Mun so like fuckit.  tagged by: @faintly-radiant​ tagging: @biteme1997 @13bels​ @superhiki​ @dingo-pants​ @wicked-felina​ @i-want-my-iwtv​ @scvrletvision​ @ineffablelexicon​ @itwasthereaminuteago​ @musicislifeme​ @songsforskyline​ @scriptedwithprecision @justsomespacedust @blood-of-the-rose anyone else that’s bored! You can say I tagged you. =D

name: Kacy! birthday: 2/28! zodiac: Pisces! height: 5′8! sexual orientation: aro/ace/autochorissexual & occasionally pan.  favourite colour:  lime green? magenta? deep rich red? idk! favourite book: I Know This Much is True by Wally Lamb. favourite artists/bands: OH BOY. I consulted my last.fm to help me figure out the correct answer. Do you guys use last.fm? It’s been almost abandoned but it’s so awesome and can sync to your spotify. I’ve been using it since like 2004 so here’s what it says some of my most played bands are:

ALL TIME - Korn, Rammstein, Nine Inch Nails, Metallica, Amon Amarth LAST 365 DAYS - Perturbator, Opeth, Agnes Obel, Kiss the Anus of a Black Cat, Graveyard LAST 180 DAYS - Darren Korb, The Pineapple Thief, Maxthor, Type O Negative, Jozef van Wissem LAST 90 DAYS - The Cure, Dynatron, Daniel Deluxe, The Smiths, The Police LAST 30 DAYS - Rotting Christ, MCC, Portishead, Fiona Apple, Nightcrawler LAST 7 DAYS - Dead Can Dance, Helheim, VAST, Dave Gahan, OSI.  Anyway that probably sums it up. =P I would describe myself as a metalhead w/ industrial side bae but the past year has been totally overwhelmed with synth LOL. ALSO I GOTTA SAY, THE PATTERNS OF THE LAST YEAR ARE A HEAVY SIGN THAT IVE BEEN ON A VC KICK. 

I binge listened to the entire season of the S Town podcast yesterday and it put me in such a fuckin Mood so I was listening to this like folky sad acoustic playlist on Spotify all day today cause I was feeling very fragile and emotional and needed to wallow in my sad rural feels.

last movie i watched: Jacob’s Ladder aka nice light bedtime viewing to fall asleep to XD hogwarts house: Ravenclaw! random fact: idk if this counts as a random fact but here’s a random story! I have this post in my drafts somewhere that I never really polished to the point that I wanted to publish it and then I forgot to LMAO but when I visited NY a couple months ago I had like an ~adult sleepover~ with one of my old friends and we’re laying in bed after like playing on our phones and I’m scrolling tumblr and every other post on my dash is Armand so he keeps looking over and I’m going “That’s Armand.” .... “That’s Armand again.” ...  “He’s real cute he was turned when he was 17.” ... “I write porn about him sometimes.” .... “More Armand.” ... “Another Armand.” ..... and I’m sitting there just feeling very accepted because he’s amused by what a nerd I am and I think he’s just humoring me like he has no idea what I’m talking about, but finally after like 20 Armand’s I close Tumblr and he turns to me and goes “So why did they pick Antonio??” 

when did you create your blog?: LAST DECEMBER, IT’S ALMOST MY TUMBLR BDAY!  do you have any other blogs?: I have 5 all together. The others are TOP SECRET.  what made you decide to get a tumblr?: I’ve been on Tumblr since like, 2010 or so? But last year I reread VC and I had posted a VC meme on my regular account and it got like over a thousand notes so I was like OMG ARE THERE VC PEOPLE ON TUMBLR? IS THE FANDOM STILL ALIVE????? So I made a VC tumblr. :D do you get asks on a daily basis?: haha no! Weekly, though! I’m bad at answering them promptly but I do always try to answer. :) why did you choose your url?: obscure VC quote. ;)

[miraclemin-blog]

get what you deserve

Oh Sehun is hopelessly in love with Kim Junmyeon through the lens of his camera.

AU: idolverse. solo!junmyeon/fansite!sehun

written for my lovely friend courtney (follow her on twitter @/nomjoonie), i love her a lot and this has been rotting in my WiPs folder since July so today is the day i put her out of her misery. please enjoy my poorly cobbled together seho and find me funny. it fuels my ego.

title from: First Things First - Neon Trees

velleity ; noun /vɛˈliːɪti/

formal

A wish or inclination not strong enough to lead to action;

 Sunshine hurt his eyes and anything that wasn’t refracted by a camera lens was often too much for Oh Sehun; such was the life of a fansite master. He was all too familiar with two types of bags, those that belonged to his camera equipment and those that belonged to the late nights and too many coffees. Questions were also something he was intimately familiar with but, after the first two (?) years he’d managed to mute the sarcastic laughter that too often came with being the only, or one of the few, fanboys at events.

Kim Junmyeon’s events to be specific.

Things hadn’t really started out with his intentions being that of becoming a fansite master. It had been a few clicks here and there, a youtube playlist that soon snowballed into a spotify playlist. Buying Junmyeon’s discography had come soon after, and believe him, that was when he thought he was going to stop. Strapped-for-cash college students rarely even considered clicking the ‘buy’ button when scrolling through music on iTunes; but it happened and frankly he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not.

The money was good, much better than his shitty job at that bubble tea place was paying him (he wasn’t going to name names because he wasn’t successful enough to be burning bridges just yet). So yes, he was a fan, hell that went without saying if you were a fansite and frankly he had no respect for people that were in it just for the money. There weren’t many people that ran sites that weren’t heavy Junmyeon groupies — there were some and they were frowned upon. You could spot them at the fan signs, their only smiles were when they got a shot no other sites had gotten and they always left right after, staying to mingle with fellow fans was mostly definitely not their speed.

Fans knew those sites too though, and subsequently avoided them, hence why Sehun had risen to be one of the more popular sites. Mon Kim, the site run by Kim Jongdae, was also rather popular and Sehun actually had no issues collaborating with Jongdae occasionally. When it came to being a fansite, yes there was competition, but it was all within the interests of good fun.

They all loved Junmyeon just as much.

Or at least that was what Oh Sehun was trying to convince himself of at 5:30 am in the morning when he was running on a health five cups of double shot espresso and two (?) energy drinks. He’d lost count. It had gotten to the point that his fingers weren’t slow on the keyboard, so much as shaking enough to stop them from reaching their destination. While it wasn’t the healthiest hour to be up at, Sehun’s designer had bailed on him at the last second and he was desperately working to secure someone to design his latest fan site project — a feat that wasn’t simple when everyone else had already snapped up the more reliable in the field.

Flopping back in his chair a roll of whatever emotion you felt with the unease of if things were even going to pan out and right before you realised you had reached a point at which caring had stopped being your problem. It was an emotion that he’d felt probably too many times in his career as a full time fansite master but he knew that a roof over his head was worth not giving it up.

Sehun made a sad attempt at ridding his neck of the crinks that had settled in throughout the night but the bone deep exhaustion that had settled in made anything more that cracking his knuckles an arduous task. His chair creaked in protest as he clambered out of the leather bound creation, wincing as the wheels squealed in all their unoiled glory. It was probably a wise decision to do something about that; either by buying another chair in replacement or plucking up the energy to actually lay his hands on some WD-40 or something. In all likelihood he was going to buy another chair, because well, Oh Sehun just didn’t do manual labour that wasn’t taking pictures and elbowing people out of his way for said photos.

Bed was his welcome haven, inviting and warm as he slipped into the freshly pressed sheets. What was not so welcome was his phone, glaring through the darkness as he sleepily pulled up the ‘alarms’ screen, reminding himself unhappily that he would be getting up for the early cuing for one of Junmyeon’s fan greets the next day. The meet itself actually started at 11:30 but if he had any hope of buying any amount of albums he’d need to be there around 6:30 am but he’d allow himself until 7 am because by god he’d been working his ass off.

Sleep came to him slowly, defying any of the writing clichés of sleep swallowing you whole in a wretched night. Instead it rolled on like an insistent storm front, making itself at home on the outer edges of his consciousness and teasing him until it seemed like he wouldn’t have any sleep before he needed to be awake. Fortunately the universe had pity on him and his eyebags, leaving him with 45 hours of hard earnt rest before he even needed to consider even waking up and gathering the equipment he hadn’t had the forethought to pack up before he crawled into bed.

While it would usually be accurate to say that Sehun slept while thinking of Junmyeon, he didn’t even have time to drift to REM sleep before rude and sharp chirps were prying his eyes open. He forced himself to rise out of bed, immediately forgoing the option of a shower in favour of packing up his supplies. Actual solids were very much off the table with only time to grab a liquid breakfast before he tore out the front door, glasses skewed and eyebags still very much intact.

The things Oh Sehun would do for Kim Junmyeon.

Once again Jongdae and he were the only men in the line and while it did thoroughly amuse him, Sehun wasn’t about to push the envelope of Jongdae’s put out pout. “I wish more fanboys appreciated him.” There were about 1001 reasons that wasn’t about to happen any time soon but Sehun saved his friend the reality check and instead opted with pulling his camera out of its bag, checking the lenses carefully. Jongdae rambled on behind him, encouraged by the undulating wave of girls that did nothing but squeal a little louder with each passing official-ish looking car.

“There are some, they fund our sites remember? They’re just not coming to the events because they feel judged man. Toxic masculinity and all, y’know?” It wasn’t really an original thought but rather one that he’d seen echoed around on his site a couple times, lurking in the corner of the forums and such. “I’ve had to step in a couple of times on my site even, when the female fans have gotten too clingy and all over Junmyeon.” He admitted, face souring a little as he recalled the bitter responses that he’d gotten in the moments before they realised that he was indeed the site runner and they wouldn’t have pictures of their precious oppa™ were it not for him. Call him cynical but while he ran a fansite he still disliked the greed that some of his patrons displayed when he wasn’t quick enough in putting up the HDs or any other variety of perceived faults on his part.

Spoiler: Sehun did this for the fun and appreciation of Junmyeon with the money a nice aside. Besides, sometimes he just really needed a nap after music shows or concerts. 

Jongdae’s fist hit his side in a teasing punch that Sehun would usually let pass but it knocked his camera and he could have sworn his life flashed before his eyes as the lens stalk hit the pole he was standing beside. A death glare blinked through the space that spanned between he and Jongdae, reminding the man that Sehun would not hesitate to sabotage any and every shot he was planning to capture today. “Wanting Junmyeon…like that? I think it’s fine for both genders. I mean I’m personally not y’know.” The statement as a whole was fine and Sehun did indeed agree with it, hell he’d be a little hypocritical to be saying that people shouldn’t find others of the same sex hot (sue him, Junmyeon was sexy when he wanted to be). What he took issue with was the final implication that Jongdae didn’t swing that way, a thing they both knew to be a lie.

A teeny tiny scoff defied Sehun’s attempt to keep quiet and simply reward his friend with a smirk. Figuring that all of his chances of maintaining the tsundere look he usually cultivated in order to avoid talking to weird people, his surprised formed into words. “Are you trying to tell me that you and Chanyeol aren’t…?” he trailed off and left it to the raise of his right eyebrow to communicate his point.

Realization did eventually dawn across Jongdae’s face but god, it was a long time coming and Sehun had been about to give up that entire line of conversation; the comprehending ‘OhhhHH’ even came just as he’d opened his mouth to pursue another line of question. While it was tempting to press on with what he was going to say, seeing Jongdae squirm with the question provided reasonable entertainment. Sehun resigned himself to leaning agains the fence for at least another hour and after a quick towards the front of the line, turned his attention to Jongdae.

Slowly though, rather than being polite and allowing him to enjoy the steady blossom of a blush on his friend’s face, the fangirls around him began a roar that he knew only came out when their idol was arriving. Bitter as he was, Sehun wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to get some good shots; quickly he grabbed the camera, hoping quietly that the lens wouldn’t distort Junmyeon horribly, especially considering how close they were. It’d be a lie to say that a lump didn’t catch in his throat as the older man walked by, all sashaying hips and confidence that could only be founded on thousands of people hanging on your every word. If it was anyone else, Sehun would have cracked out a sarcastic reply to the ethereal beauty that was passing in front of him. In reality, all he could do was stare.

In fact he was staring so hard that Sehun actually forgot to bring the camera to his eye, forgot to press down the ‘capture’ button to activate fast shutter mode and capture every single thing the singer did. Were there a moment for one to admit that they weren’t entirely straight, this would have been Sehun’s. Unfortunately he'd confronted that fact the moment he’d woken up after Junmyeon’s latest album release with sheets slightly stickier than he would have liked. Letting a curse hit the wind Sehun did eventually bring the camera up to his face, shuttering a few shots, consoling himself with the fact that other fansite’s arms would be weak now and he might capture some rare photos.

God had apparently decided that photos weren’t what Sehun was meant to catch that morning, instead sending a strong wind and an over-enthusiastic fan slamming into his side. It wasn’t the falling that Sehun minded so much as the embarrassment; he fell over with precious things in his arms all the time so this was hardly a new development. What was new, was the falling over in front of him, Kim Junmyeon. A sharp clatter broke through the haughty tension that were the girls clamouring to get the singer’s attention, only turning as the sound of a lens shattering sliced the airwaves in two, demanding attention for both Oh Sehun and his broken goods.

Ever so slowly, Sehun could feel his world collapsing around him, crashing and slamming against his head with a low chuckle that sprinkled the air and left the girls around him swooning. Kim Junmyeon was laughing at him, and while he’d always tried to seperate business from fun, it hurt to feel those beautiful eyes watching him and laughing. Lifting his head felt like the opposite of what he wanted to do, but he knew that if he was going to maintain any sort pretences he’d need to look up eventually. Silence had settled eventually and Sehun’s shoulders didn’t feel like they were being watched so intensely so he scrambled up, grabbing his camera and glancing quickly at his shattered lens before deciding against risking the cuts.

Everything would have been fine really, if only he hadn’t been met with the worried eyes of a certain hallyu star. Specifically speaking, Kim Junmyeon. “I didn’t realise that you broke your lens! I thought you’d just stumbled a little and my manager said something funny and I—god I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have laughed but it was…pretty funny….” he rattled off the apology and Sehun would have passed it off as a set piece he was meant to say were it not for the fact that this was Junmyeon. Shuffling on the spot, his feet felt almost like they were stuck, save for a bit of restricted movement; all amounting to him not actually being able to run away like he wanted to. “Are you okay? You’re not cut are you?” Junmyeon continued on, his hands stretching out to touch Sehun’s shoulders before being pushed down by one of the security guards.

A small crowd had gathered around them by this time, both curious as to what the worry was and clamouring for even a look at their idol — either way it amounted in Sehun not really being able to process what was going on. “I-I don’t think I am.” he tried to focus in on the second question, not really bothering to respond to the apology, but making a note of it in his head. “It’s winter so I don’t have much skin exposed,” he offered, hoping that he was making sense and not spouting reasonings that didn’t follow any sort of shared logic. Relief did eventually flood his system as Junmyeon nodded, letting out a sound of agreement before he looked quickly around and clapped a hand on to his shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re not too badly hurt. I would stay longer but my manager is giving me that look so if I don’t hurry up he’s gonna yell at me.” Sehun did actually know the look that Junmyeon was referring to, he’d caught it in a couple of his shots, especially the ones where the singer was doing something that he wasn’t strictly meant to be doing. Nodding in understanding he stood back, ruffling his hair and ducking his head in apology towards the manager; god knows how loud he could yell at Jongdae if he was late for an event — he could only imagine that would be amplified were he managing an idol.

He barely had time to let an apology catch on the wind before Junmyeon was hustled into the small complex and he was swamped with fangirls that were suddenly more interested in him than the man they’d come here to see. The predictable questions swarmed in the air, ‘Do you know him?’ ‘Did you save a country in your past life?’ and then some more odd ones, of which his favourite was: ‘How soft were his hands?!’ and the follow up question, ‘WHAT MOISTURISER DO YOU THINK HE USES?!’. Sehun considered actually answering the questions before he felt the cool roll of liquid down his knee, and he was fairly sure he hadn’t urinated so all in all it was likely that it was blood. Jongdae’s subsequent gasp of surprise and fairly clichéd point to his knee, only really confirmed the fact, reminding Sehun of the fact that he had been wearing jeans that had holes at the knee. That explained it. 

Wincing as the cut grazed against the rough material that was his jeans, Sehun came to the realisation that he definitely didn’t have any first aid things on his person at all. His lack of any tangible supplies did however, become a relatively minuscule issue once he considered his camera. Along with no first aid supplies, Sehun hadn’t brought any back up extension lenses and there was no time for him to go home and collect a lens that couldn’t even be guaranteed to do what he wanted. “Fuck, shit.” He grumbled, kicking his foot against the gravel, immediately to regret his decision once his uncovered graze once again brushed with his jeans. 

“Children.” Jongdae hissed out, a warning of a reprimand that wouldn’t dare deal out — especially considering the amount of dirt Sehun had on him. Chanyeol, older than them he was, still wasn’t ready to hear some of the things that came out of Jongdae’s mouth about him.

Blood well and truly smudged along the inside of his pants, Sehun didn’t really have anything he couldn’t complain about. Plans ruined and body aching from the shock (and irritation); he was stuck in line for something that now, seemed rather redundant to attend. “Children,” Sehun started, mocking the tone that Jongdae had adopted, as if feigning he wasn’t one of the more kinky people Sehun had encountered, “didn’t just have their one and a half thousand dollar camera lens ruined, so frankly — I don’t give a shit about their pretty little ears right now.” Sehun fluttered his lashes a couple of times, “Jongdae.” He could tell that his friend thought of snapping out a reply but with the sickly sweet honey that dripped from his name he rethought and nodded instead, gesturing for Sehun to continue on as he was.

Sehun could tell that Jongdae was hesitant to touch him before his fingers even brushed against his shoulders, the sensation muffled by the layers that came with a Seoul winter. “M-Maybe…” Jongdae’s words fell silent with the glaring gaze he was offered as Sehun’s reply. “Maybe…” he was brave, Sehun would give him that; though considering his current mood, there seemed to be a thin line between ‘brave’ and ‘stupid’. “Maybe, you could just enjoy the show? I’ll try and take as many photos as I can so you can have some so it doesn’t look like you totally flaked. I know how fangirls can be.” Third time seemed to be the charm for Jongdae and Sehun had to admit that he couldn’t see that much wrong with his reasoning.

Charity wasn’t something that Oh Sehun usually accepted but right now he wasn’t really in a position to actually say no. He would have strips torn off him if he didn’t have any photos, even if it wasn’t his comeback stage, that had only been a couple of days ago so people were still hungry for photos of him that weren’t just the corporate provided ones. Aware of the fact that he wasn’t going to be able to lord his knowledge of the things Jongdae had said about Chanyeol over his head for at least a month, Sehun ceded that he needed the help with a meek nod.

A smirk that told him Jongdae knew exactly what he’d just negotiated flickered across his friend’s face, and a while he was irritated at having given up some bargaining power; Sehun felt relaxed.

It had been exactly a year and nine months since the last time Sehun’s vision of Kim Junmyeon hadn’t been fractured by the lens of a camera, or any other type of screen (not counting their encounter outside the filming studios). He’d actually forgotten what it felt like to be a regular fan at one of these things, getting numbered and not having to be verified as a ‘proper’ fansite. There were girls (and probably boys) that were most likely attending one of these showings for the first and possibly last time and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a little guilty for not appreciating his opportunities properly.

While his duty as a fansite master was usually that of sitting up in the seats, surrounded by the tripods and other gear that helped those who couldn’t get their arms above the sea of heads (Jongdae), this time Sehun was nestled snug against the stage and other fellow fans. A pang of guilt did resound in his heart as he glanced back to catch the eye of Jongdae and the man was alone in a sea of female fansite masters. He knew that the solidarity of having Sehun with him was what had encouraged Jongdae to really flourish in the community so leaving him alone did make him feel…not worried…actually, he was more proud than anything else. This time Jongdae was the one that had his back.

Not having his camera resting heavily in his fingers did feel odd to Sehun, and a few times during the warm up he did freak out momentarily before remembering. Today was for Junmyeon, well, it always was, but he meant that it was for him purely; no photos or anything, all of Sehun’s attention would be on him.

Beats kicked up in the air around them, bouncing off each wall, fine acoustics channeling the sounds perfectly as Junmyeon stepped out on to the stage, sweater tucking in close to his waist and straight jeans inciting every distinctly NON-straight thought Sehun thought he could have. In those few breaths Sehun had as Junmyeon brought the microphone to his lips, he gulped down as much air as possible, knowing he was about to have every stolen gasp and sigh knocked out of  him. Silence save for the ebb and flow of the piano flooded the studio, every eye on Kim Junmyeon, all of them waiting for the exact same thing as Sehun.

The first strains that perhaps didn’t even need a microphone to be heard cut the breaths each individual was holding, resulting in a collective sigh as Junmyeon pulled each audience member into their own private reverie. Sehun’s attention was unblinkingly draw the perfect formation of each word, Junmyeon’s lips almost acting independently of all laws of beauty to create a sound that rivalled the beauty of one’s name being called out by their lover.

Perhaps that was what this was for Sehun, a reminder of just how much he loved and appreciated the man who was right there, so close and yet so far. He found himself mouthing the words by reflex, eyes glued to the man in front of him, losing himself in the music just the same as the other fans. In that moment, just as Sehun was about to slip his eyes closed, to fully lose himself to the sound and the beat, their eyes met and a smile cracked across Junmyeon’s lips. Doing something that even the declaration of World War Three would be pressed to do, his smile snapped Sehun out of it, and his feet, where they’d been moving freely, he tripped, falling into someone’s elbow. To say it was one of the less enticing things he’d done in quite sometime would be an understatement.

Pain kicked in before the embarrassment, though it was hotly followed by a burning on his cheeks that definitely didn’t belong to the slap of skin against skin. His nose and eye hurt too much for him to notice that the music had fallen quiet and there were scattered gasps in the crowd. Right now Sehun’s main focus was making sure he hadn’t actually broken his nose — his supplementary career as a small time model didn’t really need to be jeopardised, especially considering his looming camera costs. “Are you okay?” The voice was amplified and yet close by, and there was feedback of a microphone being set down on the ground. Sehun didn’t piece together evidence until hands hooked under his shoulders and pulled him up to a standing position once again. “Do I need to call an ambulance?” The question was punctuated by the soft trickle of cool blood down and over Sehun’s lips.

By now the whispers had amplified and were periodically cut through by Jongdae’s ‘Sehun-ah!’s and his desperately scrambling to get all their gear packed up while also trying to wade down to his friend’s side. Those broad hands were still fixed on his shoulder and as the blackness of the pain crept back from the edges of his eyes, Sehun finally had the time to catch a glimpse of the man by his side.

Kim Junmyeon stared back at him. Eyes warm and compassionate, every thought that was racing through Sehun’s head slowed and once again the universe narrowed, whispers and gasps falling away as their eyes met. “You were singing beautifully.” He blurted out, eyes wide and shocked, not entirely sure what he was meant to say, “Sorry for interrupting.” An attempt to bow forwards was blocked by those fateful hands, holding his shoulders back and as an unsurprisingly dazzling smile blossomed across his face.

“You’re the one who got hurt at my concert and you’re apologising?” While Sehun knew it was a rhetorical question, he could tell as such from the mirth that tinged each word, he still felt compelled open his mouth and offer an explanation. Junmyeon’s finger came down to silence him, pressing against his semi-parted lips, uncalloused, making Sehun think of that moisturiser question from earlier. “Now I’m gonna ask again, do I need to call an ambulance?” Sehun had hoped he’d avoided the question by blurting out his stupid response but it hadn’t saved him, instead leaving him to laugh awkwardly and try and brush the question off.

Shuffling a little away from Junmyeon so he could tip his head forwards, hoping to prevent the flow of blood to the back of his throat, it was pretty obvious that yes, Sehun needed to go and see someone. “Maybe, but please don’t worry about me, my friend…” he trailed off as Jongdae slide into the situation, tiny hand resting on the small of his back and most likely looking positively ridiculous with all their camera gear strapped to his back. “…he can call for me.”

A hiss of dissent from Jongdae has Sehun looking up, shooting him a look to rival Kyungsoo’s whenever Baek pretended he didn’t have the remote on their movie nights. “Sehun-ah, I wouldn’t say I can…” HIs brow pulled up at Sehun surveyed his friend’s face, daring him to be joking in a time like this. Unfortunately he wasn’t and Jongdae’s face took on an expression of apology he’d not seen since the time Chanyeol had forgotten to wake him up while he was tanning. “I left my phone at home today, things were kind of rushed and I — I forgot.” Fuck. Junmyeon was going to come in all chivalrous, like he seemed to be making a habit of, and Sehun was literally going to be the bleeding idiot.

Sehun ducked his head once again, knowing he could use the excuse of First Aid should he need it, and allowed his gaze to bore holes into the ground, teeth set on edge and shoulders tight. “I’ve got my phone on me. Give me a second to call the ambulance and I’ll let my manager know that I won’t be able to make the rest of the set. This isn’t a major special or anything.” Why Junmyeon was cancelling the show Sehun didn’t really know, nor did he really care, at least if the ambulance was here he’d be able escape the speculative eye of the public and the endearing gaze of Junmyeon.

It was the latter he was more concerned with — like he needed any other excuses to dig himself further into an affection that had no hopes of being reciprocated.

Soon there was only one pair of hands rubbing at his back and shoulders, and they were far too small to below to the singer. “Hyung, why is Junmyeon cancelling his show?” he managed to groan out, vision still slightly blurred at the edges, even fraying into blackness if he tried to focus too hard.

“He said something about going to the hospital with you Sehun, didn’t you hear?” Jongdae’s voice was uncharacteristically serious and he could tell that there was something seriously wrong. His friend nearly never took things seriously unless one of his friends had just gotten hurt, and considering the very real possibility that this had just happened Sehun wasn’t feeling totally inspired. 

They bustled out of the main area quickly, and the faint hush that had settled over the crowd surprised Sehun as he heard Junmyeon’s footsteps following them out to meet the paramedics. 

Exactly how cliché was it that his last thought before the pain got to him was one about Junmyeon? Granted, it was about his moisturiser but he was pretty sure it still counted.

The ambulance ride was excruciating, a mix of Sehun half passed out, and then brushing off the concerned hands of Junmyeon.

Waiting in hospital was worse, Jongdae fidgeting at his side, worrying about the fact that he’d not been able to text Chanyeol why he was late for their lunch date. Sehun had told him to stop being so whiney, Chanyeol was used enough to them being late for things, being a fansite meant you had a pretty hectic schedule. Being whatever he was to Jongdae, Chanyeol should have known that things had the ability to change on the fly and wouldn’t be too worried about what was going on — though he’d probably be surprised when they came back and Sehun had a broken nose.

Strangely enough though, the person that made the trip the worse wasn’t Jongdae, it was the worried mess at his left side, a certain Kim Junmyeon. “God, I’m so sorry, my fans really need to learn about to calm down sometimes…” Sehun has huffed out an appreciative smile at the apology the first couple of times but by the hundredth utterance of the phrase, it had become a little tired. He appreciated the concern over his health but it just made the blush on his cheeks worse and he found himself regretting agreeing to letting Junmyeon come with them.

They’d already sat through the initial check up, the doctors hadn’t sounded too upset and after some sore poking at Sehun’s nose he was sent back into the waiting room. His nose had pretty obviously been broken when he’d looked into the window of the ambulance, coming in and out of consciousness with what had to be a strong mix of anaesthetic and embarrassment. So really, Sehun was more waiting for whatever prescription the doctors gave him, right before his chance to run the fuck out of here and get the hell away from Junmyeon. 

“Are you Oh Sehun?” The same doctor from before stood in the door way, eyes soft as they watched Junmyeon worriedly rubbing Sehun’s back, soothing intentions tainted with the thrum of worry running through his finger tips. Taking on a role that Sehun hadn’t really delegated to him, Junmyeon shot up and out of his seat with an enthusiasm that had a faint smile quirking the edges of Sehun’s lips in spite of the pain rolling from the centre of his face. The poor doctor jumped back a little at the sudden movement, but only before a warm smile settled on his face, eyes drawn back to the habit of bedside manner, poised to assuage the fears of anyone and anything. “Are you his partner?”

Fuck.

Junmyeon’s voice stuttered in the air Sehun almost felt sorry for him as the scrambled, “No, actually, I’m just a friend.” The breath he’d been about to take caught in Shun’s throat as he heard the last word, friend, he supposed they were. One didn’t usually escort strangers to the hospital ward, but Sehun’d just assumed this was some sort of grand gesture of fan service, assumed that this was another one of those times Junmyeon went above and beyond for his fans. The word ‘friend’ hadn’t even occurred to him.

“I’ll let my co-worker know, he was worrying about the famous Kim Junmyeon having a boyfriend. He was rather put out.” Jongdae, worried as he was, choked out a laugh from where he’d sat silent for the last twenty minutes. Sehun followed quickly, biting his lip to hold back a full-blown laugh but when he looked up and saw the scandalised look on Junmyeon’s face he couldn’t manage it anymore and he doubled over, wincing when his hand pressed to his tender cheek. 

A skidding sound came to Sehun’s ears at Junmyeon turned between the doctor and Sehun then back again. “You knew who I am?” he asked, voice harried and rising in pitch with every word.

A faint chuckle once again. “Of course, you’re the prize of our country’s entertainment industry, why wouldn’t I recognise you?” When he looked up again, smile still pressed on his face, Sehun was met with the gaping mouth of Junmyeon.

“Junmyeon, it was stupid of you to think that you wouldn’t be recognised, now come on. Jongdae’s silently begging to be let go and I think the forecast says it’s going to start raining soon.” His excuse was feeble, in truth it was pretty funny to watch Junmyeon squirm as he realised his plans had been fucked up but as funny as it was, Jongdae was getting pretty annoying and Sehun wanted to rest up at home. Breaking his nose was going to put him out of work for at least a couple of weeks, and he wanted to get some sleep in before the real implications of financial loss set in. Pouting, Junmyeon conceded the point, bustling over to Sehun’s side as he stood up, hand firm on his shoulder. “Pick up your prescription at the nurses’ desk and just follow the signs to get to the exit. There’s a rolling cab service so you should be able to get a ride if you don’t live close by.” Sehun did live close by actually, it wouldn’t be too much trouble to walk home alone and hopefully he’d be able to convince Junmyeon to leave him at the door.

“Sehun?”

“Jongdae.”

“Chanyeol is probably wor-“

“Go Jongdae, I’m okay to walk home.”

“Thanks.”

A faint chuckle bubbled from Sehun’s chest and the quirk of his eyebrows hurt just a little as he watched his friend skid around the corner, not wanting to disappoint his beau (were they even dating? Sehun wasn’t sure.). “Are you sure that you’ll be able to walk home? I can get us a cab.” In watching his friend run away Sehun had forgotten there was someone waiting for him at his side, arm slung over his should in a faux attempt at supporting him.

Casting a quick glance over at Junmyeon he let out a more hearty effort at laughter once he noticed he was still in his stage outfit, having been too preoccupied with his injury before to have seen. “I’ll be fine. You can catch a cab back to wherever you need to be hyung,” Sehun said the familiar term before he’d even realised it and felt his neck colour in embarrassment, knowing his body his ears were probably red too.

“I don’t think that’ll be an issue, dongaeng,” His toes curled a little at the way Junmyeon didn’t draw any further attention to the slip in his language, and went even further to return it. It was cute. “I’ll walk you home, I mean, it’s the least I can do.” They were still walking a this point and it was with a vague register in his mind that Sehun realised they were by the nurses’ desk.

He raised his hand as a sign to pause the conversation and hurried to the desk, saying his name before the nurses handed him a stack of paper prescriptions and wished him a speedy recovery. Turning back to Junmyeon, watching him for a moment before returning to his side, Sehun huffed out a quick, “Believe me, I think you’ve gone well beyond what the least was, hyung, and I appreciate it.” Junmyeon shook his head but Sehun knew what he was saying was true. They both did.

They walked slow, even though neither of them had any injuries to their feet, uncrushed as they traipsed down the stairs and ducked into the hospital gift shop. Sehun had been right about the rain and had spotted the clouds in the sky through the porthole like windows, he wouldn’t forgive himself if he allowed a hallyu star to get wet, and consequently, sick, on his watch.

Silence felt good though, it was nothing as he paid for the umbrella, nor as they made their way away from the hospital and onto the main, then side roads, that would eventually take Sehun home. It was nice, to just be with Junmyeon and Sehun felt himself enjoying the occasional bump of their hands a little too much. He was wandering into dangerous territory and by the third time it’d happened he decided it was much better to simply focus on where he was walking rather than indulging his feelings further.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever rushed one of my fans to the hospital before. Even rarer for me to walk them home.” Junmyeon’s words pulled Sehun from his focus on the footpath, taking the cracks and watching them to make sure he didn’t trip and embarrass himself more than strictly necessary.

He huffed an awkward laugh, hand coming up to rub the red on his neck, “About that…” he started up, wanting to give an excuse, perhaps even insist that he’d not asked for him to come with him to the hospital. Junmyeon cut him off like he had earlier, except it was too fingers this time, two fingers that came to rest on Sehun’s plush lips, heating his cheeks as he fell into silence.

“It wasn’t a problem. I’m glad you’re okay, well… semi-okay.”Junmyeon’s eyes watched him as the rain dotted the walkway around them, a cheap hospital gift-store umbrella the only thing shielding them from the rain. Sehun would have responded but those fingers were still pressed to his lips, holding them closed, and yeah, okay, he was frozen still by how warm they felt against his skin.

“I should probably get going. Today technically isn’t one of my days off and my manager always likes to make sure that I squeeze in some practice.” It was an excuse that Sehun knew he’d have to hear eventually, the man standing in front of him wasn’t just anyone, he was Kim Junmyeon. A hallyu star, a rising light for the people of Korea on an international stage, and he was here, standing under an umbrella Oh Sehun was holding for him. Junmyeon’s fingers fell away from his face.

He swallowed back any excuses daring to keep Junmyeon, hoping that he could convince himself that it was okay that Junmyeon would get back in his car, and that this day needed to come to an end. “You should.” was all he managed to get out, voice husky with what he convinced himself was an oncoming cold, not ready to really accept the emotion he knew was filling his eyes. “I don’t want your manage to get upset with you. I’m not worth it.” His attempt to joke, to lighten the atmosphere he felt pressing down on him, crushing him with Junmyeon’s smile dazzling behind his eyes, fell on deaf ears.

Instead of the soft smile, the one that Junmyeon always brought out for his interviews when they asked about ideal types, Sehun was met with furrowed brows. A purse of the lips that was all too alike the expression Junmyeon had worn as he’d bundled Sehun up and took him backstage earlier today dusted his face, the idol looking up at him with concern. “Well considering how terrifying he is, I wouldn’t say anyone is but, I’d say…” Junmyeon trailed off, eyes drifting to the ground as Sehun guessed he looked for his words. “…I’d say,” Sehun licked his lips, “that, that I’d feel less bitter about being yelled at if it meant I got to spend a bit more time with you.” He finished his sentence with a curt nod, eyes turned to crescents and hands well and truly wrapped around Sehun’s heart.

Pulling his bottom lip through his teeth, rain hitting his shoulders as Sehun tipped the umbrella further forward to shield Junmyeon, “I’m touched.” The words were simple, spoken with a sentimentality that Jongdae would tease him about for days if he heard them. He didn’t though, the man in front of him did.

The hand traced his jawline for a brief moment, mapping out the gentle curve to where it tapered into his chin, even there it slowed for a moment, thumb coming up and brushing against his bottom lip. Softly, oh so softly, the thumb skirted across the full expanse of his lips, tracing the outline before the hand fell away, once again cupping his jaw, pulling him ever so gently forwards. 

Eyes having drifted shut Sehun didn’t know what was going to happen until it did, until he felt the insistent press of those lips, the ones he’d dreamt of touching, those that he’d wished to feel night after night.

Oh Sehun was the one that Kim Junmyeon kissed.

Kim Junmyeon was the one Oh Sehun kissed back.

AN//

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