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cy-cyborg · 1 year ago

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Disability Tropes: The Miracle Cure

The miracle cure is a trope with a pretty negative reputation in disability circles, especially online. It describes a scenario in which, a disabled character, through either magic, advanced technology, divine intervention or some combination of the three, has their disability cured throughout the course of the story. Sometimes this is literally, as in the disability is completely and entirely cured with no strings attached. Other times, it looks like giving an amputee character a prosthetic so advanced that it's basically the same as "the real thing" and that they never take off or have any issue with, or giving the character with a spinal injury an implant that bypasses the physical spine's break, or connects to an exoskeleton that allows them to walk again. Sometimes, it can even look like giving a character some kind of magic item or power that negates the effects of the disability, like what I talked about in my post about "the super-crip" trope. Either way though, the effect is the same: The disability is functionally cured and is no longer an "issue" the author or character has to worry about.

But why would this be a bad thing? In a world with magic or super-advanced tech, if you can cure a character's disability, why wouldn't you?

[ID: a screenshot of Roy mustang from Full metal alchemist Brotherhood, a white man with short black hair in a hospital gown. In the corner of the screen is the hand of another person holding a small red gemstone. /End ID]

Well there's a few reasons. First, lets talk about the purely writing related ones. If you've been around the writing or even media critique communities for a bit, you've likely heard people voicing their frustrations with tropes like "The fake-out death" where a character is either implied to have died, but comes back later, or is explicitly shown to be dead and then resurrected. Often when this happens in media, it leaves the audience feeling cheated and like a character's actions and choices don't really matter if even the worst mistakes and consequences can be undone. In the case of the latter situation, where they die and are brought back, it can make the stakes of the whole story feel a lot lower, since even something like death is shown to be reversible, so the audience doesn't really have to worry about anything bad happening to their favourite character, and once you've used this trope one time, people will constantly wonder why you wouldn't use it every time it comes up.

The same is true for "fixing" a character's disability. It sets a precedent that even things as big and life-changing as disability aren't permanent in this setting. We don't have to worry about anything major happening to the characters, there's no risks associated with their actions if it can all be undone, and it will lower the stakes of the story for your audience. Personally, I also feel like it's often used as a cop-out. Like writers wanted to include a major injury the leads to something big like disability for shock value, but weren't sure how to actually deal with it afterwards, so they just made it go away. Even in cases where the character start the story with a disability and are cured, this can still cause issues with your story's stakes, because again, once we've seen you do it once, we know its possible, so we won't feel the need to worry about anything being permanent.

Ok, so that's the purely writing related reasons, but what if that situation doesn't apply to the story you're writing? What if they're "fixed" right at the end, or the way they're cured is really rare, so it can't be used multiple times?

I'm glad you asked, because no, this is far from the only reason to avoid the trope! In my opinion, the more important reason to avoid it is because of how the a lot of the disabled community feels about the miracle cure trope, and the ideas about disability it can perpetuate if you're not very, very careful.

You might have noticed that throughout this post, I've put words like "cured" and "fixed" in quotes, and that's because not every disabled person wants a cure or feels like their ideal to strive for is able-bodied and neurotypical. For many of us, we have come to see our disabilities as part of us, as part of our identities and our sense of self, the same way I, as a queer person might see my queerness as a part of my identity. This is an especially common view among people who were born with their disability or who had them from a young age, since this is all they've ever really known, or who's disability impacts the way they think, perceive and process the world around them, how they communicate with people or in communities who have a long history of forced conformity and erasure such as the autism and deaf communities. Many disabilities have such massive impacts on our lives that we literally wouldn't be who we are today if they were taken away. So often though, when non-disabled people write disabled characters, they assume we'd all take a "cure" in a heart-beat. They assumed we all desire to be just like them again, and this simply isn't the case. Some people absolutely would, and there's nothing wrong with that, but it's not as universal as media representation makes it out to be.

Another reason it's so heavily disliked is because this trope is often used in conjunction with other ableist and harmful tropes or it's used in ways that perpetuate misinformation about living with a disability and it can have ableist implications, even if that's not what the author necessarily intended.

If the miracle cure is used right at the end of the story for example, as a way to give characters a happy ending it can imply that the only way for a disabled character to be happy in the long run, is for them to be "fixed", especially if they were miserable all the way up until that point. If it's used earlier in the story as a way to get said character back into the action, it can also be read as the author thinking that disabled people can't be of use to the plot, and so the only way to keep them around is to "fix" them.

Of course, there's also the fact that some authors and writers will also play up how bad being disabled is in order to show why a cure is justified, playing into the "sad disabled person" trope in the process, which is pretty much what it says on the tin. Don't get me wrong, this isn't to say that being disabled is all easy-breezy, there are never any hard days and you should never show your character struggling, not at all, the "sad disabled person" trope has it's place (even if I personally am not a fan on it), but when both the "sad disabled person" trope and the miracle cure trope are used together, it's not a great look.

This is especially bad when the very thing that cures the disability, or perhaps the quest the heroes need to go on to get it, is shown to be harmful to others or the disabled person themselves. Portraying living with a disability as something so bad that it justifies hurting others, putting others at risk, loosing yourself or killing yourself in order to achieve this cure perpetuates the already harmful idea that disability is a fate worse than death, and anything is justified to avoid it.

I've also noticed the reasons the authors and writers give for wanting to cure their characters are very frequently based on stereotypes, a lack of research in to the actual limits of a person's disability and a lack of understanding. One story I recall reading years ago made sure to tell you how miserable it's main character, a former cyclist, was because he'd been in a car accident where he'd lost his arm, and now couldn't ride bikes anymore, seemingly unaware of the fact arm amputees can, in fact, ride bikes. There are several whole sports centred around it, and even entire companies dedicated to making prosthetic hands specifically for riding bikes. but no, the only way for this to resolve and for him to be happy was to give him his arm back as a magical Christmas miracle! It would be one thing if the story had acknowledged that he'd tried cycling again but just had difficulties with it, or something was stopping him from being able to do it like not being able to wear the required prosthetic or something, but it really did seem as though the author was entirely unaware it was even possible, which is an issue when it's the whole point of your story existing. This happens a lot more often than you'd think, and it's very clear when an author hasn't even bothered to google search if their character would be able to do something before deciding the only solution is to take the disability away.

There's also the frustration that comes from being part of an underrepresented minority, finally seeing a character like you on screen or in a book, only for that representation to be taken away. Disabled people make up roughly 16% of the population (though many estimate these numbers are actually much higher), but only about 2.8% of American TV shows and 4.1% of Australian TV shows feature explicitly disabled characters. In 2019, around 2.3% of films featured disabled characters in a speaking roll, and while it's slowly getting better as time goes on, progress on that front is very slow, which is why its so frustrating when we do see characters like ourselves and so much of their stories focus on wishing to be, trying to become or actually being "cured".

An finally, there's the fact this is just a really common trope. Even if we ignore the issues it can cause with your story's tone and stakes, the harm it can do to the community when not handled with care, the negative perceptions it can perpetuate and everything else. It's just a plain-old overdone trope. It shows up so often that I, and a lot of disabled people, are just getting tired of seeing it. Despite everything I've said, there are valid reasons for people to not want to be disabled, and just like how I made sure to emphasise that not everyone wants a cure, it's important to recognise that not everyone would refuse it either. So long as it's not done in a way that implies it's universal, in theory, depicting someone who would want and accept a cure is totally fine. The issue is though that this trope is so common and so overdone that it's starting to feel like it's all we ever see, especially in genres like sci-fi and fantasy (and also Christmas movies for some reason).

[ID: A Gif of a white man in a top hat nodding his head with the caption "Merry Christmas" down the bottom. /end ID]

Personally, because it's so common, I find even the few examples of the trope used well frustrating, and I honestly feel that it's at the point where it should be avoided entirely where possible.

Ok but Cy, you mentioned there are ways to use this trope well, what are they?

So, like I said, I'm of the opinion that this trope is better off not being in your work at all, but if, for whatever reason, you can't avoid it, or it's use is really that important to the story you want to tell, there are less harmful ways to implement it.

Don't have your only disabled character take the cure

If you really must cure your disabled character's disability, don't make them the only disabled person in the story. Show us another character who, when offered the same cure, chooses not to take it. This at least helps push back a little against the assumption of "of course everyone would want this" that these kinds of stories often imply and doesn't contribute (as much) to disability erasure in the media.

Don't make it a total cure

In real life, there are cures for some disabilities, but they rarely leave no trace. For example, an amputee's limb can sometimes be reattached if it was severed and they received medical treatment fast enough, but it usually results in at least a little nerve damage and difficulties with muscle strength, blood flow or co-ordination in that limb. Often times, these "cures" will fix one issue, but create another. You might not be an amputee anymore, but you're still disabled, just in a different way. You can reflect this in your fictional cures to avoid it feeling like you just wanted to avoid doing the work to write good disabled representation.

Do something interesting with it

I got a comment on my old tumblr or possibly Tik Tok account ages ago talking about their planned use for the miracle cure trope, where their character accepts the cure at the cost of the things that made her life enjoyable post-disability. Prior to accepting the cure, she had found other ways to be independent to some extent and her community and friends helped her bridge the gaps, but they were all taken from her when she was "cured" forcing her into isolation. Kind of like a "be careful what you wish for" sort of thing. The story was meant to be a critique on how society ignores alternative ways of getting the same result and how conforming to other people's ideas of "normal" isn't always what you need to bring you happiness. This was a genuinely interesting way to use the trope I think, and it's a perfect example of taking this trope and twisting it to make an interesting point. If you must use a trope like this, at least use it to say something other than "disability makes me sad so I don't want to think about it too much". Alternatively, on a less serious note, I'm also not entirely opposed to the miracle cure being used for comedy if it fits the tone. The Orville has some issues with it's use of the Miracle Cure trope, but I'd be lying if I said Isaac amputating Gordan's leg as a prank, knowing it could be reversed in a few hours did get a chuckle out of me.

If your villain's motivation is finding a cure for themselves, don't use it as justification for hurting people

Disabled villains need a post all their own honestly, but when a villain's motivation for doing all the terrible things they do is so they don't have to be disabled anymore, it's especially frustrating. Doubly so if the writer's are implying that they're justified in their actions, or at least that their actions are understandable because "who would want to live like that?" Honestly, as a general rule of thumb, avoid making your villains disabled if you aren't disabled yourself (especially if they're your only disabled character), but if they are disabled, don't use the disability as a justification for them hurting people while finding a cure.

So are there any examples currently out there to look at where the trope is used, if not well, at least tolerably?

Yeah, I'd say so, but they're few and far between. Two examples come to mind for me though.

The Dragon Prince:

[ID: A Gif of Ava the Wolf from the Dragon Prince, a light brown, fluffy wolf who is missing her front right leg. /End ID]

The Dragon Prince on Netflix uses the miracle cure twice, but I still really enjoyed the show (at least I did, up until my Netflix subscription ran out, so I've only seen up to season 4). The first time the trope is used in the series, it's actually a fake-out. Two of the main characters, while looking for someone to help them heal the dragon egg they're carrying, encounter a young girl named Ellis and her pet wolf Ava. The two explain their egg is not looking good and they need to find someone to help it, but no one they've found had the knowledge or ability to do anything to help. Ellis says she knows a healer who can help them, and tells them that this healer even restored Ava's amputated leg when she was a pup. When we actually reach this "miracle healer" however, she is revealed to be simply an illusionist. She explains that Ava is still missing her leg, she simply made it look as though she had restored it because Ellis's parents were planning to throw the puppy out, believing it would not survive with its disability and would only be a drain on supplies. This was not actually true and Ava adapted to her amputation very well, she simply needed more time, and hiding her disability and making her appear abled gave her the time she needed to fully recover and adjust. When they return to the healer with the main characters, she removes the illusion and explains why she did it, emphasising that the real problem was never with Ava, but with how people made assumptions about her.

While I do feel it was drawn out a bit too long, I do appreciate the use of the trope as the set up to an overall positive twist. Disability does come with down-sides, it's part of the deal and it would have been nice to see a bit more of that, but for disabilities like amputation in particular, the worst of our problems often come from a lack of adequate support and people's pre-conceived ideas about us, and it was nice to see this reflected, even if it is a little overly simplified.

The second time this trope comes up in the series is when one of the antagonists, Soren, is injured during a fight with a dragon, becoming paralysed from the neck down. His sister, Claudia is absolutely beside herself, believing it was her fault this even happened in the first place, but Soren actually takes his new disability very, very well, explaining that he understands there are things he can't do now, but that there's a lot of things he can still try, that his previous job as a soldier just didn't allow time for. It's possible this reaction was him being in denial but it came across to me as genuine acceptance. He is adamant that he doesn't want a cure right from the beginning because he knows that a cure would come at a cost that he doesn't want his sister to pay, and that he is content and happy with this new direction his life will be going in. Claudia, however, is not content. It had been shown that she was already using dark magic, but this event is what starts her down the path of using it in earnest, disregarding the harm it will cause to those around her. She ignores Soren's wishes, kills several animals in order to fuel the healing spell that will "fix" him, and Soren is pretty clearly shown to be horrified by her actions. What I like about this use of the miracle cure trope is that it touches on something I've seen happen a lot to disabled people in real-life, but that rarely shows up in media - the fact that just because we accept ourselves, our disabilities and our new limits, doesn't mean our friends and family will, unfortunately. In my own life, my mum and dad were always accepting of my disability when I was younger, but as I got older and my support needs changed, my body took longer to heal and I stopped being able to do a lot of things I could when I was little, they had a very hard time coming to terms with it and accepting it. I'm not alone in this either, a lot of disabled people end up cutting contact with friends and family members who refuse to accept the reality of our situations and insist "if we just try harder maybe we won't be so disabled" or "Maybe you will get better if you just do [xyz]". Unfortunately however, some disable people's wishes are ignored completely, like Soren's were. You see this a lot in autistic children who's parents are so desperate to find a cure that they hurt their kids through toxic and dangerous "treatments" or by putting them through abusive therapies that do more harm than good. Claudia has good intentions, but her complete disregard for Soren's decision still harm them both in the long run, leading to the deterioration of their relationship and causing her to spiral down a very dark path.

Full Metal Alchemist: Brotherhood

[ID: A Gif of Ed from full metal alchemist, a white boy with blond hair, staring angrily at a jar of milk on the table. His brother Al, a sentiant suit of armour, is in the background looking directly at the camera. The caption, spoken by Ed, says "So we meet again you little bastard" /end ID.]

The show does begin with Ed and Al looking for a way to cure their disabilities (which they gave themselves when trying to resurrect their mother as children went horribly wrong). However, when the boys discover that the object needed to do that - a philosopher's stone, can only by made through absolutely abhorrent and despicable means, and using one, likewise, comes at the cost of potentially hundreds or thousands of people's souls, they immediately stop, and shift their focus on finding the stones that had already been made so it can't fall into the wrong hands, and preventing the creation of new ones. The core theme of the show is that everything has a cost, and sometimes the cost is simply too great.

However, right at the end of the show, several characters are healed in a variety of ways. Ed gives up his ability to do alchemy to get his brother's body back, as well as his arm so he can save his friends in the final battle, but neither of the boys come away from this completely "healed". Al's body has not been used since he was a child, and so it is shown he has experienced severe muscular atrophy that will take a long time and a lot of work to recover from, acknowledging that he has a pretty tough road ahead of him. When we see him in the epilogue, he is still on crutches despite this being several months after getting his body back. Likewise Ed is not fully healed, and is still missing one of his legs even if he got his arm back.

The more... interesting use of the trope, however, is in the form of Colonel Mustang who was blinded in the final season. Mustang is shown to take to his blindness pretty well given the circumstances, finding a variety of ways to continue doing his job and reaching his goals. When other characters offer to let him use the philosopher's stone to heal himself however, he takes it, acknowledging that this is a horrible thing to do and that Ed and Al would be extremely disappointed in him if they ever found out. He uses it both to cure his own disability, and to cure another character who was injured earlier in the show. While I'll admit, I did not like this ending, I can at least appreciate that the show made sure to emphasis that a) Mustang was doing fine without the cure, and b) that this was not morally justified. The show spent a very long time drilling into the viewer how morally reprehensible using the stone was, and it didn't try to make an exception for Mustang - you weren't supposed to like that he did that.

When I talk about these tropes, I do try to give them a fair chance and discuss the ways it can potentially work, but I really do want to reiterate that this particular trope really is best avoided. There are ways to make it work, but they will still leave a bad taste in many of your viewer's or reader's mouths and you have to be exceptionally careful with your wording and framing, not just in the scenes where this trope is used, but in the lead up. If you really must use it, I highly recommend getting a few disability sensitivity readers and/or consultants (yes, even if you are disabled yourself) to help you avoid some of the often overlooked pitfalls.

#writing disability With Cy Cyborg #very long post #I could have sworn I talked about this trope already but I couldn't find the post. Apparently I had a lot more to say anyway lol #long post #disability #Disabled #Disability representation #Physical Disability #disability Tropes #Writing #Writeblr #Authors #Disabled Rep #Writing Advice #writing Tips #Disabled Characters #writing disability

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angelicyoongie · 1 year ago

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lovesick (XI)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 4.6k — warnings: yandere, stalking, obsessive behaviour, other content that may be triggering. — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late.

Previous – Next

You rest your head on the back of the couch, staring out at the snowflakes that drift to the ground one by one. The trees outside are blanketed in a thin layer of snow, white powder clinging to barren branches. Time has moved quickly yet all too slowly since you were brought here, the days blending into nothing. Judging by the weather, you think it must be late November by now. You prefer not to ask – without the finality of an exact date, it's easier to pretend that you haven't been here for over two months.

There's a soft hum going throughout the entire cabin, portable heaters working overtime to keep the chill out. Seokjin must've bought out an entire store with how many there are scattered around, the first one already appearing the day after Namjoon brought you back. The heaters have been added one by one with each passing week as the temperatures have continued to drop and you're honestly amazed that the old cabin can even handle such a high energy consumption. You do sometimes wonder how Jimin has explained away the no-doubt skyrocketing electrical bill, but considering no one has come to check it out; the station clearly doesn't find it all that suspicious.

You shiver instinctively as the wind howls, the thin windows fighting against the frost that's beginning to cling to them. The crackling fireplace can't keep every room warm, not anymore, but it still gives the common room a little boost of coziness, a little extra warmth whenever the wind picks up outside. You're not actually cold but that doesn't stop the arm around your waist from pulling you back, plastering you against Taehyung's chest.

Seokjin didn't lie when he told you that they would be watching you around the clock.

Your personal bubble is constantly invaded, the chilly weather being the perfect excuse for the boys to cling to you like a second skin. Some part of you is always being touched, regardless of whether you like it or not. They like to pretend it's just to 'keep you warm' but you can see the thinly veiled threat for what it is. This is their way of reminding you that they don't trust you – that you've brought all of this upon yourself.

"What are you thinking about, babe?" Taehyung mumbles sleepily against the back of your neck.

"Nothing special," You say, the words tumbling out easier than you'd like. "I'm just not looking forward to how cold it's going to get up here."

"Hmm," Taehyung's mouth flutters over your skin as he tightens his grip around your waist, "You don't have to be worried, Y/n, I'm sure we can come up with lots of ways to keep you warm."

You can't remember when your skin stopped crawling at Taehyung's flirty remarks.

Maybe it was after those two weeks he and Jimin had been banned from the cabin – their own personal punishment for pushing you too far. You didn't think much of it, didn't care about how they fought and yelled about how unfair it was. You were still trapped, so what difference did five or seven hovering soulmates make? After all, the two of them had set you up, ruined your plans, so it felt like a small victory that their actions actually had consequences. Taehyung and Jimin didn't cross your mind once while they were away. So why, why, did you feel like you had missed them the day they returned?

It was like a switch had been flipped in their absence, one you couldn't turn back off. Ever since that night you let yourself be held by Seokjin, something had happened. You could no longer find the energy to flinch or frown when they reached out to touch you. Their sweet words and love stricken gazes didn't garner the same disgust as it used to. It was like the fight had been drained out of you. You were so tired of feeling scared, angry, hopeless, so you simply just... stopped.

Something in you finally gave up that night and decided it was time to accept your fate. It was easier. It hurt less. And so you've slowly been coming to terms with it, with this, ever since.

You sink into Taehyung's embrace as he lays back down on the couch, your head on his chest and your legs tangled together in the cramped space. He lets out a content breath at the way your body relaxes into him, at how you hold on to him like you want to be there.

Small patterns are drawn on your back as you listen to the steady beat of Taehyung's heart. A wooden log crackles and fusses as it breaks apart, sending small embers floating into the burning flames. You never expected that you would ever end up here, feeling uncomfortable and yet somehow, undoubtedly, safe in one of your stalkers' arms.

It should make you horrified, repulsed, after everything they put you through, but you can't help the way your soul sings at the close proximity. Being around them is starting to feel right – and you're no longer sure how much of you, the real you, will be left by the time the soulbond truly settles.

It doesn't matter how much you hate it. You can't do anything to change it as long as you're stuck here, with them.

You stare at the flickering flames, releasing a shuddering sigh.

Maybe... Maybe your next life will be better.

That's the only comforting thought you allow yourself to have.

"Can you pass me the salt, sunshine?"

You wordlessly hand the shaker over to Hoseok, watching as he only adds a little dash to the dough he's mixing up. His arm flexes as he combines it all into a firm ball, strong hands making quick work of the rather heavy dough. After you let it slip a few days ago that you were craving cookies, Hoseok decided to make it his mission to bake you some. The amount of dough he's mixing up would have been enough to feed you for weeks if you were alone – but since you're currently living with seven men who can eat their own body weight for breakfast, lunch and dinner – it might just last you two days if you're lucky.

Leaning your hip against the counter, you bite your lip as you continue to watch Hoseok work.

There is a question you've been burning to ask him, that you feel like you need to know before you can fully accept your new reality; how did he find you?

While the other boys have told you of their own volition, Hoseok still hasn't mentioned it. You know he first saw you at that fundraiser but that doesn't explain how he managed to figure out your name or address. You had barely worked at Filter for a month when the event happened, so it's not like any of the other vendors knew who you were. The booth for the café was listed under your boss' name and you weren't wearing a name tag, so how did he do it?

"Take a picture Y/n, it'll last you longer," Hoseok grins as he catches you staring at his profile.

"Huh? N-no, I–" You stammer, eyes widening as you realize you must have zoned out while you were thinking.

You're momentarily saved from your embarrassment as Yoongi peeks his head into the kitchen, hair windswept and his cheeks flushed from the cold.

"I got you what you asked for from the store," He announces, showing you the plastic bag in his hand.

"Thank you, Yoongi," You don't fight the soft smile that settles on your lips, your heart fluttering treacherously at the sweet grin you get in return.

"Anything for you," He mumbles shyly as he leaves the bag by the kitchen entrance, cheeks a little pinker than before as he goes back to the common room.

Your eyes jump from the plastic bag to one of the kitchen shelves just above it, gaze getting caught on the familiar black box that's perched upon it. The sight of it still makes something sour explode in your stomach. The contents inside are the whole reason you ended up here in the first place and you hate that you have to look at it every day. You've weighed the consequences of getting rid of it once or twice, of tossing it into the fireplace and watching the kaleidoscope of coloured letters burn into nothing, but you just can't find it in yourself to do so. Even if you'll never be able to use it, it's still evidence.

It's not the only thing that's been collected from your apartment, either. The mantle above the fireplace is decorated with a few of Taehyung's postcards and some of Yoongi's lyrics are framed on the wall alongside pictures Seokjin snapped of you. They must've removed all their gifts and letters to cover their tracks shortly after they took you. You're not sure why they felt the need to bring them here but you're sure that they have some twisted explanation for it.

You can practically hear Jimin's voice saying 'we got you such nice gifts baby, why shouldn't they be on display?' whenever you look at them.

"Hyung is such a softie," Hoseok chuckles, his voice bringing you out of your thoughts.

You make a sound in agreement, shifting your weight nervously as you watch him finish up the dough. He carefully adds a pile of chopped-up chocolate, working the pieces into the firm mixture.

As Hoseok pops the bowl into the fridge and moves over to the sink to wash his hands, you clear your throat, finally blurting out a rushed, "Can I ask you something?"

Hoseok hums under his breath as he scrubs his skin clean, taking his sweet time as he leaves you waiting for an answer. You barely catch the quick flicker of his gaze on your neck, eyes lingering on the bare skin that's visible above your sweater before he turns back to shut off the sink.

"Sure," He agrees, eyebrow quirking as he reaches out for a towel to dry his hands, "I'll answer your questions if you promise to do something for me afterward."

You swallow thickly, uncertainty prickling at the back of your skull. You have no idea what kind of favour Hoseok will ask of you in return, but you're too curious to pass this chance up.

"Okay," You nod. The gleam in Hoseok's eyes leaves you a little unsettled but you need to know the answer to your question.

The fridge buzzes loudly in the beat of silence that passes between you. Hoseok leans against the counter, crossing one ankle over the other as he gives you an encouraging nod. "Ask away then, sunshine."

"I want to know how you found me, how you figured out where I live," You breathe, your pulse kicking at the flash of surprise that passes over Hoseok's features.

"Hm. That's a rather unexpected question but you'll get your answer," Hoseok says, pursing his lips.

"I first saw you at the fundraiser, you know that. I wanted to approach you, offer to drive you home to make sure you were okay after that bitch touched you–"

Hoseok utters the word with such venom it makes the hair on your arms raise, "–but your friend beat me to it. Heejun, was it? I couldn't just leave you, not after finally finding my soulmate, so I decided to follow you."

Your heart squeezes at the mention of your best friend, longing filling every inch of your chest.

"I wanted to make sure that you got home safe. I actually tried to approach you a few times after your shifts at Filter but something always got in the way, and you slipped away before I had the chance to introduce myself," He sighs.

"After a few weeks, I felt like I had missed my window but I couldn't just give up, not when I had finally found you. So I figured there was no harm in continuing to watch you from afar, making sure you were safe while I figured out how to break the news to you. By the way, your building isn't all that safe, sunshine, I got ahold of your apartment number just by asking one of the old ladies who were having a smoke outside."

Hoseok shakes his head, clicking his tongue as if he wasn't part of the problem that made your apartment unsafe in the first place.

"I thought giving you letters and gifts was romantic, that it would make you curious about who your secret admirer might be – that you would feel happy to know there was someone out there who cared for you," Hoseok gives a flat chuckle. His eyes are stormy as they flick over to the black box, "But it turns out I was doing the opposite. I can't believe Tae managed to influence the bond that much."

Hoseok seems surprisingly upset about how things played out, like he actually thought he was doing something nice.

You give a small shrug, knowing that there's nothing you can say to lighten the mood. Even without Taehyung's influence, Hoseok still took things way too far – he was the one who decided to drug you, after all.

"Did that answer your question, Y/n?"

"Yeah, thank you," You murmur.

Although it still makes a burst of fear flare up in your chest every time you think about what they've put you through, it's nice to finally know exactly how Hoseok did it. Although it's too late to do anything about it now, there is some solace in finally getting an answer to one of the many questions you've had ever since the first envelope showed up.

"Now for your end of the deal," Hoseok says, nimble legs already carrying him across the kitchen, "Stay here for a second, sunshine, I'll be right back!"

Hoseok is only out of the room for thirty seconds tops before he returns, one hand hidden behind his back. He watches you carefully as he presents a familiar flat squared box to you, dark eyes drinking in every minuscule detail of your reaction.

"Oh, that's–"

Your voice tapers off as Hoseok opens the box, revealing a necklace you've seen before. It's one of the jewelry pieces he gifted you alongside his letters, one of many you had stashed away under your bed to forget about. The golden chain is attached to a small, dainty sun pendant, the design simple yet clearly expensive.

You have seen this necklace somewhere else before too, though. Your gaze flickers up to Hoseok's neck as you're hit with the memory of your first visit to his shop; of how you noticed the chain that slipped out of his shirt as he assisted you.

It's the exact same design.

"They match," Hoseok confirms as he gently takes the necklace out of the box.

Couple necklaces.

You give him a weak smile, "That's very, um, sweet."

"Isn't it?" Hoseok looks fondly down at the piece of jewelry. "Will you turn around so I can put it on you?"

You do so easily, knowing that Hoseok could have asked you for something far worse in return for sating your curiosity.

Hoseok's breath hits the back of your neck as he steps closer, the warmth sending goosebumps all over your skin. You can almost feel the rise and fall of his chest as he brings the necklace around your neck, clasping it in place. The tips of his fingers skate across your throat under the pretense of fixing the chain, your breath hitching as a fluttering kiss is placed just below your ear.

"Fits you perfectly," Hoseok murmurs against your skin.

"Thank you," You whisper, swallowing thickly. You bring a hand up to touch the necklace, feeling how the pendant rests in the nook between your collarbone.

Hoseok hands trail down the outline of your body as he pulls back, squeezing your hips as he reluctantly says, "You can go join the others in the common room, sunshine. We need to wait a bit before we can bake the cookies and there's no point getting the other snacks ready too soon, the others will just hover it up."

"S-sounds good," You almost feel a little unsteady on your feet as Hoseok's touch finally leaves you. You flash him another feeble smile as you try not to hurry too quickly out of the kitchen, your hand moving from your gifted necklace to your chest.

Did your heart just race because Hoseok touched you – because he kissed you?

You halt in the hallway, in the one blind spot the cabin offers from the common room. Taking deep breaths to collect yourself, you will your heart to slow down. This is what you wanted, what you accepted would happen when you decided to give up, and yet, you can't help but feel a little betrayed by your own body.

It's only been a little over a month.

Just how badly is your soul craving them that you're able to give in so easily, so quickly?

"Y/n, darling, I saved you a spot next to me!"

You startle as Namjoon calls out to you, your thoughts slipping away at the sound of his voice.

"Not fair hyung, I saved her a spot too," Jungkook's pout is audible from your hiding spot.

Squaring your shoulders, you push down on the unease that seems to have made itself at home in your bones. After all, isn't this what you wanted; for things to be easier? Why are you still trying to fight it when you know nothing good will come of it?

"Just let it be," You mutter, defeated.

The smile you plaster on as you walk into the common room comes a little easier than before, doesn't feel as fake as it used to. You let yourself be pulled down on the couch between Jungkook and Seokjin, allowing them to fawn over you to their heart's desire.

You don't let yourself linger on the worrying thought that the constant attention is starting to feel nice, for very long.

"Is it too scary for you?"

You startle at the hushed whisper that brushes against your ear just as the heroine screams on screen. Turning your head to look at Seokjin, you find wide eyes staring back at you, his skin paler than normal. He flinches as another shrill yell comes from the TV, his already tight grip around your right hand only growing stronger.

"I'm okay," You murmur back, giving his fingers a light squeeze.

Seokjin visibly deflates at that, his uneasy gaze flickering back to the movie. You clear your throat to tamper down the laugh that wants to bubble up, finding Seokjin's false bravado a little cute. It's clear as day that he's terrified of the scary movie Jungkook chose for your movie night – even without the death grip he has around your hand. You've been feeling Seokjin flinch and cower at every loud sound so far, his body somehow halfway hidden between you and the couch. Still, it seems he doesn't want to admit that it frightens him when the rest of the boys hardly seem fazed by what's playing out in front of them.

"I'm a little thirsty though, do you think you could get me something from the kitchen?" You ask lowly, mindful not to disturb the others.

Seokjin's eyes snap back to you, relief flooding his features at the easy out, "Yes! I'll be right back." He doesn't waste another second before he practically leaps from the couch, the lights turning on as he hurries to the safety of the kitchen.

You flex your fingers with a small wince, skin tingling as blood is finally able to rush back into them. You glance around the room as you wait for the feeling in your hand to fully return, noting how absorbed the rest of the guys look. Jungkook's hold around your left hand has gone slack, his attention fully on the movie. Namjoon, Hoseok and Taehyung are pressed together on the other couch, a big bowl of popcorn half-devoured between the three of them.

The cookies you 'helped' Hoseok make earlier are almost gone, only a few of them left despite the double batch he cooked up. You quickly reach out to snatch up another one before the rest disappears, your gaze slipping over to Yoongi as you lean back on the couch. He's curled up on one of the chairs nearby, his eyes closing every so often despite the loud bangs and screams that fill the room.

The sight of Yoongi nodding off with his cheek squished in his palm is stupidly endearing, so you end up stuffing the cookie into your mouth to keep your smile at bay. You chew slowly, enjoying the slight crunch from the crispy exterior of the cookie and how the soft insides somehow manage to melt in your mouth at the same time. It's honestly a little unfair just how good it is.

As you swallow the last bite, you glance around the room, confused, realizing Jimin is nowhere to be seen. The previously occupied chair next to Yoongi is now vacant and he isn't sprawled out on the floor anywhere either.

Just as the thought strikes you, you feel the back of the couch dip, a figure gracefully jumping over the backrest to settle into Seokjin's spot. The sudden appearance startles you so badly that you let out a shocked noise, your hand covering your racing heart as Jimin makes himself comfortable. You have no idea how he managed to get to the back of the couch undetected or even why he decided to sneak around, but you've learned over the past month that there's no use questioning Jimin's antics. He simply just does whatever he feels like, when he feels like it.

"Sorry," Jimin grins as he leans closer, not looking very sorry at all. "If I made it too obvious that I was stealing Seokjin hyung's spot, the others would fight me for it."

You can't help the way you instinctively tense up as Jimin draws closer, some hesitancy still lingering after that night he caused you to explode. It has gotten easier over the past month to be near him, the constant forced proximity hasn't given you much of a choice but to grow closer to them. But Jimin has, surprisingly, been putting in some effort to make being around him a little more tolerable too. He's toned down his vulgar flirting and he no longer hovers and glares at you with suspicion whenever you interact with any of the others. It's still not great, but it is better.

Jimin's smile falters as you grow stiff. He lets out a small sigh as he decides to show you mercy and turn his attention to the TV instead of you, throwing his arm over the back of the couch. It isn't until you've gradually begun to relax again, preoccupied with watching the movie, that you lean back into the cushions, feeling Jimin's fingertips brush over your shoulder the moment you do. The touch is light and fleeting, barely even there, as he tests the waters of what you'll allow.

It's clearly an invitation for you to lean into his embrace but he doesn't push you to do it, doesn't force you like he would have a month ago. You think this must be Jimin's attempt at making amends – of him offering to do things at your pace instead of his.

He tentatively curls his hand around your shoulder when you don't pull away, fingers almost floating over your skin with how hard he's trying to not be overbearing.

If Jimin is putting in this much effort, shouldn't you be too? It'll only make things more painless.

Between one deep breath and the next, it almost feels like your mind blanks as you shuffle closer to Jimin, letting him tug you to his chest as his arm drops to your shoulder. He preens with satisfaction that you're allowing him to touch you, chest puffing as he presses a quick kiss to your forehead.

"Hyung," Jungkook whines from your left as you're pulled further away. His grip tightens around your hand, refusing to let go as he moves after you on the couch. He presses himself flush against your side, huffing as he pulls your hand back into his lap.

"Jungkookie," Jimin glances at him over your head, whispering out an amused, "Why are you holding on to Y/n so tightly, hm? You're not even scared."

Jungkook pouts in the return. "So what? I'm holding Y/n's hand in case she gets scared. I'm just being thoughtful."

Jimin snorts. He raises his hand from your shoulder to ruffle the back of Jungkook's hair, messing up his locks. Jungkook grumbles under his breath at the action but doesn't move to push him away, his head lolling comfortably back into Jimin's touch.

You smile at the cute moment, heart lurching at the ease and content air they have about them whenever they're interacting. They, along with the rest, are such good friends – made for each other, almost – that you often find yourself wondering if your bond is a fluke, if they were actually supposed to be soulmates without you. The theory doesn't feel too far-fetched, not when you see them interact like they're puzzle pieces falling into place, perfectly fitting together.

It only makes you miss Heejun and Jaemin more.

Biting your lip, you turn back to the TV, just in time to watch the heroine escape the house she's been trapped in for the past two hours. The monster she's been running from is left behind, roaring and pacing behind the windows as she runs into the rising sun. Your stomach feels heavy as a hopeful smile spreads on her lips, the horror she's faced almost forgotten as she moves closer and closer to her rescue.

Your breath gets caught in your throat as the camera pans back to the abandoned house before it fades to black, eyes shaking as it hits you that you haven't even thought about leaving the cabin for the last few days. It used to always linger in the back of your mind, squeezing your heart whenever you looked out the window and saw the freedom that was so close, yet so far away. But you can't recall a single moment lately where that was even a fleeting thought. Has being around them constantly really strengthened the bond that much, enough that you no longer feel the urge to leave?

You slump into Jimin's embrace, ears ringing as the others begin to stretch and stand up.

With each passing day, it's becoming worryingly easy to just sink into their arms and forget everything you tried to escape from in the first place. Has running away not crossed your mind just because it's been easier to not dwell on a future that's slipping further out of your reach – or, perhaps even more frighteningly, is it because you simply just don't want to anymore?

You stare blankly at Jungkook as he tries to whisk you away to his room for the night, gut churning as your mind runs circles around you. There is one question you can't shake, one you don't have a proper answer for;

Do you want to stay?

a/n: please leave a comment and reblog if you enjoyed the chapter -it means the world to me and makes writing all that much more fun! 💖

dun-dun.... it seems like our poor mc is really struggling with her soulbond :( what do we think about the different scenes of her hanging out with the boys? of her realizing she might actually want to stay with them? i'd love to hear your thoughts!!

(it seems like some of you are a little upset that the mc isn't fighting back more, but please keep in mind that this story was never supposed to be this long and y'all voted for smut, so girlie needs to at least like them before that happens lol)

see you again in two weeks for the next update on november 10th!

#bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere x reader #yandere hoseok #yandere jungkook #yandere jimin #yandere yoongi #yandere taehyung #yandere seokjin #yandere namjoon #yandere kpop

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ateawithoney · 1 year ago

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source: dailywencIair on twt

I think about this a lot.

How Enid puts SO MUCH effort into trying to befriend Wednesday (this scene, the snoods, attempting to shop with Wednesday for a dress) that's why their "breakup" scene hits so hard. Cause Enid HAS been trying and constantly gets shut down by Wednesday.

Enid always respects this decision of course but that doesn't mean it's not still tedious to have your (self-proclaimed) "best friend" not really make an attempt to hang out or get to know you.

That's why she's so happy when Wednesday invites her for a girls night out 🥲

So when Enid has had enough, she leaves. And Wednesday wasn't expecting this AT ALL. She just thought she'd always be there but Enid as a person is not a pushover. She knows her worth (she struggles with it but she knows at the end of the day she is worthy of good). So when she's disrespected and hurt by Wednesday's actions she'd rather get away from it than continue to let herself be hurt by her. (good on Enid for that btw 💪 know your self-worth)

Wednesday then has to sit with that realization and it genuinely hurts her. She has to deal with this loss and the consequences of her actions, and for once, "it doesn't feel good." (ep6) Which is why it's an amazing showcase that is detrimental to her character development.

To Enid's as well but moreso Wednesday for the fact, the show is about her 💀 but we do still get a really interesting moment of Enid's character development.

Enid did feel bad for what happened as she comes to understand their friendship isn't worth losing over this quarrel. Plus, she's tired of letting others defining her worth (again Enid knows she deserves better but she does struggle with it because of her mom)

So that moment where she confronts Wednesday to tell her she's no longer going to apologize for being herself is really great for her own growth :)

The "breakup" & reconciliation moment is just really pivotal in steering both girls in the right direction for their respective arcs and in intertwining the two together to really build on the foundation of their friendship…into a romance >:)) that's why we have the great makings of a slow burn hehe (and don't get me started on the hug scene 🤭)

hi, I went on a long tangent but can you tell i like wenclair and think about them a normal amount 🫶

#wenclair #cherry rants #my screencaps #wednesday #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wednesday netflix

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inbloomwriting · 6 months ago

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Everything to me - Chapter 2

Chapter two - Blueberry & Kidney Bean

Chapter 1

Plot: Jamie Tartt is a lot of things: professional footballer, the island's top scorer .... sexually, extremly handsome. But one thing he never saw himself as was a dad. Too bad he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions. This fic follows reader and Jamie as they navigate life and turn from practially strangers to parents. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Pregnancy, swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, slight mention of sexual intimacy (nothing graphic), strained/toxic parental relationship Notes: 5.6k words. I do not have a set uploading schedule. Please bear with me as I work on this story. I know hardly anything about pregnancy, all my information comes from google. I tagged everyone who asked me to do it when I posted part 1. Please let me know if you want to be taken off or added to the taglist. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

The store smells like dust and cardboard and old carpet. It's not necessarily a bad smell, it just doesn't live up to her memories.

She remembers the perpetual scent of menthol cigarettes and some kind of cheap men's perfume wafting through the air. The store used to smell like her dad and now it doesn't. And that just makes it all even more real.

Boxes upon boxes litter the room, filled with records. Some older, some newer. Guitars adorn one wall while the others are covered in posters from tours that happened long ago, some even before she was born.

There is something comforting about being here. It’s like stepping back into the past. Long nights watching Dad and his friends play their guitars after store-closing. Discovering new bands whenever a new shipment of records came in. And yes - she is the first to admit that in her younger years, she mostly chose the records by how cool the cover looked.

It’s also memories of Dad getting caught up in the after-hours jam sessions and forgetting about her dance recital and that one time he threw a guitar at the window out of anger that a shipment of records got lost. It took him months to get the window replaced. She could probably still trace exactly where the crack used to be.

Being here is very reminiscent in all the good and bad ways. But it’s a warped version of the past. One that’s laced with all the knowledge she has now. Like a movie that you’ve seen a million times.

“I don’t think pregnant women are supposed to be doing that!”

Jamie’s voice cuts through the nostalgia-induced fog like a sunbeam through the clouds. And it also gives her a little heart attack as the only sound filling the room up until now had been her moving around and the soft tunes of an Eric Clapton record playing in the background.

“Jesus fuck! You scared me. I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to startle pregnant women either and give them heart attacks.”

He looks at her with those big expressive eyes of his and a comically overdone pout on his lips. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. But seriously give me that.”

He’s so quick to take the box of records from her hands (Y/N) hardly has time to process what’s going on.

Quite honestly, his worry is a bit misplaced here but she appreciates the sentiment even if he might be a little overly cautious at that moment. It feels nice to be cared for.

“You know I’m pregnant, not sick, right? I can carry stuff.”

“Yeah but why would you if you got me carrying it for you?”

He has a point, she has to give him that.

“Fair enough. Those go over there in the corner please.”

Jamie follows her order without hesitation and, after setting the box down in its designated place, his eyes dart across the room and light up with childlike wonder and curiosity.

“This used to be your dad’s place, yeah? It looks really neat with all them posters and shit. Like stepping into an old person’s mind but like a cool old person that buys you alcohol when you’re 15 and lets you watch horror movies when your mum said no.”

Of all the adjectives in the world, (Y/N) wouldn’t ever think of using the word “cool” to describe her dad. He was creative and fun and eccentric and stubborn — but cool?

Then again he was her dad and no one ever likes to think of their own parents as cool. Oh god, will their kid think she’s uncool?!

“Uh yeah, the shop and the apartment right above us. He owned it, now I do. I’m trying to get it all fixed up and ready to be sold.”

“What? Why?”

There is something to be said about Jamie’s face and his absolute inability to mask his emotions. Everything he thinks and feels is mirrored twice as vividly on his face. He’s all furrowed brows and pouty lips.

“I mean — it’s a record store. People don’t really buy records anymore. Be honest, when was the last time you bought one instead of just streaming the music?”

“Like two weeks ago.”

“Fuck off, no you didn’t!”

“Uh — yeah, I did. Olivia Rodrigo if you must know.”

A soft giggle falls from (Y/N)’s lips. How fitting for Jamie to buy an album full of teenage angst.

“Well, you’re one of very few people though. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t have to sell. I’d keep it open. Instead of selling instruments, it’d turn that part of the shop into a little stage with a coffee counter or a bar. Host open mic nights and shine a spotlight on undiscovered artists. But the world isn’t perfect and there is no way I can afford to turn that vision into reality so really there’s no use in letting myself get too caught up in it.”

There is pity in his eyes and she hates it. She doesn’t want pity, not his or anyone else’s. Has seen enough of it, especially lately. If she had received just one more “Sorry for your loss” card in the mail from relatives she hadn’t seen in decades, she probably would’ve stabbed a fork in her own eye. Pity does no good to no one.

“Anyway, Jamie. Not that I don’t enjoy hanging out with you, it’s kind of necessary if we want to get this whole beings-friends-thing right, but uh — what are you doing here?”

“Jesus, can’t a guy just come around to say hi to his baby? “

She thinks the way he says the word “Baby” in his thick accent is surprisingly and undeniably adorable. As if it ends in an “eh” instead of a “y”.

“By the way, they’re as big as a blueberry now.”

And the way he’s keeping track of the baby's growth gets her right in the heart. For some reason, this seems to come so naturally to him when it all still feels weird and foreign and surreal to her. As if it were happening to someone else and she’s just a mere spectator. The idea that something as small as a blueberry will one day turn into a proper baby, a child, a teenager … a whole ass adult - is so wild to her. Almost incomprehensible. A person with their own feelings and dreams and personality. (Y/N) wonders if at any point in this pregnancy, she'll wake up and it'll all just make sense or if that only comes once she's holding the baby in her arms.

“That's cute. Doesn't answer my question though. What brings you here?”

A shadow of something flickers across Jamie’s face. Something unreadable and unfamiliar. Something that makes (Y/N) feel a sense of dread bubbling up in her stomach.

“I uh — I can’t do this.”

And there it is. That unfamiliar shadow is now a metaphorical atom bomb, a mushroom cloud of all that could have been and won’t be.

“Oh okay. I mean no, not okay. This sucks actually. You said you wanted to be part of the baby’s life and now you’re bailing? That’s a shit move, Jamie. You’re a right prick for pulling that crap.”

“What? Oh no!” his eyes widen as the realization sets in. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Well then what did you mean? Cause you’re truly giving me a heart attack right now. Second one for today. You really need to start working on your conversation starters.”

She had given him the chance to opt out of being a dad, to not be a part of the baby’s life. It seemed like the right thing to do and, foolishly, (Y/N) had believed that she’d be okay with him doing just that. In this very moment though, she feels everything but okay. The idea of Jamie changing his mind is terrifying.

Sometimes you don’t realize just how much you need something — or someone until you’re faced with the possibility of losing them.

“I mean, I can’t do this alone. I need to tell someone. All I keep thinking about is the baby and I feel like I am going to explode any second now. I know we can’t tell everyone yet ‘cause of — well you know, things going wrong and stuff. But I need to tell someone. You got to tell Rebecca and your mum, I think it’s only fair I get to tell two people as well, yeah?”

A sense of relief floods her. Starts in her toes and fills her all the way to the top of her head. He wants this — wants the baby. It’s not just her in this. It’s nice to know you have someone in your corner. It’s also scary. Because he deserves to know just whose team he’s on. And being vulnerable fucking sucks.

“Jamie, that’s fine. Absolutely you can tell your mum.”

“And Simon? You got two people so — “

“I didn’t though.”

“Uh yes, you did. I know you told Rebecca.”

“That’s right.”

“And your mum too”.

The silence that follows his words is deafening. Being vulnerable means also admitting guilt. It means owning up to all of your mistakes. Though we are not the sum of our mistakes, they are what help shape the person we become. And (Y/N) really doesn’t think they make her a very good one.

“And your mum too?”

More silence.

“You didn’t tell your mum? Why not? “

To his credit, Jamie looks truly surprised and confused. There is no judgment there, just absolute bewilderment and that signature softness that rounds out his features and settles in his eyes whenever Jamie talks to her about something serious. Granted they’ve not had that many conversations but she hopes that softness stays. She hopes that maybe their baby can have those soft, gentle eyes too.

“I’m not sure. I think I’m scared. My mum and I have a — complicated relationship. I disappoint her, she judges me. You know, the usual.”

“You think she’ll be disappointed because we're having a baby? Is it because of me?”

(Y/N) shrugs, breaking eye contact and fixing her gaze on the old grey carpet with the ugly 90s pattern. What if those soft eyes can look straight through her, see all the ugly parts and the insecurities? That’s too scary for now. Too much too soon.

“No, it has nothing to do with you. Think she’ll just be disappointed I didn’t get pregnant according to the timeline she dreamed up for my life when I was like 2 years old. Had it all planned out for me and I never stuck to it.”

Jamie is quiet for a moment but (Y/N) doesn’t dare to look back up at him. She can’t deal with any more pity.

“Well if you want to practice telling a mum, we can start with mine.”

“Huh?”

“You can come to Manchester with me if you want. To tell my mum. We’ll have one mum down then, makes it easier to do it a second time. It’s science.”

Jamie has the fascinating quality of making you believe in his words just by being so undeniably charming and because he believes in them himself. He makes it look easy when it is everything but.

“And if things don’t go well with your mum at least you’ll know you have at least one mum you can rely on, even if it’s not your own. She raised me pretty much by herself so she knows a thing or two about babies and parenting and stuff.”

The mocking raise of (Y/N)’s right eyebrow doesn’t go unnoticed by Jamie who opens his lips to a silent gasp and clutches his chest with an overly dramatic gesture.

“What? You saying I didn’t turn out perfectly?”

“No,” she laughs, a lightness festering in her chest. Like the first rays of sunshine after a cold winter that never seemed to end. Like a glass of wine after a long day at work. Like your favorite song on the radio at the exact moment you need it most. “I think you turned out exactly the way you were supposed to.”

“Thanks,” Jamie says with that cheeky smile playing on his lips that makes him look a little younger than he actually is. Then he dares to wink at her and it’s a little annoying but also insanely charming. “Not sure you meant it as a compliment but I am taking it. Now when are you free for a trip up to Manchester?”

(Y/N)’s been on a lot of road trips around the country when she was younger. She’s even spent a whole summer traveling Europe, partially by train but most of the time was spent stuffed in a Fiat Punto with 3 of her friends and all their luggage. It was stuffy, it was chaotic and it was immensely fun. None of those road trips ever involved a shiny black Aston Martin Rapide though.

Or a famous footballer dressed in the ugliest lime green sweater (Y/N) has ever seen.

“That’s all the luggage you got?” Jamie questions as he moves the black shades off of his eyes and sets them on the top of his head, holding back some of his hair. It shouldn’t work so well but it does.

“I mean, we’re only staying for a night right? Why? Should I have brought more? How much did you pack?”

He glances at her, then towards the car, and back at her. A sheepish look crosses his face before being replaced by his childlike cheekiness. “That’s confidential. Don’t worry about it, yeah?”

“I got my ginger lollies, that’s all that matters really.”

“You feeling alright?”

“Mh, I’m good. Just pregnant.”

His eyes drop down to her stomach for just a second before he nods his head in what (Y/N) can only describe as a mix of pride and satisfaction. “Yeah, you are.”

That’s new. Well not new-new but it hasn’t happened since the day of the funeral. That tingly feeling in her stomach that has fuck all to do with the baby and everything with how the baby got there. Yes, Jamie is hot and (Y/N) is the first to admit as much but there has been so much stress and chaos and she hardly had time to think about anything but surviving and making sure not to completely lose herself in bad visions of what-ifs that her brain has had no time to process any feelings of arousal or lust. That look he just gave her though, that one made her remember it for just a second.

“You sure you’re alright?”

Jamie’s voice shakes her from her daydream and brings her back to the real world, her eyes focusing back on the obscene car parked in front of her tiny apartment building looking so insanely out of place.

“Uh yes, I’m fine. I just — sometimes I forget that you’re famous.”

Jamie regards her for a moment before shrugging his shoulder and grabbing the bag from her hands. “I don’t. It’s fun. Now come on, let’s goooooo.”

His voice is dipped in excitement and there’s a bounce in his step. If this is how the prospect of seeing his mother makes him feel and behave, she must be one lovely woman. Whenever (Y/N) thinks of her own mother her chest fills with tiny metaphorical icicles. Sharp and rough and painful. It’s all regret and judgment and disapproval. It’s “You gained weight”, “you look tired”, and “You should really look into getting a new job”. Daggers disguised as roses. Stabs right to the heart in the name of being honest. “I just care about you, because I love you, because I am your mother!”

If there is one thing (Y/N) knows for sure, it’s that she will never ever find the need to resort to criticism and thinly veiled malice in order to show her child that she cares. They will know. Every single day. Because she’ll make sure to show them. Every single day in all the big and tiny ways a person can show their love.

“Kidney Bean?”

“Kidney Bean. And apparently, the baby is sprouting webbed fingers and toes right now. Oh, and it’s starting to move!”

“Can you feel that?”

“No, not yet.”

“It’s mental. Last week she was the size of a blueberry and now she’s a kidney bean. Kid’s growing up too fast.”

It’s true. There is so much happening all at once and it’s almost impossible to really process it all. Suddenly there is a tiny spark of a human inside her. Not really a baby yet but a baby to her. And it's moving and developing and changing every second of every day. Fucking insane.

“Wait … you said she. You think it’s a girl?”

Maybe it’s the sunlight casting a glow through the windshield but (Y/N) is almost certain she can just about make out a blush dusting Jamie’s cheeks.

“Dunno.”

“Jamie Tartt, do you want to be a girl dad?”

He glances at (Y/N) through the corner of his eyes for just a moment but it’s enough for her to see the sincerity in him. This is something he’s thought about before. Learning new things about Jamie is fascinating.

“Ah, it’s stupid, really. It’s — It’s dumb or whatever.”

“No, come on, don't go shy on me now. Tell me.”

He takes a deep breath. A moment passes then another. There is no rush. Sometimes silly thoughts are the result of harsh truths.

“Told you my dad was a prick. Like the biggest piece of shit walking this earth, yeah? And I knew that all my life. Thing is I still tried to impress him. I just — I wanted him to like me so badly. Just felt wrong that me own dad didn’t care about me and that made me angry. And I kept that anger inside me for so long. Sometimes when I think about the baby and the future I am scared that if I have a son that anger will jump over to him. Like maybe all Tartt men are cursed or some shit like that. But if I had a little girl maybe that would make it easier for me to be a good dad. I don’t mind either way, obviously, but the idea of having a son scares me.”

It’s the most vulnerable he’s been with her so far and by the way he clenches his jaw and grabs onto the steering wheel just a little tighter, (Y/N) can tell this isn’t easy on him. It means a lot that he shares this part of him with her anyway. It feels like they are actually becoming friends. So opening up to him in return is only half as horrifying.

“When I was a kid, maybe 11 or 12, I wrote a short story for school and I won an award. They did this big ceremony thing where the 3 finalists got to read their stories out loud for an audience and then receive their prizes. My mum didn’t show up, not sure if it was because she stayed longer at the office and didn’t care enough to leave on time or if she just didn’t feel like getting out of the house. Point is, she wasn’t there. When I came home that night I was sad, obviously, and I was also pissed. Because why the fuck couldn’t she take one night off to come see me succeed at something even if it wasn’t something she deemed worthy of praise.

So I yelled at her and I’m sure I said some hurtful things. But I was so devastated and angry and I needed an outlet for once. She called me ungrateful but I was used to that, she always called me ungrateful. Then she looked at me with that look of absolute resignation and malice and she said that she hopes I have a daughter like me one day and that she makes me realize how hard it is to love me.

When I think of the baby, sometimes I see a little girl too. One that I will love so much she never has to doubt it for a single second. And I will also prove my mother wrong. Because it will be so easy to love my little girl and it would’ve been so easy to love me, her little girl.”

It’s the first time she’s ever said those words out loud. Truly, (Y/N) had not expected for them to come out in an Aston Martin, on the way to meet her baby’s father’s mother but life doesn’t seem to care for plans very much these days.

Softly, as if to not startle her, Jamie places his hand on hers, squeezing gently.

“I think your mum is a right bitch.”

“Thanks. I think your dad is a huge asshole.”

“We’re gonna be better than them, right?”

It’s not really a question. It’s more of a promise.

“We will. I know it.”

His hand doesn’t leave hers for a good long while.

The nerves don’t hit her until they pull up to the quaint little house with the white front. There’s a rose bush to the side and some kids playing football just across the way. The nerves don’t hit her until Jamie puts the car in park but when they do, they hit her like a freight train.

“Woah, you alright?”

“Huh?”

“You look all pale and like you’ve seen a ghost or something. Do you have to puke?”

A chuckle falls from her lips at the absurdity of it all. In all honesty, she’s not met a lot of parents yet but the few she did meet were parents of actual partners. People she had been dating for a while. It was a natural progression of steps. This is all wrong and sideways and topsy-turvy. You’re supposed to meet the mum first and then get pregnant.

Again with the life and the plans.

“I’m fucking nervous.”

“Hah,” Jamie laughs. The audacity of this guy. “You’re nervous to meet my mum? Why? She’s an angel.”

“Do you not know how intimidating that is? Like, if she was shit I wouldn’t care but she sounds wonderful and I want her to like me. No, I need her to like me. Desperately. And I can only imagine what she thinks of me already. Some floozy who gets knocked up and really just wants your money.”

Before she even fully realizes what’s happening, (Y/N) feels Jamie’s hands on her cheeks, framing her face in warmth.

“Calm down, please. I promise it’ll be alright. My mum will love you, I know it. Probably more than she loves me. Actually no that’s a lie, but she will love you and she will love our baby. Promise.”

“She’s not gonna judge me for — you know. Getting pregnant even though we’re not dating or anything.”

“My mum was married to my dad, worst person on planet Earth. Don’t think she’s in any position to judge you. It’ll be alright, trust me.”

She hardly knows this man and yet she can’t help but do just that. Trust him.

The first thing (Y/N) notices about Georgie is her smile. A smile that is so familiar because it looks exactly like Jamie’s smile. Warm and radiant and true. A part of (Y/N) hopes that their baby inherits that same smile. Partially because it’s a really good smile and partially because maybe that could help Jamie realize that he is more than the sum of his father’s problems and mistakes. He is all his mother’s boy.

“Oh, I missed you, my baby.”

Georgie wraps her arms around Jamie’s middle, getting swallowed by his frame for a moment. There’s no denying that part of (Y/N)’s heart breaks a little seeing how loving of a relationship these two have and wondering where she and her own mother went wrong.

And as it so happens with so many kids that have never been loved quite the way they deserved, (Y/N) can’t help but search for the problem in herself.

“Yeah sorry for not visiting earlier. You know how it is with training and stuff.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know my boy is busy being a star.”

The words hold a slight mocking, never mean but in the way that only people who are close can tease each other. You know every word comes laced with deep affection, with pride, with love.

“And it’s so nice to meet you too. I’m Georgie.”

It takes a second for (Y/N) to realize that Jamie’s mum is now talking to her directly.

“I uh — oh thank you. Nice to meet you too, I’m (Y/N).”

Georgie smells like mint chewing gum and floral perfume as she pulls (Y/N) into a hug. She’s soft and gentle and it’s been the first hug from a mother (Y/N) has received in quite some time.

“Sorry, didn’t even ask if you’re a hugger.”

“Oh that’s alright, don’t worry about it.”

She’s not a hugger, never really was, but there is something about Georgie granting her some affection that isn’t all that bad. Maybe their kid can have at least one grandmother who cares and who isn’t completely disgusted by the idea of showing any kind of positive emotions.

“Jamie never brings girlfriends around so I’m a bit out of my element here if I’m being honest.”

“Mum we’re not — she’s not.” Jamie takes a big breath before starting again “(Y/N) and I are friends, yeah? Told you about it on the phone.”

“Right, right. Well, you don’t bring around a lot of friends either so same difference, really. Now come inside will you, I’m sure we got a lot to catch up on.”

Oh if only she knew how true that sentiment really is.

There are pictures of Jamie staring back at (Y/N) from every corner of the house and Georgie leads them through the hallway and towards the kitchen. Every wall and every shelf holds a memory of him at one point in his life. Gap toothed with a football in hand smiling, surrounded by a field of tulips arm wrapped around his mother’s shoulder, his teenage self smoldering at the camera with an even more questionable haircut than the one he is sporting right now. Oh to be loved in a way that every past version of you is being remembered.

As they reach the kitchen a sweet scent fills the room when a man clad in an apron turns around and faces them with a huge smile playing on his face. He has a dorky kind of charm to him that immediately puts you at ease. Maybe it’s just the frilly apron, maybe it’s the big oven gloves, maybe it’s the smile. Either way, (Y/N) thinks that if they take the news well, her kid might have truly lucked out on one side of the grandparents department.

“Jamie, welcome home.”

“Hi Simon, thanks, mate. Glad to be back. This is (Y/N).”

“The friend, right.” Simon says and shoots Georgie a look that neither of them misses. Subtlety doesn’t seem to be one of his best qualities. “It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you too. It smells amazing in here.”

“I found this new recipe for honey blondies. Not sure if they'll be any good but I guess we'll find out. If you guys want to go have a seat, I'll come bring them over.”

“Actually,” Jamie speaks up while nervously fiddling with his hands. “I was hoping we could have a talk before we do anything else. There’s something I need to tell you both.”

Imagining the hypothetical scenario of telling your mum you’re having a baby and actually doing it really are two completely different things it seems. Gone is all of Jamie’s confidence and replaced with a whole lot of anxiety.

“You're worrying me, Jamie. What has you acting so serious? Did you get someone pregnant or something?”

Georgie's words are followed by a thick awkward silence. It's heavy and suffocating and it makes (Y/N) feel uneasy in both her heart and her head.

It doesn't take long for Jamie’s parents to realize what his silence means. Everything communicated by not saying a single word.

“Oh, fuck.”

And there's nothing to add to Georgie's reaction. It's the exact same one (Y/N) had when she first saw those faint blue lines.

Of all the possible outcomes and ways this day could’ve gone, (Y/N) had not expected to find herself staring at not only a curly-haired Roy Kent but also come face to face with two very persuasive arguments belonging to no other than Keeley fucking Jones.

“This is surreal.”

The posters stare back at her all crinkled paper and bleached ink, as if to mock her silently.

“Ah, well I told them to redecorate when I moved out, think they just haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

A light dusting of pink settles on the apples of Jamie’s cheeks as well as the tips of his ears. This man can’t hide his emotions for the life of him. It’s quite adorable really.

“Do they know?”

“Does who know?”

“Roy and Keeley. Do they know you have their pictures up in your room?”

“Well no and It’s not my room anymore, is it? ‘S not like I have ‘em hanging at home. Put these up ages ago.”

A giggle slips through (Y/N)’s lips at his desperate attempt to talk himself out of this situation.

“It’s okay, Jamie. I won’t tell.”

“There’s nothing to tell, alright?” he responds in mock offense before sitting down on his childhood bed next to (Y/N). “Just liked boobs and football and those two were the best those fields had to offer, yeah? Can’t really blame me.”

“Not much has changed has it?”

He shrugs his shoulders in response “Nah. Still like boobs and football but no way I’d put up a poster of granddad’s ugly mug nowadays.”

From the few times they talked about his job, including his teammates and coaches, (Y/N) was able to gather that Jamie’s relationship with Roy is something special. Odd, but special. Maybe that’s what happens when you end up working with your childhood idol. Either way, no matter how much shit he likes to talk about him, it’s clear that Jamie respects and admires Roy a great deal still.

“And uh — and Keeley?”

“What about her?”

“Is she — are you — how are things?”

She still remembers that crestfallen look on his face on the day of the funeral. That infinite sadness in his eyes. She hadn’t put two and two together at that moment but later that night it all clicked. Keeley was the woman he was in love with, the woman who did not love him back. And while (Y/N) knows that she and Jamie are only bound together by happenstance and fate — if one chooses to believe in that, and that there is nothing romantic about their situation, it does sting a little to know that the man you’re having a baby with is in love with someone else.

“We’re good. We’re friends, think that’s all we’ll ever be. Her and Roy, they’re happy and I don’t want to ruin it for either of them. Keeley and I just were not right together.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

He nods his head, a small smile playing on his lips “Yeah, I’m alright with it. If I hadn’t made a fool of myself at the funeral then you and I wouldn’t have — you know, and then we wouldn’t be having a baby. Little Kidney Bean.”

“That’s true. Your mum seemed excited.”

“Hah, sorry about her. She can be intense.”

Intense might be the understatement of the century. It took her approximately 2.3 seconds to get over the initial shock of the announcement and really process it before Georgie let out a scream of pure excitement and joy and wrapped both Jamie and (Y/N) up in her arms. She didn’t fully let go for a good 20 minutes. It was intense. It was also phenomenal.

“Don’t apologize. I am so glad she took it so well, Simon too. At least now I’ll have the certainty that my baby will have one set of loving grandparents at least.”

“Hey,” Jamie says and nudges her shoulder with his “We’ll sort out telling your mum next, okay. I’m sure it’ll go better than you think. And if not we can always call up my mum for some more hugs and a pep talk. Whatever happens, you won’t have to do it alone. I promise.”

For what is probably the first time in her life (Y/N) lets herself believe that there truly is someone else having her back, undisputedly and all the way. It’s unfamiliar. It’s a little scary. It’s also wonderful.

“Thanks, Jamie. I appreciate it, I really do. Think so far we’re doing alright, huh?”

“I’d say so. Two sexy parents and a little Kidney Bean.”

Their laughter echoes through Jamie’s childhood bedroom for quite a while longer until at some point it stills and gives room to soft breathing and quiet snores. The bed isn’t meant for two grown adults and really Jamie truly meant to sleep on the couch but somewhere between talks of baby clothes and childhood memories, eyes grew heavy and tired, and soon enough both of them are fast asleep.

Just them and their little Kidney Bean

— and a curly-haired Roy Kent

— and Keeley’s boobs.

taglist (@ me if you want to be taken off or added): @captainfrisbee - @scaramou - @mischiefmanaged71 - @rexorangecouny - @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog - @tweasley20 - @dreamtrydoforkinggood - @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo - @heletsmelovehim - @snubug - @katdahlali - @oldglitterstory - @lalla-04p - @aiyaiy

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x female reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt x y/n #inbloomwriting #jamie tartt x fem!reader #everythingtomefic #ted lasso tv show fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt imagines

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crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington · 1 year ago

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hello! i’m love your post and arts so much! I look at your posts after a hard day and my mood immediately changes to excellent. can I ask a couple of questions?

which pairing with Ethan do you prefer?

and… can we get to know you better? a little biography?

Thank you for your time! I'll be waiting for new arts! (sorry if i made mistakes, my english is not so good. im russian)

i like basically every ship with ethan! it mostly depends on the mood im in, but if im being honest, mithan, winterfield, and wintersberg gets frustrating to think about because they all dont treat ethan well canonically... lethan is fun because they have never met and i can make my own assumptions!

i used to like wintersberg the most and i still do like it, i just have expanded my horizons to other ships as well...., its mostly like a punchline to me though. they have the funniest potential which is why a majority of their posts is just joke comics. i do not like how people try to erase how karl is arrogant and egotistical tho. thats like removing the flavor.... the way karl acts is just very funny to me, hes so lame in a good way and i like how everytime he talks to ethan it sounds like hes twirling his hair and kicking his feet. canonically speaking, karl was very much in the wrong for trying to use rose and not elaborating and i will die on this hill. ethan is not in the wrong for being disgusted and angry that karl would ever try and propose that in the deal. karl is very arrogant so when ethan says no to him it makes him mad and he tries to use fear to get ethan to take his deal (kicking his chair and warning him) i like karl, i like how messed up and arrogant he is but i dislike how people try to portray him as a nice guy. however, in a AU where everythings the same except he doesnt try to use rose i do enjoy the dynamic they could have, especially if the teamed up (not with the deal where they use rose. ethan wouldnt agree unless karl never involved rose in the first place). karl is just a very entertaining character and i like him a lot, hes funny and his personality can be extremely hilarious

mia and ethan is pretty tragic and thinking about it too much makes me a bit sad, imo in a reality where ethan survives re8, he needs to divorce mia. im not saying ethan needs to hate mia and never talk to her again i just dont think they should be so intimate together because of her behavior... please do not take this as anti mia. they loved each other dearly but it wasnt healthy. their relationship was kept afloat by lies and mia doesnt change even though she deals with the consequences of her own actions in re7. she actively tries to hide her past from ethan and is mostly focused on trying to move on and have a normal life even if ethan will have to live the rest of his life in the dark.

she loves her family so much, shes very afraid of them leaving her so she hides all the bad things in the hopes that they wont leave. its selfish, its human, its real, her character is so amazing and i love her. she doesnt learn from re7 and hides important information from ethan again. i geniunly think they should have gotten divorced after re8 if ethan had survived. its tragic and its sad but they love each other so much. it sad because they both geniunly love rose so much but they themselves shouldnt be together. its just sad to think about it. whenever i draw them it usually takes place before re7. they should have divorced on good terms and shared custody of rose.........

ethan and chris is also frustrating to think about... chris is a major jerk in re8, whenever i draw it, its under a unspoken AU that chris did not behave the way he did in re8. his weird behavior in re8 is probably for a meta reason imo. capcom wanted to set up a twist villian so they make chris very vague and unesscarily cruel. while its frustrating that they turned chris into a jerk for the sake of a twist, it still happens in canon and i will forever roll my eyes whenever i see him on screen. he did what he thought was best but imo, execution matters more than the intentions. same applies to mia. they both did things that hurt ethan because they thought it would be the best but in the end they just hurt ethan.

all the ships ive discussed with people ethan has met canonically just makes it look like i dont even like the ships... LOL ... ethan just has horrible luck with the people he meets i guess... but i do enjoy the ships and drawing them, but again all of them come with the canon baggage that ends up making me sad because everyone treats ethan poorly whether they had good intentions or not

which is why leon and ethan is the most fun to draw without getting stressed... LOL... they have never met but just drawing what i think their dynamic would be like is very fun.

please dont take this post personally, this isnt a post declaring why ur fave ship sucks, this is just my own personal preferences and in the end i draw all of them anyways

if i had to rank the ships based on drawing silly comics it would be

wintersberg

mithan

lethan

winterfield

wintersberg has the funniest potential just because of karl and mithan can be funny if u water it down to "i love my wife so much" and said wife comes home with suspicious amounts of hard cash

i enjoy making joke comics far to much

if i were to rank the ships based on how healthy they would actually be for ethan it would be

lethan

winterfield, mithan, wintersberg (no particular order)

sorry 😭

leon and ethan have literally never met but imo it would still be the healthiest because ethan gets to start new

the three other ships r all unhealthy in some way, at least canonically without changing much about the characters (i do like winterfield but just because of how chris behaved in re8 it knocked them down)

i cant even rank them on personal preference because my opinion changes so often 😭 it changes based on discussions i have with my friends or recent art i see that inspires me... me and my friends recently had a discussion about mia and ethans relationship which made me very frustrated and sad with mia so i defiently wouldnt be drawing them anytime soon... meanwhile i hvae been talking to a friend who really likes winterfield often so the conversations we have give me art ideas and i end up drawing it more. if a friend of mine really enjoyed wintersberg or lethan and talked to me about it often id probably start drawing it more, the joys of being a multishipper

it changes a lot based on how im feeling and if im in the mood to draw something funny or something serious

sorry u asked a really simple question and i responded with a essay

and a little bit about myself is that i go by crumb, i am 18 and i go by all pronouns and prefer it/its

im vietnamese and live in texas

i made this tumblr acc solely so i could post my ethan art and im a re7/re8 girly so if ur here waiting for me to draw the re1-re6 characters im sorry u should probably expect nothing

i also make personal animations sometimes which u can find here

thanks for the ask and sorry for the rant!

#ethan winters #crumbessage

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youneedsomeprompts · 1 year ago

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I am currently writing a story, and almost every character I’ve introduced so far uses she/her pronouns. I keep having to use their names over and over and it looks redundant and odd. I’ve used epithets a few times but I absolutely hate having to do that.

Is there any advice you have for this sort of issue, and if so, it would be great if you could share some! Thank you :)

Multiple Characters with the Same Pronouns

Having multiple characters with the same pronouns in one scene can make describing the scene a little difficult. I'm not sure if I have entirely new tips for you because you already pointed out the three most common ways to refer to a character (name, pronouns, epithets (a term used to characterise a person/thing)) and what the problems with each one can be. But I'll try my best :)

Repetition of Pronouns

First off, there is nothing wrong with using the character's pronouns a lot, as long as the reader can follow. A good thumb rule is that all fitting pronouns following the mention of a name (or an epithet) are referring to that mentioned character.

"Eleanor stormed out of the house. Her feet carried her aimlessly down the gravel path. She didn't care about the stares and she wouldn't slow down no matter what they would call after her. She had her mind made up."

This example is rather clear because there is not much back and forth between multiple characters with the same pronouns. It is very obvious that every 'she' and 'her' refers to the character named Eleanor. Now, if we have, let's say four characters in a scene that use she/her pronouns, we can still try to apply the same rule. Use an epithet or the name when the focus wanders from one character to the other. In between, when treating the same character, you can easily use their pronouns.

"Eleanor gritted her teeth. Why did she have to listen to her mother's long sermons? It wasn't fair. Everyone knew she had more important things to do. But now her mother's eyes bore even more accusingly into her. 'Do you think this is a joke, Eleanor?' Mother's voice flipped as she drew out the syllables of her daughter's name. 'Oh, leave her be, mother!' Ivy chimed in. She was always ready to defend her elder sister. She was such a sweetheart, Eleanor thought. Meredith, of course, had a different opinion. 'I don't know why Eleanor should get a different treatment than we. All she does is make trouble, and now there isn't even a consequence, or what?' She wasn't hateful, she just had a very strong sense of justice. Too strong maybe, Eleanor thought. People were different enough; a good reason to treat them individually and not by some harsh standards that Meredith so liked to set."

I don't know if this is the best example but I hope it demonstrates a way to deal with the problem. Just as using pronouns a lot, it's also alright to repeat the characters' names quite a few times. It can help the reader 're-centre' in the story and be clear about which character is actually doing what.

Epithets

As to epithets, you don't have to use them excessively if you don't like it, but I feel it can be a great way to loosen up the story a bit here and there. As you said, with quick changes of focus between the characters, there is not much possibility to use the pronouns because we have to 'reintroduce' the characters whenever the focus of action changes. We don't always want to use their name for that. So? Epithets? Maybe it helps to find the right epithets for your story. Maybe it doesn't feel cohesive to use attributes like 'the red-haired woman' or 'the grim-looking, old man'. Maybe it fits the story more to use the characters' roles like 'the teacher' or 'the butler'. I think when using the fitting epithets it can feel so coherent that you don't even notice them. E.g. Of course, character X is the driver, so we refer to them as the driver every now and then. Of course, character Y is the father of Z, so we can use epithets referring to their parental role. This, for example, can feel very natural, but what exactly feels natural is individual to every story/scene. It can be one way to look for the epithets that are most natural to the character to not interrupt the flow of the story. Or it can be another way to look for the epithets that most set the character apart from the other characters to make a clear distinction of who exactly is acting right now. You can make this choice again and again with every new sentence. And of course, there are a lot more ways to categorise and choose epithets (I could maybe make another post about that if there is interest). But I hope this may already help a little :)

Let me know if you have more questions about this topic!

#writing advice #writing tips #writing help #writers on tumblr #writeblr

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copperbadge · 8 months ago

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RE watching thoughts: I’m not 100% sure, but it might be that the whole “I am not my thoughts” is about engaging and identifying with your metacognition MORE than your initial thoughts. Because I get where you’re coming from - what is a consciousness but a collection of thoughts and feelings? But you can also have thoughts about your own thoughts that are more useful for dealing with whatever situation you’re in, I guess. (Random aside - every time I start thinking about thinking about thinking my brain inevitably starts thinking about Tiffany Aching and The Wee Free Men.)

I really should have replied to this ask sooner because it's going to seem like a non-sequitur now (this was sent much earlier in March) but I'm kind of glad I didn't, because I've been chatting with people about this and I think I understand more why there's an emphasis in some therapies on the idea that we are not our thoughts.

(I uh, haven't read the Tiffany books so I'm not much help there.)

I am coming to understand that many, perhaps most, people judge themselves, comprehensively and harshly, based on their thoughts. Perhaps it's just a lot of people who struggle with mental health, but given the commonality of the sentiment I don't know if I'd confine it that tightly; generally it appears that people cannot conceive of themselves as anything other than a binary of good or bad. So many people I've talked to about this portion of DBT, the watching-questioning-identifying thoughts portion, say that it helps to snap them out of a spiral of "I'm a horrible person, I deserve to suffer/die, I can never be redeemed" after they've failed at something, or had a negative thought, or reacted poorly to an unexpected event.

That is not something I've ever experienced. I mean, jokingly maybe, but not in a real, internal sense.

And that's not to brag -- I'm not saying I think I'm a good person, either, because I don't think I'm a good person. I don't conceive of myself in terms of good or bad. I never cuddle my cats and think "I'm such a good cat dad" or forget to feed them and think "I should die now." I have a perpetual morally neutral attitude towards my own existence; my thoughts and actions might trend me one direction or another but I'm aware of the temporary nature of that. If I fuck up I'll worry about who I might have hurt or whether I'll be fired or what's going to happen as a consequence, if I am polite to someone who didn't deserve it I know I was acting kindly in the moment, but I don't make an inherent moral judgement of myself based on that. And it seems like the vast majority of people do. Which you would think would make me feel pretty good about myself, but honestly...I don't know.

A lot of people I know who have ADHD or are Autistic have talked about seeing themselves as other, as alien -- like that one webcomic artist who draws themself with little antennae to indicate they're strange and different. I've always understood why one might do that, but I never felt that way myself, before or after the diagnosis. After all, let's remember, I was The Normal* Child of my siblings, and if I was The Normal One before the diagnosis, why wouldn't I remain Mostly Normal after?

* As ever, I'm using "normal" as a cultural term, to indicate what we think of as mainstream, not because normal is a thing that really exists.

My life has been relatively solitary -- I have friends and family and I love them but I'm rarely part of a large group, I don't spend a lot of time out in public interacting with people, I'm not a big socializer. Before the Adderall, I really couldn't be, I took too much psychic damage from interpersonal interaction, so I chose those very carefully. And now my DBT class has been a rare moment when I'm encountering contradictions to a lot of my assumptions about the way human beings in our society interact, react, and behave. I just...don't fit that mold very well. I think of it as having crossed wiring, not in the sense that I'm faulty but just in the sense that I'm very, very different. Not Normal. It's not exactly a bad feeling but it's certainly not a great one, internalizing the sensation of alienness.

DBT is proving to be a mixed bag but not in the way I or my therapist intended -- it seems to be either things I was already instinctively doing or things that simply do not apply to me. In one way it's disappointing because it means there isn't much help to be had (we're a little over halfway through the course and I keep thinking "Maybe next class will be useful") but on the other hand it's validating that so much of what I came up with myself as unconscious coping mechanisms is literally what I would have been told to do anyway.

Sometimes it's a combination of both, though, which really blows. I guess most people, if they reframe another person's actions, actually find emotional relief in that, and I don't. An example from the class is that if someone is rude to you, you can consider how they might be having a hard day, and be polite in return; that's great, in terms of defusing a situation, and it's something I do a fair amount of. But apparently it's also something that for most people results in feeling less awful about the interaction, and that's not the case for me. Which is why so much of DBT feels to me like lying to oneself. It's not lying for most people.

So, yeah. I'm going to finish out the course and keep trying things with the therapist but I suspect given everything, I might already be at "as good as it gets" in terms of emotional work. Which isn't the worst thing in the world, and there is still the option to try medication that could help, but I think there will come a point where I'm going to have to deal with the fallout of just how different I am, and how that has impacted my life. Might end up a good thing; something I've really been trying to resolve is unhappiness over being unpartnered and highly likely to remain that way, and at least if this provides a better understanding of why, then perhaps I can process that and put it to rest in a way I've been trying to do but not succeeding well at.

So, we'll see. But I find it both fascinating and kind of horrifying how many people can believe they are irredeemably bad, even if the belief is only temporary, simply because they had an uncharitable thought or impulse. It makes me somewhat grateful for the crossed wires, at least.

#sam has adhd #therapy #dbt

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emotionaldisaster909 · 10 months ago

Text

Today’s episode was heartbreaking

We’ve seen so much of Xie Lian’s pain

So much of the fall of XianLe

But now

Will you tell me that it was all his fault?

The “consequence of his actions”?

So what should we blame him for?

For being a child against the most powerful and cruel ancient evil?

The one that lived 1000 years, destroyed all the gods and deceived the entire world?

Or was he too stubborn and not listened to other people?

Well let me tell you

XIE LIAN WAS NEVER WRONG FOR NOT LISTENING TO OTHERS.

Who should he have listened to?

That very evil that told him not to try and help his people?

His guoshi who knew everything and told him nothing but to sacrifice an innocent child in “penance” to that very evil?

Should he have crushed all youngans in one go, kill the poor starving people, led to desparation?

Should he have told his own desperate people that their cure was in murder and watch the inevitable massacre?

The only thing

The only thing that he should have seriously done differently

His biggest, most fatal mistake

He did

BY LISTENING TO SOMEONE WHO TOLD HIM HE WAS WRONG

ONE TIME.

He listened to his father.

The King of Xian Le.

When at the very beginning of it all they had an argument

Where Xie Lian insisted they should melt his golden statues and let the starving homeless people into his shrines

That’s EXACTLY what they should’ve done, but they did not

Because guess what the father said

We can’t. Because we did not build the shrines and the statues.

People of Xian Le did.

Do you want to disregard your people by doing that?

SAID THE KING

Knowing VERY WELL that he is talking about THE ROYALTY OF XIAN LE.

THE RITCH PEOPLE OF XIAN LE.

THE ONES WHO LET HIM RULE.

THE ONES WHO EASILY MIGHT TAKE HIS POWER

AND LIFE AWAY

IF HE DISPLEASES THEM.

But he knows how to PHRASE IT RIGHT to his son who CHERISHES HIS PEOPLE NO MATTER THE STATUS.

And who might very much not know the intricacies behind the ruler’s chambers.

Because Xie Lian

Was

Never

Meant

TO RULE.

He was raised to be a Martial God.

To fight demons and grant wishes.

NOT

TO RULE

A COUNTRY

BUT GUESS WHO

WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO RULE THE COUNTRY????

WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO MAKE SURE A HUGE PART OF IT WON’T STARVE TO DEATH?????

THE KING

And his son had to

ABANDON HEAVEN

To come deal with his mess

You can try blaming Xie Lian for not listening to the prayers from that part of Xian Le.

But he did not NOT listen.

He DID NOT HEAR.

Because the prayers system of “the ritcher - the louder” is inherently corrupt.

And growing up in a wealthy capital

Xie Lian must’ve not even SUSPECTED that there’ll be a part of his country so poor that no offerings would be enough for him to hear the prayers.

He did not know.

BUT THE KING

DID.

There’s no way he didn’t.

Yet does anyone

Does anyone in the book

And outside, anyone of the readers

Ever thought to blame him?

No.

Not even once have i seen this take.

Not even i realised it until recently. Thanks to my dear friend @3luecactuz

And why?

Because Xie Lian tells us the story.

And he himself

Completely believes

That it was all his fault.

When his only real fault was in not standing his ground

Agains the only person

Who held authority in his eyes.

Who was the authority in his life from the very beginning of it.

Who, no matter the future arguments, was the person he loved.

His father.

In the face of the greatest crisis he’s ever seen

Under the pressure to make the right choice for so many innocent lives

He gives in and listenes to a person who he not only inherently trusts

But who objectively had much more experience and knowledge than him

Who’s flaws he has not yet seen clearly enough. And never will.

Because this person raised him to be

Perfect.

And he failed.

Because no one is perfect.

And he believed in it in the wrong time and place. He gave in.

Decided to look for another solution.

And gave the evil orchestrating his demise just enough time to pull the first string.

Of many.

So tell me.

Really, tell me.

Did he deserve this?

Should he have listened more?

Should he have?

Or maybe

Just maybe

He needed someone

Who could have told him

To do what he thinks is right.

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blegh-110 · 1 year ago

Text

Have I found you, flightless bird? (4/?)

Pairing: Soft!Dark!Tangerine x Fem!Crybaby!Reader

Summary: In which you’re resistance against Tangerine is breaking.

Chapter Warnings: Stockholm syndrome, kissing, SMUT: fingering, spanking

Word Count: 8.3k

You don’t know how much time has passed by since you were first taken here. You tried to keep track at first and were doing well, but then the days started to blend together and you couldn’t remember what you’d done the day before. Which wasn’t much.

Even though there were many rooms for your entertainment, you refused to use them because using them means giving into Tangerine. And that was the absolute, last thing you wanted.

As you lay in bed and begin going over your day, you have a realization that you will have to wake up and do it all over again; absolutely nothing.

There are a few times where you’re so overcome with anger towards Tangerine, and his actions that he believed were acts of kindness and love, that you take it out on anything and aren’t fearful of the consequences. Like right now, when he’s made you dinner, nothing out of the ordinary from the daily routine. But today you are feeling especially enraged, just staring at Tangerine makes you want to scream. You sit at the dinner table and watch him cook one of your favorite meals. You can’t look away from him as your negative emotions rise, and you have no interest in looking away and calming yourself down. No, you want to continue being livid and get a reaction out of the deranged man, just so you can have more reason to loathe him.

Tangerine begins cutting your food and that just about does it. Again, this is nothing out of the ordinary, he always cuts your food into smaller bits. But today is not one of your best emotionally, the fact that he believed you weren’t capable enough to cut your own food set you off. But that wasn’t the reason why Tangerine cuts your food, he just wants to take care of you and not let you lift a single finger.

He walks over to the dinner table and places the plate in front of you. At this point, Tangerine can see your emotional state and is just waiting for the moment you snap. But he thinks you’ll act out verbally, so when you pick up your plate of food and throw it across the room, he freezes. The closest you ever did something like that was on that very first day, when you had tried to escape.

The glass shatters on the kitchen floor and the sauce splatters everywhere. You look at Tangerine and hope to see his eyebrows furrowed together paired with a furious frown, but he only sighs and walks back to the stove, making you another plate.

“Please eat, you’ve hardly had anything today, love.” He says when he comes back, then leaves a sweet kiss on your cheek and tends to the mess, which leaves you feeling a mix of emotions. You’re confused, but at the same time relieved, as well as empty and unsatisfied. Worst of all, you suddenly felt guilt slowly fill up your empty stomach as you watched Tangerine clean up your mess from the floor.

And when he was getting you ready for bed and brushing your hair, he spoke about what you did, and you feel awful.

“(Y/N), what you did tonight was not okay. I understand you are still getting used to living here and maybe you don’t know how to deal with that, which is okay, but you have to tell me you aren’t feeling alright.” Tangerine speaks. He chooses his words carefully, wanting to get it into your head that the way you acted was out of line, but he doesn’t want to make you feel like a bad person. You just needed a little reminder.

But you’re extremely sensitive, and the smallest scolding made you upset at yourself and cry. And this is no different.

You nod your head guiltily, not wanting to speak and risk breaking down. All you want is to be held, like the first time you met him on the train. He was so sturdy but soft. You need to feel one hand smoothing down your hair and the other rubbing circles on your back. The closest you come to that is when he takes your hand in his and leads you to your shared bed, where he lifts up the comforter and lets you crawl into bed. Instead of joining you, he begins walking out.

“Where are you going?” You whispered, the ball in your throat not allowing you to speak any louder.

“I’m sleeping in a different room tonight,”

At this moment, you want to beg him not to go and promise him that you’ll never behave like that again, but you say nothing. Tangerine sees the heartbroken look on your face and is ready to backtrack on your punishment, but he knows what he’s doing has to be done.

“I don’t want to do this, there is nothing more I have enjoyed than sleeping next to you, but I need you to understand that there are consequences to your actions.” He says while holding your face in his hands.

“If you need anything, come out and tell me, I’ll just be in the guest room, okay?”

You nod your head and stare at his blurry figure through your teary eyes. Once he leaves (without a kiss) and the door closes, the tears fall and you become frustrated and confused.

Why am I acting this way? You think.

You should be happy that you have a night to yourself without tight arms wrapped around you. Instead, you’re cold and lonely as you lay in bed. And so incredibly guilty to the point where you think you’ve ruined Tangerine’s thoughts about you. You convince yourself that he hates you now, that your actions truly angered him so much that he didn’t want to see you or be near you.

As you silently cry yourself to sleep, you can only agree with the bad thoughts and sink deeper into your insecurities and sadness.

Tangerine is quick to get out of bed and get dressed when he wakes up. His plan was to get up early and make you a nice breakfast, an extra special one because you took your punishment very well and he feels awful for doing that to you. But he ditches that plan because he wants to see you as soon as possible and check to see how you’re doing.

He opens the door and is greeted with a sad sight. You’re already awake, you have been for the past hour, and you’re sitting up with slumped shoulders staring at the wall with sad eyes. You don’t turn to him when the door opens, you don’t even notice it, too spaced out.

“Oh, darling.” He says to himself and walks towards you. You see him in the corner of your eye but don’t dare to look at him.

“Let’s go downstairs and get something in your stomach, yeah?” He whispers and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. His soothing voice and gentle touch are already making you feel better, but that guilt is still there, heavy on your chest. Every bad thought you had created throughout the night only clouded your judgment. You feel like a burden.

“C’mon.” Tangerine takes your hand in his rough ones and stands you up from the sheets.

Once in the kitchen, that awful feeling on your chest spreads to your stomach, making your hunger worse. Thankfully, Tangerine doesn’t let go of your hand or stop any of his physical touch, he can clearly see the regretful state you are in.

For just a second your heart drops when he lets go of your hand, but then you find yourself sitting on top of the counter. The coldness on your thighs not only makes you shiver, but it also deepens you into your sorrowful mood. You’re distressed and hyperaware of everything, you felt yourself on the edge of crumbling into a ball and breaking down.

While you felt your world about to crash, Tangerine glanced at you and once again felt his own heart break. He saw your stiff body, furrowed eyebrows, and anxious eyes filling up with tears, and decided that you’ve had enough.

Then Tangerine’s arms are around you, engulfing your entire being in a hug. And all of those bad feelings and thoughts are gone in an instant. His tight grip brings you back down to earth and makes you let out the breath you were holding since last night.

“You did so well for me, (Y/N). So proud of you,”

“Missed you so much last night, couldn’t even sleep properly without you,”

“M’not letting you go tonight.”

His words make you start crying and grip his shirt, for the first time you completely melt into him and the endless caresses. It’s enough to make you confess some of those upsetting feelings.

“M’sorry, feel so bad. And I was so cold and lonely and-” You don’t finish your sentence when a cry leaves your mouth, your words also take an effect on Tangerine when he somehow holds you closer.

“All is forgiven, my love. It’s over now.” And he gives you a long kiss on your cheek, the first one since your punishment, that gives you butterflies and makes you dizzy. His affection and gentle kisses to your face make you want to return it, to wrap your arms around him and press your mouth against his. You shake your head to clear your mind, yet you nuzzle your head into his shoulder for more comfort.

After holding on desperately to each other for a while longer, Tangerine has to tear himself away from you despite your whines and your pretty eyes threatening to spill more tears.

“I know, I know, v’got to get you some food. What do you feel like, lovely?”

You have trouble answering, getting flashbacks from last night. You also don’t feel like you’re able to speak properly, so you shrug your shoulders.

“That’s alright. I can make some pancakes, waffles, french toast-” You perk up at french toast, your unknowing craving suddenly being solved.

As he makes your meal, you’re still sitting on the counter watching him with many thoughts. You feel a certain fondness for Tangerine. It was something about you letting out your emotions in a nasty way, and instead of hurting you like you thought he would, Tangerine made you another plate full of food and pleaded for you to eat. He didn’t hurt you or berate you or call you names, like your parents would’ve. Not only that, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of his figure.

Luckily, he was turned away from you, now cutting up fresh fruit. Your eyes couldn’t help but wander from his broad shoulders to his forearms to his ringed fingers. Despite this, there was nothing that could make you admit how attractive he was in his white button up shirt and his dress pants. Then you look down at your own attire and feel not only underdressed but gross as well. Even though your pajamas were cute, a short lilac nightgown with lace hemming, you felt it did not compare to Tangerine’s dark blue suit. Pair that with your teary, wet face and stuffy nose after your breakdown, you feel ugly.

You are once again too caught up in your own thoughts to notice Tangerine walking back to you, the feeling of his body sliding between your thighs brings you back to him. His closeness and the smell of him makes you shy.

Tangerine then brings up both of his hands, one has a firm grip on your chin to hold you still, and the other holds a napkin that wipes away your tears with a touch so light you can barely feel it. But it's enough to dry your face. While he’s finishing up, you have the chance to get a closer look at him. Your breath gets caught in your throat when you notice the first few buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, showing just a glimpse of his chest and his gold necklace. The contrast of his masculine look and his gentle actions makes you swallow.

Tangerine notices this and smirks. His hand on your chin drops down to hold your jaw, making the butterflies in your stomach spread all over your body.

“Almost done now, just hold still for me.” Tangerine whispers and wipes your other cheek. You feel a sound bubbling in your throat but you suppress it. Unfortunately, it comes out when he brings his hand down with the napkin and gives you a firm kiss at the corner of your mouth, still with his hand holding your jaw.

It takes everything within you not to bring him back to you and lay a real kiss on his lips, it takes all of your self control not to cry when he puts just a little bit of distance between the two of you.

“Thank you, darling.”

“You’re welcome.”

Tangerine smiles at your quick response before feeding you some french toast. You hum at the sweet taste of the dish and the warm feeling it gives you in your stomach. He gives you another forkful when you feel syrup on the corner of your mouth, but just as you’re about to wipe it away, Tangerine beats you to it. Using his thumb to swipe it away and putting it in his mouth to get rid of the sticky feeling. You shift your eyes away at the scene, your shyness only becoming more apparent.

“Look so pretty right now.” Tangerine says while fiddling with the strap of your nightgown. You feel like you’re about to burst at the feeling of his fingers against your skin, but you want more.

“Thank you.” You mumble when he puts a strawberry slice in your mouth with his fingers.

You’re frustrated. Even though he’s giving you a lot of attention and soft touches, you want more. And even that itself frustrates you even more. You should not want this man's hands anywhere near you. But it’s hard not to when he’s breathing down your neck, feeding you himself, and looking so handsome. This would’ve been a dream come true for you if it weren’t for the circumstances.

You don’t voice any of your thoughts. Instead, you let Tangerine continue feeding you.

It was about a week later after the dinner incident and your punishment. You try not to think about it too much, just remembering how you felt alone in your room made your heart hurt. And as a result, something inside of you changed.

Since that night and the morning after, you had a need and a certain hunger for Tangerine.

You wake up in the morning to his kisses on your skin. It was nothing out of the ordinary. But the past few days were different. Instead of turning your head away or turning your back to him, you let him kiss all over your face down to your neck where he becomes just a bit rougher.

You let out a sigh when you feel one of his hands rub up and down your back, taking away the morning chill. But the goosebumps only come back when you feel him begin to suck on your skin for the first time. The feeling of his teeth on your sensitive skin makes you moan and clutch onto his bare shoulders, where you feel his muscles.

The two of you stay like this for who knows how long. You're completely comfortable in Tangerine’s warm arms, feeling blissed out with just him mouthing your neck and touching you all over your body. All you can do is lay down and let him ravish you.

You then hiss when he bites a little too hard, but the pain shoots down to your core, making your eyes flutter open. You weren’t sure when you last felt this way. You didn’t exactly have time before to go out and have fun, especially with men. You’d gone on a few dates and even fewer hookups with guys who really only cared for their pleasure, always leaving you dissatisfied. But you figured that was normal and got used to douchebags. Just the small amount of their attention, even if it was just for the night, was enough for you. Which was why you weren’t fighting Tangerine off of you.

Since that night on the train, he has always given you his undivided attention. And because of your rocky history with men, you felt yourself slowly basking in it. Not only because it had been a while since a man was affectionate with you, but also because Tangerine was clearly focusing on your pleasure. When your fingers clenched his shoulders and a breathy moan escaped your lips, he only provided more of his sucking and kissing.

You feel Tangerine just about to pull away to look at his attack on your neck, but your whine and tightening arms stop his movements. Despite his ability to pass through your arms without having to try, he is easily pulled closer to you.

Once you’ve pulled him back down, the need to plant your mouth on his comes back. The two of you haven’t shared a kiss yet, since you’ve been with him, it has only gone as far as kisses on the face. And it was Tangerine giving those out. You weren’t comfortable enough to give the man the same affection before.

But now, you can’t take your eyes off of him and his pretty lips. Nor can you stop your hands from rubbing his bicep up and down. Your eyes go from his lips to the entirety of his face. The morning light behind him made him look ironically angelic. His hair was curly and unkempt, you couldn’t help but trail your hand up his arm, over his shoulder, up his neck, and finally running your hand over his scalp. You scratched lightly and began twirling a strand of hair around your finger. You were completely captivated by him.

Tangerine’s own eyes began to flutter shut, your touch igniting a fire inside his stomach.

Testing the waters, you stare at his lips above you and slowly lay a small kiss on them.

There was no tongue or open mouths. Just a peck, which left Tangerine having to hold himself back from bruising your lips, in a I-care-for-you-so-much kind of way. He just has so many emotions and wants that have been bottled up since the first time he saw you. But from now on, he needs to let you be the one to call the shots and be in control. Your relationship would go nowhere if he always had complete power over you. The only exception being laying kisses on your face, that is something he can’t help himself with. You’re just too pretty and sweet not to love up on.

The feeling of your lips on Tangerine’s makes your heart stop. So you lay another one, this time staying just a bit longer.

You sigh into his mouth when he begins moving his lips against yours, catching your bottom lip between his own. You hesitantly began moving along with him, parting your mouth slightly and gasping when Tangerine’s tongue slips into your mouth. You open wider for him and let him lick into your mouth, you can’t help letting a few moans out.

Your fingers grip the strands of his hair, tugging him closer, almost painfully, against your mouth when you feel Tangerine sucking on your tongue. You’ve kissed boys before, but never like this. The ones before, you were cautious and careful about how you were kissing, and the guys were messy and slobbery. Everything was very uncoordinated.

But this was something else. Tangerine knew exactly what to do and when to do it. It was also messy, but not in a way where you wanted to pull away and wipe your mouth. You wanted more, you wanted to taste Tangerine more. This time, you didn’t care for what you were doing, only focusing on tasting his lips.

Tangerine then pulls away, just to take another look at you, but not without having to fight you. He tries to lift his head up, but your arms tighten themselves around his neck and you move up with him, desperate not to let him go.

“Let me see you, pretty.” He says in between kisses, finding hard himself to pull away, but you relent. His words go in one ear and out the other, except for “pretty”. That has you pulling him in even more. But unfortunately, Tangerine is way bigger and stronger than you.

With his lips still on yours, he takes one arm and easily removes your hand from his neck and does so with the other, pinning them down above your head on your pillow. Without your grip, he now is able to take a look at you, but not without laying just a few more bruising kisses. Once he finally pulls away, the sight of you has him groaning and he can’t believe how beautiful and already wrecked you looked with just some silly morning kissing.

Your hair is all over the pillows and bushy from his hands, your eyes are half open and begging him to do something, and your mouth is releasing fast pants from your priority to kiss than to breathe. Your chest goes up and down and you look so fucking gorgeous in your little pink nightgown that has ridden up your thigh, just under the spot you both want him to be. He’s in a trance just staring at you, but is soon taken out when he hears your whine and feels you trying to release yourself against his hands. Tangerine, although also wants to continue and go further if you let him, decides he wants to mess and play with you for a bit.

“Awe, is my baby needy?’ He asks and comes close to your lips, just a hair away from touching them. With teary eyes and a pretty pout, you nod up at him. You’ve now been with Tangerine long enough to know that that combination is more than enough to get what you want. You’ve used it on multiple occasions. But Tangerine wills himself not to give in to you.

He coos and gives you a faux pout, “Well, that’s just too bad, darling.”

He goes back to nipping at your neck before placing both of your hands in one of his, taking his free one to lightly grip your neck. The feeling makes you close your eyes and moan loudly. You’ve been wanting his hands around your throat for some time now, since that morning he wiped away your tears in the kitchen.

Tangerine takes his free hand and slides it under your back, pulling you up towards him and making you arch your back. That’s when you feel it, his bulge against your stomach. You gasp when you can feel how big it is as Tangerine begins grinding against your stomach, the size of his cock making you simultaneously nervous and excited. You wonder if it would ever fit inside of you.

You attempt to free yourself from his hand, wanting to touch Tangerine anywhere you could. But he grabs your leg and hikes it around his waist, now rubbing himself onto your core. You let out another moan before Tangerine catches your mouth in a bruising kiss, tongue in your mouth and lapping at your own.

You feel overwhelmed, all your senses feel like they’ve been dialed up to the maximum. All you can hear are Tangerine’s grunts into your mouth, all you feel is hand rubbing your thigh, even with your eyes closed in bliss, all you can see is him. You taste him on your tongue as you lick into his mouth. It’s all so much, so much pleasure all at once, but it’s still not enough.

You let out a high pitched moan when his cock rubs against your clit just right. The only thing between the two of you are your panties and his boxers.

Tangerine finally releases your hands from his and takes his other one off of you, then raises himself up. This allows you to catch your breath for a split second before your being flipped over onto your stomach. Your face suddenly in the sheets when you feel hands on your hips, which raises them up. You attempt to lift your upper body up, but a firm hand on your back pushes you back down.

“Stay there.” Tangerine says, his tone making your stomach flutter and eyes close.

Tangerine hums to himself at your position, ass up and face down. Because of the short length of your nightgown, it has risen up over your ass, allowing Tangerine a very nice view of your floral panties.

You sigh into your pillow when you feel hands on your bum, kneading gently. Then you hear a loud smack and sting on your ass, the feeling making you gasp and rise up on your arms. But your shoved back down just as quickly as you got up, then Tangerine lays two more smacks, making you whine.

“I thought I told you to stay there.”

“M’sorry.” You say, your words muffled into your pillow.

Tangerine hums and thinks for a moment, knowing that this is most likely the first type of sexual experience you’ve had that involved having to control yourself and listen to your partner. He decides he’ll let your disobedience slide, then you and him will have a discussion later about the type of sex you enjoy and what you both want.

The lack of words from Tangerine makes your heart crack, maybe he didn’t hear you?

“I said I’m sorry.” You say once more, not sure exactly what you’re hoping for.

“I know, I heard you. Thank you for apologizing, darling.” He says, then lays a gentle kiss on the small of your back. You squirm under his lips, happy to be on his good side.

“You’re welco-'' You're cut off by your own gasp when you feel a hand cupping your core and single digit rubbing your clit. You begin panting into the pillow and moving your hips to Tangerine’s hand.

“That feel nice?” Tangerine asks, holding back a groan at how desperate you are.

“Uh-huh.” Is all you can say with closed eyes.

You try with all of your effort to stay in your position, you fist your hands in the sheets, trying to find some balance between the pleasure and trying not to get too caught up in it. You’re fearful at what Tangerine will do, but at the same excited about it. But it all becomes too much when he begins to rub you more roughly and at the same time, spanks you again so hard that you yelp into the sheets.

“Alright, that’s quite enough.” Tangerine is quick with his movements as he places a hand on your upper back, right under your neck, and shoves your head back down roughly. He then takes both of your hands and pins them behind your back, and continues to caress your cunt.

“S-sorry!” You gasp wetly, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he begins to rub you quickly, his entire palm practically shaking beneath your cunt. Even with your underwear on, you both can hear just how wet you are. The sound of your wetness and your moans bouncing off of the walls of your room.

Tangerine feels you stop your humping against his palm and sees your body shaking, you’re close. For just a second, he stops rubbing your clothed covered cunt, making you cry out and wiggle your ass, and pulls your underwear to the side. You feel the cool air hit you and are left curious as to what Tangerine is going to do.

You cry out when you feel his fingers against you, teasing your hole as he circles a single finger around it.

“You want my fingers, dove?” Tangerine asks, pressing his finger against your hole. You nod your head against your pillow as much as you can, the angle your neck is at making it difficult.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. Can barely put just one of m’fingers in there, unless I shove it in.”

“Please, please, just want one.” You beg into the sheets, your words barely audible.

“What’s that? You don’t want it?” Tangerine smirks and goes back to circling two fingers around your clit. You shriek and shake your head, wiggling your ass in a futile attempt to find any sort of touch.

“No, no, no, I do want it! Pleas-” Your cries are cut off when you feel a large finger slowly enter you, that’s all it takes for you to shake and crumble beneath Tangerine. You groan and arch your back, taking more of Tangerine’s finger. You feel yourself toeing the line of pain and pleasure, his finger feels so fucking good but he really does have to force it in.

“Oh, you’re coming already? But I’ve barely touched you.” Tangerine coos at how easy it was to get your body trembling.

Poor girl, he thinks. You really haven’t been touched in a long while.

He slowly retracts his finger all the way out, before slowly pushing it all the way in, your tightness making his movements slow. You drool into the pillows as your mouth hangs open with no sound coming out. Your orgasm takes everything within you away.

You sob when Tangerine doesn’t stop his movements, not letting you take a single moment to settle down and collect yourself. You try to remove your hands from his grip, then you feel a rain of smacks on your ass and his hand returns to your sopping cunt.

“Please! Ah!” You beg loudly, though you’re not sure what for. For Tangerine to stop? For him to keep going?

Tears soon fall down your cheeks, joining the drool on your pillow. The mess is spread onto your cheek as you scream and shake. You feel your juice slowly drip down your thighs, but you pay no mind to it as you’re quickly brought closer and closer to your second orgasm. You feel the sweat on your neck and on your forehead. You’re a mess, but Tangerine finds you-so far gone in the pleasure- so beautiful.

You groan and tremble again when Tangerine just slightly curls his fingers, hitting that spot inside of you that makes your eyes roll back. But the pleasure soon becomes too much when you feel his thumb circling your ass and you lose the very little control you have. Your hands helplessly trying to grab onto anything you can reach to ground you from the pleasure. Fortunately, Tangerine readjusts his grip on your wrists and lets you hold his hand as you turn your face in the pillow and sob into it, your shoulders shuddering as your juices coat his finger and leak out of your hole.

“Oh, that’s a good girl.”

You think you black out for a moment at his words. The praise sinking deep into your bones and going straight to your core, making you twitch.

“Thank you, thank you-” Is all you can say as you ride out your high, your mind melting away with pleasure.

Tangerine stops his movements, but doesn’t remove his finger. He enjoys the way your small hole clenches onto his finger, almost like you're begging him not to remove it. When he sees that your breath has finally calmed down into hiccups, he slowly takes out his finger, making you whine and arch your back.

He finally lets go of your hands, gently taking both of them and placing them beside you so as to not hurt your arms.

“You’re welcome, my love.” He whispers before leaving a gentle kiss to your wet cheeks, tasting your salty tears. Tangerine puts his hands back on your hips, his touch gentle, and lowers them back on the bed. He then takes off your underwear, tossing them in your hamper where he notices that it’s filled up. He makes a mental note to do your laundry sometime today, maybe after work he thinks. For now, his focus is on putting you back together with a nice bath and a warm breakfast.

Tangerine goes back to you and pulls down your nightgown, covering your bum then patting it softly as he sits next to your tired body.

“Gotta take a bath now, love.” He whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“M’tired.” You yawn and knuckle at your eyes. Just the idea of having to sit up and walk to the bathroom is exhausting, but the sticky mess between your thighs and the wetness on your cheek says otherwise.

“Okay.” Is the only response you get before you feel Tangerine get up and walk away. The sudden disappearance makes your eyes open. You sit up despite your arms and back aching and begging for you to lay back down. You don’t know what to do.

Did he just leave? Where did he go? Is he coming back?

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear the faucet of your bath being turned on and the sound of running water.

You lay back down and close your eyes, assuming Tangerine was the one who was taking a shower. Just as you feel yourself about to slip into your slumber, the water finally shuts off and you feel an arm sliding itself under your back and another arm going under your knees.

You make a noise of discomfort, you just want to lay back down.

“I know, I know. But you’ll feel so much better after a bath.” Tangerine says softly, his voice is enough to send you back to slumber.

You open your eyes and see that you’re in the bathroom, and the tub is filled with bubbles. Tangerine bends down with you in his arms to put you down and send you back on your feet, you shiver and wrap your arms around yourself when your feet hit the cold floor. Tangerine sees this and mentally scolds himself for not placing you on one of the bathmats.

“Wasn’t sure which scent you wanted to use since you haven’t used any of those.” He points to a basket filled with many types of bath bombs, all different sizes and colors and fun shapes. Your eyebrows furrow, since when did you have that?

Tangerine smiles at your tilted head and confused face, “they’re in this cupboard,” then he points to one of the cupboards you hadn’t even opened yet.

“Oh, okay. Thank you.”

“I’ll lay out some clothes while you’re in here. And if you want, I would like you to come down and we can eat together.”

“I would like that, Tangerine.”

“Wonderful, I’ll see you soon, love.” Tangerine says, but not without a gentle hand cradling your cheek and a sweet kiss on your lips that leaves you stunned. He quietly leaves the bathroom and shuts the door.

You get that feeling in your stomach when you miss someone as soon as they’re gone, but you remind yourself that you’ll see him again in about thirty minutes, with some good food. You shyly smile at the thought of having breakfast together. Hopefully he’s in one of those moods where he sits you on his lap. You could do it yourself, but knowing he’s the one who wants you that close to him makes you blush.

Before getting into the bath, you decide to explore the bathroom a little more and open the drawers you hadn’t even touched. Despite Tangerine telling you on multiple occasions that “this is your new home” and “you can do as you please here”, the house is still very much new to you. It feels wrong to open every single cabinet and go look through it or go to any room and lounge or take all the food you want from the kitchen. You feel like you have to ask for permission for everything and anything. And up until very recently, your walls are starting to crack.

You open one of the drawers and gasp. Sitting in it are many more bath bombs that immediately fill your nose. Next, you open a cabinet and in it are different types of body washes from brands you’d always wanted. You marvel at all the different pretty bottles and colors and scents.

This continues on with you opening the remainder of the drawers and cabinets, which are all filled with the most delicious smelling lotions, shampoos, conditioners, body scrubs, body oils, and more. By the time you’re done, a good fifteen minutes have passed by and you struggle to pick which product you want to use. In the end, you choose a body wash, lotion, and perfume from the brand Philosophy called fresh cream, the smell reminding you of freshly baked cookies and cakes.

As you get into the bath, you can’t help but feel just a little bit giddy and excited at the thought of Tangerine pulling you close and liking the way you smell. Maybe he’ll kiss my neck and bite me again, you think as you sink into the bubbles and perfectly warmed water.

Your mind starts to wander when your body begins to relax in the water.

Whatever you did with Tangerine was great. Really, really great, you think.

The stuff he did and said to you, you were very surprised you had such a responsive and good reaction to them. No one’s ever treated you that way in bed.

Tangerine was so… assertive and demanding and rough, especially. You liked the way he held and restrained your arms from touching him, it made you have no choice but to take what he was giving you. You liked that you couldn’t pull him closer or push him away, he was making you take the pleasure he was providing you.

And the way he talked to you! The butterflies appear in your stomach at the thought.

The way he gave you orders, and got angry when you didn’t follow through them. It wasn’t on purpose, he was just making you feel so good you couldn’t stay still. But then he really got rough again and restrained you again.

You squeeze your thighs together at the thought of his rough hand on your back and pushing your face in the sheets with a great force.

But it was after all of that is what made you want to run up to him and kiss him again, he was so sweet and gentle, from what you remember. Just like when you first met him. It was all pet names and soft touches and some kisses here and there. Thinking about this reminds you that he’s waiting downstairs for you. You quickly finish washing yourself and get out of the tub.

Following this is your skin care and makeup, which you apply just a little bit of lipstick, spreading it with your fingers to give it more of a natural look. Then finish your lips off with some cherry scented lip gloss. Next, you apply some mascara and blush, and you’re done for now. It’s the same story as the drawers, the amount of makeup is a little much, but you still love it. It’s just going to take some getting used to, having so much in such a small amount of time. You want to take your time exploring and not just dive headfirst into it all.

And lastly, before you get dressed, you apply the sweet lotion on your legs and arms.

When you’re done in the bathroom, you stand in front of your mirror in the outfit Tangerine had laid out for you. A white flowy sundress with a tiny red floral print, paired with a small red cardigan and socks. Although you love the entirety of the outfit, you decide not to wear the cardigan as you want Tangerine to smell as much of the lotion on you as possible.

The final touch to your look is the perfume with the same scent as the lotion and bodywash. And with one last squeeze of your hair with a towel, you’re off downstairs and trying not to appear too eager.

Perfect timing, Tangerine thinks as he’s setting down the last plate of chocolate croissants on the table when he hears your footsteps coming down the stairs. His heart soars when he sees you, freshly showered with wet hair and the cute little dress he layed out for you.

You’re very clearly nervous as you sit down, so much that the amount of your favorite foods right in front of you don’t register in your mind. When you see Tangerine, back in his goddamn suit, you’re reminded of the morning’s events, making you feel self-conscious once again.

Did Tangerine like the dress on you?

Has he noticed your light makeup?

Does he like the way you look?

Is the smell of fresh cream too much?

Tangerine makes his way towards you, frowning at your refusal to look at him and your worried eyes.

You jump when you see the chair next to you move from the corner of your eye, and you're slightly disappointed when Tangerine doesn’t immediately pull you into his lap and wrap his arms around you.

“Fancy some croissants, love?”

You nod your head and look at the table, mouth quickly watering at all the food.

It’s silent for a while after Tangerine fills up your plate and glass with apple juice. You wonder why he’s being so distant, usually he’s feeding you and kissing all over your face. He feels so… far away, despite being right next to you. Your eyes begin to water at the thought of him regretting what he did. You very much enjoyed it and thought he did as well, but you figure now you’re wrong. Then you realize he didn’t even cum. You didn’t do anything for him.

You struggle to finish up your food with a lump in your throat, as well as trying not to breathe too much through your nose because then Tangerine will know you’re close to crying. But you could only pretend for so long.

Tangerine’s head quickly turns to you when he hears the first sniffle, then he puts down his fork when he sees you trembling.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? C’mere.” Tangerine says softly, trying to remain calm at your sudden burst of tears. He takes your hands and gently pulls you towards him off of your chair, some of his nerves going away when you seat yourself on his lap and lay your head on his shoulder.

“I’m s-sorry.” You hiccup. You feel your breath quicken and that feeling in your chest where you know you’re going to start taking uncontrollable deep breaths.

“For what? I don’t underst- here, drink some water.” Tangerine places a glass in front of you and you immediately go for it, closing your eyes and letting the cold water soothe you. Your lips away from the cup and sigh, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. It helps when you feel a hand slowly rubbing circles on your back.

Feeling exhausted again, you lay your head back on Tangerine’s shoulder.

“How are your arms? Do they hurt?” Tangerine asks while massaging your biceps, that’s when he notices how nice you smell. He noses your damp hair and kisses your head.

“No, they’re okay, thank you.” You say quietly and tilt your head, his nose in your hair tickling you.

“Can I see you, please?”

It takes a while for you to muster up the courage to just sit up, your head feeling heavy. Tangerine is quick to hold your cheeks and wipe away your tears, he shakes his head at your sad eyes. Seeing you so upset makes him feel upset too.

“Love,” He pauses, reminding himself to choose his next words very carefully, “I’m a little concerned right now, what’s wrong?” He begins to panic when sees your lip trembling and your head turn away.

“Is it something about this morning?”

You nod your head.

“How do you feel? You didn’t like it?”

“No, I liked it. I just-”

Tangerine’s head perks up, trying not to show how pleased he is with your answer.

“Just what? You can tell me, I won’t be mad, I promise.” Tangerine brushes away the strands of hair that are in your face, he doesn't want any sort of barrier between the two of you. That way there can be no hiding from you and you can clearly see his own face.

You take a deep breath.

“I didn’t make you… you didn’t-” You struggle to say the word, it’s humiliating to admit.

“Oh, that’s alright. Wasn’t really focused on myself to be honest. I just wanted to make you feel nice is all.”

You’re once again stunned at his words. He wasn’t focused on himself and his own pleasure? But instead on you? The thought and gesture makes you look down at your hands, your eyes looking anywhere besides the man right in front of you. You’re afraid you’ll burst if you look at Tangerine any longer.

“Oh, okay. Thank you.” You smile softly as you trace the small flowers on your dress. Tangerine smiles at your bashfulness, it’s so easy to get you so flustered and squirmy. It’s a sight he loves to see.

“There’s nothing to thank me for, love. Should be thanking you, I reckon. I loved seeing you like that.”

“Tangerine, stop it.” You whine and hide your face in his neck, a smile spread wide on your face as you wrap your arms around his neck. Tangerine laughs and pinches your sides, making you yelp.

“C’mon, let me see your face.”

You whine quietly into his neck before slowly removing yourself from your hiding spot, your cheeks on fire and a small pout on your lips.

“Oh, there she is. So pretty today, aren’t you?” Tangerine whispers and strokes your cheek, making them heat up.

“May I kiss you?”

“Yes, please.” You whisper breathlessly and his lips are on yours in an instant, making you moan.

This kiss is different from this morning. It’s slow and deep and all open mouthed. It makes you dizzy, especially when he’s got one arm wrapped tightly around your waist and his other hand has a firm hold on your cheek. He’s not letting you go anytime soon and you’re okay with that. You just want him to keep petting your tongue with his and gently nipping at your bottom lip.

But then he’s pulling away with an unhappy sigh.

“I really hate to go, but I’ve got to get to work now.” As much as he doesn’t want to go, he needs to. He’s already very late thanks to the morning’s activities and breakfast. He knows he’s going to get an earful when he meets with Lemon. But he almost backtracks on his words when he sees your shoulders fall and feels your hands remove themselves from around his neck . The realization that he is leaving makes both of your hearts hurt.

“Oh, okay.” You repeat your words from earlier, but with disappointment. You also look down at your hands again, you don’t want Tangerine to see you like this, so obviously upset. He sighs at you beginning to pull away from him.

“I don’t want to leave you, please believe me.” He whispers in your ear, making you shiver and eventually curl up to him. Tangerine relaxes and starts to lightly scratch your scalp.

“I’ll make it up to you tonight, how’s that sound?”

“That sounds good.” You say as you play with his necklace.

“Wonderful. Let’s start with dinner, what would you like?”

You're quick with your answer. It was one of the first meals he made you during your first week in the house. You remember being angry and annoyed with how delicious it was, and as much as you wanted to throw a fit and not eat it- just to make Tangerine angry- you couldn’t resist it.

“I really liked that one soup you made with the- I forgot what you called it- noky?”

“Oh, gnocchi?” Tangerine smiles.

“Yes, that one. That was really good, I really liked it. You should make it again, please.” You ramble, attempting to forget the awful way you pronounced the dish. But you only dig yourself further into embarrassment, making you sigh and cringe at yourself.

“Thank you, that’s very nice,” Tangerine kisses your cheek and continues, “I’ll stop by the store and pick up some of the ingredients. Anything else?”

You think for a moment.

“I think dessert would be good too.”

“Alright, what will it be?”

“Mochi, th-the ones with the strawberry inside of it.”

“You’ve got it.”

The two of you continue with your conversation, it mostly being Tangerine encouraging you to make the decisions. Such as what the two of you will be doing after dinner, to which you shyly shrugged your shoulders. Anything sounded good, just as long as you were with Tangerine.

After some more sitting in his lap and kisses to your face, Tangerine places you in your empty seat and starts to clean up. But not before asking you to finish your apple juice and little bowl of fruit.

He can’t help but smile at you from across the kitchen when you’re happily sitting in your seat, swinging your legs, and popping grapes into your mouth. He just wants to throw you on the bed and have his way with you again, flipping your dress up and having his own taste of you until you’re begging him to stop.

Next time, he thinks.

#tangerine #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine x reader #tangerine imagine #tangerine blurb #bullet train #bullet train imagine #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson x fem!reader

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dollydaisies · 10 months ago

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Can I pls request a BTS reaction? They have a crush on their friend who is not a celebrity, so they can't confess to her because of their reputation/job, but they are really close. One day someone from their company revealed a sensitive information about them. So, the members and the company accused her of it because they thought that she was only with them to become famous. They didn't believe her and also told her many hurtful things. But later it was revealed that it was not her but someone else and she was telling the truth. Later they try to reconcile with her and asks her to forgive them but it was too late. Can you please write it as angst?

If it's too specific for you, you don't have to write it. Thank you anyways ☺️☺️

my first ask! thank you so much for sending this! my bts skills may be a tad bit rusty, so i'm sorry if this isn't up to par with your expectations. im doing allll the research i can! some things may be changed up a bit, but i'm trying to stick to your prompt the best that i can!

summary: forbidden love hurts, and it sometimes builds up frustration inside you, which then turns into flipping out on the person you love nonsensically solely because you're overwhelmed. they had to learn to think before they act, and, now, they're suffering from the consequences of their actions.

characters: just to test the waters and see if you like what i'm doing, i am only doing kim namjoon. if you like this, i will continue with the other members i’m comfortable writing! please tell me if i did well or was a lil' off. i'll always take constructive criticism:)

kim namjoon never meant to hurt anyone, but he especially made sure that he would not hurt you. he cares about you so much, to the point where seeing you even slightly sad could mess up his whole day.

you're bts's songwriter and producer, but also their friend. when they make plans, they want to include you, always. even if they go to the beach for a run bts episode, they want YOU to be there after the cameras are off. of course, every single member of the group wants you to be around, but namjoon insists on it. you're his safe place, the person he confides in when times get hard--why wouldn't he want you there?

"are you sure you don't want to come with us on this tour?" namjoon looks at you with full passion in his eyes. he wants you to come with them, even if he won't directly say it. "you know that we will always want you to come with, right?"

that little "we" always gets you every time. sure, you know that it's true, and so does he, but that's not what you want to hear and that's not what he wants to say. you want to hear him say "i want you to come with," but it feels like he refuses to say it. he's only not saying it because it'll make his feelings too real, and he can't deal with the reality that you can never be his.

"ah, i know, joonie... but i need to work on the ideas you all gave me for this next album. it's the final one before you all go on hiatus, so i can't take a break," you respond, playing with your bowl of ramen without eating it. you're the only two in the kitchen, and it's quiet. "i'd love to go, but i just can't afford to right now. you know i'm short on money."

namjoon sighs, but nods. "i understand. it's just gonna be hard to be on tour without you."

you send him a sweet smile, then giggle softly. "you're such a baby, did you know that?"

"it's our little secret, keep it hush."

that wasn't the secret that destroyed everything you've built with him over the past decade, but it was more of a foreshadow. you felt excited at the idea of having a secret with him, but also dread--this is silly, though. you guys have thousands of secrets. you're best friends, and you always have been, so why is your gut telling you to fight or fly?

around a week later, dispatch reports on news that namjoon has never told a soul about--except for you. the moment his brain processes the information told to him by the higher-ups, he immediately gets up from his seat and marches to your usual spot that you linger in.

"get out."

"huh?"

your face is full of pure confusion, a bit like a deer in headlights. sure, you've had your arguments and fights before, but he has never been this harsh off the bat--hell, he was rarely ever truly harsh.

the way his eyes look at you with pure disgust, and the sarcastic laugh he lets out... it feels like you don't know who's standing in front of you. yeah, it's namjoon, but... it's also not.

"i knew you were desperate for money, y/n, but i didn't think you'd be this desperate. if i knew you were like this, i would've fired you sooner."

"namjoon, what the hell are you talking about?" you stand up from your seat, yelling at him a bit. it's obvious you aren't even mad, you're just a mix of confused, scared, and worried.

"you know what i'm talking about, y/n. hell, the rest of the world does as well, since you decided to go to dispatch about it."

he holds up his phone so you can look at the site he pulled up. you scrolled and scrolled in pure shock, confusion, and disgust. "i... namjoon, i did not rat you out to anyone. why would i?"

"people like you only care about money. figure it out, and get out of this dorm."

absolutely stunned, you walk to the door in complete silence, then turn around. he looks a bit lost in thought, then he finally sees you. you, whose eyes are full of tears; you, whose cheeks are red due to how panicked you got from him yelling; and you, who refused to yell at him back even when he disrespected you.

while he was so sure he was right, a pit in his stomach grew larger. he feels like he’s doing something bad, something wrong, and he doesn’t know why.

"i just want to say," you pause for a second, then continued. "if this is the real you, kim namjoon, maybe i should've been the one to expose you after all."

you slam the door.

months have passed, and you work at a local music store. sure, you write songs still, but they're not for anyone else except you. you refused to talk to all of them, talk about all of them, or even think about any of them. in your mind, bts disbanded the second he broke your heart, and your trust. truthfully, it’s unfair, as all the other members have texted you so many times and begged for a response, but you can’t think of them without thinking of him.

the store is completely empty, so you're scrolling through every single social media app you have downloaded brainlessly. the words you're reading are not completely processing in your head at all, they kinda just look like funky shapes.

one title, though, caught your attention.

"kim namjoon talks about trust, compassion, and friendship in recent SEVENTEEN interview."

your jaw clenches, and you slam your phone down. your tears are threatening to come out, but you refuse to let yourself still be hurt by him. he doesn't deserve your time, your tears, your anything. that's, at least, what you keep trying to convince yourself of, anyways.

the bell at the door rings, and you try to regain your composure. you

"welcome to good vibes, home to all of the--"

you freeze. you don't know what to do, what to say, or how to even move. are you supposed to say anything? it's not like he’s saying anything—hell, he has a mask over his face and a hood on his head, but you KNOW it’s him. now, he’s just staring at you blankly. you’re wearing a mask, so maybe there’s a chance—

“y/n,” namjoon softly says your name, and your heart pangs against your chest. it’s a mix of heartbreak, anxiety, and all the leftover love you have for him. “i was looking for you.”

you’re so nervous, you could burst into tears. you want to hop over your desk and run into his arms and tell him how much you miss him, but also how much you hate him for hurting you so much. why do you still love a man that said such unforgivable words?

“why?” your words were a bit breathy, and you began to chuckle a bit while shaking your head. “there’s nothing left to say—unless, y’know, you’re gonna tell me all i care about is money again because i have a job.”

“i’m sorry,” namjoon sighs, then walks to you. the desk separates you, but you wish you could fall into his arms. you keep your composure all the same, though.

“that day, i was so stressed. it felt as if so many things were happening at once, and to know that a secret that i only told you got out… i felt so much betrayal all at once, i didn’t want to hear you out. if i’m being completely vulnerable, i wanted to go cry,” he let out a small chuckle.

looking at you, your face was completely unreadable. it’s like you were thinking of so many things, but also of nothing at the same time. was he doing well? he doesn’t know. he’s just going with what he feels in his heart.

“in my heart, i knew i should’ve ran back to you and apologized; in my heart, i knew i should’ve heard every single word you said, because you would never lie to me,” namjoon balls his hands into a fists, then looks at you in the eyes, “so i’m sorry it took so long for me to realize that i was wrong.”

the store was tense, and all you could hear is the music playing so softly in the background as you stare at him. he’s trying to read your expression, to see if there’s any bit of leftover love in your eyes, but it just feels cold.

after a minute, you begin to laugh. it’s a full laughing attack, actually, and namjoon just stares. his heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach, because he’s not stupid—he knows this means he’s fucked up.

“what, did you think was a kdrama, namjoon? did you think i was going to hear that apology, jump into your arms, and say, ‘oppa, never hurt me ever again!’ or something?” you say these words while still laughing, and namjoon is still stunned. “what happened for you to come up here and say this to me? based on your new change in personality with… hating poor people and all, i can’t imagine you just woke up one day and did it.”

“we found who actually did it. it was our stylist, sooyoung.”

“so that’s what it took for you to finally realize i was innocent? instead of thinking back ro everything you said to me and how hurt i was, it took them finding out the real person behind the crime for you to realize i was telling the truth?”

you slam your hand on the desk, and your body is trembling. you’re on an adrenaline rush, but you’re also sad, scared, and angry. namjoon notices this and places his hand on yours, like he always used to.

“y/n, you’re shaking, please ca—“

“i don’t give a fuck, namjoon,” you yell, and namjoon is completely frozen. “i’ve known you since you were a trainee, and, yet, you still thought that i was some… freaky gold digger that would sell her friends out for money. do you know how much that hurts? to know that you think i have the potential to be like that?”

namjoon’s eyes begin to tear up, while your eyes have already overflown. your cheeks are entirely red, and you let out a choked sob. your head drops, and you let out a dry chuckle.

“for over a decade, i have been nothing but loyal and true to you; yet, it takes a full-blown investigation for you to realize how you did me wrong,” you then look up at him with no sympathy in your body. “it’s my turn to tell you to get out, namjoon. and, for your sake, never come back. i never want to see you again.”

he hesitates to walk away, and you’re staring at him, emotionless.

“what, are you deaf? get out.”

namjoon finally leaves, walking quickly towards his car, and you fall to your knees. you’re on the cold floor, shaking and crying, as you realize your life will never be the same ever again.

#bts #bts scenarios #bts x reader #namjoon scenarios #namjoon!‎ ‎𖹭 #namjoon x reader

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