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harryhandstan · 4 years

Text

gotta get better

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This concept has been in my head for a while now and it took me like a month to write and edit and just get it all out! I had surgery two years ago today and it was one of the most emotional, stressful experiences of my life simply bc I’m just a big baby lol. This is just something to celebrate that day and the fact that I’m still so happy it’s all over! Fluffy af as usual cause that’s all I know how to write. :)

Thankful to @bfharry and @bopbopstyles for not only inspiring me with their amazing writing but pushing me towards finishing this and reaching (even going over) my personal 5k goal! I appreciate you both so much!!

I recently saw a post about tagging triggers properly so I’m gonna do it that way but if I do it wrong or it doesn’t work PLEASE let me know and I will fix it immediately (just want to be sure all my bases are covered)

// needles tw, pills tw (prescription), anxiety tw // (if I missed anything I should’ve tagged please please let me know!!) and I’m sure there are some medical inaccuracies bc that whole day is kind of a blur for me haha

as always likes/rbs/comments are welcome but absolutely not necessary :)

final word count: 7.1k

"Y'nervous, angel?"

"Hmm?"

"Bout to chew your finger off. I know there can't be much of a nail left."

Your hand drops back to your lap. You hadn't even realized you were doing it. A bad habit of the nervous child you thought you'd long forgotten. He offers his left hand and you accept it, thumb swiping over the cross painted across his skin. He knows it's one of your favorites and you're thankful for the comfort. You don't know how many times he'd teased you about how you would eventually rub it off one day and he'd have to get it redone.

"S'a routine surgery, I bet they do them all day. You're gonna be fine."

You'd been over all this a thousand times before. Harry had to ban you from looking up the procedure online at one point. You became obsessive with worry. What if you're still awake when they cut into you and you can't talk? What if you feel everything and can't tell anyone? What if you don't wake up? He had shot down every one of your horrifying theories.

"How much longer before they take me back?"

"Nurse said it would be about 10 minutes when we checked in. Shouldn't be too much longer. Want me to check the board again?"

Checking in had only consisted of a nurse taking your name and giving you your bracelet for the day with an ID number. The number would help Harry stay updated on where you were throughout the whole process. The "board" was simply a tv mounted to the wall that frequently cycled through each patient's last name and ID number.

"No, no," You cling to his sleeve like a desperate child, "Don't leave again. She said they wouldn't update anything until I went back anyway."

Harry had left you only briefly when you first arrived. Hands in his pockets, wandering around like a lost child around the big, open expanse of the waiting room. He stayed where you could see him and the whole time you had anxiously chewed your bottom lip until he returned. You hated it, but you knew he was just as nervous as you. So you let him have that moment. To check his surroundings and release some of the nerves so he could come back to you, calm and cool as always.

When the nurse does call your name, you almost jump out of your skin. You freeze, unable to move. Harry stands and flashes the nurse a quick smile before turning back to you and offering his hand.

You shake your head, "I can't do this, H. I feel like I'm gonna throw up if I move."

"You're not, promise. Remember those breathing exercises we practiced? Do those. C'mon..deep breath in. Pause. Slowly let it out. Do it while we walk."

Slow deep breath in. Pause. Slowly let it out.

You remember how silly you felt the first time you did it. How it made you giggle at first. This is never going to work. But eventually it did. Anytime you got upset or started to overthink about this day, Harry made you stop whatever you were doing and sit down. Breathe.

It was a little difficult to do while walking. Your body wanted to pause your steps when your breath paused, but Harry tugged you along, you almost hiding behind him until you made it through a set of heavy wooden doors to a small space with a hospital bed and a curtain drawn in front of it.

The IV had had been your biggest dread, the fear overriding any logic that it was something you needed, instead of something the nurses decided to do simply to torture you.

Your face twists into a wince of pain when the needle goes into your vein, Harry standing over you, his face a mirror of your own as you squeeze his hand. When the nurse pulls away with a triumphant "all done!" you flash a look of surprise between your arm and Harry.

"Not that bad, eh? Think ya overreacted a bit about how bad that was gonna be?" He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to shoot him a nasty look for teasing you.

"Maybe a little." You pinch your index finger and thumb together, indicating a minimal amount.

"Tiny bit more, babe," Another nurse appears from around the curtain and he laughs before speaking to her, "it's all she's worried about all morning."

"Honestly that's everyone's least favorite part. The rest of the day should be aces if you can handle that!"

Harry settles himself into a chair while the nurse goes through a myriad of questions. Any other surgeries? Allergies to medications you know of? Do you smoke? Drink?

Harry snorts when you say no to drinking, but quickly clasps his hand over his mouth when the nurse's head snaps to look between you and him.

"The occasional drink is fine, no worries. Nothing this morning though, right?"

"No, ma'am."

Your eyes meet his, a mischievous grin still plastered across his face. He mumbles a quick "sorry" while you try to pull your concentration back towards the nurse and the remainder of her questions.

"Alright, time for the good stuff," she passes you a small clear cup with two white pills, "First one is just something to keep you calm and relaxed, second one is to prevent any pain after the procedure. They'll give you something to make you sleepy when you get to the OR, but this might make you a bit loopy for now."

"This should be fun." Harry claps his hand in front of him, rubbing them together quickly. He leans forward in his chair, as if ready for a show.

"Yeah? Is she a happy drunk?"

Harry had only ever experienced you high on any sort of prescription medication once, almost a year ago when you went on a girl's trip with your best friend and twisted your ankle in an attempt to make it back to her car after dinner out one night. You calling him from an unknown ER in the middle of the night had terrified him enough to start packing a bag to fly to you before your best friend could grab your phone and assure him you were fine and she would put you on a plane home to him in two days as planned. He had teased you endlessly when he picked you up from the airport and for the next few days afterwards as you limped around on a bruised, ACE bandage wrapped foot.

But after too many wine drunk nights to count, he had enough stories to humiliate you with and the thought of any one of them being told now had you sinking further into the hospital bed.

"You could say that. Last time she.." His voice trails off at the sight of your eyes, wide as saucers, begging him to stop.

The nurse grins, her face kind and sympathetic to your silent cry for help.

"We're a little behind schedule this morning so it may be about 20 minutes before they come transport you, okay?" You nod, the effects of the sedative already working its way through your system, "Keep an eye on her? Make sure she behaves?"

"Yeah, I got her. We'll be fine, thank you so much." He's closer now, standing next to you again, a hand sliding up your arm to settle on your shoulder. You manage a thumbs up and a sleepy "thank you" as an affirmation that you appreciate all she's done for you.

"You're more than welcome. You'll have a different set of nurses in recovery but if you need anything until they come get you, just let me know, alright?"

"We will, thanks." His thumb ghosts across the front of your collarbone, the lightest of touches to soothe you, his eyes still focused on the nurse.

"Good luck! You're gonna do just fine, I promise."

The second she's around the curtain, Harry nudges you lightly, "Scoot."

"Huh? What do you mean..Harry, there's not enough room for you in this bed." Your head feels too light to deal with his nonsense now.

"Yeah there is if you scoot. C'mon. Hurry before we get caught. M’supposed to be keeping an eye on you, remember? Gotta make sure you don't fall outta the bed."

He's already wedged himself next to you, trying to make his tall frame fit into the limited space.

You move over as much as you can, the rail of the bed poking into your hip.

He tucks one arm behind your head, the other one thrown behind his own as a cushion.

"You feel more relaxed now, lovie?"

You scrunch down in the bed, just enough that you can tuck your head under his other arm, "A little. I don't feel sleepy enough though," Your eyes dart up, seeking the comfort of his face, "I'm scared, H."

"I know you are, baby," the hand behind your head shifts to cup around your arm, pulling you closer, "Just pretend you're home with me and we're taking a nice little nap together, yeah?"

"But you won't be there with me, not really."

"I'll be there when you wake up though. First thing you'll see when you open your eyes, promise." He runs a finger along the curve of your nose, "Close your eyes. Try to sleep, hmm?"

You shake your head, turning towards him to hide your face in his side, inhaling his scent.

"Want me to turn the light off? Would that help?"

"No," You toss the arm that isn't trapped between you two over him, holding tightly to his shirt, "Stay."

"Alright, then. We'll just wait," He tilts his head to rest closer to yours, "Have you thought about what you want to eat after?"

"Not really. M'too nervous to think about food."

"We'll think of something good. Whatever you want."

"You're gonna get us in trouble, better scoot back to your corner like a good boy." Your words come out unintentionally slurred and you weakly push yourself up and away from him as he slides off. He doesn't sit though, just stands near you, an anxious look flashing across his features.

"Hey, c'mere. Gonna be fine, routine surgery, remember?" You stretch your arms out to him, a plea to be near his warmth again.

He sits on the edge of the bed, facing you. You tug lightly at the sleeve of his cardigan, a feeble attempt to pull him closer. He indulges you, his brow still creased with distress.

"Know ya gonna be fine, just hate you have to go through it at all. Wish I could take it from you without all this." He gestures to the IV he knows you despise so much.

"You have helped take it from me. All the sleepless nights you spent up with me, holding my hair back when I got sick. All the days after when I was too drained to get out of bed. You were there for as much of it as you could be. And you pushed me to go see the surgeon in the first place. You've helped me more than you give yourself credit for."

His fingers intertwine in yours, the pad of his thumb soothing over the front of your hand.

"Make sure you keep my phone with you, my mom will probably call you every 30 minutes for updates." A yawn stretches across your face, "She has your number too, bullied me into giving it to her last week when I called to tell her about the surgery."

He nods, patting his pocket to make sure both phones are still nestled there together.

Another yawn threatens to escape and you muffle it this time, more content to fight sleep to stare at Harry; his hair a perfect mess of curls under the harsh brightness of the hospital lighting. His face is more relaxed now, his eyes still focused on your fingers tangled together. He catches you, your eyes glazed over, too heavy and threatening to close.

"Darling, please close your eyes. I can see how tired you are," His fingertips sweep delicately over your nose again, as if he was lulling a baby to sleep, "You don't have to stay awake for me."

"Closing my eyes for just a second, alright? Not because you told me to though. I want to. Wake me up in 2 hours, don't wanna sleep too long."

Your eyes are already drifting closed, the last thing you hear is a chuckle; effortless, light as air, "I will, promise."

Soft kisses pressed across your face, "Sweet dreams, love."

His voice is the first you hear as you wake up in the dimly lit recovery room. Well, really it was more like a big cubicle, another space with a curtain drawn in front of it. Even with the floaty, dreamy feeling flowing through your system, you can still detect the worry in his voice.

"Harry?" It takes your mind a minute to catch up and process where you are and what had happened.

Oh yeah. Surgery day. No more annoying gallbladder. No more sleepless nights. Freedom to eat what you want and not be haunted by nausea and sickness from what you ate.

"How are you feeling? Any pain?" Suddenly a nurse in bright blue scrubs is there, way too animated and loud at the moment, "Pain scale 1-10?"

"I don't have any pain. Zero." You're aware of how high you sound and a giggle escapes through the haze. That earns you a smile from Harry, one that lights up his whole face and makes his dimples shine through.

"Awesome! Well then as soon as you're good and awake we're gonna get this IV out and go over some paperwork for both of you to sign. I want you to drink something for me too, so what would you like?"

You request a ginger ale and as soon as the nurse leaves to retrieve it for you, Harry scoots the chair he's sitting in as close to the bed as possible.

"How long was I out?"

"Couple of hours," He absentmindedly fixes your hair, looping various curls back around to their respective places, "Took a little longer than expected, you had a small infection so they had to make sure it hadn't spread."

"How much longer?"

"Long enough you had us all slightly worried." His hand trails down your cheek to cup your chin gently, urging you to look at him, "You sure you're not in pain? Now's not the time to do that stubbornly brave thing you do where you pretend nothing's wrong."

"I feel fine, really. Just a little tired, ready to go home."

He studies your face, trying to find any trace of dishonesty. When he's satisfied you're being truthful, he stands and extracts your phone from his pocket.

"Already talked to ya mum, but your co-workers were all texting you, asking how you were. Figured you'd want to handle that yourself, didn't know how much detail you would want to give them."

"Did you give my mother all the details? Infection and everything?"

"Um, no. I knew better than to do that. Promised her you would call when I got you settled at home."

"You promised or she demanded?"

"Okay..she politely asked that you call her when we get home."

"That sounds more like her." You roll your eyes, pushing yourself so you're sitting more upright in the bed.

"She just worries about you." He adjusts the pillow behind you, fluffing and tucking it where you direct it, against your lower back.

"I know. I'll FaceTime her when we get home to prove I'm alive."

"It's been a while since we've seen them, maybe we should plan a visit?" He plops himself back in the chair, leaning back as far as he can go; hands behind his head, eyes closed. You'd both gotten very little sleep the night before, you were too anxious and he was too gracious to let you suffer alone.

"Oh please, I'm lucky I even got time off to do this. My boss would never allow another break so soon."

"Maybe for the holidays?"

"Maybe..but only if you can go with me, you know they love you more than me by now anyway."

"They do not," He peeks one eye open at you, "They love us both equally."

You shoot a quick text to your co-workers, using the group chat between the few of you to make it easier.

I'm out! Feeling okay for now but that might change later lol

The nurse is back, apologizing for taking so long, "We've been so behind all day, it's crazy busy. I had to wait for your doctor to sign off on your release." She hands you a can of ginger ale, white bendy straw already poised and ready for you.

"Just need you to sign here," She holds a clipboard and a pen out to you and you balance the can dangerously in one hand while you scribble something that resembles your signature. Close enough. She gestures for you to pass the clipboard to Harry, "His signature goes under yours, just says he's responsible for you for the next few hours until everything wears off."

"This means I'm the boss, right?" He leans over to grab the board, a wink thrown in your direction. He's enjoying himself way too much at the thought of being in control of you for the next few hours. Smug son of a bitch.

She takes the clipboard back and pulls off a yellow sheet of paper, "This is just your copy of what you signed, and also has post op instructions for your bandages. Your prescription's been sent to the pharmacy, and there's a brief summary of pain management information on the bottom there just in case you need it."

"Thank you." You transfer it right to Harry's waiting hand, knowing he'll be the one surveying every word, making sure you follow everything to the letter.

"I know you mentioned earlier having a little bit of a drive home, so probably once you get her some food and pick up her prescriptions, it'll be time for another round of meds. Okay?" She turns to you again, "I know it sounds silly, but one of the most important things after this particular surgery is lots of walking. Otherwise you'll be miserable. Rest for a while when you get home, then get up every 10 minutes or so until bedtime. Don't let her skip that part, alright? Very important."

"I heard you weren't a big fan of this thing," She nods towards the IV in your right forearm, "So this'll probably be the best part of this whole process for you. We'll get this out and then you can get changed and we'll get someone to wheel you down and out of here, alright? Don't look and you won't even know when it's gone."

"Hey, think about what you want to eat, huh? Your first freedom meal. Yay!" He slips his hand into your left, raising your connected hands victoriously. You didn't think it was possible for you to love him anymore until this moment. The way he could so easily erase your fear was one of his many gifts you adored him for, "What are we having, babe?"

You don't even hesitate before answering, "Pizza, from Milano's. It's my favorite, other than that one place in Italy you took me to. Please? Oh and one of their salads, with the little bread knots on the side!"

He glances at the nurse, awaiting a reprimand for your meal choice.

"As your nurse, I feel I should remind you that while you can have anything you feel like eating, we usually recommend something small and light at first. Broth or soup with some toast, maybe. The salad may be fine, but the pizza might be a little heavy. Taking it slow would be best. But everyone is different."

"So..just cheese then? Maybe some mushrooms?"

You let your head fall back against the pillow, a foggy haze settling over you, "Plain cheese, no mushrooms."

"Alright, sounds good. Why don't I go call it in and pull the car around? Meet you out front?" He leans closer, a quick peck to your cheek before pulling his hand loose from yours and turning to leave.

"Hey, wait," You attempt to tug at his wrist, but fail, your brain still set to slow-motion. He takes pity on you and returns to your side, "Let's eat there. It's in the mall so we can window shop after we eat."

"You sure? You still seem a bit tipsy, honey."

You don't feel tipsy. Just tired, and hungry. Very hungry. As if on cue, your stomach makes a remarkably loud noise; an objection at not being fed for the past 12 hours.

"Alright, alright, calm down. " You let out an embarrassed groan when you realize he's talking to your stomach, "We'll eat there."

He kisses you again, closer to your mouth, "Missed."

"I did, huh?" He chuckles, close enough to your face now your noses are almost touching, "Let's try again."

This time his lips meet yours and you know he missed on purpose the first time by how amused he looks when he pulls away.

"One more for luck?" You can't resist letting the back of your hand wander over his face, before resting the palm of your hand against his cheek.

"I think I can handle that," He smiles before landing another quick peck to your lips, "Be good for the nurse while I'm gone. I'll have the getaway car ready in 10, yeah?"

You're certain Harry would have fed you if you would have let him, right here in the mall food court in front of everyone. But you refuse, insisting even, on carrying your own tray to the table. He chuckles when you pull your phone out of your sweater pocket to take a picture of your food, quickly uploading it to Facebook.

He watches you closely as you take the first bite, even pulling his own phone out to sneak a photo of you when you temporarily close your eyes to appreciate the indulgence of being able to eat one of your favorite foods again; free from that anxious feeling of whether or not it would settle right with your body later. You open your eyes the very moment after he captured the image.

"Harry!"

"You just looked so happy! I couldn't help it. You know I'll never post it anyway. Snagged a few of you earlier in your little blue cap they made you wear too." He flips back through to show you. You try to snatch the phone away, but he's too quick to pull his hand back and stash his phone in his pocket.

"When??"

"After you fell asleep, right before they came to take you back."

He takes a bite from his own generous slice of pizza in front of him before gesturing to your tray, "How is it?"

"Amazing. Even better than before, if possible."

His smile is bright, loving the satisfaction of seeing you actually enjoy food again.

Your plan to walk around the mall was cut short, you could barely make it through one store without yawning. You cling to Harry most of the way back to the car, his arm securely wrapped around you to keep you steady.

You doze off on the drive home, and when your eyes flutter open you find him opening the passenger door, offering a hand to help lift you out of the car and up the stairs into the house. Your foot stumbles on the first step, failing to make contact and you almost fall back.

"Easy," He giggles, an arm thrown behind your back to catch you before encouraging softly, "Try again."

When he's confident you're stable enough on your feet, he lets go to unlock the door.

You're greeted by a bouquet of flowers, a colorful arrangement of roses and lilies from Harry's band mates. You immediately recognize Sarah's handwriting on the card and make a mental note to shoot everyone a thank you text later. You don't know if it's the medication still in your system, the exhaustion of the day, or the overwhelming amount of love that makes you teary eyed.

Harry stands behind you as you admire the flowers and the card, arms curving around to hug you, careful of the large bandage on your upper abdomen and the two smaller steri-strips on your right side.

"How did they know pink roses were my favorite?"

"They love you, peach." He rests his chin on your shoulder, "Besides, you've only mentioned growing up with a pink rose bush in your Nanna's garden about a hundred times."

"I always loved it. Still do."

Your mind travels back to your earliest memories spent there; summers when you practically lived at the small house on the hill. Helping pick tomatoes and peppers from the garden, too warm afternoons spent with a book in your lap under the shade of a peach tree, your grandfather's corny jokes and loving smile. Your Nanna's too generous portions of food contributing to the few extra curves you still carried with you to this day.

You don't even notice the tears at first. They slip down your cheeks and land on his arm. Once you realize, you try to quickly wipe them away, but Harry sees.

"Hey..c'mon, I think your high's wearing off a bit, bub. Pajamas, meds, nap. Sound good?" He turns you to face him, using the sleeve of his shirt to brush away any tears that still linger at the corner of your eyes.

"What time is it?"

"Almost 3..why?"

"No nap. I'll never sleep tonight, and you know how grumpy I get when my sleep schedule is thrown off." Even with your declaration of not wanting a nap, you can't help but rub your eyes, a weak attempt to keep yourself awake. Any resolve Harry had to try to convince you to nap melts away. A smirk on his face, he knows you'll eventually crash later, most likely on his chest or in his arms. He's content to let you be stubborn for now.

"Okay, then. New plan. Pajamas, meds, movie. Better?"

"Better. You get everything ready and pick the movie while I change?"

"You don't wanna pick the movie?"

You wave him off, already shuffling towards the bedroom, "You're the boss today, remember?"

You take your time gathering what you need to get cozy for the rest of the day, selecting an oversized, well-worn tie dye t-shirt and leggings from your dresser. You even take a moment to dip into Harry's extensive sweatshirt collection, grabbing your favorite one. It's amazingly soft and still smells of him, a faint scent of his cologne and well..just Harry. You couldn't imagine anything more comforting.

In your pursuit to feel more lucid, you venture into the bathroom, taking a moment to wash your face. The cool water instantly refreshes you and pushes you closer to feeling like yourself again. Wanting your hair out of your face, you pluck a scrunchy from your shared collection of hair accessories. You quickly recognize that your arms still have that too heavy feeling of unconsciousness and after a few attempts to gather your curls into some sort of up-do, you give up and loop the accessory around your wrist to try again later.

Harry senses your frustration when you find him in the kitchen, two small green pill bottles sitting on the counter in front of him. He's already filled your favorite cup with ice water, and you gratefully take it and drink from it.

"What's wrong?" His brow creases with concern and you feel guilty for making him worry over something so silly.

"Nothing..just wanted my hair up out of my face but my arms wouldn't cooperate." You try to laugh it off to put him more at ease, "It's not a big deal."

You know it's only the weariness of the day still making you feel so emotional, clear-headed you would not be upset over something so small.

"Here. Let me try." He slides the scrunchy from your wrist and pulls you closer to him, moving behind you to gently work long fingers through your hair, gathering it all in a loose ponytail on top of your head before securing it around a few times with the scrunchy.

You let your shoulders drop with a deep sigh when he's done, it was such a simple thing, but it made you feel so much lighter. He spins you around to face him, a charming gleam of pride at his handiwork adorning his face, "Too tight?"

"No. Much better. Thank you, Harry. You take such good care of me always, but today..I don't know what I would've done without you. I made such a big fuss and probably made you miserable with all of my worrying." You're suddenly very aware that you are rambling, but when you catch a glimpse of his face, his smile is wide. So bright that the skin around his eyes is crinkling.

He leans towards you, lips stopping whatever words may have come next, arms wrapping around you to pull you closer in a soft, warm embrace. When he pulls away, his eyes bore right into yours, and your heart swells with more love than you could ever imagine having for one person. But he wasn't just any person. He was your person, your whole word staring back at you.

"I'm SO proud of you. You've been so strong today, always knew you had that strength in you, but seeing you take that leap of faith..doing something you knew you should despite your fear, that's all you, love. I can't take any credit for that. You've made me anything but miserable, trust me."

His face is still close enough to yours that you nudge forward, pressing your forehead to his, a silent appreciation of his affection.

"Any pain yet?" He pulls back, a thumb across your cheek, eyes still locked on yours.

"My head kind of hurts? And I still just feel kind of..drunk."

"You have always been a bit of a lightweight, babe. And a thief too, I see. S'that my sweatshirt?"

"Have not!" You swat playfully at his arm, "Maybe. Is that my hair clip in your hair?"

"Possibly." His eyes dart up to the swoop of curls on top of his head, a black plastic clip twisting it back and away from his face.

"Guess we're even then."

"S'pose we are." He tries to keep his eyes narrowed in a mock attempt of annoyance, but it quickly fades into laughter.

You decide against FaceTiming your family, hoping that hearing your voice will be enough. It seems to satisfy them at least for the rest of the day. You assure them that Harry is taking very good care of you and that everything went as smooth as could be expected.

He raises one eyebrow at you as you hang up, "As smooth as expected, huh? You aren't going to tell them the truth?"

"What's to tell? I had an infection and now it's gone. I'm fine, there's no sense in worrying them. We can give them the full story later."

He shrugs, fingers working to open one of the green pill bottles before passing one of the white pills to you, "For your headache, lovie. There's something here for nausea too if you need it. M'worried the pizza might've been too much. Maybe you should take one of these..just in case?"

"Harry, I promise I will tell you if I feel anything other than fine." Your hand runs from his shoulder down his bicep, squeezing gently, "Besides, I cannot take a whole one of those. If you think I'm a lightweight now..I'll sleep for the whole week if I take that."

He slips the bottle in his pocket, pulling you in to press a kiss to the top of your head, "We'll keep it close just in case, okay?"

"Sounds good," Your hand trails back up to his neck to work fingers through his hair, "Hey, thought we were watching a movie? What'd you pick?"

"Thought we could decide together. C'mon, let's get you comfy in bed."

"Ever the gentleman, always trying to get me in your bed."

"Hey! I am a perfect gentleman, thank you very much," He chuckles, a hand coming to rest on the small of your back, "Just thought you'd be more comfortable, you can prop up and stretch your feet out."

You let him tug you along for the second time today, thankful it's the luxury of your shared bed you get to settle into this time. He tucks you in softly, propping pillows behind your back and head.

"Comfy? Need anything else?"

"No, just need you to quit babying me so much and relax with me for a bit."

"Since when am I not allowed to baby you?"

You roll your eyes, "Never said you weren't allowed. Just want you to stop worrying so much, that's all."

"Good. Cause y'are my baby," No matter how many times you'd heard him say it before, it never failed to make you blush, "Do anything for you, y'know that, right?"

"I know," You look down at your hands, trying to slow your racing heart, "You never let me forget."

"Hey," He pokes your cheek, pulling your gaze back up to him, "I love you."

"I love you more, H."

He kisses your forehead, "Impossible. I love you most."

The reference to one of your favorite movies has you smiling at him, that dreamy feeling falling over you again, "Can we watch Tangled?"

"Sure, princess."

He sinks next to you, head propped up on your shoulder, navigating easily through Disney+ to find your requested movie.

Your eyes drift closed right about the time the lanterns are being released in the sky, a moment that normally leaves your face wet with tears, the soft vibrations of Harry humming along the perfect lullaby to push you further into your dream.

He wakes you later in the evening.

"Dinner's on the table if you want to join me."

"Time's it?" Your voice is still heavy with sleep.

"7. You were sleeping so deeply I didn't want to wake you, thought your body could use the extra sleep today."

"Yeah. It was nice, thank you." You stretch your arms forward, reaching for his hands to help pull you up.

"How do you feel?"

"A little sore. More sober, for sure."

Dinner is simple; a bowl of plain broth, salad, and toast. Exactly what the nurse suggested earlier. There's even a warm mug of tea waiting for you.

"With honey for my honey," He's so proud of his cheesy expression of love you cannot help but smile.

You look at him curiously when he sits next to you, the same boring meal set out for himself.

"Harry..you can eat what you want, babe. Seriously you've done enough today, more than enough to be supportive. It wouldn't hurt my feelings if you made yourself something different."

"Nah. S'fine. We're in this together, yeah?"

You raise your eyebrows at him playfully, "Did you have an organ snatched from your body today?"

"No, I didn't." He laughs, "I just meant food wise, love. It's vegetable broth, by the way, hope that's alright."

"It's perfect."

You nudge him lightly, an elbow to his side, shifting closer to ask for a kiss. He meets you the rest of the way, lips planted firmly on yours. When you don't pull away, he quickly adds another.

After dinner is done and you have another round of meds, the two of you end up in an awkward ball of cuddles on the couch. Harry flips through the channels on the tv before finding a show you both agree on.

But you're too restless, unable to find a position comfortable enough for you. You shift a few times, finally giving up and letting out a frustrated groan before tossing the blanket off the both of you and springing up and off the couch.

Harry doesn't panic, just grabs your hand before you can get too far away or lose your balance, keeping his voice low when he asks, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing hurts. I just can't get comfortable, and I don't feel right."

"What doesn't feel right, angel? Explain."

"I don't feel like myself. I don't know how to explain it. Just feel off."

He sees you're on the verge of tears and ascends from his spot on the couch, arms quickly enveloping you before placing a finger under your chin to pull your face up to look at him.

"It's probably gonna take a day or so to adjust, baby. Yes it was a minor surgery but it was a major change to your body." He's bending now to look right into your eyes, searching them, "How can we fix it tonight, hmm? What do you need?"

Tears are free flowing, falling on the front of your t-shirt and down to the floor.

"Take your time. Breathe." A large hand smoothing warm circles firmly across your back; a balm for your restless spirit.

You pause, deep breath in before slowly letting it out, "I think I just need to move around for a bit."

"Let's go for a walk, eh? A quick one and then back to bed. Your mind needs more rest. How's that sound?" He taps your forehead softly.

"Okay, yeah." You nod your head, an approval of his plan.

"Don't worry about it, okay? Everything's gonna be fine. You're gonna be fine."

You nod again, scared your voice will break if you try to speak. He knew that those words held a lot of weight for you, he'd repeated them often throughout this whole process and to hear them now was a reminder of how safe you were. That with him, you would always be safe and loved.

Being dark outside meant you gracelessly padding through the house, up and down the hallway a few times and back to the living room. Harry stays close, encouraging you along with little claps and kisses to motivate you. When your stomach starts to feel uneasy, he urges you once again to take something for nausea. You agree to take a half a pill, knowing it'll help you sleep.

Despite the nap you had earlier and only being awake for a couple of hours, it doesn't take much convincing for you to settle back into bed.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

He's already reclined next to you, book in hand, the soft light from the lamp illuminating one side of his face. You're smushed against him, drifting between that sweet space of almost asleep and wanting to stay awake to enjoy any spare moment you get with him. His hand working through your hair helps push you towards the former of the two.

"I'm sorry to be such a burden today," Your words are slurring together but you continue on, just needing to get your thoughts out before he can stop you, "I don't deserve you and I shouldn't have overreacted so much about something so simple."

"Hey, none of that now," He lays the book on the nightstand, careful to save his place for later before pulling you closer to him, "You were not, nor have you ever been a burden to me. Just because you needed a little extra help today does not mean you aren't deserving of me or my love. You will never have to earn that. It's yours, always has been, will be as long as you decide to keep me around."

"Thank you. For all of it. I'll always want you."

"Always? Y'might change your mind someday, angel."

"I won't. Promise."

"Yeah? Me either."

A kiss laid delicately to the top of your head has your eyes dangerously close to falling shut again before another thought navigates its way through your mind and out of your mouth before you can stop it.

"H..what am I gonna do with a full week off from work?"

"Let me take care of you?"

And that's exactly what he does.

Mornings spent sleeping in, late breakfasts made together and afternoon walks. Evenings consisting of the two of you preparing dinner together or ordering takeout from some of the forbidden places you couldn't eat from before. Mugs of herbal tea before early bedtimes, you sweetly falling asleep to the sound of his voice reading to you most nights.

But his favorite part was that the scent of lavender was no longer cursed for you. Some nights before your surgery, when you simply could not fall asleep the pain was so unbearable, you would fill the tub with hot water and lavender scented bubbles to try to calm yourself enough to be able to drift off afterwards. It never worked, the heat always doing more harm than good. Harry would always be waiting for you, open arms and a soft towel to wrap you in.

So the smell became one you hated, memories of sleepless nights and nausea. But now you were free to use it again for what you always loved it for before it was cursed. In your body wash, lotion, even your laundry detergent; spreading the scent all over your shared space in as many ways as you could.

He even mentions it one night after dinner, when the two of you are pressed impossibly close together on the couch. His nose buried into your neck, inhaling deeply, pulling away to announce, "You smell like you again, love. Missed it so much." He burrows back in, placing kisses from your neck to your shoulder, ignoring your giggles and protests of how much it tickles.

A week later, the alarm wakes you sooner than you've become accustomed to, reminding you of your return to work. Harry's arm thrown over your waist pulls you closer as you try to leave the bed, a sleepy "Don't go." mumbled in your ear.

You do your best to peel yourself away from him, admitting silently to yourself how much harder it is for you to leave the warmth of your bed as it is for him to let you go.

2 years later, you have a scar you swear didn't heal right, and a man who loves you even more because of it.

#harry styles imagine #harry x reader #my writing #so happy this is finally done and being posted!#soooooo many times I almost just deleted it bc I didn't know how to feel about it #but anyway hope y'all enjoy!

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

COMING HOME

Jackson “Jax” Teller x Reader

Anon #1 asked: Jax teller x reader a smuuuuttttttt one pleaseeeee

Anon #2 asked: Oh yay! Bc I really wanted to request something, although if you're not comfortable writing it I totally understand. I wanted to request Jax Teller x reader where the reader is being mistreated (how ever ur comfortable writing that) by a boyfriend and she escapes to the club house where Jax is there late one night, and he ends up taking care of her and comforting her. She tells him she broke things off & he ends up telling her how he feels and it's really fluffy? Or some variation of this.

Warnings: NSFW, smut.

Word Count: 2.3k

Author comments: First time writing for Jax and I don't know what the fuck I did. The story of my life. This work wasn't re-edited, so I'm sorry if you find grammar mistakes! I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @minnicelli ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

When you want to realize, you're stopping dead the wheels of the car in front of the Teller Morrow workshop. Your eyes are filled with tears, running down your cheeks and getting mixed with the blood on your face. It hurts a lot, even the smallest movement you make with your face. There's a gap under your left eye, product of a hit that Larry gave you with one of his golden rings. He also broke your lower lip by a similar punch. You know that tomorrow it's going to be worst. But you can't handle it anymore. Every night is the same shit. Alcohol, drugs and take out his anger with you.

The main door of the clubhouse gets opened. You stand close to your car, with a hand supported on the hood. Your cry stops for a second, watching Jax giving some slow steps towards you somewhat confused. When he notices the blood, he runs faster than never almost colliding with your body. Cupping your cheeks into his hands, the man has a quick look of your face, clicking his tongue before taking off his jacket to place it on your shoulders. You haven't noticed that you're wearing nothing but a long shirt. No pants, no shoes. Nothing. Jax lifts you up between his arms, letting you get a little relaxed knowing that you're already safe.

“What happened?” He asks without looking at you, and his jaw tightening.

You just shrug your shoulders in silence, while he leaves you over his bed. You're not trying to protect your boyfriend, you don't want to see him again after all the pain he provoked you. But seems pretty obvious what happened and why you ran away from your house. Jax have always been so kind and gentle with you, that you thought he was the one who could protect you. You met him almost six years ago, just by a coincidence, and you started to be friends since the first moment you impressed him talking about his bike. And of course, he never liked Larry, knowing the piece of trash he is.

“I'm sor—sorry. I didn't know whe—where to go”.

“Home. You're at home, okay?” He replies, leaning towards the mattress with a knee nailed in to leave a kiss on your forehead. “I'll be back in a second, don' move”.

You simply nod, trying to clean your tears and staining the back of your hands with some blood. Not much after, he comes back from the bathroom carrying some cotton, alcohol and stitches to fix you up. It hurts. The hydrogen peroxide in contact with your skin itches too much. And you're ashamed because of Jax is seeing you falling into pieces, even when he warned you about that guy and what he could do.

“I will leave by morning. Just… please, let me stay tonight”. You beg desperate, pulling away from him your gaze as soon as he finishes of putting the stitches.

“You can stay here all the time you need. There are enough empty dorms. And I will take care of you, so Samcro will too”. Lifting up your face by two fingers under your chin, he forces you to look at him. “I'm gonna give you some clothes, so you can take a shower, okay?”

Helping you to get up from his bed, Jax lets you go barely a few seconds. Enough time to find another shirt and a pair of sweatpants. You take it from his hands, almost caressing it ephemerally, before walk into the bathroom closing the door behind your steps. The warm water finally relax your body, falling all around you from your hair to your toes. You know that the nightmare has ended and that your, now, ex-boyfriend is not going to bother you anymore. Although you can't help but feel somewhat restless, wrapping your body with a towel and sitting on the toilet, having a deep, deep breath.

When you're ready, wearing the clothes that Jax gave you and having a last look in the mirror of your bruised face, you walk out of the bathroom. The man hangs up a call before you can hear anything he's talking about.

“Better?”

“Yes… Thank you”.

“This has to end, (Y/N)”.

You nod licking your lips, standing up close to the bed.

“Tomorrow Chibs, Happy and I will go with you to pick up your things. You can stay here, if you feel safe”. He sentences, knowing that you don't have any option, even if it's the best one. “I can't… see you again like that”.

“I'm sorry, Jax…” You say again, sitting slowly by his side.

“I'm being serious”.

“I know”.

“I told you”.

Seems like he's getting desperate, rubbing his face with both hands and pulling away the short hair back to his nape. You can't help but hug him, wrapping his shoulders with both arms as you sink your face on his neck. It feels good. His smell is enough to make you lost all the fears that were running through your body, knowing that everything is going to get better.

“That asshole doesn't deserve you. You're much more than a one-night-stand. You have to know it”. He mutters holding you a little more tightly.

“Ja—”

Before you can say anything else, not even a word, he lifts up your chin colliding your lips with his. Your heart jumps, racing faster than you could think. And it takes you some seconds to react, but you kiss him back. Slowly. So slowly, enjoying the taste of beer and cigars, while his nervous hands holds your hips wanting you closer if it's possible. When his tongue finds yours looks like an explosion inside your mouth. You were desiring it since you met him, and seems like he was feeling the same way.

“Stay with me”.

One of his hands cups your cheek, tangling the tiptoes in some bristles close to you ear. His nose touching yours, eyes closed, drinking each other's breaths.

“I want you to stay with me, lemme' make it up to you”.

The mutter colliding in your lips makes you nod in silence. Running down his callous hands by your sides, Jax lifts up the Reaper Crew shirt to throw it somewhere, enjoying the views of your bristling nipples calling him. He leans forward to them catching one between his lips and the other with two fingers. One being bitten, the other being pinched. And a soft moan growing in your mouth. He knows exactly what to do, wetting it with his saliva and touring your skin with the tip of his tongue. His free hand travels down right to the waistband of your sweatpants, going under it to lightly touch your beaten clit needed for any kind of caresses. For Jax feels so good find you so wet, only for him. Something that he has been wanting so fucking bad since a long time ago. He curves his finger inside your pussy, slowly, trying to learn every single inch of it and its tightness.

Your hips moving unconsciously looking for more friction when you feel how he is getting harder every second you're on top of him, gasping and begging for more whispering. After taking off his shirt, the man bites your lower lip, pulling away his finger from you just to make you lay down above the mattress. He finally undresses you, being exposed to his blue eyes getting darker and watching how he licks his lips.

“Touch you as I would do it”.

You don't say nothing, opening your legs for the SOA' president and placing them to both sides of his body kneeled on the bed. He's going to remember it his whole life, looking how he follows every move your right hand does. It goes down by your stomach before continuing for the pelvis. You can feel the heat that emanates from your thighs, when you dig a finger in your pussy. Yes, it's wetted like never before. And you start to jerk yourself off, maintaining his lustful gaze, somewhat faster than he did before. The first moan appears when you see him rubbing the lump on his crotch, so needed to feel it inside you.

“Fuck, Jackson…”

“You like it?”

“Yes… Yes…” You try to nod, going a little bit deeper, almost arching your back. “Can you… Can you… Hm… I want a second finger, please…”

“You got it, baby”. He answers hardening his tone.

And you step in another one, containing yourself of gasping too loud, not knowing if someone else is in the clubhouse. You pound your hot pussy imagining that is his cock, spreading more your legs to let Jax sees how much you want him. Your palm almost hitting your entrance, intensifying the uncontrollably sounds your vocals chords utter. You want a third one and a fourth one thrusting you, to compensate that it's not his hand, nor his dick, burning in pleasure and desire.

Jax frees himself of the jeans, showing you that huge erection with some veins marked in, making your mouth watering by imagine how it could feel pressing it to your throat and filling you completely till drown you. His long fingers moving his own sensitive skin from top to bottom, as fast as you're fingering your pussy.

“Put a third one, baby”. He asks you licking his lower lip, not being able to raise the look of your hand.

You obey as the good girl you are, screaming out his name when you push it harder into you. You can't help but intensify the erratic move, provoking him to do the same. You're about to come, squeezing your legs over the sheets, when the older grabs your forearm to pull it away making you growl somewhat upset.

“Lemme' taste you”.

You can't talk. You just nod in silence, watching how he lies down between your legs, putting his arms under them but nailing his hands on your abdomen. His tongue goes slow from your back entrance to the other, tasting and drinking your fluids until he reach your swollen clit. His beard gives you some tickles every time it touches your thighs. Jax gently bite that sensitive part of your body, tangling your wetted fingers in the blonde bristles.

“Cum in my mouth, (Y/N)”

Even if it's a petition, it finally sounds like a command, thrusting two fingers decorated by two gold rings under his tongue. Into you.

“Fuck, Jax!” You cry out, pushing his face closer among your legs.

His tongue feels delicious, moving so fast around your entrance that you can't handle it for much more, while his fingers completes the next level of pleasure you have never felt before. Arching your back at the exact moment your anatomy shakes because of his mouth, he presses his nose against your skin touring your pussy to taste your cum. He can assure that he has never tried something better.

And the man doesn't let you any time to recover yourself, when he's already helping you to sit up.

“All in fours, my love”. He whispers close to your lips, before leaving a smooth kiss on them.

You do, turning your body to support your weight on your palms and knees. Chest resting above the pillow, spreaded legs and waist raised up. Positioning his body not fully naked among your thighs, Jax guides his dick all over your ass and pussy to tease you a little. You can hear the sound of a spittle, feeling it colliding to your entrances, and the saliva running down to the bed, knowing he's gonna fuck you without having to ask for it.

So he does. Nailing his hands on your hips almost hurting you, he digs his cock among your folds, making you scream with broken voice. Far away stayed the slow moves to make you feel loved, pounding you so hard that the headboard collides with the wall. Your moans getting tangled with his guttural growls wandering around the dorm. His lower abdomen hitting your ass once and again, resting your forehead on the pillow, as he goes deep into it. You want more. You couldn't be tired of his thrusts, being satisfied for the first time in years.

Jax is so big. More than he wants to hide under his typical jeans. And it feel so good when you find yourself close to the edge again. The orgasm finds you some hard pounds after, crying loud his full name and making him smirk proud of it.

“I want to cum in that delicious mouth yours, baby… Can I, uh?”

It's pretty fun how he has been giving you orders the whole time, to now ask you for something. How could you even say ‘no’? You raise a hand back to his chest, making him know that you want it too. Quickly, Jax pulls out his throbbing erection, jacking himself off while you lie on your back and he practically sits on your breasts. Taking your nape with his free hand, he lifts up your head until his red glans is above your open lips ready to receive his cum. You step out your tongue at the moment he finally fills your mouth with his hot seed, right to your throat. Jax has to slightly lean his neck back, cursing himself for not being able to see your face. But he does when you swallow his juices, before sucking his cock. Stealing him a loud moan, you press your wall with his glans, tasting the most sweet than bitter fluids on it, licking his skin with your tongue and wetting it with your saliva.

“Good girl, take it all”.

Leaving it there until an arcade appears, you feel one of his hands touching your pussy again, soaking it with your jizz before lying by your side. Then, he brings his fingers to your mouth, enjoying the way you have to lick them so calm and slow that you could make him fall into the ecstasy again. His lips finds yours, with that mix of alcohol and your delicious cums on your tongues.

Jax takes the advantage of get full undressed, before getting comfy close to you, with tired and short kisses traveling all around your face.

“Will you lemme take care of you?”

You nod in silence, trying to catch back your breathe and placing a shaky leg surrounding his waist. He caresses it with his right hand, putting the left arm under your neck to hold you closer.

“I love you, (Y/N)”. He mutters into your lips, drawing a goofy smile on the corner of your lips.

“I love you, Jax”.

#sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy #jax teller #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #jackson jax teller x reader #jackson teller #jackson teller x reader

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mybiasisexo · 3 years

Text

Reverent

Genre: Angst | Fallen Angel!au

Pairing: Suho x Reader

Length: 1.8k

Warning: Religion (?) | Blasphamy (?)

Summary: Suho’s dull life takes quite the turn when he stumbles across a beautiful demon

Author’s Note: @byunfirstlady here is the roughest of rough drafts of the angel!suho fic I promised like 2 years ago smh. I really need to give it the attention it deserves bc it could really, truly, be something great. Until then, here is what I have for now. Mind you it is not edited and I plan on changing a lot of things about it, but I really like the narration, idk, its kinda beautiful??? Title is also a WIP

MASTERLIST

credit

What do you miss?

That was the question Suho thought constantly. It repeatedly flowed through his brain. Oh, so many answers to the question! But, undeniably, being in good grace was the most regretful.

He made his choices, fair enough. Some would say he shouldn’t had been able to do that much, he knew all too well, free will wasn’t of his domain. Yet, look where it got him.

Trapped. Stranded on an insignificant sphere that twirled around mockingly as a cruel reminder of all that he had lost.

Time to him meant absolutely nothing. It was yet another thing out of his domain, but some years such as this, he dreaded the slowness of it. Dreaded the reminder that he was stuck in this vacuum they called Earth, waiting for a day that will never come.

For him to finally be forgiven.

His eyes squinted as he took in the corn yellow sun. It was almost blindingly white, as if life itself had sucked away all of the vibrant hue. This part of the world was like that: dreary. Filled with washed out blues and browns, dusty and dry. It wasn’t a place he preferred, he found himself more at home in large metropolises, surrounded by people too busy to recognize such a raw entity, although they could still tell when around his presence that something was…off.

It was a blessing and a curse, Suho supposed, his soul. If he even had one. If he could even call it that. That was the one thing that reminded him of who he truly was. After being stripped of everything, that was all He left him with. Naked, shaking in humility, bleeding for the first time, and radiant.

He could leave the holy place, but it would always reside within him.

Lately, he felt lonely.

That’s what had brought him here—the loneliness. Being imprisoned upon the Earth for as long as he had, you grew to become lonesome. There were many ways to try to compete with it, but as long as he was an outcast, he would forever be lost in his isolation.

His closest friend throughout it all was the sun. The bright mass of energy that warmed his hard skin always reminded him of the love he once had—that he still had. The sun kept his faith alive. And as it rose in the morning, it brought with it the start of a new beginning.

He could never turn back time.

That was probably why he disdained the word so much.

His attention was pulled away from the hovering orb, brought to the young man of which he came for. The boy with the brazen skin.

He was beautiful, this could not be denied. As he rushed out of his house, keys clanking in his awkwardly large hand. He was late again. Suho tisked, but his eyes widened with what followed after the boy.

An unfamiliar woman trailed behind him, not nearly in as much a hurry as the one before her. Her face was otherworldly beautiful, built to invite, built to seduce.

The boy was in the car in no time, speeding away in a hurry, leaving dust in his wake.

The woman stopped, not taking after him. Instead, she lifted her head and locked eyes solidly with Suho.

He gasped as she smiled angelically and then the dust lifted, barricading her from view.

Once it settled again, she was gone.

~*~

Suho could barely recall the last time he saw another one of the Fallen. About fifty years, give or take. A demon? It had been a bit longer. There were fewer of them, although some of the fallen seek refuge under the dark wings of the under lord. It was why they were created after all, to follow, to serve. If not to Him than to his enemy. The two of them were more similar than they thought, although Suho would never dream of telling either one—not like he would ever get the chance to. Lucifer terrified him and God… well, they weren’t exactly on speaking terms.

Even though it had been a while, he recognized a demon when he saw one. What did she want with the boy? Puzzled, Suho pondered what drew the creature to him in the first place.

Speaking of places, this wasn’t Suho’s at all. He never considered himself a vigilante, as many other Fallen do. Their sense of purpose and protection overwhelming them to do right. That was mostly those who were guardians in the past. Suho was not in that field. No. This foreign sense of concern drew from something else entirely. He bit his lip, curling the warm mug in his hands closer to himself as he fought off the strange feeling fogging his mind.

The demon, right.

Demons were sent to Earth from the Under Lord to do his biddings. Simply, to coerce as many humans as they could. Drag them back to hell so that He could mourn the loss of yet another of his fragile creatures. Suho understood enough to know Lucifer took great pride in hurting Him however he could. Another lost soul was a victory to him.

She must have saw something within that boy to make her decide to latch. Suho had been watching him for a while now, and this was the first he had seen of the dark entity. Maybe she felt it…. No, there was no way. Suho was being careful, meticulously so. There was no room for error as far as his involvement and he meant to keep it that way.

He was that boy’s protector, now more than ever, he had a duty to him.

It felt good, having a purpose again. He had lost it centuries ago—a real duty, a call to be good.

Maybe after all of this was done, he would again be in His good grace. But it was still a wistful wish, one he refused to humor until it happened.

“Would you like another one, Sir?”

Suho lifted his head to the waitress and despite being a regular at this point, she still stuttered at his beauty.

He smiled, white teeth on display and her breath caught in her throat. “Please.”

~*~

A week had gone by without any sight of the demon. Suho tried to mask his disappointment with relief. It wasn’t as though he wanted anything to come to the boy, but it had been so long since he had been in contact with one of his own, demon or not. She had to have some sort of connection to their shared past.

He knew how demons worked.

Once they found a person to leech off of, they attached until their job was done, or the person fought them off. Suho watched an exorcism once. It was one of the hardest things he ever had to witness. That was a long time ago, using different methods, different practices. All the same, it was a memory that, to this day, gave him chills.

The boy was a religious man, oddly enough. Suho didn’t understand how, but every Sunday, he found himself at the local church, sitting in the back, listening to the spoken word.

He used to pray, but hadn’t in years. He wondered if it were his place too, if God ever listened to him or others like him. Or, like everything else, if it were only for them.

He was running late this Sunday. It was well into mass when he rushed towards the small, yet still elegant tan bricked church.

His quick steps came to a stop when he saw someone leaning against the wall, cigarette in hand. She wore torn leather pants that hung dangerously low on her wide hips, an equally as torn black wife beater that appeared more of a well-used rag than anything else as it barely covered the swell of her breasts, though her toned stomach was exposed. Her belly botton was pierced and a faded tattoo splayed over her abdomen. He couldn’t make out the word from this distance and the ink blended into her skin. A small black denim vest sat on her shoulders, leaving her arms exposed, tattoos dotted the limbs as well. Her jet black straight hair hung loosly. It was time for her to wash it. Her face, again, was angelic, despite her best efforts to be anything but. Big stunning round eyes surrounded by long eyelashes that brushed her chiseled cheeks whenever she blinked. Nose a button on the center of her face, lips full and pink, cheeks rosy, and skin flawless, not a blemish in sight.

He had her full attention as well. She took him in with a pleased smile, holding the cigarette up. “You think this will kill me?”

Her voice was just as attractive as her face, and the way she tilted her head left Suho breathless. He couldn’t seem to find his voice, struck dumb by her large presence. It had been a moment since he saw one of his kind, but he never felt a presence as strong as hers.

She noticed.

Never breaking eye contact, she dropped the small stick, putting it out with the heel of her boot. Than she motioned her thumb towards the building she currently leaned against where he could faintly make out singing.

“They won’t let me in. I thought this place welcomed all.”

“Why are you here?” He worked up the courage to ask. He knew why, but wanted her to say it.

She shrugged. “Thought our old man would be happy to see me.” She shoved her hands into the pocket of her jeans. “Guess not.”

“Do… Do I know you?” Suho pressed. There were hundreds of angels, all with a specific role/job. It was impossible to know them all, especially if this were someone who fell after him, but her energy was strong—too strong to be newer than him.

She shrugged again. “Maybe. When did you fall?”

“When did you?”

“Oh, so you’re the one in charge here I see.” She laughed, pushing herself off the building to come closer. “What’s your name, tough guy?”

Her breath smelled sweet. He hadn’t been this close to a demon before, refusing to have anything to do with them. They were everything He hated, everything He feared. He wanted nothing against those who had turned their backs completely from Him.

All the same, he felt complied to answer. “This land refers to me as Suho.”

“Suho,” she repeated, letting the word swirl around her wet tongue. “Korean, correct? Makes sense, that’s where we are.”

“It means—”

“Guardian.” She interrupted. “Fitting. You must’ve been one in your past life.”

His jaw clenched and she noticed.

“I’m sorry,” she said, not sounding apologetic in the slightest.

#Suho scenarios #exo scenarios #suho #suho scenario #exo scenario #suho drabbles #suho drabble #exo drabbles #exo drabble #suho oneshots #suho oneshot #exo oneshot #exo oneshots

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dreamersscape · 5 years

Text

The Raven Cycle: A Liveblog (Part 4)

(Let’s just pretend the gap since my last installment was a much shorter and more reasonable period of time than it has actually been, shall we? I tried to make up for it with the length of this edition. Suuuuuper long post under the cut.)

Me, reading TDT’s opening quotations: Okay, yes, good. Taking things out of your dreams into the waking world. Got it.

Me, reading the last quote: ‘I loathe people who keep dogs. They are cowards who haven’t got the guts to bite people themselves.’?

YOU UNDERSTAND NOTHING OF MY PEOPLE, AUSTIN STRINDBERG. GET THEE HENCE.

‘He always returned with gifts, treasure, and unimaginable amounts of money, but to Ronan, the most wondrous thing was Niall himself. Every parting felt like it would be the last, and so every return was like a miracle.’ RONANNNNNNN. (Is it weird that it feels like Ronan is supposed to be my favorite bc he seems closest to my type and goodness knows I can relate to the grieving-a-father feels, but that’s not really the case so far? I love him dearly, but it feels like I should love him more. Weird? Not weird? I dunno.)

*carefully takes notes about the alleged details of Ronan’s birth because I know now every minor detail is actually Very Important*

‘Theoretically, Blue Sargent was probably going to kill one of these boys.’ Oh, good, it’s only a theoretical death. Glad we got that sorted out. Guess I can stop worrying about it now, right? :P

'Adam’s hand glided over her bare elbow. The touch was a whisper in a language she didn’t speak very well.’ I really like this line! Also, somewhat sadly, relateable.

'It had five tiny white buttons: four arranged in a cross shape, and one off by itself. To Blue, that fifth button was like Adam. Still working toward the same purpose as the other four. But no longer quite as close as the others.’ Oh, so we’re going to make my heart hurt over Adam Parrish in the first ten pages of the book. Fine.

'In that moment, Blue was a little in love with all of them. Their magic. Their quest. Their awfulness and strangeness. Her raven boys.’ Aw, those lines sound familiar. ;) And we’re all right there with ya, Blue.

'The dorms were emptier than they would’ve been during school term, but they were not empty.’ Whoops unrelated-to-TRC-but-nevertheless-on-brand feels ahoy.

So it’s been long enough since I read TRB that I can’t recall if I had any particular feelings about Declan then, but definitely feeling pretty sympathetic towards him now, what with his father’s seeming dismissive attitude toward him and the assault from this Gray Man. Also, have I read the word Greywaren before? Not sure.

Oh. So Ronan is the Greywaren, then. Guess that answers that.

’Mom is nothing without him’? Woooow, Declan. Wow. A bit less sympathy, now. (Maybe there’s something about their mother I don’t know yet, but still…)

’Creature was a good word for him, Ronan thought.’ Oof. He’s gonna make me eat my words, isn’t he? I already said I love you dearly, Ronan!

And now he’s gonna divert himself from his unpleasant thoughts with an external distraction. Oh good. That doesn’t mirror any of my other favorite characters at all.

'Back then, it had surprised Ronan; he hadn’t realized yet that Gansey could persuade even the sun to pause and give him the time.’ [drags a hand slowly down my face] Don’t do this to me, Maggie. Haven’t you already put me through enough with Adam and Gansey?

'His thoughtless expression was one of wonder or of pain; with Gansey they were so often the same thing.’ Well that–that’s a sentence.

’“Ronan, there’s no reason for that,” Gansey said sternly, as if Ronan had hurled a toy on the floor.’ Gonna start listing all the mom-friend!Gansey moments, 'cause I gotta.

'He laughed enough that Chainsaw abandoned her paper shredding to verify he wasn’t dying.’ This is cute, other than the implication that Ronan genuinely laughing is a all-too-rare occurrence.

’“So what you’re saying is you can’t explain it.” “I did explain it.” “No, you used nouns and verbs together in a pleasing but illogical format.”’ Hee!

I half expect tired-of-potential-and-only-being-useful-needing-something-more!Blue to break out singing ’I want much more than this provincial life/I want adventure in the great wide somewhere/I want it more than I can tell’ and I don’t say that at all in a disparaging way, that’s just what it made me think of. It’s a very understandable desire on Blue’s part.

’“Jane!” Gansey said joyfully.’ I will never tire of this. :)

'When she returned, she leaned on the table beside Adam, who touched her wrist. She didn’t know what to do in response. Touch it back? The moment had passed. She resented her body for not giving her the correct answer.’ So! Freaking! Relateable!

'Kavinsky headed directly to the large table in the back, and the postures of the other boys all changed drastically….Gansey stood, leaning against the table, and there was something threatening rather than respectful about it.’ I live a protective!Gansey appreciation life.

The Gray Man is quite a character.

Ummmm so chapter eight just hurt my soul a whole lot? Here’s a list of the culprits:

'He’d spent just two hours at the easiest of the jobs — Boyd’s Body & Paint, LLC, replacing brake pads and changing oil and finding what was making that squeaking noise there, no, there — and now, even though he was off, he was ruined for anything else. Sticky and sore and, above all else, tired, always tired.’

'The only rub was, Blue was another troubling thing. She was like Gansey in that she wanted him to explain himself. What do you want, Adam? What do you need, Adam? Want and need were words that got eaten smaller and smaller: freedom, autonomy, a perennial bank balance, a stainless-steel condo in a dustless city, a silky black car, to make out with Blue, eight hours of sleep, a cell phone, a bed, to kiss Blue just once, a blister-less heel, bacon for breakfast, to hold Blue’s hand, one hour of sleep, toilet paper, deodorant, a soda, a minute to close his eyes. What do you want, Adam? To feel awake when my eyes are open.’ (This hurt less than the 'to go home, to go home, to go home’ passage, but ONLY JUST.)

'He’d already seen the ignored, unopened envelope emblazoned with Aglionby Academy’s raven crest. For two days he’d been stepping over it, as if it might disappear if he failed to acknowledge it.’ (Ah, hello avoidant coping skills, my old friend.)

’[Adam] ached inside.’/'He still ached.’/'his spine aching, shoulders aching, soul aching’

'They stared at each other, both hurt.’/'He tried not to let it sound like he was still hurt, but he was, and it did.’/'She tried not to let it sound like she was hurt, but she was, and it did.’

’What do you want, Adam? He didn’t even know.’ (T.T)

'His wide eyes and gaunt face peered back at him, troubled but not unusual.’

I’m so done, he thought. No more. Please, I can’t take any more.’ (SAME.)

'The difference in tuition between this year’s and next was twenty-four hundred dollars. That number again. It couldn’t be a coincidence.’ (SERIOUSLY THOUGH, I CAN’T TAKE ANYMORE GANSEY/ADAM TENSION/CONFLICT/FIGHTING. WHEN DO WE GET TO THE GETTING BETTER PART?)

'They couldn’t hurt Gansey. Nothing could hurt him; people who said money couldn’t buy everything hadn’t seen anyone as rich as the Aglionby boys. They were untouchable, immune to life’s troubles. Only death couldn’t be swiped away by a credit card.’ (Oh Adam honey, you don’t even knooooow. :()

Adam! Some people show and feel love through acts of service! It’s not an inherently bad thing! Concern and the desire to help are not the same thing as pity!

Also, Blue’s “Then don’t be pitiful!” response was kinda strange, even for an impulsively perturbed remark? Just felt weird.

'She was looking at the box that served as his nightstand. Somehow it had moved several feet away from the bed. The side was badly dented, its former contents scattered violently across the floor. Only now did he remember the act of kicking the box, but not the decision to kick it.’ (Crap.)

'He calmed enough to remember that if he waited long enough, carefully analyzing how it felt, the emotion would lose its inertia. It was the same as physical pain. The more he tried to mentally decide what made pain hurt, the less his brain seemed able to remember the pain at all.’

'He’d never escape, not really. Too much monster blood in him. He’d left the den, but his breeding betrayed him. And he knew why he was pitiful. It wasn’t because he had to pay for his school or because he had to work for a living. It was because he was trying to be something he could never be. The sham was pitiful.’

'Some nights he lured himself to sleep by imagining how he would word the favor for Glendower. He needed to get the words exactly right. Now he rolled phrases around his mouth, desperately reaching for one that would comfort him. Ordinarily, words would tumble and lull through his mind, but this time, all he could think was Fix me.’ (On a related note, I’m dead.)

'He had a strange, disconcerting feeling that he couldn’t trust his senses. Like he was tasting an image or smelling a feeling or touching a sound. It was the same as just a few minutes before, the idea that he’d glimpsed a slightly wrong reflection of himself. Adam’s previous worries vanished, replaced with a more immediate concern for this ragged body he was carting around in. He’d been hit so many times. He’d already lost his hearing in his left ear. Maybe something else had been destroyed on one of those tense, wretched nights.’ (*Spontaneously revives to continue worrying myself to death over Adam Parrish* WHY CAN’T I TAKE CARE OF HIM?)

'Ronan, Noah, and Gansey were at the Dollar City in Henrietta, loitering. Theoretically, they were there for batteries. Practically, they were there because both Blue and Adam had work, Ronan’s shapeless anger always got worse at night, and Dollar City was one of the few stores in Henrietta that allowed pets.’ These stupid codependent teens.

“Hello? Oh, hey,” Gansey said to the phone, touching a notebook with a handgun printed on the cover. The oh, hey was accompanied by a definite change in the timbre of his voice. That meant it was Adam’ [tries to feel the joy I deserve at this past my intense anxiety about the probable clashing over the tuition thing]

'Ronan rested his forehead on the topmost shelf. The metal edge snarled against his skull, but he didn’t move. At night, the longing for home was ceaseless and omniscient, an airborne contaminant. He saw it in Dollar City’s cheap oven mitts — that was his mother at dinnertime. He heard it in the slam of the cash register drawer — that was his father coming home at midnight. He smelled it in the sudden whiff of air freshener — that was the family trips to New York. Home was so close at night. He could be there in twenty minutes. He wanted to smash everything off these shelves.’ He and Adam both want to go hoooome and I wish I could provide that for them and turns out I am actually Gansey.

'“Glitter,” whispered Noah reverentially, giving it a shake.’ Truly Noah is their light in the darkness. I LOVE HIM SO MUCHHHH.

'Farther down the aisle, Gansey suggested to the phone, “You could come stay at Monmouth. For the night.”’ Like I said. Also, I really, really wish I could hear both sides of this phone conversation.

'Sometimes Ronan thought Adam was so used to the right way being painful that he doubted any path that didn’t come with agony.’ I mean, fair. And heartbreaking.

'Gansey’s back was turned to them. “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Ramirez? I didn’t talk to anyone at the church. Yes, twenty-four hundred dollars. I know that part. I —”’ Oh no. It’s happening.

'But one of the marvelous things about being Ronan Lynch was that no one ever expected him to do anything nice for anyone.’ I would hug you Ronan, except there is now more Adam 'n’ Gansey friction and I’m really bad at handling it!

'Abruptly, Ronan’s entire body went cold. Not a little chilly, but utterly cold. The sort of cold that dries the mouth and slows the blood. His toes went numb, and then his fingers….Then Noah reappeared in a violent sputter, like the power crackling back on. His fingers clutched Ronan’s arm. Cold seeped from the point of contact as Noah dragged heat to become visible.’ Oh, so Noah can do that with Ronan too? Because of his greywaren-ness?

'“I lost …” Noah struggled for words. “There wasn’t air. It went away. The — the line!” “The ley line?” Gansey asked. Noah nodded once, a sloppy thing that was sort of a shrug at the same time. “There was nothing … left for me.”’ Not allowed. Just saying.

'He didn’t say, Or maybe something terrible happened to Adam that day he sacrificed himself in Cabeswater. Maybe he’s messed up all of Henrietta by waking up the ley line. Because they couldn’t talk about that. Just like they couldn’t talk about Adam stealing the Camaro that night. Or about him basically doing everything Gansey had asked him not to. If Adam was stupid about his pride, Gansey was stupid about Adam.’ Yes, we know. :)

'From Ronan’s room, he heard Noah’s laugh. He and Ronan were throwing various objects from the second-story window to the parking lot below. There was a terrific crash.’ Having witnessed my younger brother doing basically the same thing once, I can vouch for the authenticity of this teenage-boy activity.

'Once, he had dreamt that he found Glendower. It wasn’t the actual finding, but the day after. He wouldn’t forget the sensation of the dream. It hadn’t been joy, but instead, the absence of pain. He couldn’t forget that lightness. The freedom.’ Yeah, don’t we all dream about the absence of pain. *buries face in hands* OH GANSEY BOY.

’“Do you want me to talk to her?” This was something he definitely, 100 percent felt certain in his guts that he had no interest in doing. “I’m really bad at talking, Gansey,” Adam said earnestly. “And you’re really good at it. Maybe — maybe if it just comes up natural?” Gansey’s shoulders collapsed; his breath fogged the glass and vanished. “Of course.” “Thanks.” Adam paused. “I just want something to be simple.” So do I, Adam. So do I.’ This right here? This A Whoooole Lot. Is there anything you wouldn’t do for Adam if he asked, Gansey?

'Noah slouched in. In a wounded tone, he said, “He threw me out the window!” Ronan’s voice sang out from behind his closed door: “You’re already dead!”’ OH. MY. GOODNESS.

’"You should come over.” “Not tonight,” replied Adam. I’m losing him, Gansey thought. I’m losing him to Cabeswater. He had thought that by staying away from the forest, he’d keep the old Adam — put off the consequences of whatever had happened that night when everything started to go awry. But maybe it just didn’t matter. Cabeswater would take him regardless.’ I dream of the absence of pain!!!

'His skin shivered and crawled, and he realized it was crawling with hornets, the ones that had killed Gansey all those years ago. There weren’t many this time, only a few hundred. Sometimes he dreamt cars full of them, houses full of them, worlds full of them. Sometimes these hornets killed Ronan, too, in his dreams.’ Oh, Ronan.

’Arbores loqui latine. The trees speak Latin. “You’ve done this before,” she said. Time was a circle, a rut, a worn tape Ronan never tired of playing.’ Huh. Has Ronan been dreaming of Cabeswater for years and years?

'Curled on the mattress, [Adam] covered his face with his summer-hot arm. Sometimes, if he blocked his mouth and nose, just this side of suffocation, sleep would overthrow him.’ THAT DOESN’T SOUND HEALTHY, MY BOY. :(

'He was awake enough to think of the invitation from Gansey. There might be an internship in there. Adam knew it was a favor. Did that make it wrong? He’d said no for so long that he didn’t know when to say yes….He hated the careful way Gansey had asked him about it. Tiptoeing, just like Adam had learned to tiptoe around his father. He needed a reset button. Just push the reset button on Adam Parrish and start him again.’ I am sad. (But maaaaybe he’s starting to reconsider the idea that he can never accept hep of any kind?)

'After he had exhausted this line of thought, Ronan gave in to the brief privilege of hating himself, as he always did in church. There was something satisfying about acknowledging this hatred, something relieving about this little present he allowed himself each Sunday.’ Oh, Ronan.

'“Hey, pal,” Matthew whispered. He was the only person who could get away with calling Ronan pal.’ Awww. :)

'Matthew Lynch was a bear of a boy, square and solid and earnest. His head was covered with soft, golden curls completely unlike any of his other family members. And in his case, the perfect Lynch teeth were framed by an easy, dimpled smile. He had two brands of smile: the one that was preceded by a shy dip of his chin, a dimple, and then BAM, smile. And the one that teased for a moment before BAM, an infectious laugh. Females of all ages called him adorable. Males of all ages called him buddy. Matthew failed at many more things than either of his older brothers, but unlike Declan or Ronan, he always tried his hardest.’ Whoops, I’m attached.

'Ronan had dreamt one thousand nightmares about something happening to him.’ *rubs heart*

'A lady reached over the top of Noah to pat Matthew’s head fondly before continuing down the aisle. She didn’t seem to care that he was fifteen, which was all right, because he didn’t, either. Both Ronan and Declan observed this interaction with the pleased expressions of parents watching their prodigy at work.’ Once again: Awww. :)

'Blue very much liked having the boys over to her house. Their presence at the house was agreeable for several different reasons….And the third reason was that it suggested permanence. Blue had acquaintances at school, people she liked. But they weren’t forever. While she was friendly with a lot of them, there was no one that she wanted to commit to for a lifetime. And she knew this was her fault. She’d never been any good at having casual friends. For Blue, there was family — which had never been about blood relation at 300 Fox Way — and then there was everyone else. When the boys came to her house, they stopped being everyone else.’ THEY’RE FAMILY NOW. <3

'Crossly, Blue realized that Gansey had now called her Jane so often that it felt strange to hear him say her real name.’ Embrace it, Blue. Embraaace it. :D

'He hid the insatiable wanting well, but now that she’d seen it once, she couldn’t stop seeing it. But he wouldn’t be able to explain it to Maura. And he would never really have to explain it to Blue. It was his something more.’ Awww. :)

(Sorry this liveblog is devolving mostly into either EVERYTHING IS TERRIBLE or But this is cute! and if that is starting to become boring…)

’"What did they die of?” “Mom always said ‘meddling.’ Gansey completely forgot they were being secretive and let out a tremendous laugh. It was a powerful thing, that laugh. He only did it once, but his eyes remained shaped like it. Something inside her did a complicated tug. Oh no! she thought. But then she calmed herself. Richard C. Gansey III has a nice mouth. Now I know he has nice eyes when he laughs, too. This still isn’t love. She also thought: Adam. Remember Adam.’ 1.) I hope this line of rationalization works out for you, Blue. ;) 2.) I am still feeling torn, though. Blue and Adam are cute together. 3.) I’d be okay with a Blue-Gansey-Adam OT3 though.

'Maura frowned. In a low voice, she said, “I think I need to have a conversation with that boy.” “Someone does,” Calla replied, heading up the stairs. Each stair groaned a protest for which she punished the next with a stomp. “Not me. I’ve outgrown train wrecks.” Blue, alarmed, said, “Is he a train wreck?”| Her mother clucked her tongue. “Calla likes drama. Train wreck! When a train takes a long time to go off the tracks, I don’t like to call it a wreck. I like to call it a derailment.” From upstairs, Blue heard Calla’s delighted cackle. “I hate both of you,” Blue said as her mother laughed and galloped up the stairs to join Calla. “You’re supposed to use your powers for good, you know!” After a moment, Adam said to her, without lifting his eyes, “I could hear y’all, you know.” Blue hoped fervently that he was only talking about Maura and Calla and not about her kitchen conversation with Gansey. “Do you think you’re a train wreck?” “That would mean I was on the tracks to start with,” he replied.’ I would just like to say that I am miffed by this passage on Adam’s behalf. Thank you.

The chapter where Mr. Gray comes to 300 Fox Way was… interesting.

'Gansey, a furious sun, glowed from the other side of the universe, his gravitational pull too distant to affect Adam.’ WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME MAGGIE I CAN NEVER RECOVER.

So yeah, I just read the part where Adam is thinking back to how he and Gansey became friends and I think my heart just burst from emotional overload.

'Sometimes Adam wondered what would’ve happened if he hadn’t stopped that day. What would be happening to him right now?’ Sometimes, Allan wondered what would’ve happened if Robin hadn’t stepped out of the trees that day. What would be happening to him right now? SORRY, I HAVE A PROBLEM.

Also, it only just occurred to me that Allan and Adam are A-names and Robin and Richard (even if that’s not what Gansey goes by) are R-names. This makes me so unreasonably happy!

'Gansey was giddy now that they’d decided to go back to Cabeswater. He hated nothing more than standing still. He ordered Ronan to put on some terrible music — Ronan was always too happy to oblige in this department — and then he abused the Camaro at every stoplight on the way out of town. “Put your back into it!” Gansey shouted breathlessly. He was talking to himself, of course, or to the gearbox. “Don’t let it smell fear on you!” Blue wailed each time the engine revved up, but not unhappily. Noah played the drums on the back of Ronan’s headrest. Adam, for his part, was not wild, but he did his best not to appear unwild, so as not to ruin it for the others.’ REEELATABLLLLE!!!

'Adam felt like he was watching it all from outside. He felt like he was about to catch another image, like a flick of the tarot cards he’d looked at earlier. Was that someone standing by the side of the road? I can’t trust my eyes.’ Leave him aloooone. :(

'Gansey leaned back, head thrown to the side, drunken and silly with happiness. “I love this car,” he said, loud to be heard over the engine. “I should buy four more of them. I’ll just open the door of one to fall into the other. One can be a living room, one can be my kitchen, I’ll sleep in one …” “And the fourth? Butler’s pantry?” Blue shouted. “Don’t be so selfish. Guest room.”’ He’s adorable.

Huh. Cabeswater’s gone!

'Adam felt that the Pig’s status perfectly encapsulated how he felt. It was not really dead, just broken. He was held inside the question of what it meant for him if Cabeswater was gone. Why can’t things just be simple?’ While this is a legitimate concern, Adam, to be fair, just a few moments ago you were worrying about was going to happen when you returned to Cabeswater for the first time after your sacrifice. Poor guy’s anxious over everything. :/

'Ronan leapt out of the car and slammed the door. The thing about Ronan Lynch, Adam had discovered, was that he wouldn’t — or couldn’t — express himself with words. So every emotion had to be spelled out in some other way. A fist, a fire, a bottle. Now Cabeswater was missing and the Pig was hobbled, and he needed to go have a silent shouting fit with his body. In the back window, Adam saw Ronan pick up a rock from the side of the road and hurl it into the creeper. “Well, that’s helpful,” Blue said tersely.’ 1.) [Fond but exasperated] Oh Ronan. 2.) I appreciate your reaction, Blue. You’re not wrong.

'“I’m calling Declan,” Gansey said. “And telling him to bring a battery.” Ronan told Gansey what he thought of this plan, very precisely, with a lot of compound words that even Adam hadn’t heard before. Gansey nodded, but he also dialed Declan’s number. Afterward, he turned to Ronan, who leaned his cheek hard enough against the top of the window to make a dent in his skin.’ Please stop dealing with difficult emotions/situations by causing yourself pain, Ronan, honey.

'Gansey rounded on Adam, clutching his own headrest and looking behind him. “Why is it gone?”’ Why is my mental picture of this so endearing?

'Declan’s Volvo glided up, as quiet as the Pig was loud. Ronan said, “Move up, move up” to Blue until she scooted the passenger seat far enough for him to clamber behind it into the backseat. He hurriedly sprawled back in the seat, throwing one jean-covered leg over the top of Adam’s and laying his head in a posture of thoughtless abandon. By the time Declan arrived at the driver’s side window, Ronan looked as if he had been asleep for days.’ Oh, Ronan. What am I going to do with you?

'And as he sat there, observing the set of Declan’s shoulders and the way his eyes looked, he realized something startling. Declan was afraid. Probably it wasn’t apparent to Gansey, who was fairly oblivious, nor to Blue, who didn’t know what Declan looked like ordinarily. And Ronan’s feelings about his older brother were like blood in the water; he wouldn’t be able to see through the bilious clouds. But to Adam, who’d spent a fair amount of his life afraid — not only afraid, but trying to hide it — it was obvious.’ [Gansey voice] I am right to have Allan feels here and I will not be made to feel bad about it! (Also, in blast-from-the-past news, I’m really close to finally done with putting my anxiety-and-Allan thoughts into words and I’m excited for that.)

I love when Noah senses one of the other boys is in distress and goes to them and does his ghostly best to comfort or assist them. <3

'He thought about the day he’d been stung to death by hornets and lived anyway. Gansey ran over the memory until he no longer felt the thrill of hearing Glendower’s name whispered in his ear, and then instead gave himself over to feeling sorry for himself, that he should have so many friends and yet feel so very alone. He felt it fell to him to comfort them, but never the other way around. As it should be, he thought, abruptly angry with himself. You’ve had it the easiest. What good is all your privilege, you soft, spoiled thing, if you can’t stand on your own legs? ’ OH HONEY :( (But Noah does try!)

'“It’s not just the blood,” Ronan said. His chest moved up and down with his breath. “Something else got out, too.”’ Uh-oh.

Phew. They dispatched the nightmare creature while remaining mostly unscathed. Although they needn’t go around asking each other, "Are you murdered?” with the reply, “I think so.” anymore, please.

'“There was another one,” he said. “It got away.”’ Well, that’s not good!

'“It’s for the distasteful thing,” Gansey said. He plucked at the T-shirt with deprecating fingers. “I’m rather slovenly at the moment, I know.”’ [Fond, amused sputtering]

Oh, they’re going to the Barns!

'Gansey, a bit of the gallows in his voice, advised, “Poke its eye.”’ [Confused, taken-aback sputtering]

'“It feels the same as when you guys lived here,” Gansey said finally. “It seems like it should be different.” “Did you come here a lot?” Blue asked. He exchanged a glance with Ronan. “Often enough.” He didn’t say what Ronan was thinking, which was that Gansey was far more of a brother to Ronan than Declan had ever been.’ Brothers <3<3<3

'Ronan loved it so much. He nearly couldn’t bear it. He wanted to destroy something.’ That’s…one reaction to profound love. (Yes, I know. Profound love for something that’s been stripped away from you.)

'“Ronan Lynch,” he said. It was the voice Ronan couldn’t not listen to. It was sure in every way that Ronan was not. “Stop this right now. Go see your mother. And then we’re leaving.”’ More Mom-Friend!Gansey.

'Ronan walked directly up to her, close enough to see that she had not changed a bit since the last time he had seen her, months and months ago. Though his breath moved the fine hairs around her temples, she didn’t react to her son’s presence. Her chest rose and fell. Her eyes stayed closed. Non mortem, somni fratrem. Not death, but his brother, sleep. Blue whispered, “Just like the other animals.” The truth — he’d known it all along, really, if he thought about it — burrowed into him. Blue was right. His home was populated by things and creatures from Niall Lynch’s dreams, and his mother was just another one of them.’ Huh.

'My soul’s in enough peril as it is.” At this, Gansey’s face turned to a genuine frown and he looked as if he was about to say something. Then he just shook his head a little….“She didn’t try to see the future. It’s not something she became; it’s something she is. I could just as easily say that you’re evil because you can take things from your dreams!” Ronan said, “Yeah, you could.” Gansey’s frown deepened. Again he opened his mouth and closed it.’ Same, Gansey. Same.

'Ronan looked at him. That look, Blue thought. Ronan Lynch would do anything for Gansey. I probably would, too, she thought.’ If only he knew it. *rubs heart*

'Blue and Gansey exchanged a look. Blue’s look said, I’m so, so sorry. Gansey’s said, Am I the pretty one?’ Bless his cotton socks.

'Ronan thought of what Declan had said all those months before: Mom is nothing without Dad. He’d been right.’ Okay, but does Declan know about this stuff and how it works?

'Ronan interrupted the silence. “Cabeswater. Cabeswater is a dream.” Calla stopped rotating. “You don’t have to tell me I’m right,” Ronan said. He thought of all the times he had dreamt of Cabeswater’s old trees; how familiar it had felt to walk there; how the trees had known his name. He was tangled in their roots, somehow, and they, in his veins. “If Mom is in Cabeswater, she’ll wake up.” Calla stared at him. Silence was never a wrong answer.’ Okay then.

'But those words of Declan’s needled Ronan: She’s nothing without Dad. It was like he knew. Ronan wanted badly to know how much Declan knew, but it wasn’t like he could ask him.’ No, that would be too easy.

'“Says you and Dad were both dreamers,” Matthew said, “and you’re going to make us lose everything.” Ronan sat very still. He was so still so quickly that Chainsaw froze as well, her head tilted toward the youngest Lynch brother, purloined tuna sandwich forgotten. Declan knew about their father. Declan knew about their mother. Declan knew about him.’ Curious. Very curious.

The Gray Man is going to Monmouth Manufacturing!

'He had spent forty-eight hours more or less awake and restless and then, on the third day, he had bought a side-scan sonar device, two window airconditioners, a leather sofa, and a pool table. “Now do you feel better?” Adam had asked drily. Gansey had replied, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Hey, man,” Ronan said, “I like the pool table.” The entire situation made Blue apoplectic.’ Tag yourself; I’m Adam with a dash of Ronan. Pool tables are cool.

’"You are still wearing those incredibly stupid boat shoes, and of all the things that you have bought, you still haven’t replaced them!” Gansey, bewildered, observed his feet. The movement of his toes was barely visible through the tops of his Top-Siders. Really, in light of recent events, these shoes were the only things that were right in the world. “I like these shoes.”’ Update: he’s still adorable.

’[Gansey] exchanged a glance with Adam, because it had to be done’ 1) What does this mean? 2) I love them SO MUCH!

'In some parallel universe, there was a Gansey who could tell Blue that he found the ten inches of her bare calves far more tantalizing than the thirteen cubic feet of bare skin Orla sported. But in this universe, that was Adam’s job. } He was in a terrible mood.’ Oooooh. 👀

'So these were the people Greenmantle had warned him about. Fellow seekers of the Greywaren, whatever it might be.’ Curious and curiouser.

'Blue cheerfully spit a mouthful of brown water on his boat shoes. It pooled in the canvas over his toes. “Good God,” he said. “Now they’re really boat shoes,” she replied.’ Blue’s crusade continues.

'He knew what it was. He just didn’t know why it was. He said, “Well, that’s a wheel off the Camaro.” And it was. It looked identical to the wheels currently residing on the Pig — except this wheel was clearly several hundred years old. The discolored surface was pocked and lumpy. With all of the deterioration, the elegantly symmetrical wheel didn’t appear that out of place beside the shield boss. If you overlooked the tattered Chevrolet logo in the middle. “Do you remember losing one a little while ago?” Ronan asked. “Like, five hundred years or so?”’ Aggressively the Most Curious.

'Blue held his gaze, unflinching. Crisp, she replied, “None at all.” And it was a lie. It should not have been, but it was, and Gansey, who prized honesty above nearly every other thing, knew it when he heard it. Blue Sargent cared whether or not he was interested in Orla. She cared a lot. As she whirled toward the truck with a dismissive shake of her head, he felt a dirty sort of thrill.’ Oh, you kids.

'“Hey, Noah.” He was too busy being ghostly to attend to her, however. Currently, he was engaged in one of his creepiest activities: reenacting his own death. He glanced around the tiny yard as if appraising the forest glen containing only himself and his friend Barrington Whelk. Then he let out a terrible, mangled cry as he was struck from behind by an invisible skateboard. He made no sound when he was hit again, but his body jerked convincingly. Blue tried not to look as he bucked a few more times before falling to the ground. His head jerked; his legs bicycled. Blue took a deep, uneven breath. Though she had seen him do it four or five times now, it was always unsettling. Eleven minutes. That was how long the entire homicidal portrait lasted: one boy’s life destroyed in less time than it took to cook a hamburger. The last six minutes, the ones that took place after Noah had first fallen but before he actually died, were excruciating. Blue considered herself a fairly steadfast, sensible girl, but no matter how many times she heard his torn-up breath seizing in his throat, she felt a little teary. Between the twisted roots of the front yard, Noah’s body jerked and stilled, finally dead. Again.’ I feel w o u n d e d.

'They wandered to the door like that, a pretzel of dead boy and not-psychic girl.’ Don’t even look at me!

'Gleefully, Noah said, “There’s a pool table now! I’m the worst at pool ever! It’s wonderful.”’ THIS SWEET CHILD IS GIVING ME EMOTIONAL WHIPLASH.

'Gansey, pacing next to his ruined miniature Henrietta, set his eyes on Ronan. There was something intense and heedless in them. There were many versions of Gansey, but this one had been rare since the introduction of Adam’s taming presence. It was also Ronan’s favorite. It was the opposite of Gansey’s most public face, which was pure control enclosed in a paper-thin wrapper of academia. But this version of Gansey was Gansey the boy. This was the Gansey who bought the Camaro, the Gansey who asked Ronan to teach him to fight, the Gansey who contained every wild spark so that it wouldn’t show up in other versions. Was it the shield beneath the lake that had unleashed it? Orla’s orange bikini? The bashed-up remains of his rebuilt Henrietta and the fake IDs they’d returned to? Ronan didn’t really care. All that mattered was that something had struck the match, and Gansey was burning.’ #JusticeforMiniatureHenrietta

'“Don’t say anything stupid to him,” he told Gansey.’ Did I read that right? Did Ronan really just advise Gansey to be careful?

'The Gray Man recalled the buzz of his phone and patted his pockets. His phone was missing, however. Maura Sargent had stolen it while they were making out. In its place was the ten of swords: the Gray Man slain on the ground and Maura the sword driven through his heart.’ Interesting. Sorry that always seems to be my reaction to the Gray Man, but there it is.

#emily reads the raven cycle #status: tdt pg. 230 #jammeke #exlibrisfangirl

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reprisedpiece · 7 years

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Closing Credits

Pairing: Mike Faist x FilmMajor!Reader

Warning: curse words (bc when do i not use swear words in fics), character gets anxious

Request: “FilmMajor! Reader with mike Faist would END my existence Y e S”

Word Count: 1912

Note: i said like three days ago that the next mike faist request i get, ill write it in newsies-mike era bc i just miss that :-) although im not really proud of this? idrk i might delete this or at least edit it again. feel free to message me and tell me what ya think !

MASTERLIST

Mike let out a hiss as he stretched his arm, quickly reaching up with his other arm in order to soothe the sore bicep. He cursed at himself for not doing the extra warm routine before doing the cartwheels and flips during rehearsals.

Right now, he was just looking forward for two things. Those two being a warm shower and you. He preferred having both at the same time but he knew you were in the middle of editing so he buried the idea at the back of his head, just until both of your schedules lighten up.

He shared a small apartment with you, a film major attending in NYU. The two of you have spent three years in your little space, more than glad that the two of you had the chance to live in a district renowned for its support with arts and theatre.

Mike began walking back to your apartment, already thinking of which movie the two of you were bound to watch.

Being with a film major like yourself, most of your afternoons and evenings consisted of watching movies while eating healthy snacks for the sake of Mike’s current job. These moments usually end up with you rambling about the cinematography of the film, its interpretation and impact to the audience, and even picking out some aspects that you would have changed.

Mike finally reached the door of your place, unlocking the door before removing his shoes and leaving his bag by the door. He plops down on the couch where he has left you this morning.

You still haven’t changed your clothes. You were still wearing his hoodie and a pair of shorts. Your glasses were slightly crooked, probably from rubbing your eyes too much he guessed. The pieces of your hair which fell from your bun framed your delicate face. Your eyes were still trained on your computer screen, the expression on your face was something he couldn’t read.

He scoots closer to you, placing his palm on the back of your neck. He slowly rubbed your shoulders, feeling how stiff there are.

“You’ve been sitting here for so long, babe.” He muttered as he started to knead the muscle. He felt you jolt from slight discomfort before melting back into his palm.

Your haven’t faced him once since he has arrived and Mike grew a bit weary. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He whispered, his eyes scanning your face as he searched for any hints of discomfort.

“We’re done.” You whispered back, not turning your head even one. He felt his chest tighten, a shock running down his spine. He was hoping he heard wrong.

“What?” Mike panics. His mind instantly ran through all his actions for the past few days, mentally listing down anything that could possibly caused you to want to end things with him.

“We’re done.” You repeated. You couldn’t even process your own words. All you knew was that you were done. His hands immediately grasped yours, placing kisses onto your knuckles as he cradled them to his chest

“Y/N, what? I though we were happy. Why do you want to-”

“Our film is finally finished.” You whispered with a shaky breath as your were flooded with emotions, squeezing his hand. Mike suddenly stops and drops your hands to his lap, blinking twice before realizing that you were talking about your class’s final project.

He let out a sigh, leaning back into the couch. “You scared the shit out of me, Y/N!” He exclaimed, rubbing his eyes to remove the tears that were about to form. The sudden rise in volume made you turn your head to face him.

“Why?” You chuckled, still confused. “Why did that scare you? All I said was-” Your face fell as you realized how polysemantic your statement was.

You immediately jumped on top of him, wrapping your arms around him. “No, no, no! I didn’t mean it like that! I was talking about the project we’ve been-”

Mike wrapped his own arms around yours. “Don’t worry about it, babe. I should have known you were talking about your film.” He said while chuckling. You felt the vibrations of his laughter against your own.

You only tightened your arms around him. “I’m really sorry for scaring you.” You apologized again. Mike kissed your forehead sweetly before peeling you away from his body so he can face you.

“Stop apologizing,” He started, moving one of his hands from your waist to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear and fixing your glasses. “And show me your class’s new film!” He continued, smiling at you from ear to ear.

He swore he could fall in love with you again and again. Your eyes twinkled with passion when he brought up the film. “Let’s watch it later! Once it’s finished rendering.” You leaned back forward, giving him a kiss on the lips before the scent of sweat hit your nose.

Your nose crinkled at the smell as you pulled back. “And after you shower. You stink.” You say, which earned you a poke on your side.

“I was about to before you gave me that scare!” He laughed, lifting you from his lap and placed you gently on the couch. He hovered you for a couple of second, giving you a chaste kiss. You could still taste the orange juice that he drank this morning from his lips.

He pulled away, not after pecking your lips one last time, to go to the bathroom. You slapped his butt as he walked away. “Don’t take too long!” You yelled out to him, giggling as he wiggled his butt out to you when he walked away.

After half an hour, the film finished exporting and you already have it opened in your laptop. Mike sat beside you with an arm around your shoulders. He reached for the spacebar so he could play it but you caught his wrist.

He looked at you, confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Just know that this isn’t the final final editing.”

“Babe, it’s going to be fine-”

“Like I know I’m the one in charge of the final editing but yeah. If you see any mistakes or a glitch, just tell me and I’ll-”

He quickly placed his finger against your lips. “Nonetheless, your film will be amazing.” He reassured you. You leaned back into his chest, finger hovering over the space button.

“You don’t even know what it’s about.” You muttered under your breath.

“Sure, I do!” You raised your eyebrow at him. He just nodded. “I’m not kidding. I know it’s about an orphan schizophrenic women who fell in love with a writer and she finds out that her parents were killed by him,”

You looked up at him with awe. “Wow, I didn’t realize-”

“Shut up, I’m not done.” He interrupted you. A smile crept up your face as you nodded for him to continue telling the plot of the film.

“Then it turns out her parents were alive! Her, being an orphan and falling love with a writer, it was all part of the illusion.” He finished.

“Whoa.”

“See? I listen to you when you rambled about it.” He said, proud of himself to be able to memorize the plot.

“Alright, hot shot. What happens in the ending?” You asked him cockily, knowing that he wouldn’t know the answer.

He just stared at you with a pout. “Y/N, you know you never told me that.”

“I know, I just wanted to annoy the shit out of you.” You stated rather boldly, turning to face the screen.

“But good news is, you get to find out now!” You pressed the spacebar, the all too familiar opening credits appearing.

You nestled further into Mike, resting your head on his shoulder as he let his head fall on top of yours. He held your hand, rubbing circles at the back of it.

He gave you a kiss on the cheek. “This will be amazing, I know it.”

The closing credits of the film rolled down and your eyes were welling up with tears. You were extremely proud of what you’ve done and how the entire film turned out to be.

The two of you sat in silence. You were a bit nervous to look up at Mike. While you are indeed proud of your work, you weren’t in the mood for a negative reaction right now. And that was what you were scared off.

It’s been a couple of minutes now and he was still silent.

You let out a slightly disappointed sigh. “Mike, you can tell me if you didn’t like-” You immediately stopped talking when you felt a small drop of water hit your cheek. You reached up to touch your eyes but they were relatively dry with no tears falling from them. Your gaze shifted upwards, only to land on Mike’s tear-stained face. He was silent yet the tears didn’t stop. His hand was holding yours tightly, as you were going to disappear in any moment.

You quickly shifted your weight to the back of your knees, turning around so that your entire body was facing Mike. You gently cradled his face in your hands, wiping away the tears.

“Mike?” You whispered, your eyes trying to catch his gaze.

When they did, he pushed your hands away from his face before hugging you tightly to his chest.

“I don’t want to lose you.” He whispered, his voice breaking. He buried his face into your neck. You felt warm tears slipping from his eyes to to your shirt. You held him close to you tightly, whispering and reminding him that he won’t lose you.

You pulled away slightly so you can make him face you.

“Where is this all coming from?” You ask worriedly, rubbing soothing circles against his cheek.

Mike sniffed, wiping the tears away from his face. He took in a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry. The ending of the film was too much.” He said as he ran his hands up and down your sides.

“And add that with the melancholic music score and the cinematography,” He chuckled at how silly he must look right now. “I’m just really sorry, it hit me hard.”

You were out of words. Your heart fell when you realized how much the film affected him. You cradled his jaw with your left hand, leaning forward to give him a kiss.

He quickly reciprocated, positioning his hands on your waist as your lips moved against each other.

“I love you.” You mumbled against his lips. You felt him smile in the kiss as he mumbled an ‘I love you’ back.

You pulled away slowly, giving him one last peck on the forehead. “You’re okay?”

He nodded, a lazy grin plastered on his face. “More than okay.”

He pulled you down towards his body, until your face was nuzzled against his chest. “That film was beautiful.” He said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“It really was, it had me in tears.” He chuckled.

“Thank you.” Your cheeks misted with a rose tint. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“You’re going to kill it out there. You’ll be breaking hearts, spreading smiles, and just flooding people with emotions.” He spoke softly, tilting your head so you were facing him.

He was grinning down at you, eyes filled with nothing but pure adoration for you. He looked at you with pride.

“You’re an artist, Y/N. You’re the one to watch.”

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bellsyblue · 6 years

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star wars the last jedi spoilers ahead

I went to see the film as part of a work function tonight (ty Jesus) and I need to get some stuff out of my system bc I can’t discuss with my housemate until she sees it tomorrow, so --

No real structure, just streaming it out.

The most important thing this film showed me was that Leia learned how to use the Force. It was beautiful. The universe that opened up retrospectively when she pulled herself out of the space wreckage to safety (let’s ignore the plausibility of surviving that for a second). I thought of Luke and Leia, fresh off their victory over Palpatine, bonding in the quiet safety of Leia’s senatorial apartments, Luke patiently talking his sister through the ideas of the Force; to quiet, listen and trust her feelings. Imagining her excitement and the joy on his face when she makes that datapad tremble on her desk, the first time she actively reaches out and senses him through the Force, the way they would laugh together the first time they test it on Han and freak him out. Imagining the euphoria of sharing something that’s just between them.

That moment Leia saved herself using the Force shone a beacon on a beautiful past of potential and I think that sustained me through the whole movie.

Thank god.

Because I have not facepalmed so hard nor so often since I had to watch Anakin and Padme “fall in love”.

I am sympathetic to the fact this film had to find its feet in the unexpected wake of Carrie’s death, but WHY DOES THIS FRANCHISE HAVE A 1/3 SUCCESS RATE IN WRITING BELIEVABLE ROMANCE???

On one hand, it’s a good day for you if you’re a Reylo shipper. On the other hand, it was like watching 6/10 fanfiction play out to a rushed pace. Finn and Rose were cute together but even their dynamic felt too fast. The flirtation between Poe and the Vice Admiral. Why so many close-ups??? Also, the Han/Luke shipper in me was mad that Luke didn’t already know Han was dead, but sure he closed himself off to the Force, so he was behind on the news.

the author acknowledges her impressions were exacerbated being forced to sit three rows from the screen

As this film played out, it sounded like it was written straddling the fourth wall: in some ways too aware of its meta wish list and headcanons from the audience, fandom in-jokes, and performing as an echo of the Empire Strikes Back (once was enough with TFA, but again??? seriously?) and Return of the Jedi mashed together “with a twist”.

I waited two years for this film. I read and discussed so much about its potential with so many fans, I think it was bound to fall short of my expectations.

I was really heartbroken when I found myself wishing the movie would just end. It felt way too long. I had waited two years to see Poe, Finn and Rey (okay and Kylo the human disaster) again.

Everything was so rushed. Characters were introduced in a rush. The editing felt rushed. In critical moments where you needed to linger, let the gravity of dialogue or exchange sink in, process who we had just met and why we should care about them, we were instead thrust onto more characters, more spectacle, it was all spilling out faster than Vice Admiral engaging light speed through an entire First Order fleet. Bringing Benicio del Toro in like a passing ship in the night, a darker, shallower tribute to Han Solo’s archetype (don’t bring him back and redeem him, please, you failed to make me care about him, it’s tired and I cbf sitting through that). Bringing back my beautiful Phasmum for two minutes of nothing just to kill her properly. Wtf, film, wtf.

I found myself really hoping Rey would join Kylo, just for something different to untangle in the third film. Let Rey realise too soon what a stupid choice she’s made, but also wrangle with that commitment she’s made, following that dumb instinct that made her seek and have faith in Kylo. I don’t believe the film is done with those two yet.

“I can feel the conflict in you--” Omg every other time a force user opened their mouth in this film, I just wished to end my hearing. This kind of writing flew thirty years ago, but not today, ad verbatim.

I was actually enjoying the moments Rey called him “Ben” and he didn’t flinch, when they were finally fighting back-to-back, and I was like, “Okay, this has potential, the penultimate light and dark come together, now rule together and muddle your way through your problematic commitment, please, that would make fair drama.”

I like that Rey’s parents were revealed to be nobody of worthy note in the “legacy” of the Star Wars universe. I like the message that the greatest hope of a warrior could come from humble beginnings.

I liked that we discovered what really happened with Ben and Luke, and what really sealed Ben’s decision to go dark side. I like that the story made Ben and Luke both share the blame for this. Luke got lost in the airs of his own legend, and Ben had many chances since then to turn back. It’s still shit Snoke clearly got to him young and was manipulating him from a young age; but that doesn’t excuse the shitty things he’s doing by today’s events. He’s a survivor of abuse and sadly, it’s warped his capacity to make rational decisions that take courage by the average person’s measure.

I liked the moment Yoda and and Luke were reunited. Yoda has a levity we often see in older people who have all the perspective, but no fucks left to give. Threaten to burn the foundations of your religion? The old codgers will always call your bullshit. These kind of people bring you back down to earth for #realtalk.

This film smacked of some of the problems I suffered in Justice League, it rarely let people connect as real people with all the awkwardness, tentativeness and vulnerability we often have. Everyone was charging ahead. Everyone was so sure of themselves, even when they were supposedly crying, heartbroken or scared. That moment when Rose’s unnamed sister dropped the bombs and clutched her amulet, and we lingered on her face in slow motion as she closed her eyes? One of the best moments.

War and resistance are fucking scary, exhausting and heartbreaking. This is why I maintain Rogue One is still one of the best films of the film franchise, because it was on the ground where the highest costs were being paid. In war, most people don’t have the means or luxury of fucking off to an isolated planet to nurse the agony of our failure. We have to stick around and muddle through, take actions that compromise our morals and break our hearts in the process, and it fucking sucks (read: Cassian Andor).

I like that everyone in the First Order looked stressed and unglamorous af in comparison to the Force Awakens. I cracked up the moment I saw the shadows under Hux’s eyes, leaned over to my boss and was like, “Yo, that’s my bro, he’s wearing our look.” And seriously, compare Kylo’s unmasking scene in TFA to TLJ. In TLA, they took serious care to unmask him as beautifully, coiffed and confidently as possible. When his mask comes off in TLJ, the camera is tight to his face, showing the blotched complexion of his exhaustion, nervous sweat, his pores and moles and scars, he’s raggedy ann. As Snoke throws in his face, killing his father split him down the middle and he’s never been more conflicted.

I really liked the showdown between Kylo and Luke. I like that Luke apologised for failing him, that Kylo is so far gone in his rage of Rey deserting him, of being alone at last, that Kylo was unmoved. I like how the film says goodbye to Luke, and that Leia lives on at the end.

Farewell, Space Princess. You will forever be loved.

I give it a 6.5/10. But you bet your ass I’m going to see it tomorrow again with the friends anyway, and finish Close the Circuit because now I have enough lore answered to make up my own version.

I look forward to sitting back with enough vantage to actually appreciate Poe Dameron’s beautiful face. Incidentally, this was v insightful for Poe’s character. I’ve given him too much credit as a level-headed commander. He’s way more willing to sacrifice lives than I expected. I understand that was his entire arc, but... the more you know.

#star wars #star wars the last jedi #spoilers #star wars tlj spoilers

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mcmansionhell · 7 years

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McMansion Hell Does Arch Theory Part 2: The Ancients vs The Moderns

Howdy folks! Today in architectural theory we’re going to get to one of the first examples of serious beef between two guys who wore the 17th Century equivalents of coke-bottle glasses and black turtlenecks. (I’m gonna guess it was powdered wigs.)

The beef, later canonized in theory as the “Ancients vs the Moderns” occurred between two dead French dudes: Nicolas-Francois Blondel and Claude Perrault.

Way less steamy than Team Edward vs Team Jacob, but we’ll work with it.

Player 1: Blondel

Francois Blondel (b. c.1618, d.1686) was a military leader, engineer, mathematician, diplomat and architect. He was appointed by Louis XIV to become the first director of the newly formed Royal Academy of Architecture in Paris. His main task as director was to design the school’s curriculum and pen a textbook.

The incredibly French frontispiece of the of said textbook (Blondel’s Cours d’Architecture, c.1674) Public Domain.

Architectural thought at the time revolved around the theory of Vitruvius as far as the role of the architect and further established the three Vitruvian qualities (firmness, commodity, and delight) as the main criteria for great architecture. However, theorists, especially Blondel, turned to Renaissance concepts of beauty as being something universal and absolute, and the idea (after Alberti) of “harmonic proportions.”

An academic at heart and a traditionalist to a fault, Blondel believed in the absolute perfection of the work of the Ancients, as exemplified by the temples of the Greeks and Romans. He was, you know, that guy.

Player 2: Perrault

Claude Perrault (b.1613, d.1688), was a guy who, for most of his life, was not the type to start architecture slap fights. He spent the majority of his career working as a surgeon and anatomist - not as an architect.

Perrault got roped into architecture through Jean-Baptiste Colbert, Louis XIV’s Minister of Finance and Superintendent of Building, whose secretary (Charles Perrault, famous for being the father of the fairy tale) was Claude Perrault’s younger, more handsome brother.

In 1666, Colbert, acting on behalf of the king, asked Perrault to do a new French translation of Vitruvius for use as one of the textbooks for the newly formed Royal Academy of Architecture. In 1667, Perrault was appointed (by Colbert) to a three-person committee responsible for preparing a different design for the East Wing of the Louvre, which had been suspended after the design prepared by the Italian architect Bernini got dumped for not being French enough.

When a building’s Wikipedia page looks something like this, you know some serious sh*t went down.

Perrault’s concept for the East Wing was totally different than the architectural canon of the time:

Drawing from Blondel’s (a different one) Architecture françoise, 1756. Public Domain.

Looks like just another old building, right? *leans into mic* Wrong.

Perrault’s design choices were unprecedented in French classical architecture, and even though his design (he took credit for the work of his colleagues almost immediately) was one of sophistication and visual lightness, the use of unusually thin visual proportions was basically taboo af.

And where did Perrault think it was a great idea to explain his design choices? In the gosh dang footnotes of his 1673 translation of Vitruvius, which was to be used by the kiddos at Blondel’s school.

Perrault’s Footnotes

This smug asshole opened up his defense with what seems to be two sentences formulated specifically to piss off Blondel the most:

Gothic architecture, which left behind little primary source documents (dark ages and all that), was totally refuted by the French academy as being ugly, overindulgent and grotesque.

(Photo taken by me!)

Perrault went on to justify his decision by appealing to Vitruvius’ description of the temple of Dionysus by the Greek architect Hermogenes, who devised for it a flexible system of proportions using the diameter of a column as a unit of measurement. Basically, argued Perrault, proportions were relative, and not absolute.

Perrault added (throwing some serious shade) that because the Ancients didn’t harp on Hermogenes for doing something different from the then-canon of architecture, Perrault himself shouldn’t be harped on for the same reason. (Also because his cool new engineer stuff expanded the structural capabilities of architecture but whatevs.)

Blondel’s Response

Blondel’s response to Perrault’s argument in his 1683 Cours d’Architecture textbook (that’s right: all this fighting was done in footnotes and textbooks instead of face to face like normal people) was:

Which was basically 17th century academic speak for:

(yes this is still in my drafts)

Perrault’s Response to Blondel’s Response

Perrault in the &#&@ing footnotes of the second edition (1684) of his translation of Vitruvius, offered these counterarguments to Blondel’s criticism:

It is FAKE NEWS that we’re not “allowed” to deviate from what the Ancients did and that by doing so we’d only invite “””””disaster”””” also btw the Ancients were new in their time. (checkmate atheists traditionalists)

It’s dumber to close the door on good invention than it is to open it “to those who are so ridiculous that they will destroy themselves.”

If the Ancients were perfect and architecture is perfect, are all those other arts and sciences that have improved upon the past totally wrong???

Just bc the goths did some tacky crap, they still created spaces that were open and full of light and we should’t hate them for it.

Bummer: Perrault got the last laugh because Blondel died. (RIP)

However, Perrault wasn’t done messing with architectural norms. In 1683, he published a super important treatise by the extremely catchy name of “Ordonnance for the Five Kinds of Columns after the Method of the Ancients”

Perrault’s Last Stand

Perrault, in his treatise upended two major beliefs in architecture: the myth of so-called harmonic ratios, and the idea of absolute proportions.

Perrault, who made a career as a surgeon and studied anatomy, refuted immediately the idea that visual ratios worked the same way as musical harmony (an idea that goes back to Plato) by citing the obvious fact that the eye and the ear don’t work in the same damn way.

Long before the beginning of neuroscience, (and tbh he was kind of pulling this out of his ass) Perrault claimed that we don’t process visual stimuli in the same way we process auditory stimuli, in that visual stimuli plays a much larger role in how we perceive and interpret the world, adding that responses to visual dissonance are much less visceral than responses to aural dissonance.

More importantly, Perrault claimed that there were two types of beauty: positive and arbitrary.

Positive beauty consisted of things pretty much everyone could agree on: e.g. symmetry; the “magnificence” of a building, and the quality of its construction and materials.

Arbitrary beauty introduced the idea that beauty is relative to one’s cultural customs, as well as to the fashion of the times, and the weird inner-workings of people’s taste. Perrault claimed that the idea of “correct” architectural proportions is largely influenced by one’s customs, and therefore falls within the category of arbitrary beauty.

Well, that does it for this week’s bit o’ theory. Stay tuned for next week’s installment, as well as Wednesday’s continued trek through the 50 States of McMansion Hell, with a guaranteed awful house from Illinois.

If you like this post, and want to see more like it, consider supporting me on Patreon! Not into small donations and sick bonus content? Check out the McMansion Hell Store - 30% goes to charity.

WAIT

I want to share with y’all this hysterical McMansion interpretation of the Vitruvian triangle from last week’s post created and sent to me by my new bff David Larsen:

Have a good week everyone!

#architecture #history #theory #architectural theory #17th century #france #blondel #perrault #claude perrault #design

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subjisoo · 7 years

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Check In chapter 9

Words: 3k

Genre: ??? idk drama? angst? not sure yet lol

Synopsis: Seungcheol and his best friend Wonwoo have been running a small drug dealing business for the past two years, along with Wonwoo’s boyfriend Mingyu on the books and new recruit Hansol to manage the second hand shop they use as a cover story.

This Chapter: Lots of hurt and comfort for Cheolsol and backstory for Seungcheol bc I ?? haven't given him any yet wtf

Warnings: drug ment (light), conversion therapy ment (very very light), death ment

Author’s Note: based on the MV for Check In which I edited into a kind of trailer for this fic and u can watch it here.

Check In: chapter one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / read on ao3

Hansol had never actually made a sale himself, but he’d been witness to so many that he figured he would be fine. He had told Seungcheol this on the phone, but it didn’t stop him from texting Hansol every five minutes to make sure he was okay.

When half an hour went by with no text, Hansol started to get worried and called Seungcheol.

“Oh thank god,” Seungcheol’s voice echoed on the other end when he picked up.

“Are you in a toilet?”

“Well, I’m not going to take a phone call from my boyfriend about our weed business in front of a homophobic conservative, am I?”

Hansol laughed. “Fair enough. So why haven’t you texted for a while? You were being pretty consistent for a while there.”

“I ran out of credit.”

“Wow, that’s dedication.”

“Can you just, text me updates so I know everything’s okay?”

“Yeah, I can do that. Nothing happened in the past half an hour except some freshmen came in trying to get something so I told them there was a waiting list.”

“No one causing you any trouble?”

“Nope, I’ve got everything under control.”

Seungcheol breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank god. What about the other two?”

Hansol glanced at the stair case. “No word yet, but I heard the shower running a while ago. No yelling or sounds of anything breaking, which I guess is a good sign.”

“Very good. Okay babe I gotta go, she’ll tell me off for taking a shit in public if I stay in here too long.”

Hansol laughed, looking to the front of The Shop as the bell rang. “Okay, I gotta go too; customers.”

“Stay safe, and text me updates.”

“Will do,” Hansol said, rising from the stool to greet the customers. “I really gotta go, Cheol.”

“Okay okay, I’ll talk to you soon, love you.”

Before he could reply, Seungcheol had hung up. Hansol shook himself, putting his phone next to the till and greeting the customers.

“Hi, how can I help you?”

There were two of them; a tall, willowy woman and a short, stoic man with a goatee. The man looked around The Shop as the woman stood in front of the till, towering over Hansol.

“We’re here for what’s in the back room,” she said, not meeting Hansol’s eyes.

Something about her made Hansol very uncomfortable. “Sure, can I get a name?”

“Lee.”

Hansol laughed, taking the clipboard out from under the desk. “We have about twenty of those, I’m gonna need your first name too.”

He flipped to the letter L on the list of customers and scanned it for Lee Minji. “I’m sorry ma’am, we don’t have you on our list. You’ll have to go through a background check before we can sell to you.”

Minji nodded slowly, finally meeting Hansol’s eyes. “What, do I have to sign up to buy weed?”

“That’s generally how we operate, yes.”

She shared a look with the man, who was standing by the books on the wall. She turned back to Hansol.

“Thank you.”

With out saying anything else, the two of them left. Hansol stowed away the clipboard and sat down again. He debated calling Seungcheol, but decided it would be better to text him.

[Sent, 1:34pm] Hey, still alive

[Received: Seungcheol, 1:34pm] Thanks babe

Hansol decided not to tell him about the people until Seungcheol got back in case he got too worked up, but felt he needed to tell someone.

[Sent, 1:35pm] Everything okay up there?

He bounced his knee as he waited for a reply.

[Received: Mingyu, 1:37pm] Crisis: averted

[Received: Mingyu, 1:37pm] Peace: restored

[Received: Mingyu, 1:38pm] Dick: not out

[Received: Mingyu, 1:39pm] Thanks for everything, by the way, it means a lot

[Sent, 1:40pm] It’s no problem man, I’m glad things are okay now

[Received: Mingyu, 1:41pm] Yeah well idk if I would’ve been able to do it without your help

[Sent, 1:41pm] You would’ve been fine man, but I’m glad I could be there for u

[Received: Mingyu, 1:42pm] Thanks bro, sorry our balls didn’t touch

Hansol laughed, feeling a bit more at ease as he typed in his next reply.

[Sent, 1:43pm] If your dick really isn’t out, is it cool if I come up? Got some business stuff to talk about

[Received: Mingyu, 1:44pm] Sure, we’re on the balcony

When he got onto the balcony, Mingyu and Wonwoo had their chairs right next to each other and were holding hands, a mug of black coffee and a glass of orange juice on the table. They both looked up as Hansol shoved the door open and joined them at the table. Wonwoo looked exhausted, his eye starting to swell with the bruising. Mingyu’s eyes were still a bit puffy, but he looked quietly happy.

“You two are a sight for sore eyes.”

Mingyu laughed and the corner of Wonwoo’s mouth tugged up.

“Everything sorted out?”

Mingyu turned to Wonwoo who cleared his throat and looked intently at the glass of orange juice. “Yeah. Mingyu stopped crying, at least.”

The three of them laughed a little, and Hansol felt bad for bringing something negative back to them.

“Some people just came into The Shop and I think they were like, cops or something?”

Mingyu sat up a little more. “What makes you think that?”

Hansol told them what happened and Mingyu thought for a moment. “Doesn’t sound like cops.”

“What does it sound like?”

Mingyu took in a sharp breath, letting go of Wonwoo’s hand and leaning forwards. “Do you know of any other drug dealing services in the area?”

Hansol shrugged. “Not really my scene, if you’d believe it. I can ask around though.”

“Don’t make it obvious. Actually, don’t do it, I’ll sort things out. My cousin might know, I’ll give him a call.”

Hansol looked at Mingyu expectantly as he got his phone out of his pocket. Wonwoo rested his arm on the back of Mingyu’s chair and picked up the coffee to take a drink.

“Thanks for letting us know, Hansol. You can go back down if you want.”

“Okay. I haven’t told Cheol yet; he can’t really talk on the phone and I figured a text would just freak him out.”

Wonwoo nodded. “Smart.”

Hansol left them to it and went back downstairs, relieved to find the shop empty. He planted himself back on his stool and reached for his phone.

[Sent, 2:02pm] Still kickin’

[Received: Seungcheol, 2:03pm] Good to hear

The rest of the day was uneventful, with Seungcheol and Mikyung returning just as Hansol was closing up. He greeted them both politely, not knowing if he should talk to Seungcheol or not. They walked past him and went upstairs without any conversation, and Hansol was about to leave without saying goodbye when he got a text.

[Received: Seungcheol, 5:07pm] I’ll be down in a minute, can you wait for me?

[Sent, 5:07pm] Sure

Seungcheol came down the stairs a few minutes later, carrying a duffel bag.

“Hope you don’t mind me crashing at yours? Mingyu said he could handle things for a night. I think they want the room to themselves.”

Hansol raised his brows. “With her in the next room?”

Seungcheol shrugged, giving Hansol a brief kiss. “They can be quiet if they really want to.”

Hansol laughed, opening the door and letting Seungcheol step out before him. “Sure, Jan.”

They held hands as they walked back to the dorms, talking lightly and avoiding big subjects. When they got to Hansol’s room, it was a mess from Mingyu that morning. The duvet was on the floor and there was crumpled up toilet paper littered around the floor. The empty cups of noodles were still on the desk.

Hansol closed the door behind them and put his backpack on his desk, collapsing on the bed. “He produces so much snot, you wouldn’t believe.”

Seungcheol placed his bag by the door and navigated his way to the bed, falling onto it next to Hansol. “He had a cold for two weeks last year. It was hell.”

Hansol winced. “I can imagine.”

Seungcheol propped himself up on his elbows and looked around the room. “This is pretty impressive, though. How’d the duvet get on the floor?”

Hansol shrugged. “It’s all a blur of tears and tissues.”

Seungcheol laughed. “They seemed okay when I was up there before. Mind you I wasn’t there for long.”

“They’re okay, I talked to them for a bit when they were sitting on the balcony holding hands and cuddling.”

“What a relief. I can deal with me and Wonwoo fighting, but I don’t know how to deal with them fighting.”

Hansol got up from the bed and started collecting the pieces of toilet paper into the small bin he kept under his desk. “Have they not fought before?”

“Not really. Mingyu gets frustrated with Wonwoo sometimes, but they don’t have big fights like me and Wonwoo do.”

When he had picked up all the toiler paper, Hansol put the bin back under his desk and picked up the duvet. Seungcheol moved up the bed as Hansol spread the duvet out over him, then lying face down on the bed himself.

“I didn’t think you and Wonwoo fought.”

Seungcheol laughed. “We fight a lot. They’re big fights, but they’re never serious, you know? Like at the end of the day we still love each other so it’s never too serious.”

“Like siblings?”

“Yeah, I don’t have any but I imagine that’s what it’s like.”

Hansol put his head on Seungcheol’s chest, draping an arm over his torso. “Me and my sister fight heaps, but we don’t even have to apologise for the argument to be over. You have the fight, you yell at each other, you storm off, then you tell them a joke five minutes later and everything’s fine.”

“Sounds about right.” Seungcheol pulled Hansol closer to him and kissed the top of his head. “Sorry all of this is going on, I know it’s a lot to handle.”

Hansol shook his head. “It’s okay, I’m more worried about you lot. I’m doing fine.”

Seungcheol pulled Hansol into his lap, circling his arms around him and forming a sort of protective shell. Hansol froze, trying to figure out what was going on, only speaking when Seungcheol started sniffling.

“Cheol?”

“Mm?”

“What are you doing?”

“I think I’m protecting you?”

Hansol shifted a little. “From what?”

“Everything,” his voice was ragged and he sniffed again.

Hansol sat up, forcing Seungcheol to uncurl from around him. When Hansol saw his face, it was wet with a steady stream of tears, his eyes bloodshot and his lip trembling. Hansol placed his hands either side of his face.

“Cheol, what’s wrong?”

Seungcheol closed his eyes and held his breath.

“Baby?”

With that, Seungcheol collapsed forwards onto Hansol’s chest and started to wail, his whole body heaving. Hansol repositioned them so that he was lying on his side, cradling Seungcheol in his arms and playing with his hair. Seungcheol’s body was limp, his sobs taking control of his muscles.

Hansol made a hushing sound and kissed Seungcheol’s hair. “It’s okay, get it out, I’ll wait, you’re okay.” He repeated this like a mantra as Seungcheol cried until he couldn’t cry anymore.

When he was done, Seungcheol rolled to lie on his back. Hansol reached for what was left of the toilet roll and passed it to Seungcheol, who used it to blow his nose and mop up his tears.

“Cheol, what happened?”

Seungcheol sighed in a way that indicated he wanted to keep crying but had used up all his energy. “It’s a long story.”

“We have all night, baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

“It’s just,” he held his breath again, “it’s been three years today.”

Hansol shuffled closer and slung his arm of Seungcheol’s torso. “Three years since what?”

“Since Hanbin.”

Hansol frowned, trying to remember if Seungcheol had mentioned the name before. “Who’s Hanbin?”

Seungcheol closed his eyes, dislodging a tear that ran into his hairline. “He was my boyfriend.”

This threw Hansol, because Seungcheol had never mentioned any past boyfriends. Although he supposed it shouldn’t have surprised him, as he knew that Seungcheol had experience.

He lightly kissed Seungcheol’s shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. Yes. I mean,” he sighed, “I know I should, but it hurts.”

Hansol rubbed his stomach in a way he hoped was soothing. “Take your time, I’ll be here.”

It was a while before Seungcheol spoke, and he opened and closed his mouth several times before he finally started.

“Hanbin and I pretty much grew up together, like our parents were friends. Wanted us to be each others best man or whatever. But,” he furrowed his brows, “I don’t know how it happened, it just kinda did.”

“What, you two dating?”

“Yeah, you know he was my best friend and my first kiss when we were like eight. We were too young to know it wasn’t normal and we spent pretty much all our time together and held hands and shared beds. I think we were fifteen when we realised we were in love. Pretty soon after that we figured out we weren’t allowed to be.”

Hansol’s hand moved up to Seungcheol’s chest and he started to draw shapes. “That must’ve been scary.”

“Terrifying. You’ve met Mikyung; pretty much everyone in our town’s like that. We had to be careful and hide it. Of course we told Wonwoo, because he was in our group of three and it didn’t seem fair to keep it from him. That was scary at the time.”

“But it was fine right? I mean judging by the fact you live together with his boyfriend.”

Seungcheol laughed weakly. “Yeah, he cried and thanked us because he’d wanted to come out for a few years but was too scared. So we were a happy, gay little trio.” He took a deep breath. “Then Wonwoo came out to his mum and got sent to conversion therapy and it was just the two of us, which was weird for a while. But he came back, and he was different but he was still Wonwoo, so it was fine.”

Hansol did the maths in his head. “So we’re up to four years ago, right?”

“Yeah.”

Hansol kissed his shoulder again. “You don’t have to rush.”

“Thanks, it’s okay. So the three of us were still friends, all hiding in the closet together. But we figured we could go to the same university all of us together and that way we wouldn’t have to hide from anyone, be away from our parents and just be gay freely.”

Hansol was about to ask if he had met Hanbin, but Seungcheol continued.

“Those first three months were so good.” He was smiling wide, looking up at the ceiling. “We were nineteen and gay and in love and it felt like we had everything figured out. Everything was good.

“This was back in the early days of The Shop, before it was even The Shop; we were just selling out of our pockets. Wonwoo was still running errands like he is now, because he’s a scary looking guy and we all know I’m too soft. But then Mikyung came to visit and they went out for lunch and there was something on the other side of town.” He thought for a moment, Hansol still tracing shapes on his chest. “I don’t even remember what it was, but Wonwoo was still out and Hanbin,” his voice faltered and he cleared his throat. “Hanbin said he would do it.

“I tried to stop him, tell him I could go or we could wait for Wonwoo, but he told me to stop worrying.” He sighed, shutting his eyes. “I’m so glad I told him I loved him. I’m so glad I did that because.” He held his breath and let it out, holding it again then letting it out. “He died.”

Hansol felt himself start to cry, simply upset by seeing Seungcheol so distraught. “Cheol, I’m so sorry that’s, that’s fucking awful.”

Seungcheol finally turned his head and looked at Hansol, his voice just a ragged whisper. “I had to lie to his parents. I had to tell them that he was just my friend, that he was caught in the crossfire of something we didn’t know about. In my eulogy, I couldn’t even say that I was in love with him. I had to lie even after he died.”

Hansol placed his hand softly on Seungcheol’s cheek, wiping at his tears as Seungcheol melted into the touch. “You blame yourself.”

He already knew the answer, but that did little to stop the breaking of his heart as Seungcheol nodded.

“You shouldn’t – don’t interrupt me – you shouldn’t blame yourself. I know you do and it’s hard and you can’t get rid of that survivor’s guilt, but you couldn’t have done anything.”

“I could’ve gone instead, it could’ve been me.”

“But then I wouldn’t have met you,” Hansol’s voice was wavering. “I wouldn’t have met you and I wouldn’t have –” he bit his lip but finished his sentence. “I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you.”

Seungcheol sniffed loudly. “You’ve fallen in love with me?”

“Well, yeah I mean.” He felt heat creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks. “I kinda thought we both had. You said it on the phone today.”

Seungcheol turned onto his side, taking both of Hansol’s hands in his. “Don’t, don’t. I do love you.” He pressed their kips together several times. “I do I do I was just scared you didn’t love me.”

Hansol giggled against his lips. “Of course I love you, don’t be ridiculous.”

They let one of the kisses last a bit longer before Hansol pulled away. “I’m really sorry about Hanbin.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“It wasn’t yours, either.”

Seungcheol opened his mouth but thought better and just smiled. “Thank you.”

“I’ll try to stop telling you not to worry so much.”

Seungcheol breathed out hard, his breath warm on Hansol’s face. “Thank you.”

“You need food and rest,” Hansol said, rolling off the bed and going to get some cup noodles from the cupboard.

When they had finished their noodles, they put the cups next to the ones from the previous night. They didn’t bother changing as they got under the covers.

Seungcheol held Hansol against his chest and kissed him just behind his ear. “I love you so much.”

Hansol squeezed his hand as their fingers intertwined. “I love you too, Cheol.”

#seventeen #hip hop unit #meanie #cheolsol #check in #mine

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