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theartofdreaming1 · 3 years

Photo

Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch are slowly becoming a proper team! No more secrets! (for the most part)

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and (many) random thoughts on chapters 4-6 are below the cut.

heart

Losing that comfort of sleeping in each other’s arms after the Victory Tour must have been hard for Katniss and Peeta! Up until Katniss hurts her ankle, they probably didn’t really do much about it, just trying to make it through on their own... After she hurt her ankle and Peeta’s spending more time over at her place, I can easily imagine him staying over, at least until she’s fallen asleep, which might help a little... Since they are living only three houses apart from each other, I like to imagine that they can see each other’s bedroom windows from their bedroom (how else would Katniss know that Peeta sleeps with the windows open? I can’t really imagine that they would be able to open the windows of the train they were on - y’know, for “safety reasons” (i.e. making sure nobody can escape)); maybe they’d both light a candle and put it by their window, as a signal they are going to sleep... It’s not the same, but it helps a little

mind

I mean, aside from the systemic rigging of the reaping system (i.e. poorer people generally having more entries, so they can have some food), I can easily imagine there being a manipulation of the “odds” when someone becomes too vocal or troublesome for the local authorities, such as someone trying to unionize a district’s workforce, for example

soul

In the districts, their impact has to be big - their win alone was a huge defiance of the Games as they used to be... sticking together and sticking up for each other ultimately led to them defeating the Capitol’s rules! In-between the Games and the Victory Tour I don’t think there was much noteworthy going on (although maybe the fact that, so far, none of the new victors’ loved ones had been hurt - Prim, Mrs. E., but also Gale and his family would be visible during the celebrations, I’m sure, same probably goes for the Mellark’s - might tell the people in the district that Snow and his cronies were aware of the attention any assassination attempt would gather and that this, in turn, might actually could become the last straw that would spark a revolution. In a way, that was proof that the people on top were at least a little afraid of what the people in the districts would do...) And then, especially during the visit of D11, with Katniss expressing her thanks and Peeta reaching out to share their winnings with the people from D11, another district than their own - it must have provided a lot of inspiration, I’m sure.

As for the Capitolites, maybe some of them would notice for once how unhappy/riled up the people in some of the districts were... or at least stop to think about how this time, a show of love and companionship actually provided more “entertainment” and intrigue than the brutal gore and bloodshed from previous Games (also, longer lasting - there is actually much more “story” to be had from the star-crossed lovers from D12 than from any individual winner of previous Games, if you think about it... Their “love story” is still on-going, with an upcoming wedding and the promise of a family... it’s still creepy and voyeuristic as hell, though)

Chapter 4

Everything he [Haymitch] said was true about the Capitol’s expectations, my future with Peeta, even his last comment. Of course, I could do a lot worse than Peeta. That isn’t really the point, though, is it? One of the few freedoms we have in District 12 is the right to marry who we want or not marry at all. And now even that has been taken away from me. - God, this sucks so much! As Katniss rightly points out, her misery isn’t about Peeta at all - it’s about her (and also his, just pointing that out) agency being taken away! She’s being stripped even of that little sliver of agency that inhabitants of D12 usually have (choice of whom to marry, or whether to marry at all)

I wonder if President Snow will insist we have children. - Eugh, just the idea of Snow being the one to have the last word on that subject... 🤢 The invasion of privacy here... - The only person who should get to decide whether Katniss should have children or not is Katniss herself! Period!

My mind searches frantically for a way out. I can’t let President Snow condemn me to this. Even if it means taking my own life. Before that, though, I’d try to run away. - Boy, Katniss is even contemplating taking her own life, rather than to submit to the life the Capitol wants to force on her; it’s not her first choice (she’d rather run away), but it shows the desperation she’s feeling

Could I even manage to take everyone I love with me, start a new life deep in the wild? Highly unlikely but not impossible. - Later we will see that Peeta and Haymitch also belong into the category of “people Katniss loves” 😊(as well as her family, Gale, and his fam, of course)

“And Peeta’s team is probably still asleep.” “Doesn’t he need prepping?” I ask. “Not the way you do,” Effie replies. What does this mean? It means I get to spend the morning having the hair ripped off my body while Peeta sleeps in. I hadn’t thought about it much, but in the arena at least some of the boys got to keep their body hair whereas none of the girls did. - Gotta love that everlasting sexism that, even far into the future, still won’t allow women to have frickin’ body hair (y’know, like most humans do 🙄)

I can remember Peeta’s now, as I bathed him by the stream. Very blond in the sunlight, once the mud and blood had been washed away. Only his face remained completely smooth. Not one of the boys grew a beard, and many were old enough to. I wonder what they did to them. - Katniss seems to have committed every single detail about Peeta to her memory, including how his body hair looked when she cleaned him in the last Games... okay 👀😏 On a more somber note, what is it that the Capitol is doing to these poor kids?! The boys couldn’t grow beards and - I’m assuming - the girls wouldn’t get their periods while in the arena (since the Games can last for weeks, it would be a huge disadvantage if any of the girls also had to content with cramps + periods - aside from worrying about getting murdered, I mean); it’s such a violation of one’s autonomy over one’s own body, yikes

Flavius tilts up my chin and sighs. “It’s a shame Cinna said no alterations on you.” “Yes, we could really make you something special,” says Octavia. “When she’s older,” says Venia almost grimly. “Then he’ll have to let us.” - Eeek, no thanks!😦 And frankly, it really shouldn’t be Cinna’s call to make but, y’know, Katniss’s!!! I don’t know, I get real panick-y just reading this exchange (I have never even gotten my ears pierced - my mom wouldn’t let them be pierced until I could make my own decision on that subject matter and as someone with skin issues and bad experiences with needles, I really don’t feel the need to have any unnecessary metal inserted into my body, so... I’m good)

His [Peeta’s] apology takes me by surprise. It’s true that Peeta froze me out after I confessed that my love for him during the Game was something of an act. But I don’t hold it against him. [...] “I’m sorry, too,” I say. [...] “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. You were keeping us alive.” - That apology of Peeta’s... *chef’s kiss*; it was totally understandable that Peeta was upset and needed some time apart from Katniss after her confession, which had caught him completely by surprise, not even Katniss blames him for that... But his apology shows that he really made use of their time apart to work out his emotions and to reflect on both their situations - that’s some emotional maturity to be envious of! Plus, his apology is a good move to get their communication channel opened up again

It would be nice if he’d come to me with this earlier, before I knew that President Snow had other plans and just being friends was not an option for us anymore. But either way, I’m glad we’re speaking again. - Come on, Katniss, cut this boy some slack! He can’t read minds - how is he supposed to know about these things if you don’t tell him anything? It’s nice that you’re glad that you guys are on speaking terms again, but communication isn’t a one-way street, y’know?

I remember the tiger lily cookie and, now that Peeta is talking to me again, it’s all I can do not to recount the whole story about President Snow. But I know Haymitch wouldn’t want me to. I’d better stick to small talk. - Katniss really should have listened to her instincts here - Haymitch might have a better idea of how the Games/Capitol works, but he knows little about teamwork, which is an important factor in their specific (and unprecedented!) situation; I’m not blaming Katniss for relying on her mentor here, but this entire approach is going to crash and burn in the next chapter

It’s good to feel his fingers entwined with mine again, not for show but in actual friendship. We walk back to the train hand in hand. - Not to say that you can’t have friendships where you frequently hold hands - you totally can - but it is noteworthy that I don’t think I can recall Katniss holding hands with any of her other friends... (somehow, I can’t really picture Katniss holding hands with Gale casually like that... nor with Madge or Finnick later on)

At the door, I remember, “I’ve got to apologize to Effie first.” “Don’t be afraid to lay it on thick,” Peeta tells me.- There is something about this exchange that speaks to me... maybe because it reads like some sort of an inside joke between them? Or because it shows that, despite being on good terms with Effie, Peeta’s totally aware of how high-maintenance/over the top Effie is... I dunno ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Peeta has painted the Games. Some you wouldn’t get right away, if you hadn’t been with him in the arena yourself. Water dripping through the cracks in our cave. The dry pond bed. [...] Others any viewer would recognize. The golden horn called the Cornucopia. [...] And me. I am everywhere. [...] “What do you think?” he asks. “I hate them,” I say. I can almost smell the blood, the dirt, the unnatural breath of the mutt. - These are the pieces Peeta meant to exhibit in the Capitol, right? I wonder if he hoped that these paintings of his impressions/memories of the Games might actually connect with some Capitolites and might even move them to feel some empathy for the Tributes? Maybe he hoped that they would be more receptive for that kind of thing if he packaged it in art?

“All I do is go around trying to forget the arena and you’ve brought it back to life. How do you remember these things so exactly?” “I see them every night,” he says. [...] “Me too. Does it help? To paint them out?” “I don’t know. I think I’m a little less afraid of going to sleep at night, or I tell myself I am,” he says. “But they haven’t gone anywhere.” - I do wonder, whether and how painting out these moments could have therapeutic value for Peeta - on the one hand, the act of painting out specific intrusions/flashbacks might be helpful because he’d end up focusing on the more technical side of painting, y’know? Focussing on mixing the right shade of a certain color might help create some emotional distance from the moment itself... also, since painting usually takes some time, Peeta would actually spend a considerable amount of time facing these moments head on, rather than trying to avoid them (avoidance tends to increase the frequency of flashback/intrusions) and maybe spending so much time on them could also help him contextualize them within the broader narrative of his life, which is the basic principle behind Narrative Exposure Therapy, which is said to be pretty effective at treating PTSD... just my two cents

I can’t believe the size of District 11. “How many people do you think live here?” Peeta asks. I shake my head. In school they refer to it as a large district, that’s all. No actual figures on the population. - Perfect example of how tightly the Capitol controls the information the people in the districts have about the other districts... which is basically nothing. Let’s keep them in the dark so they are less likely to connect with each other and band together...

Cinna comes in with a pretty orange frock patterned with autumn leaves. I think how much Peeta will like the color. - Lol, Katniss bringing everything back to Peeta because she definitely hasn’t a crush on the guy, I see 😉

And then he [Peeta] hesitates before adding something that wasn’t written on the card. Maybe because he thought Effie might make him remove it. “It can in no way replace your losses, but as a token of our thanks we’d like for each of the tributes’ families from District Eleven to receive one month of our winnings every year for the duration of our lives.” - Peeta, the rebel! Talk about an act of radical kindness! I’m so proud of him. But also, I think this is another excellent example of how he and Katniss are on the same wavelength (this took me some time to find, but here you go): I silently say good-bye to Thresh and thank him for my life. I promise to remember him and, if I can, do something to help his family and Rue’s, if I win. (Ch. 23, THG)

I look at Peeta and he gives me a sad smile. I hear Haymitch’s voice. “You could do a lot worse.” At this moment, it’s impossible to imagine how I could do any better. The gift... it is perfect. So when I rise up on tiptoe to kiss him, it doesn’t seem forced at all. - Peeta: does anything that exemplifies his sense of morality; Katniss: *swoons* - but honestly, it is so beautiful how Katniss is so attracted to Peeta’s goodness and kind heart - it also tells us a lot about her (she is quite pure, as Peeta will point out later in this book) and what she values

“Wait, please.” I don’t know how to start, but once I do, the words rush from my lips as if they’ve been forming in the back of my mind for a long time. - And then Katniss launches into one of her spontaneous, heart-felt, and inspiring speeches/acts, expressing her thanks, sympathy, and a sense of kinship with people beyond the borders of her district, beyond the superficial barriers the Capitol has been trying to maintain in order to weaken the ‘common folk‘ and keep the exploitation going

The full impact of what I’ve done hits me. It was not intentional - I only meant to express my thanks - but I have elicited something dangerous. An act of dissent from the people of District 11. - Again, Katniss has done something that will solidify her as a symbol of the revolution without intending to do so and that’s the point, I think - she inspires people through her genuine displays of caring for others (which, in Panem, is already rebellious on its own)

Chapter 5

“We’re going!” says Peeta, shoving the Peacekeeper who’s pressing on me. “We get it, all right? Come on, Katniss.” His arm encircles me and guides me back into the Justice Building. - Protective Peeta! Also, I think it’s interesting to note the wording of Peeta’s arms “encircling” Katniss and then “guiding” her - his arms surround her, and he’s leading her away from harm (at least to the extent that is in his power - can’t really be safe from harm in Panem, can you?), but it doesn’t seem smothering or oppressive to Katniss in any way -”guide” has more of a connotation of giving direction without force, imo; in contrast, when Katniss talked about her kiss with Gale she mentions she’d never imagined how those hands [...] could as easily entrap me. (Ch. 2, CF); granted, these are two very different situations - the phrasing just stood out to me

“What happened?” Effie hurries over. “We lost the feed just after Katniss’s beautiful speech, and then Haymitch said he thought he heard gun fire, and I said it was ridiculous, but who knows? There are lunatics everywhere!” - Very telling how a clueless Capitolite like Effie wouldn’t register the rebellious aspect of Katniss’s speech; by keeping the Capitolites in the depths of sweet, sweet ignorance while simultaneously harshly trying to curb any spark of rebellion by cutting off the feed, the government is actually drawing the attention of the ignorant Capitolites to the act of rebellion itself (and also letting the people in the districts know that there was something censor-worthy going on); kind of shooting themselves in the foot here

As far as I know, Haymitch has only been here once, when he was on his Victory Tour decades ago. But he must have a remarkable memory or reliable instincts, because he leads us up through a maze of twisting staricases and increasingly narrow halls. [...] Eventually we climb a ladder to a trapdoor. When Haymitch pushes it aside, we find ourselves in the dome of the Justice Building. - I wonder how Haymitch has come to know this part of the Justice Building? Has he been to District 11 more often than Katniss supposes (he is friends with Chaff, after all), did his mentor take him there for some private conversation, or was there a moment during Haymitch’s Victory Tour where he felt so overwhelmed by feelings of guilt and powerlessness that he fled to the most desolate, solitary place he could find?

“I was supposed to fix things on this tour. [...] Calm things down. But obviously, all I’ve done today is get three people killed, and now everyone in the square will be punished.” I feel so sick that I have to sit down on a couch, despite the exposed springs and stuffing. - Obviously, all of this is awful and no one - especially a traumatized, 16-year old girl - should have to suffer carrying such a burden... But also, here we see one of the downsides of Katniss taking sole responsibility for everything - she totally forgot that Peeta might feel responsible too, only that he didn’t even know what’s at stake - which leads us to-

“Then I made things worse, too. By giving the money,” says Peeta. Suddenly he strikes out at a lamp that sits precariously on a crate and knocks it across the room, where it shatters against the floor. “This has to stop. Right now. This - this - game you two play, where you tell each other secrets but keep them from me like I’m too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them.”"It's not like that, Peeta-" I begin. "It's exactly like that!" he yells at me. - When kind, gentle Peeta’s mad, you know shit has hit the fan 😳 But also, being passed over/kept out of the loop seems to hit pretty close to home for Peeta (while I would like to know what his home life looked like before the Games, I have to admit that at this point, I’m somewhat afraid I might not be able to handle the truth...). I just think this scene is an important moment that leads to an end of (most of) their detrimental secrecy (hello end-of-CF-Haymitch!) and establishes their little team as such (hence the drawing)

“You’re always so reliably good, Peeta,” says Haymitch. “So smart about how you present yourself before the cameras. I didn’t want to disrupt that.” “Well, you overestimated me. Because I really screwed up today.” - Remember the last time someone overestimated Peeta (Foxface and the berries)? That ended in someone’s death as well... And, Haymitch? ‘Never assume’ applies to you, too!

“Do you think I gave them [Rue’s and Thresh’s families] a bright future? Because I think they’ll be lucky if they survive the day!” Peeta sends something else flying, a statue. I’ve never seen him like this. - Considering that his rebellious act of kindness is now threatening to become a sword of Damocles, hanging over those towards which he wanted to extend his kindness - simply because he’s been kept out of the loop (again)- Peeta’s anger is quite understandable

“Look, boy-” Haymitch begins. “Don’t bother, Haymitch. I know you had to choose one of us. And I’d have wanted it to be her. But this is something different. People are dead out there. More will follow unless we’re very good.” - Peeta doesn’t really care if it’s just his life on the line, but if other people’s lives are at risk? He takes no shit (it’s admirable in one way and deeply concerning in another); also, Peeta is right - while there still is a game to play, it’s not the Games, so different circumstances and rules apply

“From now on, you’ll be fully informed,” Haymitch promises. “I better be,” says Peeta. - Peeta generally is a very cooperative fellow, but don’t ever think he can’t be forceful and stand his ground when it matters!

“Did you choose me, Haymitch?” I ask. “Yeah,” he says. “Why? You like him better,” I say. “That’s true. But remember, until they changed the rules, I could only hope to get one of you out of there alive,” he says. “I thought since he was determined to protect you, well, between the three of us, we might be able to bring you home.” “Oh,” is all I can think to say. - This is such a quiet, sweet moment and also shows that Katniss, Haymitch and Peeta have been some sort of team from the start (also, in their team effort they actually managed to get the both of them back home!)

Everything is happening too fast for me to process it. The warning, the shootings, the recognition that I may have set something of great consequence in motion. The whole thing is so improbable. And it would be one thing if I had planned to stir things up, but given the circumstances... how on earth did I cause so much trouble? - Lol, you’re giving yourself a little too much credit here, Katniss ;) Frankly, the Capitol has been the one to create this powder-keg they are sitting on in the first place - all it needed was a little spark... All these injustices, the humilitation, the pain inflicted... it’s like an elastic rubber band that’s been stretched and stretched - until it snaps

“I’m something of an expert in architectural design, you know?” “Oh yes, I’ve heard that,” says Portia before the pause gets too long. - Bless Portia’s heart, making sure they avoid that awkward silence 😂

Effie looks so distressed that I spontaneously give her a hug. “That’s awful, Effie. Maybe we shouldn’t go to the dinner at all. At least until they’ve apologized.” - Aww, Katniss doing something nice for Effie!😊

Peeta and I join hands. “Haymitch says I was wrong to yell at you. You were only operating under his instructions,” says Peeta. “And it isn’t as if I haven’t kept things from you in the past.” - Peeta sorta apologizing, even acknowledging that he also had kept secrets from Katniss? We love to see it👍 - [...] “I think I broke a few things myself after that interview.” “Just an urn,” he says. - Peetaaa... stop diminishing your own physical injuries! Good thing that Katniss won’t let him: - “And your hands. There’s no point to it anymore though, is there? Not being straight with each other?” I say. “No point,” says Peeta. - Gasp! Honest, open communication as a good basis for a successful relationship? It’s more likely than you think!

“Was that really the only time you kissed Gale?” I’m so startled I answer. “Yes.” With all that has happened today, has that question actually been preying on him? - Peeta, you sly dog! Your priorities 😂

Some crowds have the weary-cattle feel that I know District 12 usually projects at the victors’ ceremonies. But in others - particularly 8, 4, and 3 - there is genuine elation in the faces of the people at the sight of us, and under the elation, fury. - I do think that it’s interesting how D4 is one of the districts being elated to see Peeta + Katniss and displaying such fury, despite being a Career district; just goes to show that, just because their odds are better at winning the Games, doesn’t have to make them more simpatico with the Capitol’s cruelty... (Considering how Finnick knows how to perform CPR, it’s highly likely that people in D4 are also used to awful and precarious working + living situations... maybe that’s exactly why they generally are so robust and do well in the Games; and maybe they are simply not that above joining the other Careers as long as it improves their chances of survival, like Katniss or Thresh had been... worked for a while for Peeta, too)

Effie starts giving me pills to sleep, but they don’t work. [...] Peeta, who spends much of the night roaming the train, hears me screaming as I struggle to break out of the haze of drugs that merely prolong the horrible dreams. He manages to wake me and calm me down. Then he climbs into bed to hold me until I fall back to sleep. After that, I refuse the pills. But every night I let him into my bed. We manage the darkness as we did in the arena, wrapped in each other’s arms. - 😭 Also: Very telling how Capitolite Effie just throws pills at the problem (with the best of intentions, I’m sure), which is an immediate, unpersonal, and superficial solution at best, whereas Peeta holding Katniss, offering comfort, understanding, a sense of safety, and human connection is so much more personal, intimate, and effective (for both of them!)

I personally killed the girl, Glimmer, and the boy from District 1. As I try to avoid looking at his family, I learn that his name was Marvel. How did I never know that? - You know why, Katniss - I suppose that before the Games I didn’t pay attention and afterward I didn’t want to know. - Still, not knowing his name didn’t stop you from humanizing him, Katniss, and that’s important, too

Whatever we do seems too little, too late. Back in our old quarters in the Training Center, I’m the one who suggests the public marriage proposal. Peeta agrees to do it but then disappears to his room for a long time. Haymitch tells me to leave him alone. “I thought he wanted it, anyway,” I say. “Not like this,” Haymitch says. “He wanted it to be real.” - Come on, Katniss, don’t be so callous; Peeta’s just as much of a prisoner here as you! Also, it’s all about being real or not real with these two, isn’t it?

Chapter 6

... you would think that at this moment, I would be in utter despair. Here’s what’s strange. The main thing I feel is a sense of relief. That I can give up this game. [...] That if desperate times call for desperate measures, then I am free to act as desperately as I wish. - Honestly, I think it was pretty short-sighted of Snow to let Katniss know so clearly that she didn’t succeed in her task; she did her utmost and it wasn’t enough - might as well fling caution to the wind now. All bets are off. If there had been still some small chance she could have ‘made things right’, she probably would have been trying harder to comply to his expectations. (I’m sure Snow thought the upcoming implementations of his stricter regime would be enough to keep Katniss in check, but pride comes before a fall ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

It’s essential to get back to District 12, because the main part of any plan will include my mother and sister, Gale and his family. And Peeta, If I can get him to come with us. I add Haymitch to the list. - For such a ‘loner’, Katniss sure has a lot of people that are important to her... And how ironic that Peeta, who she isn’t sure she’ll be able to convince in following her will be a much more willing participant that Gale, who Katniss is pretty much banking on joining her

“You’ll probably have to pass a new law,” I say with a giggle. “If that’s what it takes,” says the president with conspiratorial good humor. Oh the fun we two have together. - The dynamic between Snow and Katniss is so strange; despite the obvious antagonism there is definitely some vibe of interacting with each other at eye level and it’s weird (Sidenote: Is there any law in Panem preventing minors from marrying?)

“I want to taste everything in the room, “ I tell Peeta. [...] “Then you’d better pace yourself,” he says. “Okay, not more than one bite of each dish,” I say. My resolve is almost immediately broken at the first table, which has twenty or so soups - couldn’t have happened to me; I hate soup (like, thick soups I maaaybe can get behind, but clear soup/broth is just flavored water to me, no thanks - then again, I’m a picky eater)

Peeta and I make no effort to find company but are constantly sought out. We are what no one wants to miss at the party. I act delighted, but I have zero interest in these Capitol people. They are only distractions from the food. - Well isn’t that a mood for every social gathering ever (one person I enjoy talking to and lots of food I like? Perfect.)

I pick up a small roasted bird, bite into it, and my tongue floods with orange sauce. Delicious. But I make Peeta eat the remainder because I want to keep tasting things - Katniss seems to like the combination of meat and fruit, huh? (the lamb and plums, now bird and orange sauce) Personally, it’s a combination that’s on thin ice for me; there are only a few dishes with that component I actually like and it took me forever to tolerate them (I don’t know if it’s the texture or the taste, but something makes me apprehensive about it); anyway, Katniss making Peeta eat the rest is such a casual, couple-y thing to do (or at least something you do with someone you feel very comfortable with, I think)

Peeta looks at the glass again and puts it together. “You mean this will make me puke?” My prep team laughs hysterically. “Of course, so you can keep eating,” says Octavia. “I’ve been in there twice already. Everyone does it, or else how would you have any fun at a feast?” I’m speechless, staring at the pretty little glasses and all they imply. - Oh boy, I have a lot of thoughts on this part: A) I just noticed how this is the second delicate/fancy glass/drink that’s bringing about a jarring revelation: first that orange juice with the frilly straw in THG, now these tiny wine-stemmed glasses, B) “Everyone does it” + “how else would you have fun?” are the shittiest reasons I’ve ever heard at a party for doing something stupid you probably don’t want to do (I’m having flashbacks to all the times I had people trying to pressure me into drinking alcohol as a teen - it was even legal, btw - although I insisted that I didn’t like the taste (which I still don’t, to this day); it was tiresome 😑), C) “everyone does it” - the people in the Capitol must have some messed up teeth if that’s a regular occurence (sure, they probably bleach their teeth all the time, but also... they’d really need to, D) the obvious: how effed up that they just puke to stuff in more food when in the districts people literally are dying from starvation?! (and yeah, unequal distribution of resources sadly isn’t just a thing in Panem, I know... but there is something about actively purging yourself just for funsies that’s just extra, well, sick)

All I can think of is the emaciated bodies of the children on our kitchen table as my mother prescribes what the parents cannot give. More food. - God, how awful! How powerless they must feel 😟

And here in the Capitol they’re vomiting for the pleasure of filling their bellies again and again. Not from some illness of body or mind, not from spoiled food. - Ooh, I’ve never noticed before how this passage not only recognizes physical reasons for purging, but also mental reasons! Wouldn’t have necessarily expected Katniss to acknowledge eating disorders like that, tbh... She has become a lot more cognizant and sensitive when mental health issues are concerned

One day when I dropped by to give Hazelle the game, Vick was home sick with a bad cough [...] he still spent about fifteen minutes talking about how they’d opened a can of corn syrup from Parcel Day and each had a spoonful on bread and were going to maybe have more later in the week. How Hazelle had said he could have a bit in a cup of tea to soothe his cough, but he wouldln’t feel right unless the others had some, too. - Aww, Vick is such a sweetheart! Hazelle is raising her kids right!

“Peeta, they bring us here to fight to the death for their entertainment,”I say. “Really, this is nothing by comparison.” “I know. I know that. It’s just sometimes I can’t stand it anymore. To the point where... I’m not sure what I’ll do.” He pauses, then whispers, “Maybe we were wrong, Katniss.” “About what?” I ask. “About trying to subdue things in the districts,” he says. - Peeta’s rebellious nature coming through again!

“Sorry,” he says. He should be. This is no place to be voicing such thoughts. “Save it for home,” I tell him. - I know Katniss means D12, but her phrasing of “home” evokes a more domestic, couple-y connotation again 😊

I don’t want to dance with Plutarch Heavensbee. I don’t want to feel his hands, one resting against mine, one on my hip. I’m not used to being touched, except by Peeta or my family, and I rank Gamemakers somewhere below maggots in terms of creatures I want in contact with my skin. - It’s telling that, while Katniss is not big on being touched aside from her family (does that include Gale? probably? although they hadn’t even really hugged until Katniss had been reaped, so... I dunno), she’s totally fine with Peeta touching her (more than that: remember how good she felt holding his hand again in Ch.4 and how she’s feeling safe in his arms when they are sharing a bed), it says a lot about how comfortable she feels around him

Plutarch steps back and pulls out a gold watch on a chain from a vest pocket. He flips open the lid, sees the time, and frowns. “I’ll have to be going soon.” He turns the watch so I can see the face. “It starts at midnight.” - Honestly, this very subtle hint/foreshadowing of the clock setup of the Quarter Quell arena is simply brilliant! And also, midnight is going to become an important point in time as well from here on out (lightning tree, in the hanging tree song, saving Peeta and the others from the Training Center in the Capitol)

It’s another mockingjay. Exactly like the pin on my dress. Only this one disappears. He snaps the watch closed. “That’s very pretty,” I say. “Oh, it’s more than pretty. It’s one of a kind,” he says. - The disappearing mockingjay on the clock is interesting because A) Plutarch can’t really be flaunting the symbol of rebellion as Head Gamemaker, duh, but also B) the clock arena will be the place where the Mockingjay will disappear (until the rebellion will be able to use her for their cause); and that last comment by Plutarch clearly is aimed at the Mockingjay (Katniss) herself

When I open my eyes, it’s early afternoon. My head rests on Peeta’s arm. I don’t remember him coming in last night. - Okay, Katniss must feel hella safe and used to Peeta joining her in her bed, because apparently she didn’t even wake up when he did, like... I’m a fairly heavy sleeper, but I can’t imagine sleeping so deeply that I wouldn’t jerk awake if someone crawled into my bed while I was snoozing

“No nightmare,” he says. “What?” I ask. “You didn’t have any nightmares last night,” he says. He’s right. For the first time in ages I’ve slept through the night. - Telling how the first time Katniss sleeps through the night is after Snow let her know her performance wasn’t enough; she’s must have been so tense and on edge, desperately trying to calm down the districts and convince Snow, that she hadn’t been able to sleep properly, aside from the obvious sleeping issues she’d have from the PTSD (I’m often that way before an important exam - especially if it’s an oral exam; I get tense just thinking about it 😓)

“I had a dream, though,” I say, thinking back. “I was following a mockingjay though the woods. For a long time. It was Rue, really. I mean, when it sang, it had her voice.” “Where did she take you?” he says, brushing my hair off my forehead. “I don’t know. We never arrived,” I say. “But I felt happy.” - Interesting how in Katniss’s dream, the mockingjay is Rue - lending further credence to the hypothesis that maybe Rue was originally meant to be the Mockingjay (would make Plutarch’s comment of the mockingjay being “one of a kind” a bit more hypocritical/exaggerated/dramatized, which still fits with his flair for propaganda/showmanship... and ultimately, Katniss as the Mockingjay was unique, but that doesn’t mean that the rebellion couldn’t have made someone else their symbol if they needed to); also, Peeta brushing Katniss’s hair off her forehead is so sweet and intimate 😊

After I got home, we [Madge and I] started spending time together. [...] It was a little awkward at first because we didn’t know what to do. Other girls our age, I’ve heard them talking about boys, or other girls, or clothes. Madge and I aren’t gossipy and clothes bore me to tears. But after a few false starts, I realized she was dying to go into the woods, so I’ve taken her a couple of times and showed her how to shoot. She’s trying to teach me the piano, but mostly I like to listen to her play. - Honestly? I’d love to read a fanfic about Katniss and Madge figuring out their friendship (let me know if there already are some!); it’s cute how they end up including each other in their hobbies 😊 Ah, the classic “I’m/We’re not like other girls”, which often is especially prevalent during your teen years (I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t been gulty of this in my past 😅)... Katniss might actually would have benefited from talking with Madge about her boys’ troubles, though... And it’s so funny how Katniss admits that she has no interest in clothes, despite it being her supposed “talent”, while she also admits that she does admire Cinna’s work

... there’s a mob scene. The square’s packed with screaming people, their faces hidden with rags and homemade masks, throwing bricks. Building burn. Peacekeepers shoot into the crowd, killing at random. I’ve never seen anything like it - I... I have. At least on tv... In different places, at different times, but... yeah...

#thgagain #thg #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy #everlark #thg meta #my sketches and drawings #honestly there were so many scenes in these 3 chapter that I wanted to draw... but I barely had the time for these 2 #Catching Fire is just chock-full with interesting/important moments... my book is more post-it notes than pages at this point

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kimberly-spirits13 · 4 years

Text

Batboys With S/O on Their Periods HC:

Note: Does anyone want me to start including Luke Fox?

Dick Grayson:

· You guys have a shared apartment so he kinda just knew

· The change in your mood was very apparent

· He literally goes into mom mode

· Has the hot pad on hand at all times

· Any kind of food that you’d ever want is stocked and ready to go

· He will stock up on chocolate if you like it

· Honestly even if you don’t really like it, he’ll make sure to have it

· Just incase

· He’s got a period movie playlist at the ready for you

· Disney movie marathon

· Will give you distance when you’re really pissed

· He does N O T try and provoke you at all

· He’ll give you hugs for an entire day if you needed

· Pain meds at the ready

· He’ll make the living room and bedroom into some of the most comfortable places imaginable just to make sure that you feel good

Jason:

· Lo-key is freaked out

· You woke up one morning and then collapsed back onto the bed clutching your mid-section and didn’t leave for HOURS

· Probably thought your appendix ruptured or something

· He laid there with you for as long as you needed

· He’s terrified of you when you’re angry

· Doesn’t judge you when you start randomly crying over nothing and just gives you a massive hug

· He’ll braid your hair if you want while watching a movie or when you just don’t feel good

· It’s really relaxing

· If you want, he’ll read to you too

· The softest thing when you don’t feel good and it would make anyone wonder if he was replaced by a clone or something

· He’ll purposefully lay out his hoodies, sweatshirts, and sweatpants for you to take

· If you need anything, he’ll get it

Tim:

· He actually handles it really well

· He feels terrible that it happens and it hurts him to see you in pain

· He always wants you to be with him when you’re on your period so that he can make sure that everything is okay

· If you get more anxiety on your period (I do a lot) he’ll just lay with you until you feel better

· His room is the best because it’s dark and cozy plus he’s literally always there

· The only real light is the light from his laptop and I’d imagine he’d have a lava lamp or LED lights that change color somewhere in his room

· It’s a Tim thing

· He’ll have secret stocks of period food and ice cream just for you

· You can even use any of his mugs if you want

· He’ll drop his work in an instant if you’re in pain or start crying

· Back rubs

· Just in case, there’s an emergency change of clothes in his closet for you

· There’s actually an emergency bin for you with literally anything you’d ever need

· One night he just finds you with a medicine ball or something heavy over your mid-section to help it feel better and doesn’t even ask, he just pulls you into a massive hug and falls asleep with you

Damian:

· You were in your bed crying over how bad cramps were or how you felt when he came in

· *concerned mode*

· You were almost sick when he turned on the lights and then quickly turned them off again at the realization of what was happening

· He would crawl into bed with you and hold you as close as possible and just let you cry

· If you wanted anything, it would be there ASAP

· He’d whisper things softly incase sound triggered a migraine or something

· Would take patrol nights off for you

· He won’t judge you for anything no matter how much you think he might

· Even if you insisted you were fine, he’d probably carry you everywhere

· Would smother you with affection

· He’d watch anything you wanted to

· Generally, just respects that this isn’t something you can just “unsub” from and isn’t going to complain when you’re on your period

· He’ll do anything you want or need without question

Duke: ( source- @mybirdboys )

· He probably cries when you cry tbh

· Freaking out

· *Calls Alfred*

· After the first state of panic goes away he’s very attentive and actually kind of knows what he’s doing

· Ice cream on hand 24/7

· He’ll get you anything that you need

· Movie night

· Actually, had the biggest collection of quilts and blankets which is the best

· Will have soft music playing in the background at all times

· It’s probably Khalid or something

· Best person to rant to no matter how dumb it is

I’m on my period rn and everything hurts. Like I started cramping one night and then just hardly stopped. Ugh. Anyways, I hope you’re all having a good week and staying safe and healthy with everything that’s going on right now. Remember if you’re feeling stressed, it’s okay to take a day or longer to unplug and just listen to some nice music and relax. It’s better to feel good even for only a few minutes than have what feels like the weight of the world and its issues resting on your shoulders forever.

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from-a-reckless-writer · 3 years

Text

wrote a thing.

She is sitting behind you; back propped up against the harsh cement wall the double-deck is pushed against. She isn’t wearing her shirt, merely draped it over her frame. She is like this with you. Always partially naked, almost always bare but never completely. A sleeping short but no bra, there; grinding on your thigh with only a tank top and no underwear, here; and now, chest bare with only a shirt draped over.

You hear rustling and you know she is reaching for the pack of cigarettes and lighter on the head of the bed.

You are proven right.

You hear the flicker of the flames and the string of cigarette smoke climbs into your nostrils. You lace your shoes first before even wearing a bra. The first time you did this in front of her she laughed at you.

Shoes first before a bra? If you hadn’t just fucked my brains out I’d have half a mind to call you a psychopath.

She always smokes the same brand of cigarette. The ones whose sticks are black, as if a premonition of the blackening of her lungs if she keeps at it. It is always the one with the menthol aftertaste.

“Do you always have to have cigarettes after sex?”

“They're called stimulants for good reason you know? And besides…”

She trails off and it irritates you, because her trailing off means that she knows you’re thinking the same thing; implies that with you, she doesn’t feel the need to finish her words out loud because she is all too aware that you have already finished the sentence in your head.

It is most irksome.

“Besides what?” You spit out, even though you already know the answer; even though you know that she knows you know.

“Besides,” she drawls, and even with your back to her, you know there is a puff of smoke around that one word.

“You like the taste.”

You feel liquid fire running in your veins. Of course, that’s what she would say. That’s what you were thinking of, wasn’t it?

“They’re bad for you.”

You hook the clasps of your bra together.

“Mm. Like how I’m bad for you?”

“Fuck you.”

“You just did, baby.”

******

There is no love there, you think as you wait for a cab below her apartment.

Above, you know she is listening to the trashy music you know she doesn’t really like but always listens to. You hate that you don’t know the reason why she does this. You hate that she always seems to know more about you, than you about her.

You imagine what she does when she’s alone in her apartment.

In that cramped space of a studio apartment, where the kitchen faces the door of the bathroom and the bedroom is three steps away from said kitchen. The one place you’re sure would always be burned to the back of your lids till the day you die.

It’s yellow walls eternally living in the gray matter of your brain. It has embedded itself there, along with the image of her spread open for you each time and every time.

You raise your hand to hail a cab. A car stops in front of you, you look up one last time.

There’s the silhouette of a woman behind the curtains.

You leave.

******

The city rolls past your windows. Manila in the middle of the night feels like a neon lucid dream. Well, it is, if you look past the homeless children in the streets and the rows of carton boxes inhabited by cold bodies on the sidewalk.

You think about her and how cold the metal frame of a double-deck feels at night. You never ask about the person who used to occupy the top part of the deck. You don’t ask about how there is a whole drawer of clothes that she doesn’t touch.

You don’t ask and she doesn’t answer.

It’s always been like that between you, hasn’t it? An eye for an eye. A tit for tat. What you give is what you get.

The entire taxi smells like orange Lysol and you suppress a gag reflex. It gives you a headache. But the pain of it is nothing compared to the chasm inside your chest.

It’s been getting bigger and bigger, wider and wider, you notice. The gap always increases whenever you decide to lace your shoes and hail a cab.

You ignore it.

******

She doesn’t call you, the next Friday.

It’s not the first time she failed to call. Often, it’s a work thing or a university thing...or both.

She’ll call the next evening; always eager to fuck off the stress the prior day has inevitably brought.

She wouldn’t even bother with foreplay on days like those. It’s fine by you. You’re more than happy to get down and get to work.

You’ve always been an efficient employee after all.

Because that’s it, isn’t it? This is just a contract between the two of you. If you need an itch scratched, you'll dial the familiar number and she'll show up on your doorstep and the next minute her hands would be down your pants and vice versa.

It works. It’s fine.

But then, she doesn’t call.

Not during that Friday night and not during the next evening and before you know it, a whole weekend passes by.

You find your hand on her doorknob on Monday morning.

******

She slams the door in your face the moment she realizes you’re behind it.

You pound your fist on the locked door three times, twist the knob roughly for good measure.

“Tangina, just let me in.”

You hate how fucking needy you sound.

******

You wake up falling backwards, the back of your head hitting the bone of her legs painfully.

“Aw. Pucha, what the-”

You look up and there she is, looking down on you and then she is muttering under her breath.

“Idiot. Who fucking waits outside somebody’s door?”

You scramble to your feet.

You embrace her. Tightly. It surprises you both. You hear the breath get whooshed out of her lungs.

You feel her stop fighting against the hug. She turns soft. She sobs.

You let your shirt get soaked.

******

You don’t fuck that night.

You hold her instead.

******

You feel nauseous on the ride home again but this time you know it isn’t because of some cheap air freshener.

There is something different churning in your gut. It makes you want to throw up. It’s got to do with the ever widening chasm in your chest and the woman in the studio flat, you think.

No, you don’t think. You know.

You elect to ignore it again.

******

There is a man with his arm around you when you run into each other in the LRT. In the distance you can hear the whistle of a security guard. You can feel the rumble of the oncoming train underneath your feet. Somebody says, Please observe the following for your safety and protection while inside the station...Thank you for patronizing the LRT.

You watch in real time how a nebula dies.

The light bursting, exploding and then blinking out of existence all in the same breath.

“Nice to meet you.”

She extends a hand to the man beside you.

You try not to think about the fact that that same hand had trailed up and down your body not only two nights ago, how those fingers had mapped out every single scar down the back of your thighs, how that hand had cradled your face so softly before even softer lips descended on your own.

“Well, I should probably get going. I’ll let you go now.”

The five words grate against your veins like broken glass atop cement walls grazing trespassing robbers.

You try to crane your neck to follow her disappearing figure.

His arm gets in the way.

******

She doesn’t answer your Friday night call.

And the Saturday morning call.

And the Saturday afternoon call and the evening call.

And the Sunday morning call and the afternoon call and the evening call.

Once again, you find your back against her door on a Monday.

******

She finds you there; sitting stupidly, head thumping repeatedly against the wood.

You scramble to stand up so quickly you almost trip over your own feet.

“Hi.“

—is the most stupid thing to say in the history of stupid things to say.

“You didn’t answer my calls,” you’re quick to add.

“No answer is an answer.”

She jams her keys into the door.

“Yeah, I figured.”

You twiddle your thumbs, eyes cast to the floor.

She opens the door. You follow, naturally.

She takes off her shirt.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Well, isn’t this what you came for? Let’s get it done and over with. The sooner the better, I have an essay deadline tonight.”

“No, I-”

“You what?”

You stare stupidly, mouth closing and opening like a fish, with no words coming out.

“Ano?” She demands, “Wala? Well, if you’re not gonna fuck me I suggest you get out and stop wasting my time. Like I said, I have a deadline tonight.”

You can take the dismissal for what it is.

Or...

You can fight back.

You can call her out on her bullshit.

You can apologize for your stupidity.

You can-

You rush towards her and smash your mouths together harshly.

You make her cum three times that night, her letting out your name in breathy whimpers.

It doesn’t feel satisfying. It just leaves you feeling empty.

She doesn’t smoke after, this time. She just gets out of your arms, pulls out a chair, a charger and her laptop.

She gets to work.

You dress yourself. Shoes first, then bra.

“I’m sorry.”

******

You stop hearing from her.

You know better than to call her non-stop.

No answer is an answer.

******

The apartment is empty when you get there.

The landlord says it’s been empty for two weeks now.

She didn’t leave her future destination nor her new address nor her new number.

She didn’t leave anything behind.

Well, except maybe for…you.

#this isnt supercorp so pls just scroll past #because sometimes u just gotta write the most cliche thing to write about and get it out of ur system

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 4 years

Text

With Cherries On Top

Chapter 3: The Ring & The Save

Summary/Author’s Note: I’m so fucking excited for you all to read this I am like BOUNCING. Max in all of his glory being a fucking SHIT. But we love him dearly.

You and Max start learning a little more about each other. Your current predicament calls for a drink...or seven. And the two of you land in Alaska to meet your family. @pedropascalsource for gif credit. Look at that fucking shit and that grin...it happens a lot in this chapter as he starts to schmooze your family.

Pairing: Max Phillips x Reader (The Proposal AU) Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: R/18+ - drinking, alcohol, sass, so much sass, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, Max is a bastard man but he is...getting better?, also does he own casual clothes?

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [MASTERLIST]

You had taken Tylenol before you even went through security, but at this point you were pretty sure the entire bottle would not have prepared you for flying with Max Phillips. The non stop flight from JFK to Juno was almost ten hours and you had thought multiple times about stabbing your eardrums out with an ink pen. It wasn't that the flight was bad, in fact the flight itself was quite nice. First class was definitely a new experience but you could get used to it. The padded leather seats and extra leg room meant you could lean back and stretch. You propped yourself up with a pillow, and a book and was content to relax. There was just one problem, Max.

His presence was about as loud as he was and he insisted on chatting up the cute stewardesses, reading over your shoulder, and reminding you almost every fifteen minutes that this flight was boring. He at one point in time asked if you wanted to join the mile-high club and you fought the urge to snap your book shut and smack him with it.

The flight attendant walked by and asked if you needed anything and you sat up and gave her a warm smile.

"Yeah, um, I'll take a vodka cranberry, please."

Max raised an eyebrow and looked at you, "It's nine thirty in the morning."

"Oh, shoot. You're right!" You threw yourself over his lap and leaned into the isle to catch the attendant. Max grunted from the sudden weight of you and you bit back a grin. "I'm sorry, can you make it a Bloody Mary? Thank you."

You leaned back into your seat and opened the binder from immigration. Max dusted off his slacks and continued to look at you with curious disdain.

"Maybe you should eat something first?"

"It comes with celery, I think." You said without looking up. You could feel his eyes on you but refused to give him the satisfaction that it bothered you. The words on the page were suddenly the most interesting thing you had ever seen in your life and when he gave a heavy sigh, you grinned.

The attendant came back with your drink and you smiled as she set it on your fold out table tray.

"Is that the binder from I.N.S?" Max said and you nodded as you wrapped your lips around your straw and drank deep.

"Yup, and we have one week to learn all of this about each other. Which will be easy for me, because I can answer all of these questions about you--but you know nothing about me." You looked up and glared as he snatched the binder from you and started flipping through it.

"You expect me to believe you know all of this about me?"

"I do," you took another drink and turned in your seat to face him. "You never stop talking about yourself--and I've been listening to it for five years."

"Well," he said, flipping the page dramatically and looking at you with a grin. "I am my favorite subject."

"At least you can admit it."

He sat back in his seat and crossed his ankle over his knee, balancing the binder on his leg. "Alright, let's have at it then. What's my favorite color?"

"Red." You said without hesitation. "Which is ironic now, all things considered." He ignored the quip about his vampiric state and you leaned over the seat, making your drink slurp obnoxiously. "You know? Because of the blood--"

"Yes, I get the joke, dear." He moved his finger down the page. "What am I allergic to?"

"Soy, gluten," you ticked off on your fingers before waving your hand. "And a whole spectrum of human emotion."

"Are you going to be like this the whole time?" He looked at you exasperatedly and you shrugged. He sighed and shook his head. "Where did I grow up?"

"Transylvania."

"Okay. I'm done." He snapped the binder shut and you almost felt bad...almost.

"No! Okay, okay, come on, Max. I'm sorry," you put your hand on his arm and he looked down at it, making you pull back like he had burned you. "Queens. You grew up in queens. See?"

"Well, you grew up in Sitka. One down. Only two hundred and ninety-nine more questions to go."

You groaned and threw yourself over Max's lap again and held up your finger. "Excuse me, Ma'am?" You hailed the attendant. "Another Bloody Mary, please."

"Will you please, get off of me?" Max said, and you finished your drink and gave his nose a playful tweak.

You plopped back into your seat and leaned back against the headrest. "Next question."

"Do I have any scars?" He turned in his seat to mirror you.

"You have a pretty bad one on your knee. I see it every time you have your meetings with Ted. A.K.A--racquetball." Max nodded, indicating that you were correct and you continued. "So, what's it from? College sports, I'm guessing. What pretentious, frat-boy sport did you play? Soccer? Lacrosse?" You gasped and put a hand to your mouth. "Ultimate Frisbee?"

"You're very funny." He sneered and shook his head. "And I'm not telling you."

"What about me, Max? Do I have any scars?" You switched up the game. Proving that you knew everything about him wasn't going to get you very far with the government unless he could return the favor.

"No," he leaned in and lowered his voice. "But I'm pretty sure you have a tattoo."

You choked on your drink and the action made him smile. Taking a deep breath and a moment to wipe the tomato juice off of your sleeve, you glared at him. "Pretty sure?"

"Yes, when you had the nerve to be out with the flu and they stuck me with that idiotic temp, she accidentally transferred one of your calls to me. It was to confirm that you wanted to cancel your appointment with a laser removal company." He balanced his chin on his palm and continued to give you a smug grin. He was enjoying this now and it was suddenly a lot less fun.

"What are you getting at detective Phillips?"

"So, what is it?"

"No way," you took another large sip and blushed, turning away from him. "I'm not telling you."

"You know they're going to ask. I have to know. Is it a dolphin? An infinity symbol?...'live, laugh, love'?" He gave a mock gasp and put a hand to his mouth. He was imitating your earlier jest about his scar. This was still a game to him and all you had managed to do was encourage it by baiting him.

"You know, I really am glad you're having fun with this, but do remember I could go to prison. Give me that--" you snatched the binder back from him and he let you have it. "Next question. Whose place do we stay at, yours or mine?"

"That's easy," he kicked back in his chair and folded his hands on top of his chest. The action made you realize just how long he was. Between his broad shoulders and impressive calves, he barely fit in the chair. It had to be the alcohol talking. "We stay at mine," he said simply, drawing your gaze from his body.

"Why wouldn't we stay at mine?"

"Because I live at Central Park West. And you no doubt live in some squalid little studio apartment full of houseplants and a dusty, lonely, wine rack that you never use, because it's for guests you never have." He waved his hand as if imagining it and your jaw dropped.

You stayed quiet and closed the binder placing it in the pocket on the back of the seat in front of him. The small bursts of moments when Max wasn't being an asshole, it was easy to forget how real this was. He was charming and you both threw it back at one another so easily that it felt like a game. But when his real nature came roaring back to life and his dig against you was just a tad too deep--well, you didn't want to play anymore.

"What are you doing? We have more."

You sucked the rest of your drink down and put it on the edge of the tray for the attendant to take.

"We should get some rest." You said flatly, pulling the thin airline blanket up over your shoulder. "Knowing my mother, she has a big dinner or something planned."

"Wonderful," he said, folding his hands across his chest as he settled back into his seat.

The two of you stayed quiet for the majority of the trip. You frequently looked over your shoulder to see if he was even still next to you, as he didn't make a sound when he breathed. It was unnerving but no doubt had something to do with him being undead. Did he even need to breathe? You had certainly seen him do it. Was it an act? Fuck all of this was going to send your family over the edge.

The last time you pulled back your silk, airline stamped eye mask, Max wasn't in his seat. His table tray was pulled down and sitting on top of it was a small black velvet box. You looked around but he was nowhere to be seen.

Your fingers traced the shape of the box gently before you picked it up and pried it open. The ring that sat inside was stunning. It was gold, with a few small diamonds in the band on each side before leading up to the main piece--a large teardrop ruby rimmed with more diamonds. You weren't sure if the red stone was meant to be a joke but regardless, it was actually very pretty.

It slid over your finger in a perfect fit and you watched it sparkle in the sunlight from the window over your shoulder. Despite your frustrations, you had to admit, Max Phillips continued to be full of surprises.

Seeing Max rattle in his cramped seat while the puddle jumper took you from Juno to Sitka brought you more joy than it should have. His broad shoulders were folded in on themselves as and he was glaring straight ahead like finding a fixed point on the wall would keep him from committing murder. You knew the flight wouldn't be long, and after the amount of Bloody Marys you had consumed on the last plane, you were too buzzed to care.

As soon as your feet stepped down off of the stairs and onto the tarmac, you saw your family, waving and jumping on the side of the airstrip with a 'welcome home' sign. Oh boy. Here we go.

"Chad! Talk to me, champ." Max said loudly and you turned around to see he had put in his Bluetooth. It made you roll your eyes and you didn't bother to wait for him as you started towards your relatives.

Your mother was soft and sweet and the joy you felt as she squealed and threw her arms around your neck couldn't compare to any other kind of happiness. She smelled like home and fresh baked bread, like holiday candles and clean laundry--things that made you think of home. She pulled back to look at you like you had grown so much since she last saw you, despite being practically the same, and you laughed as she kissed each of your cheeks.

"Oh, I missed you!" She said, hugging you again before passing you off to your grandmother.

"Missed you, too, Mom. Hey, Nana," you said as you stooped down to hug the older woman.

Your mom paused and pulled you back close enough to sniff the air in front of you. "Honey, have you been drinking?"

“Oh--” you leaned back and shook your head, which was a mistake as the world spun just a little bit. “Of course not. There was a guy on the plane and he--”

"We don’t care about any of that," Your grandmother waved a hand to stop your mom from continuing to make a fuss over you. "Where's your man??"

You stopped breathing for a moment as you were suddenly reminded that you were lying to the people who loved you the most. With a bite of your lip, you looked over your shoulder and gestured to Max who was slowly making his way over to you and still talking on his earpiece.

"That's him, the one in the suit."

"Oh, my," your mom said, lowering her welcome sign and taking in the sight that was your boss and now assumed lover.

"You've been keeping that from us for five years?" Nana said as she elbowed you in the ribs and your mother glared at her. “He seems a bit overdressed.”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing down at your leggings, warm boots, and well worn over sized sweater in comparison to Max’s custom blue suit and silk tie. You hoped to god that Max had brought more suitable clothes for what was supposed to be a relaxing family oriented week in Alaska. “He does, doesn’t he?”

“Chad--I think I lost you. Can you hear me? Hello? Helloooo? Shit.” Max tapped the device in his ear repeatedly as he looked around like he would be able to see where there would be better signal. He had yet to acknowledge either you or your family and you clenched your fists at your side.

“Honey,” you said and Max had the audacity to hold up his finger to you as he continued to turn in a half circle. “Honey.” You tried again and finally you raised your voice curtly, “Max!”

“What?” he hissed and you reached up and took the earpiece out of his ear. It took everything you had not to turn and chuck it into the harbor. You gestured to your mom and grandmother and Max’s face changed into his large and inviting smile.

“We agreed not to bring work onto this trip, it’s family time, right?” You raised an eyebrow and he glared at you. “This is my mom and grandmother,” you gestured to them, keeping a firm hold on his Bluetooth and almost daring him to try and get it back.

“You won’t get any reception on that thing anyway, dear,” your grandma waved to Max and then around to the vast landscape. “Too many trees.” She took a few steps over to him and gave him a hug like he wasn’t a complete stranger. You had to give Max props, he hugged her back and managed not to look entirely uncomfortable as he silently worried she was going to wrinkle his suit. “Now, do you prefer to be called ‘Max’ or ‘Satan Reincarnated’? Because we’ve heard it both ways.” She laughed as she patted his chest and smiled up at him.

“Nana!” You looked at her wide-eyed and Max grinned from ear to ear. How was it that the elderly managed to get away with saying the most inappropriate things?

“Oh, have you?” he glanced at you and you felt your face get hot. “Max is fine. As long as I can call you Nana.” He continued to offer that grin that you knew to be his trademark salesman smile but it made your grandmother positively beam.

“Of course!” she said, patting his chest again and adjusting his pocket square. You ran a hand through your hair wanting to scream.

“Shall we?” You interjected and grabbed your suitcase with one hand and your mother’s arm with another. The two of you walked pointedly towards the edge of the pier and she looked at you with parental concern.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you reassured with a shake of your head, slowing down for Max and your grandma could catch up. “I’m just tired.” If you continued to lie this much you were certain your nose was going to grow pointed.

Your mother helped the elderly woman down the ladder that connected the main strip to the edge of the pier where the family speedboat was parked. The chill off of the water made you shiver, it was definitely coming up on winter time and with the constant overcast came icy waters and snow. Max was just lucky it wasn’t summer time as the non-stop sunlight would have been an issue.

Looking over the ladder and feeling your body sway without even being on the water, you were starting to regret the amount of drinks you had had on the plane. You put a hand to your lips as a small amount of indigestion came up to the middle of your throat. Max stopped beside you and held his hand out expectantly.

“I’ll take my headset back, thank you,” he snarled and you ignored him. “Are you going to be sick? Pull yourself together--”

“Pull myself together? Pull m--” you shook your head and slapped the small device into his hand. “Unbelievable, you’re unbelievable.”

“This is going to be a long fucking week,” he said, looking at the boat as your family settled in. “I’m not getting in that. I cannot get these wet. They’re Armani.” He gestured to his shoes and you vowed in that moment that if you did wind up vomiting, it would be on those shoes.

“Hence the boat,” you gestured. It was the only way of getting to the island that the tiny town resided on, you were happy to make him swim but somehow you doubted that would go over very well with your family. “Either you climb down or you can stay here and I’ll see you in a week--”

“Fine. Fine.” He stopped arguing and climbed down the ladder, hopping the last few rungs to land firmly on the pier. He held up his arms as you passed down the suitcases and tossed his shoulder bag to him and he placed them in the back of the boat. “Are you coming?” he added impatiently as you leaned heavily on the railing at the top of the ladder.

“Give me a minute,” you said through gritted teeth.

“I told you to eat something. You’re drunk--”

“I am not.” You argued with him, straightening your posture and turning around to climb down the ladder. You were going to prove him wrong even if it meant that you landed on your ass. It was simple, all you needed to do was put one foot down in front of the other and keep a tight hold. Rinse and repeat until your feet were firmly planted on the wooden boards--simple.

“Lookin’ good, sweetheart,” Max said, and you didn’t have to look to know he was staring up at your ass. “Those leggings are nice--are you wearing a thong?”

“Oh my god, shut up, Max,” you paused and leaned your head against the ladder, wanting to both strangle him and dive into the pier and let the ocean take you far away from the week ahead of you. After a few moments, you regained your sense of self and took a few more rungs down.

“Almost there,” he encouraged and you let out a heavy sigh. “There ya go--annnnd, congratulations. I am now five hundred years old.”

“Good for you, old man,” you quipped and tried to push passed him. Your boot caught on one of the loose boards and there was nothing to catch yourself on as you started to tumble. Despite refusing to admit that Max was right, maybe you should have eaten something. Your desperate attempt to forget your current situation was about to land you in the middle of the freezing gulf. You heard your mom gasp from the boat but instead of hitting the water, Max’s arm shot around your waist and pulled you back against his chest with ease.

You stumbled and grabbed the front of his suit coat as you tried to turn around and he tightened his grip. He looked down at you with a grin that was much different than the one he had been giving your family. “Got ya.”

“Nice going, Max!” your grandmother cheered and you knew there would be no living with him after this.

“Thank you,” you said curtly and tried to move from his arms but he didn’t release you.

“What, no kiss?” he smirked, keeping his voice low enough that your family couldn't hear him. “I did just save your life.”

“Let. go. of. me. Max.” You said through gritted teeth and you braced for him to force a kiss on you for the sake of your family, but to your surprise, he released you. The way he watched you as you climbed into the boat, all dark eyes and wide grin, sent a shiver down your spine.

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#max phillips #bloodsucking bastards #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #the proposal #pedro character fic #pedro pascal #Pedro Pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

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internalsealpanic · 4 years

Text

Cosmonauts

Summary: You always call Tim space related nicknames. No one knows why.

A/n: This is technically a follow up to Art Gallery Smile but it can be read on its own. This was posted on mobile so Idk how bad it got formatted. Will edit when I get to my laptop.

Warnings: mentions of panic attack and anxiety. No graphic detail but just in case. (Yes, I gave Tim anxiety. Fight me.)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

“IT WAS ZOMBIE ADJACENT,” Roz protests, shoving another one of Tim’s fries into her gaping maw in a vain attempt to stop the petulant pout retching its way to her lips. You roll your eyes hard enough that your entire head follows along with their movement, taking a nibble of your own fries. Roz scowls, mouth twitching the way yours does (4 times to the left and 4 and a half times to the right) it was honestly the only way to tell that you two were related in any shape or form.

“It wasn’t even close, you deep-fried stick of margarine,”

“It shambled, didn’t it?”

“So does Space Case over here when you don’t funnel enough caffeine into his system, what’s your point?” You bite out leaning back, slinging your arm over the back of the bench and over Tim’s shoulder making his breath hitch. Tim can feel his skin heat up. For once, he’s thankful for just how much Roz hordes your attention. He’s starting to run out of excuses for the color of his cheeks. Not that you ever fell for any of it from the way you hummed every time he stammered out his excuse.

Based on the way your hand flexes and not so subtly moves away, you noticed his flush but made no comment. Instead, you grin- all sharp teeth and cocksure and smug bastard- leveling your older cousin a look which roughly translated to ‘Checkmate, motherfucker’. Despite his apprehension, Tim can’t help the smile that twitched on to his lips. Your eyes flickered to him. It might just be his imagination but Tim was pretty sure he saw fondness chip away at your smug grin. Tim kind of wants to lean into your arm but instead, he leans forward pretending to pay attention hiding his smile in his hands. His face is gonna get tired from smiling too much around you.

"It wasn't even close,"

"It was freaky looking,"

"Damn woman, you're being real judgy there,"

“Back me up here Duckie!” Roz screeches, shoulders hiking up making her look like a frazzled cat about to hiss pulling Tim away from his reverie. You roll your eyes all the way to the back of your head while Steph just snorts. Tim sighs. None of you have stopped calling him ‘Duckie’ or ‘Ducktective’ after that stint of being ‘Drake’. Admittedly, it wasn’t his best idea but you didn’t have to laugh that hard and slap your knee. When you were done laughing, you vehemently protested the name change by wearing your precious, well-kept, one of a kind Red Robin hoodie for the duration of the ‘Drake’ thing. You had said it was to bring him back to his senses (sense of fashion). Maybe you just wanted to fluster him. He certainly couldn’t put it past you. It worked. Oh, it definitely worked. Now, all he could think about was how nice you looked in his colors which inevitably lead him to think about how nice you would look in his shirts, in his clothes- Damn it. He’s doing it again.

Roz clears her throat. It is loud and rough and it makes all of you wince despite the already loud atmosphere of the cafeteria. Really what does Roz expect him to say? One, Tim wasn’t fully paying attention. How could he when you two are smooshed together on a cramped cafeteria bench with you still wearing your Red Robin hoodie? Tim’s surprised he isn’t keeling over. Two-

“See! Even our darling-” Tim’s brain short circuits. “Space Cadet can’t even defend your bullshit,” you laugh reaching over to Roz’s drink leaning a little too close to Tim’s face. He can almost feel the heat radiating off your skin.

If I lean in just a little more, I could probably…

“It isn’t bullshit!”

“You’re right! Bullshit has more substance-”

“Sooooo, what’s with all the space nicknames for Tim? When do I get one?” Steph asks casually, popping another of Tim’s fries into her mouth.

Has he even eaten any of his fries? It’s almost gone and he’s eaten at most one.

You choke making a pained noise, likely due to said carbonated drink going into your nostrils (and possibly your lungs), as you turn away. Your neck visibly red from where Tim is sitting. Based on the sparkle in Steph’s eyes, she can see it too. A manic grin spreads on Roz’s face wide enough that Tim legitimately worries that it’ll split her face wide open. A shrill sort of giggle escapes her which has you whipping your head to her direction to scowl at her. It does absolutely nothing to deter the sheer glee on her face as she sneers back to you. Some secret conversation passes between the two of you. Tim and Steph watch in slow motion as mortification creeps on to your face.

Suddenly (not really), Tim’s thankful that his only sister is practically a saint. At least compared to the horror that is Roz.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, you have a plethora of space-themed nicknames for him when you aren’t busy calling him whatever endearingly aggravating name Steph came up with that week.

Cosmo

Space Case

Space Nuts

Rocket Man

Martian Manhunter

Marvin (the Martian)

And your favorite, Cosmonaut.

At first, he figures it was because of his obsession love for Star Wars and Star Trek but no, that couldn’t be it since you had started calling him that long before you two ended up marathoning the entirety of Star Trek instead of working on your project. He can still remember just how engrossed you looked while watching as you hugged your knees to your chest leaning forward as you waited for the next episode to start up with bated breath. Your features highlighted by the glow of the laptop screen making it very easy for Tim to memorize the contours and angles of your expression. Yet another moment Tim really wanted to capture with a photo. You even did your mouth twitch thing without noticing.

He really wanted to just keep an entire album of all the different expressions you made. Wait. That sounds weird. Does it sound weird? It probably does.

Then again, maybe you called him those because of just how much of a weirdo he was. He couldn’t blame you if you did. But he found that highly unlikely. Sure, you can be mean at times (a lot of times) but you were too oblique for that. Years in customer service made sure of that. Your jabs were usually of the subtler, more needling variety. The type that makes you pause for too long. Plus, you said every nickname with a fondness that made his heart skip a beat. It was like when you called Roz or Steph ‘Fucker’. Maybe a little warmer. Or he could just be imagining that. Probably. Hopefully not. It was hard to get the honey-sweet way you said them out of his head.

Maybe they were just jabs. Lighthearted one. They could have just had easily been comments on just how much he spaced out. Tim has a tendency to live in his own head and it shows especially when he’s stressed or tired or both. Sometimes he would completely shut down as a result of excess anxiety. He can still remember the number of times he had let his anxieties run rampant letting them drag him away from the moment. His breaths were too quick to back then. He felt like he was gonna faint but then you just smiled at him like you were there for him which as it turned out you were. You gently squeezed each segment of his fingers until his breaths slowed. Even when he did fully calm down, you didn’t relinquish his hand. You held them firmly in your own even as you looked entirely unsure of what to do and what to say. You didn’t whisper the usual ‘you’re ok’ or the classic ‘you’ll be fine’. No, you just sat there with him quietly. Letting his feelings ebb and flow as he needed them to.

Tim really isn’t sure what he did to deserve even knowing someone like you but he would do it again and again if it meant being able to stick close to you.

Roz, ever the agent of chaos, throws a conspiratorial smile around the table like a flail. You look like you’ve been hit by one.

“Sorry, Steph. You won’t get one,” she says glancing at you. Steph pouts before she and Tim follow Roz’s gaze expecting you to glower or snarl or get up to deck her. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. You just kind of sit there frozen and mortified with a face that simply says ‘Oh. God. This is happening.’. All you can really do is mouth a ‘fuck you’. This obviously pleases Roz. Say what you will about Roz, but there is abso-fucking-lutely no denying that she is petty as hell when it comes to revenge. Nothing is sacred to this woman. Nothing.

“Why’s that?” Steph asks innocently, smiling around her bendy straw also enjoying this rare chance to torment you.

“I’m so glad you asked!” Roz answers her voice twisting into a horrifying facsimile of a daytime talk show host. You peel your arm away from the backrest and place your arms over your head and neck as you do in an earthquake drill bracing for impact. By the way, you were shaking, you’d think there was an actual earthquake. Your reasoning can’t be that stupid.

“My dear Stephanie-” Steph scrunches her nose at the overly sweet tone Roz lathers on her name but makes no move to interrupt. “(y/n) only uses space-related nicknames for people they think are- and I quote- ‘waaaaaay outta their league’,” You let out a pained groan and Steph’s face unfurls as she lets out the loudest snort, loud enough to draw the attention of several tables around them.

Tim’s mind is still reeling, still trying to process what Roz just said.

Him?

Out of your league?

Excuse him, isn’t it the other way around?

What the hell?

“Tim, for the love of Alfred, please unhear that,” you plead wetly, parking your head out just enough for Tim to see just how red your face has gotten. “God, please unhear it or I might just die,” Tim kind of didn’t doubt that you would. Steph somehow laughs even louder at this. Roz, not one to miss pouring salt in the wound, laughs along with her. You look like you wanted to implode out of existence. You could certainly try but Tim seriously doubts the universe is kind enough to let you escape.

Yeah, Tim’s brain has officially left the building. He’ll be back at 9 o’clock sharp tomorrow. Promise.

“You mean to tell me that-” Steph chokes, unable to control her laughing fit. “-You’re telling me that you’ve been watching them pine for each other for over a year now and you just let them?!” Steph wheezes still holding her stomach.

Roz looks offended and makes a whiny little noise. “Weeeell, technically I offered to wingman-”

“YOU WERE GONNA CHARGE ME FIFTY BUCKS,”

“Hey, matchmaking is hard,”

“It isn’t worth fifty bucks!”

“You’re right! It is worth so much more,”

“God, I hate you,” you groan into the table.

“God can’t help you now, kid,”

Tim frowns, mind backtracking to dissect the information. Apparently, his brain decided to clock back in.

They knew. Even Roz ‘I don’t give a shit what you do as long as it doesn’t affect me’ Andrada, noticed. Was he that obvious?

A year? Wait. No. Over a year. They knew about this for over a year.

Lastly, what do you mean each other?! As in mutual? Mutual pining?

As if reading his thoughts, you ask “Wait… what do you mean each other?”

Roz blinks at you not entirely sure if you’re being funny. When you give her a look, she slumps back in her chair. “I’m related to a dumbass,”

“That you are. Speaking of dumbasses-” Steph whips her attention to Tim giving him a shit-eating grin.”-You said you were waiting for the perfect opportunity to ask (y/n) out, right?” Steph waves her hands doing jazz hands as she points at your still dumbstruck figure. She’s smiling as if she was the world’s best wingman at the moment.

Tim suppresses a groan. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured it,”

Roz reaches into her pocket and produces a lighter. Grabbing the last of Tim’s fries and lighting it. “There. Mood lighting. Do the thing.”

“Ah yes, because surely the scent of burning potatoes is gonna sweep (y/n ) off their feet,” Tim said flatly crossing his arms. He knows he’s definitely focusing on the wrong thing but as with all things it was easier to procrastinate. This is especially true when you’re afraid of the outcome.

Roz huffs, waving the fry to extinguish it and muttering something about beggars and choosers. “Trust me kid that isn’t hard to do. Besides, did you not hear the part where I quoted (y/n) about you being ‘outta their league’,” You open your mouth to protest but slam it shut when Roz gives you a lopsided grin looking like she had a mountain of dirt on you which she likely did. He was definitely thankful that she has never met his family. He’s pretty sure Gotham wouldn’t survive.

“How could I possibly be out of (y/n)’s league. I- I don’t- I mean- I’m not-”

Your body twists his way fast enough that he’s sure you either have whiplash or a twisted spine. Your eyes are set on him glowering as if he’d said something wrong. He’s pretty sure he didn’t although he did have a talent for putting his foot in his mouth. Your jaw is set tight, your teeth almost grind. He could see the tight hitch in your shoulders. He is 100% sure you’re going to deck him.

“Do you want it listed alphabetically or what?”

“What?”

“Structure it like an argumentative essay. Speak nerd.” Roz instructs, earning her the full force of your glare. Your face pinches even more. Maybe this was the part where you implode.

You suck in a calming breath before turning back to Tim.

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, you are a fucking moron, and here’s why:” Taking another breath, you turn to face him fully your cheeks reddening but you press on either from pure unadulterated spite or determination.

“You quite literally co-run a multibillion-dollar corporation. You’ve been doing that since you were seventeen apparently. You know several languages and you are not only fluent but proficient. You’re well versed in an insane amount of fighting styles. You are the smartest dumbass I know-”

“Preach!” Steph jokes.

“-You can basically operate any machinery I put in front of you. I have no doubt you can Macgyver one up if you fucking wanted. You could hack into any system you want just as a joke. You could probably throw the entire global economy into the toilet just for shits and giggles. Need I go on?”

Tim looks at you wide-eyed and speechless. You shrink a little as he continues to gape at you but you keep looking him in the eyes daring him to refute your claims. Really what was there to say? As much as he wants to come up with something witty to snap back at you, his chest is too crowded with warmth from the absolute sincerity of your voice. He knows you didn’t set out to make him fall deeper in love with you but he feels like he’s in free fall with your gravity pulling him downwards. Tim can feel the heat rising to the tips of his ears.

You shrink again, your mouth twitching. “I-” Another calming breath. “I said too much. But my point stands!” The infinitesimal gap he felt between the two of you practically vanished. Still, he could do nothing but stare. Words fail him in the most inopportune moments even when you look so desperate for any kind of response. You swallow thickly looking like you think you’ve ruined everything when the fact was you haven’t. Quite the opposite really. Tim feels like he could take on the entirety of Gotham’s rogue gallery right now. Still, his brain was drawing a blank.

“Mood,” His brain has short-circuited and is now beyond repair. His palm is in his face before he even sees your reaction. You give him an entire speech about how great he is and all he can say is ‘mood’. Looking over at Steph and seeing her phone on her hands, he can tell she’s already transcribing the events to the group chat. Well, It can’t get any worse.

You giggle snort eyes slamming shut from the force of your laughter. Joy suffuses throughout your tense body, loosening your tense muscles. “Thank you for proving my point,” you say between gasps.

Tim falls victim to the infectious smile spreading on your face. He feels the warmth crowding his chest grow fuzzy.

Now’s your chance.

Tim takes a steadying breath. He rolls his shoulder back to straighten his posture. He waits for you to calm yourself a bit. When you do, he asks as confidently as he can “Are you free this Saturday?”

“No,”

Oh crap. He knew he screwed up. He feels cold seep into his feet.

You shake your head at his panic. “I work Saturday, ET,”

“Oh, I-”

“I have all of Sunday off though,” A hum of excitement spreads through his limbs. “Name your time,”

“9 AM?”

You give him a look roughly translating to ‘You aren’t going to lose sleep over a date, so help me’.

“11:30?” He corrects. You smile and hum seemingly making the oxygen in the atmosphere disappear. He finds that he doesn’t mind, not when he feels like he’s floating on zero gravity.

-------------------------------------------------

Bonus:

Steph: Tim’s a dumbass😌🙃

Damian: Thank you for stating the obvious, Brown.

Step: 🙄 Do you wanna hear about it or not?

Dick: 👀We’re listening…

Steph: (Y/n) made this whole speech about Tim and all Tim could say was 'mood' cycgu9c8ychic8td 5d8fcouv9ygpuv

Jason: F

Duke: F

Cass: F

Babs: F

Dick: F

---------------

Thanks for reading!!!!!

Taglist:

@idkmanicantenglish, @batarella, @batarella-mini, @birdy-bat-writes, @anothertimdrakestan, @founduebitches , @lucy-roo

#tim drake imagines #tim drake x reader #tim drake #batboys #step brother #wingmanning is hard #batfam #red robin #dc fanfiction #dc x reader

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frogtanii · 3 years

Note

It’s wind anon! (Imagine me as the screeching seagull meme) just pushing through the week. Getting the test out of my mind—it just sucks because there’s always this one test that I completely mess up on—and as someone who has to deal with all honors classes and my grades tend to be good, every time I fail to meet up to expectations my stress skyrockets. (Imagine a world where grades don’t matter and school is learning based rather than mark based...) Family pressures too—okay, wind anon is done ranting.

The update! The drama—I was there the moment it updated and I saw the comments rush in and I was laughing real hard.

But my reaction to the update!

Osamu POV :0!!! The insecurity... “all it did was remind him that he was alone”— I empathize because gosh, that is so real.

The attachment to Meiko though... his emotional state is on a very unstable tightrope. “Osamu had Meiko and he used to have Daichi and Iwaizumi...” that entire section has all my red flags raised. He’s going to completely break when everything comes out.

The loud clang startled me though. I was like “!!!” But it was our YN! Our kind, wonderful YN!! Trying to get snacks wwwwww.

Osamu thinking YN is cute :0 I be having a lot of thoughts about that but him squishing it down is fair. He considers himself to be in a committed relationship (though Meiko does not reciprocate and I am ready to fight regarding that) but I can respect his devotion (even if it is very misguided).

But. “After all, you were the reason Atsumu hated him now and never spoke to him anymore.” My gosh. What do I even say about this? Because the blame is entirely thrown off. I mean, you mentioned before Atsumu had a specific reason for believing in you over Meiko so I’m still waiting for that but Osamu is thinking something wrong but it’s a human action. It’s so easy to blame people to make yourself feel better. And your brain can do it without you realizing the depths of what has been thought.

Osamu being angry (!!!) and being a complete utter douche. YN literally just wanted a bag of chips and you’re here, crowding them in the pantry and being hostile. I don’t have much to say about it because he realized his mistake but by then he already stressed YN really badly and I am...(long sigh).

Atsumu to the rescue. We appreciate Atsumu very very much in this house. It really sucks that Osamu and Atsumu are confronting like this—I mean, Atsumu has been fighting a bit and Osamu had not really been listening to Atsumu on his own end prior to this confrontation so I’m...exhausted and a bit sad in the “It can’t be helped” kind of way.

“Osamu allowed him to, too in shock and ashamed to protest, much less fight back.” It couldn’t be helped considering how everything developed but...it still hurts my chest a bit, y’know? And then Osamu tries to apologize and I’m ready (so so ready) for them to communicate because they desperately need to—

But then Meiko comes in (I am...ready to throw stuff at her. Lots of stuff. Packing peanuts. All squeaky and annoying and bad for the environment just like she is—or something like that, I dunno, I’m half dead because I’m dealing with cramps rn) and all my wishes for them to finally have that much needed conversation where Osamu can finally break down and cry—all my wishes are turned to ash like.

(Angry Wind anon noises)

Meiko rubbing her makeup all over Osamu’s shirt like he is a rag. What in the... And her 4 inch heels please, I cannot, why, I can’t deal with this, I can’t, don’t make me get close to her because I’m like Yachi (stressed out of my mind). Please don’t do this to me. But yeah, Meiko with her poor makeup that doesn’t stay on her face. What the heck....

And Meiko’s scent... gross. Like, brown sugar, cute, nice, baked goods do smell really nice, (ever add a bunch of vanilla extract to a recipe? It like, perfumes around everywhere, it’s insane and wonderful) but chances are (because it’s Meiko), it’s overbearingly sweet. Chinese food (I do not trust her taste in Chinese food to be frank), I happen to come from a Chinese family, I have Chinese food for dinner like everyday, it would take a lot to be able to get that sort of scent on you. And I do mean a lot. And hairspray??? Chemical? I do not,,, I,,, Osamu, why would you breathe that in? It’s gonna be real bad for your lungs? And we already know Meiko smokes as well—your lung health, please value it—

And then the Suna entrance. Wonderfully done fr0ggy!

Final thoughts, I am very much projecting onto Yachi rn. Yachi has been in the house for less than a week and she already has to deal with this. The company should give her a raise. My gosh.

Anyway, might as well do a thoughts/headcanon thing because it’s been a while and my mind is still on gem/jewel stuff (so hope you don’t mind!)

Okay, so Kenma I think would go with a warm colored gemstone, and citrine would work well with him! “Protection against evil thoughts” because we know Meiko has ramped up is insecurity and lowered his self-esteem.

I mentioned this before last time but Sakusa is definitely onyx. That black is iconic, and “sharpening wit” would make sense with his grace for word play and snark.

Akaashi is an interesting one...I think sapphire. I mean, sapphire can have many colors besides the classic dark blue, so that’s one thing, but it’s known for “loyalty and a pledge of trust” which Akaashi gave. I think it’s suitable for him.

Suga...initially I was thinking pearl would match him in terms of appearance, but actually looking at my reference, turquoise would work really really well with him. “Protect from evil, maintain virtue, bring good luck”. Would work well.

For Atsumu and Osamu I wanted something that could represent their duality. My first thought was gold and silver. I mean, it’d fit in terms of appearance but I’m not sure that would be the best comparison. Gold doesn’t rust so it fits Atsumu who never fell for Meiko’s tricks. Silver has been said to vanquish dark/evil beings (vampires, werewolves, the classic silver bullets and stakes). It would be interesting to see if the comparison will apply to today’s update :D!

I like how my brain shut off and couldn’t remember anyone else for a second—anyway, Oikawa... every time I think of him, I want some hue of blue wwww. I guess Aquamarine “soothing influence” would work. Since he joined YN’s side, he has been able to see the big picture and be a voice of reason. He’s thoughtful and I think aquamarine which encourages long relationships is suitable because that is what he wanted. So yes, aquamarine.

Bokuto...is a tough one. I’m trying to still keep with their color schemes a bit. I think carnelian would work. “Health, luck, bold energy, warmth, joy”—it would represent him fine. It’s a bit more orange than I would prefer but it suits him so I think it’s okay.

Iwaizumi... emerald? I mean, he does suit green tones, and “rebirth, regeneration, new hope” would work just fine for him.

Right now my brain is complete mush and I can’t think of anything for Kuroo and Daichi. Like, Kuroo would be red, sure, but the more famous ruby/garnet I think don’t represent him fully because he is still rather contained. Hmm, would need to think about them more.

But I’d like your thoughts on this too :D!!

I wanna do something suitable for all colors for YN, so opal! YN has many different parts and colors and is overall a very vivid person—if you tilt opal, you see more and more faces and things underneath being brought into your eyes. YN may be seen from many different perspectives, but YN is always beautiful and amazing. So opal is what I think YN would be.

Anyway, I’ll end here :D! Need to eat lunch. Much love towards you fr0ggy! Make sure you eat and rest up too~ drink some water or any other fluid to hydrate! And keep warm too. Much love to all the fans and supporters and ask senders too! It’s really awesome seeing and hearing from all of you and seeing new faces with the old. Love the excitement and points you all bring up—makes my brain happy.

MAJDKD I NEED TO POST THE NEW CHAPTER BUT I HAD TO RESPOND TO THIS FIRST BESTIE ILY N I LOVE TUIS — I AM OBSESSED W THE CRYSTAL (??) STUFF??? IVE NEVER UNDERSTOOD IT BUT I THINK YOIVE EXPLAINED EACH GEM N WHY SO BEAUTIFULLY I AM IN LOVE W U KITH KITH UR SO LOVELY HAVE AN AMAZING DAY (sending u good vibes n anti-stress love >333)

#j’s asks #anons babey #℗ poker face #wind anon

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suphoshi · 4 years

Photo

FRAGILE | Park Chanyeol x reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1,766

Warning: None! (do beware for grammatical errors though lol not proof read at all)

You’re pregnant, can’t see your toes, and the world is falling apart.

Chanyeol still loves you.

You stared at yourself in the mirror with downturned lips.

Your stomach hung lower than ever before and when you looked down, you couldn’t even see your toes anymore.

Was my hair always this wiry?

Whoever said pregnancy was a beautiful thing had obviously never seen the hair growing on your legs.

“Babe, I’m home!”

You whined immediately at the sound of his voice and turned around to lock the bathroom door. It had been an hour since you went in there, all to surprise Chanyeol. You hadn’t had sex for going on a month because your nausea was almost constant, and he had been on a week-long business trip. You wanted to do something nice and you couldn’t even stop looking in the mirror long enough to shower.

Was my ass always this big?

“Babe?”

His voice was closer, and you sat on the toilet, holding your head in your hands.

“Don’t come in here!” You yelled.

Thankfully, you had locked the bathroom door because despite your request he tried to get in anyways.

“What’s wrong? Let me in.”

Tears fell down your cheeks and your lip trembled, staring at the chipped paint of your toenails. It only made you cry harder.

Were my ankles always this swollen?

“Go away!”

The doorknob turned again. “Why are you crying? What happened?! Are you hurt?!”

“Not physically!” You retorted.

“What does that even mean? Get out here right now.”

You hauled yourself back up (was it always this hard to move around?) and walked towards the door, pulling it open and staring up at him.

He looked so good. Too good for you. Your face crumpled, lip jutting out. “I used to be so pretty. Now look at me.” He looked you up and down at your request and you closed your eyes, a sob sneaking past your lips. “I’m a hairy fucking potato sack.”

He was quiet, but only for a few seconds while you cried.

“Babe,” you heard his unmistakable laugh as he pulled you into his arms, hands wiping the tears from your cheeks even though they were nonstop. “where is this coming from?! You’re not a hairy potato sack!”

“I can’t even bend over to paint my toenails anymore!” You cried.

His chest rumbled with more laughter and he pressed kisses to your tear-soaked face without contempt. It warmed your heart in the same way it broke it (How can he stand being with me like this?) When he was satisfied with that, he pressed your face into his chest and rocked you back and forth like a child.

It was nice.

Thirty minutes passed before your legs started cramping up and you whined against him, pulling your head back, chin resting on his chest. He peered down at you with a smile that you weren’t ready to reciprocate.

“My legs hurt.”

He moved without question, leading you to the bed and sitting you down.

“Want to tell me what happened?”

You teared up again and he kneeled down in front of you, resting his head on your knees.

“I just wanted to look nice for you since we haven’t had sex in a decade, but I looked in the mirror and just-” you paused, looking at him incredulously. “I don’t know how to make this look nice! And I couldn’t bend down to shave my legs or paint my toenails. And I was going to wear your sweatshirt to be sexy, but I’m scared it won’t even fit! I don’t even know who I am anymore, I feel like I was swallowed by another person!”

He smiled and it took every bit of restraint you had not to slap him. How could he sit there looking pretty and smiling while you were having a complete meltdown?

Before you could yell, he stood up and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, turning around and walking into the bathroom.

“Don’t move.” He yelled back just as you were turning around to grab the tv remote to throw at the back of his head. When he returned, he was holding his sweatshirt that you took into the bathroom. He pulled it over your head in silence, fixed your hair when your head poked through and then walked away again. You stood up to fix it, shocked to see that you weren’t as big as you’d imagined since you were still swimming in it, belly only somewhat showing.

“Okay, so” Chanyeol walked in again, but that time he carried a big bowl of water and some towels. He sat it down at your feet and reached into the pocket of his hoodie to pull out a few different colors of nail polish and a razor. “I’ve never shaved my legs, but I figure it’s like shaving your face. Right?”

You stared down at him and felt tears bubbling in your throat.

“Also, do you want…” He looked at the bottom of each different nail polish. “tickle me pink, oh so blue, or the devil’s red?”

When he looked back up at you from the floor, the tears wouldn’t stop.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You wiped at your face with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “I’m being so annoying and you’re still being nice. What’s wrong with you?”

He stood up and sat on the bed beside you, grabbing your hand tightly. He waited for you to regain some composure and look at him before speaking.

“I love you. And that’s not conditional or when I think you deserve it. I love you crying, whining, yelling, and even when you can’t bend over anymore. I love you from this life to the next. I love you snotty nosed and mascara stained cheeks.” He brushed his thumb across your cheek, and you leaned into his hand. “I love every crazy little corner of you.”

You smiled despite the tears and he lit up, kissing you with so much love that your chest hurt.

When he pulled back you shoved at his chest playfully. “When did you get so cute?”

He scooted back down to the floor and grabbed your foot, propping it up on his knee.

“I’m always cute.” He said with an effortless smile.

You somehow loved him a mile more.

“Breathe.”

It was so simple, just breathe. In and out. Chest rises and then falls. Smell the roses, blow out the candles.

Just breathe.

Why was it so hard? Why couldn’t you just breathe?

“I can’t-”

You were cut off by warm hands on your cheeks, silencing all of your thoughts, a deep inhale of reality that calmed you and reminded you the simple mechanisms of in and out all at the same time.

Your eyes, wide and frantic and scared.

His eyes… calm, loving, and gentle. His thumbs brushed the stray tears from your cheeks and the smile he put on for you left you in shambles.

“You can. Just breathe, like this.” He took a deep breath in and you mimicked him, shaky and full of fear. He released it and again, you followed suit, more tears falling despite the waves of calm that rushed over you.

His breath smelled like mint leaves. He always smelled like mint leaves.

When he smiled, you almost forgot how to breathe again. “See? You can do it. I told you.”

You smiled back, proud that you could do it. Proud that you made him smile. When his eyes lowered down to the all too large baby bump that projected from you, you melted. He rested his hands there and smiled even bigger.

“And you,” he started, and you immediately laughed. “Stop giving your momma a hard time, okay?”

“Yeah, if you could just get your foot out of my rib cage, I think I will be okay.”

Chanyeol’s laugh was harmonious and real. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you leaned into his chest, let him hold you as tight as he could, press more kisses into the top of your head.

“I love you.” He mumbled.

“I love you.” You mumbled in reply.

Two hours later, he was packing your things into the car.

“I think- I think we can wait a while longer, okay? Yeah, let’s wait! I don’t want to go yet.”

You were talking to yourself only. Panic rose in your chest the longer he ignored you pleas, fear bubbling over with the tears rolling down your cheeks as Chanyeol worked on setting up the car seat in the back. You shook your head to no one, gripped your stomach and took a step back, ready to run away.

“Let’s just go back inside Yeol, I can’t go today.” You whined, annoyed that he wasn’t paying attention to you. He simply sighed in response, still fiddling with the car seat.

“We’re going to the hospital, you’re in labor.” He mumbled, finally stepping back, and putting your bags in the back.

“No, I’m not!” You shouted and he shot you an annoyed look over his shoulder.

“Your water broke three hours ago!” He yelled and you tossed your head back, crying to the sky since he wasn’t listening.

“Please, let’s just go back inside! I’m not ready, I can’t do this, I just can’t!”

You were sobbing, fingers trembling, when Chanyeol grabbed your face, pulling it back to his level. He didn’t give you more than a second to process what was happening before he kissed you with every bit of love he held in his heart. Every fear you held dissipated. Every worry on your shoulders lifted. Your heart fluttered; stomach flipped.

He rested his forehead on yours when he pulled away and his eyes bore into yours. He was the loveliest human being you had ever known. Every bad day you’d had for the last few months, every second worth of pain and turmoil you had felt, he took it all onto him in a second and carried all of your sorrows. All of your worries.

His smile brought you sunshine.

“You’re going to be the best mom ever.”

You cried out loud and he laughed, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Let’s go get this baby out of you.”

Hours, days, weeks later, Chanyeol made sure you knew how loved you were. On your dramatic days, your angry ones. Even the really really depressing days when you hated yourself. His love filled you up and emptied you out over and over and you would never get tired of waking up beside him.

Life was so warm by his side.

Your sunshine.

A/N: Hiiiii! So parts of this were actually supposed to be for TG pt II, but it felt so cheap for some reason for my TG Chanyeol and OC. I think I like it much better as a little drabble lol (or not drabble w/e ya want it to be). I wanted to get this out bc I know I suck on updating TG, but i hope this will hold you guys over for a little while!! Writers block has been eating me a l i v e, and it is so frustrating on top of medical issues I’ve been having and my own anxiety/depression stuff. But I’m happy for those of you who will still read my stuff, and I’m so so sorry if I’ve disappointed any of you bc the wait has been so long. Love you all long long time and I hope y’all have the loveliest day!!!! or night <3<3<3

#chanyeol fanfiction #park chanyeol #chanyeol #chanyeol drabbles #chanyeol fic #chanyeol fic rec #chanyeol imagine #chanyeol fluff #chanyeol fanfic #exo imagine #exo fluff #exo fic #exo chanyeol #exo fanfic

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kirencer · 3 years

Text

febuary seventh (i’m seeing you)

Y/n and Spencer's relationship collide around a single day: the one where they first looked into each others eyes.

[Or, the all of the secret love letters they wrote during the beginning of their relationship]

Word count: (part one and two) 9.2k

Warnings: Language

Rating: Gen audiences

A/N: it was too long for tumblr, so I broke it into two parts!! Enjoy. GN! Afab reader (it’s important, trust me)

Part Two

Y/n looked up. They had just finished reading Spencer’s journal, the one dedicated to them. Spencer was kneeling and in his hand was a small box, the dainty ring he’d gotten years ago from his mom sat in between the white.

“Will you, Y/n L/n, do me the greatest pleasure by marrying me?” Spencer said with his anxiety showing through. Y/n gasped and threw themself at Spencer, wrapping their arms tight around him.

“Yes!” they cried, pulling away for Spencer to slide the ring on their finger. Then they took a deep breath. “Wait here.”

They disappeared into the two’s bedroom, rummaging through some things before running back with a black binder in hand. “It’s only fair if you see my unsent love letters, too.”

Spencer grasped it and flipped the binder open as Y/n guided him to the couch.

“They’re in order but aren’t as neatly organized as yours - I stopped writing before you did, though.”

————————————————

For Spencer Reid, february 8th 2008 10:17 am

It was yesterday, a little more than 24 hours ago at 6 am that I was on a bus. Tiny, white and cramped, but now I realize it was actually a ferry to the love of my life. Even though at the moment all I cared about was when I was going to get to stretch my legs next, it still buzzed with excitement because I was about to be in your city even if you didn’t come to see me, that would’ve been enough. Being three feet away from you is more than enough. Being Two inches away from you is bliss. But your head on my shoulder is nirvana.

But then, only two hours after I had started my d&d campaign (the moon isles or something) there was an urge to look behind me. I tried to ignore it but I looked anyway.

What I saw scared me. Not because I’m afraid of you Spencer, but because I was scared of myself. I wanted to run to you and hug you, but I was too scared of scaring you away that I didn’t. My head seemed to spin as a second glance felt like a hundred years. Then a smile broke out on my face and I looked away. At first I didn’t think it could be you, I half screamed at the two people sitting on the left side of me. “Don’t look now, but my boyfriend’s here” of course they looked and Sophia told me that you were walking over here.

My insecurities flared up, but I remembered that you love me, even though I'm tired and probably covered in acne. She said you sat down behind me and I risked a quick glance, or two, or three times every two minutes. I tried to act as normal as possible even though if I looked back I would see the smile that lifted your cheeks when I looked at you. It was hard to focus on my campaign because it’s cliche, but I could sense you behind me and I was shaking. My friends were hyping me up to say Hi and I was trying to not scream. I ran to the bathroom, splashed water on my face and tried to calm down. I ran back, probably looking a little too excited. Ok, I was totally too excited.

My campaign finished up, you caught me staring at you a few times and my friends told me you were looking at me anytime we all made a loudish noise. After that, you followed us to lunch, well, followed me. You stood beside me and I said Hi, you replied the same. Then you grabbed your stuff and seemed to have left. I visibly deflated, my one chance to see you and I missed it. Then you came back, with a takeout bag in hand and some fries. I didn’t mention it already but you looked adorable in your glasses, from afar they look too big for you but then you see the big warm eyes behind them. Your cheekbones are so nice and everything about you is handsome, even more than I could have imagined. Photographs don’t do you justice. I hoped you had liked your dice, I got the red and black ones but I was scared you didn’t like yours.

You sat directly in front of me and my friends (Deriasia and Emma) immediately made fun of me and I almost died. At that moment. When you smiled and laughed. My friends gave us their blessing, which kinda fit because you were as tense as if you were meeting my parents.

I asked you to sit with me during the next campaign and you did (we snuck you in without paying). You played with the first character I ever played (Bida the high elf wizard). I was almost too distracted to really compete in all the things, instead focusing on you. You let me use your journal to doodle, a weird eye and a girl. Did you notice me fiddling with my hands? If I didn't keep them busy I probably would’ve put my hands in your hair or grab your hand. I remember you asking me if I needed a hug. I said yes and I think that hug is the most important one I've ever had. You laid on me and I didn’t care what my friends would say, all that matters was you.

My skin in two weeks will not remember the feel of your hair, my lips will not remember your cheek, but my brain forever will. At that moment, physical immortality is not as important as the immortalization of those touches.

They linger in my head, fuzzy and soft on my skin but they’re there.

I remember you telling me not to buy you anything (i still got you a resin skull magnet and dice) I remember flirting with you, i remember it all. I remember how you know all of Sappho’s poems and fragments, I want to remember everything about you. I know I won’t, you’re the one with the crazy good memory, after all.

I wish I would’ve looked in your eyes and told you that I saw you. I wish I would’ve pressed my lips to yours, but then again there’s always next time. And next time I will, even if it’s right in front of the whole world. Because I love you. I really fucking love you and everyone can suck it. I love you.

And I think that’s all that matters.

____

I have waited almost six months to hold you in my arms, and now I wait longer. I hate myself, I didn't hug you. I should’ve.

I didn’t tell you I love you enough, I didn’t kiss you properly. I wish I did.

Currently my arms ache to hold you, my eyes burn to see you and my lips yearn to touch yours. I can’t wait to indulge myself in thousands of kisses, I hope they are as sweet as your skin. Kinda licked my lips after kissing your nose, cheek, and right under your neck. You taste sweet, I think I'm addicted.

I still feel the ghosts of your touch on my skin, I love it. I love you. I want to have your actual skin under my fingertips, to hold you when you wake up from a bad dream, to dance with you under the stars. Decide what song is ours and argue over how cheesy it is. Cry on the day we say our vows, cry at the birth of our first child, cry when they go to school, cry when they grow up, cry when I realize that we did it. I can’t wait to have life with you.

If there’s such a thing as soulmates then the word was made to describe us.

I love you.

____

I fell asleep, I woke up right before you texted me. I dreamt about you, in my mind I fell asleep with you in my arms. In my mind I am sitting in a cafe, right across from you drinking tea.

I prefer it to real life, by about an infinite percent. My friend came in and basically yelled at me to let him use my box, I told him to fuck off. I know I won’t be able to fall back asleep but I do hope to continue my dream tonight. Currently im trying to believe that you think i’m “stunning” it’s starting to work it’s way into my mind that i’m not ugly.

Spencer, I love you.

You have such an effect on me, the first week we were together you weaseled your way into my mind. You sprouted a tree that is still a sapling but has rooted to the core of my mind, slipping into my heart and spreading through my limbs. You’re almost a drug (the only one I approve of).

You’re poison, searing through my veins and warning my skin. But you’re not toxic, you’re candy, sugary sweet, something tangible that almost floats in and out of existence.

If you are a God, I am your most loyal patron.

____

Time is meaningless but it goes so fast, only eight minutes left to talk then my day ends. So many more ‘I love you’s I could say.

But time will not permit our love, that’s fine, I’ll wait it out till the end.

You’re worth it.

Seven Minutes

____

You always deny that you’re adorable, and that’s so adorable.

It’s frustrating sometimes because you’re so beautiful you deserve to know it. But oh well, i’ll just have to prove you are.

I told you I’d rather go on a date with you first before doing anything sexual. you also deserve to know your love is all I need, not your body (that’s just a perk)

You’re hot, sue me!

____

In the shower, I have most of my daydreams. Ranging from cotton candy clouds to a place where my parents accept me. However, the best daydream i’ve ever had is about a boy. A boy with chocolate brown eyes and a beautiful smile. Ding Ding Ding, his name is Spencer.

My dream is about his last name, well it involves it. I imagine myself talking to him while I say an important speech, in front of a crowd of people. I’m talking about our relationship, about how much I love you, and how much I can’t wait for the next chapter of our life to start. I always tear up when everyone is quiet at the end, and then you say what you have to say. It’s fuzzy and I don’t remember any of it (kinda want you to make your own in the future) but after you say it. It's time.

You say two words, so low only I and the person standing next to us can hear, “I do”

That’s the best day dream I’ve ever had, because I know it won’t be just a dream (I hope)

____

The best part of my day is looking at any photos from you: they always make me smile. Even when my day has been utterly terrible, your bright eyes are always a light in the dark.

I often don’t even need to think about you to have your smile in my mind, it’s just there, like a constant bright sunshiny beam. A single thought about you makes my day, a single touch my year, remembering that you’re mine makes my life a whole much better.

You, make living better.

I live for you, you’re all I ever want to have.

Je suis fou amoureux de toi.

____

So uh, you might have noticed but I don’t know how to talk to people, let alone talk to you.

It’s not that I have nothing to say, I have too much to say. It all bubbles in my mind and makes me jump on topic every three seconds. But when it comes to you, I'm stuck on which way to tell you I love you.

So, how about all of them?

I don’t need to focus on a single part of your face to know that it’s beautiful, but I do. All the parts work in harmony, like a choir. But individually they are still beautiful. I love every single inch of your face, individually and together.

I love you for your personality, I fell in love with a genius who is so much more than his memory or intelligence. Then I fell in love with a sweet boy who whined when I said self deprecating things. When we first met, I instantly fell in love again, with a shy boy who would look up at me from under his lashes.

Fuck, my mind is racing too much to distinguish anymore. But, I hoped I showed you.

That, I love you now, and forever will.

Happy Valentine’s day, my love.

____

Happy anniversary, god I can’t believe it’s been five months already. It seems just yesterday I was crying over whether or not I should continue liking you (i had told myself I wasn’t good enough for you).

Well, turns out I was wrong. I’m just enough for you. It doesn’t matter to me anymore if you’ll ever leave me, well, it does, `but there’s something more important, you being loved and being happy is what matters. And I can’t wait to give you what matters.

I love you babe! I’ll try to write more to show it.

____

My mind is a cavern of echoes, words (well a name) revertibrating in my skull.

The things used to be about art, school, anything slightly important.

But now, it’s filled with the most important person in my life. Analyzing the color of his hair (a warm brown), thinking of his eyes, thinking of his name and my name with a change; Spencer Reid (and sometimes Y/n Reid) has taken over my mind and burrowed into my soul.

I think if the red string of fate was real then we’d have been connected when we first met. Fuck, we are connected.

If we weren’t why would I have fallen in love with you? It was fate that I sent a letter to a wrong address, fate that I stumbled upon the boy that would change my life for the better.

Our souls are connected, being pulled because of the distance though, and I can’t wait to be with you. Not two halves of a whole, but two souls that fit like a puzzle piece.

I love you, and you love me. Even though I'm a coward.

When we have a daughter, her name should be Rhiannon. We will both dote on her like the goddess she is. Just a thought :>

____

You were in my house today. I think I'm dying, I'm wearing your sweater. It smells like you. I think you left it behind on purpose.

You smell really nice. It’s not like a cologne or anything, but it's nice. You’re nice

You kissed me. You’re a really good kisser. You should do it again and again and again.

I got the news yesterday, my transfer went in, I'm sending my letter to you tomorrow. I know you’re in my city but I'd rather it be like this.

I don’t think i'm going to write any more, don’t think that means i don’t love you!!

I am going to hold you for hours, I promise, I love you.

————————————————

Spencer finished reading and smiled up at his new fiance. “We were such dorks! It's crazy how similar we thought.”

Y/n nodded and looked down at their ring. “We were dorks in love! Um, so how do you feel about the name Rhiannon?”

“It’s pretty, but I don’t think we need to be worrying about baby names - we need to figure out how to tell my team we’re engaged.” Spencer quipped, wrapping his arms around Y/n before it hit him.

Y/n’s morning sickness, the weird secretive doctors appointment, and what they had just said. “No!” he whispers, a smile growing on his face, “I’m gonna be a dad?”

They nod and bury their head into Spencer’s chest. Spencer can’t stop the smile that beams across his face. He grabs Y/n and spins them around in his arms, “This is the best news!!”

He pressed a deep kiss to Y/n’s lips, then went onto his knees to wrap his arms around Y/n. “Jason Derek Reid if it’s a boy and Rhiannon Penelope Reid if it’s a girl.”

Y/n smiles and nods, “I was thinking the same thing.”

“Let’s be on the same page, forever from now on, okay?”

They nodded, Spencer’s hands finding place on their back as he pressed his lips right below Y/n’s navel. Y/n’s hand’s dug into his hair: “Forever.”

Years later the two do indeed wake up on a Saturday morning to impatient kids who demand to be made pancakes. Sometimes after a hard case they do dance at three am in their underwear. Sometimes they do a lot of things in their underwear. They’re together in every way imaginable.

And to them? It’s the most important thing that could ever be possible.

The End

part one

#spencer x you #spencer reid x reader #ao3 #reader insert #writing #pregnancy

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alwaysfeelingsaintlike · 3 years

Text

About Time [G.W] - Part 5

pairing: George Weasley x OC

series description: on an unexpected night out, George meets the love of his life. and then suddenly loses her. what lengths will he go to in order to find her?

word count: 2.5k

taglist: @p0gues4l @amourtentiaa @305weasley

series masterlist

“Weasley, for two,” George said to the host. After leaving Gringotts, they had apparated to downtown London to a small wizard-friendly restaurant. They were guided to a small table in the corner of the dimly lit restaurant. There was a flame lit in a jar that was sitting on the table, providing some mood lighting.

The table was small and George’s long legs were so cramped that his knees were gently grazing his date’s.

“This is nice,” she said, looking around the small restaurant. The atmosphere was warm and cozy, which was only enhanced by a man playing guitar and singing cover songs for the patrons.

“Have you been here before?” George asked.

“No, I didn’t know this place existed.”

“Wish I could take credit but Fred recommended it. This is his go-to date spot.”

“And where’s your go-to date spot?” she challenged.

“Eh that would be Dans le Noir,” George replied, referring to the spot where they had shared a meal in complete darkness.

She laughed, “No I’m serious.”

“I don’t think I really have one. Every now and then I’ll take someone to one of the bars in Diagon Alley, but truthfully I don’t go on many dates.”

“That surprises me,” she replied.

“Why’s that?”

“You’re very likable and easy to be around. And you’re not too bad to look at either.”

He blushed ever so slightly, “I think I can get along with anyone, but I’m more interested in finding someone I have a connection with and that’s a bit harder to find.”

“Do you feel like there’s a connection between us?”

“Do you really need to ask that question?” He responded

“Hey, I’m entitled to ask that! As of an hour ago I had no idea you were even interested. This has all been very unexpected.”

“That’s fair. Well for the record, you’re the first person I’ve felt a connection with in a long time.”

She let out a small smile before asking, “So what happened that night?”

George sighed, “I still haven’t been able to figure it out. I think I wasn’t expecting to meet someone like you so it took me by surprise when you were so…incredible. And then I got nervous because I wanted you to like me and I wasn’t myself. That’s never happened to me before.”

“Well don’t let it happen again,” she replied with a smirk. They were briefly interrupted by a waiter who came by to take their orders. Molly continued the conversation, “I want to call you out for taking me on a proper date only after seeing me for the first time but it seems like you had this all planned out.”

“This was one of many plans.”

“Oh yeah? What were the other plans?”

“The original plan was waiting for you to come into the shop, but you didn’t want to cooperate.”

“I thought about it. A few times actually. But I convinced myself that you had someone else in your life, which is why you were so quiet that night. And I thought seeing you might be difficult.”

George hadn’t thought about her perspective before and it made perfect sense. He wasn’t sure what he could say to make things better, and luckily Molly interjected and said, “So how did you get to tonight’s plan?”

“I considered writing to you at the Prophet, but that just seemed so impersonal. And then I thought about just coming to your workplace to ask you out, but that didn’t seem quite right either. And then Fred found the invitation in the mail. I wasn’t positive you would be there, but it seemed like a real possibility. And now here we are.”

“You’re very impressive, you know that?”

“All for you, darling,” Molly blushed at his comment and George called her out, “Oh, don’t tell me you’re going to be all nervous now?”

“Of course not,” she replied.

“Then why are you blushing?”

She smiled, “It’s just nice to be pursued.”

“I have a hard time believing that guys aren’t throwing themselves at you.”

She considered her words carefully, “There are a lot of guys that are interested in sleeping with me, but romance appears to be a bit of a lost art.”

“Lucky for you, I am quite the romantic.”

“I bet you are,” she smiled. The conversation flowed pretty effortlessly and soon they had finished up their meals and were working on the last of their drinks. As George closed out the tab, Molly asked, “Do you want to go for a walk?”

George smiled, “I’d like that.” He finished paying the bill as Molly sucked down her last few sips before they gathered their things and walked out together.

It was a beautiful night, perfect for a walk through the town. George had his hand in his pockets and Molly took this moment to make a move.

“Wow, you aren’t even going to try and hold my hand?” she commented.

George looked at her and smiled, “You didn’t strike me as the PDA type.”

“Normally I’m not, but I’m willing to make an exception for someone special.” He took his hand out of his pocket and scooped up her delicate hand in one swift motion. He quickly interlaced their fingers and swung their hands back and forth. She chuckled at his enthusiasm.

“So I have an idea for our next date,” George said.

“And what makes you think there’s going to be a next date?” she teased.

“Because I know you can’t resist my effortless charm.”

“I won’t confirm or deny that. But hypothetically speaking, what sort of date are you planning?”

“I’m thinking I’ll get us some tickets to the Weird Sisters,” George felt butterflies in his stomach thinking of their first concert experience together.

“So you’re going to wait two weeks before taking me out on another date?” she countered. George was crafting a response but before he could say anything she added, “I’m surprised, I thought this date was going pretty well.”

“Ah so you do want a second date,” he grinned.

“I would like a second date, but please don’t make me wait two weeks. The concert can be our fourth or fifth date.”

“Now Molly, I know you couldn’t possibly be getting attached,” George said.

“Come on now George, you know I’m way too cool to admit to that.”

“Ah, but you also didn’t deny it.” Molly rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile growing on her face.

They continued walking along the cobblestone street, passing by storefronts that were dark and the occasional pub with a boisterous crowd. George didn’t have a destination in mind, but it didn’t matter. He wanted to spend as much time with Molly as he could get.

“So Molly, I know you’re from the States, but whereabouts?” he asked.

“I’m from Chicago.”

“Oh I’ve actually heard of Chicago. And how did you like it?”

“It’s a great city. Part of me thinks I could’ve had a happy life living in Chicago. But I wanted to explore new places and that wasn’t going to happen in my hometown.”

“Well for the record, I’m glad you decided to venture across the pond.”

“And where are you from?”

“I’m from Devon,” he said.

“Oh nice,” Molly replied.

“Are you familiar with Devon?” he asked skeptically.

She shook her head, “Not at all.” George laughed and she added, “Can’t say we learned much European geography in school.”

“So Devon is on the Western coast. It’s close to Cornwall which you may have heard of.”

“Yes, Cornwall I know.”

“Yeah so we’re a bit further north. And our town is rather small, mostly farms. Muggles primarily inhabit the area so we keep to ourselves for the most part.”

“And how did you like that?”

He sighed, “I loved my upbringing, but there’s a reason I moved closer to the city. I needed a little more action and excitement.”

“Now that I understand.”

“What’s your favorite part about London?” he asked.

She thought for a moment, “I love everything about London. I can’t quite put my finger on why. When I first came here when I was younger, I just had a feeling in my stomach that this was where I wanted to be. I’m a very logical person and I had never really experienced a feeling like that. So I followed it and never looked back.”

“Do you think you’ll stay here long term?”

She nodded, “I miss my family terribly and I would love to be closer to home, but I can’t imagine leaving London right now.”

“Well good. I had to make sure you weren’t planning to up and leave.”

“Nah, not my style,” she joked.

At this point, Molly had slowed her walking pace and came to a halt. George took a few steps ahead and turned around.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked.

“Well we’ve reached our destination,” she said. He looked at her with a puzzled look. “This is my apartment,” she said, directing her attention to the window situated on top of the teashop where they were currently standing.

“Did you just trick me into walking you home?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Maybe,” she smirked. “But I’m hoping you’ll come upstairs with me for a nightcap.”

Molly noticed him perk up ever so slightly as a small smile spread across his face. “I couldn’t possibly turn that down.” Molly smiled and gently dropped his hand as she fished her keys out of her pocket. They walked up the narrow staircase that led to her tiny one bedroom apartment. Before unlocking the door, Molly pulled out her wand and muttered a quick spell that George recognized to be a charm to tidy up.

“I wasn’t exactly expecting company tonight,” she explained.

“Does that mean you’re messy normally?” he challenged.

“Well...it's more clutter than anything. Does that…bother you?”

“Not at all. I’m one of six dear, I’m used to clutter.”

Molly sighed with relief as she opened the door to her magically cleaned apartment. It was kitschy and cramped, yet very comfortable.

“Make yourself at home,” she smiled, as she walked over to the bar cart to pour a couple firewhiskeys. George took off his suit jacket and laid it carefully over one of the kitchen chairs. He slipped off his shoes and placed them neatly by the front door. Molly padded over barefoot to the couch and George followed with ease.

“Cheers,” she said, as they clinked glasses. Molly took a generous sip from her glass to combat her nerves. She hadn’t expected any of this and she was surprised at how bold she had acted around George. She liked him and she was sure about that, but she wasn’t quite sure what her next move was.

Molly placed her glass on the coffee table and slid in a little bit closer to George. “Thank you for tonight,” she said genuinely, as she placed a delicate hand on his leg.

“Thank you for giving me a chance,” he replied. George shifted and put his arm around her shoulders. “Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked.

“I had a wonderful time with you.”

“Can I take you out again next week?”

Molly simply nodded and smiled at him. George sighed and cupped her cheek. “Have I told you how absolutely stunning you are?”

Molly giggled and said, “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“It’s the truth, I’m not just saying that.”

She blushed, “I didn’t think you were. Your eyes said it all.”

“Now that is not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“My eyes say it all yet your eyes aren’t giving me anything,” he joked.

“Really? You aren’t getting the message that I’m trying to send you?”

“You’re going to have to try harder darling because I’m not getting anything.”

“Oh, you know what…I’m better at sending messages with my lips than my eyes,” she flirted.

“Is that so?”

“Only one way to find out.”

That was all the encouragement George needed. He leaned in towards Molly, planning to tease her a little but as soon as he felt her breath he couldn’t help himself. He gently placed his hand on the back of her neck and through her hair as his lips connected with hers.

The electricity was unlike anything he had ever felt before. If he thought she was the one before, now he was certain.

“Wow,” she breathed, catching her breath for a moment.

“That good, huh?” George joked.

“Can we do that again?” Molly asked, tugging on George’s tie.

“As you wish,” he said, enveloping her lips in his. It wasn’t long before the two were horizontal on the couch. Molly felt like a giddy teenager and couldn’t get enough of George. His musky scent was driving her wild.

George slowly kissed up her neck to her ear, where he nibbled on her ear lobe. That set her over the edge.

“We should…move to the bedroom,” Molly suggested.

George popped up to look at her, “Are you sure?”

Molly nodded enthusiastically, “I’m sure.” George stood and scooped up Molly in his arms as she giggled and he carried her into the bedroom where the festivities would continue.

“Wow,” George said, as he collapsed in bed next to Molly.

“Wow is right,” she said, struggling to catch her breath. She curled into George’s chest as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

“I never do this,” Molly stated.

“Well you could’ve fooled me,” he said.

She lightly smacked him on the chest. “I’m not talking about sex,” she chuckled, “I mean that I never bring guys home on the first date.”

“Technically that was our second date, love.”

“Okay well I don’t usually bring guys home on the second date either.”

“Are you trying to tell me you like me?” he joked.

She laughed and said, “I’m trying to tell you that you’re special.”

George felt fuzzy inside. This was the first time that she had been direct with him about her feelings. He was starting to see a future with her.

“So what are we going to do tomorrow?” he asked.

“We could go to brunch…or we could make some breakfast here. And then if it’s nice we could go for a walk in the park. If it’s not nice we can go see a movie.”

“All I want is to spend the day with you darling.”

“Will you take me to your shop tomorrow?” she asked.

“You want to see the shop?” he looked at her with a smile.

She nodded, “I want to learn everything about you.”

George kissed her temple and pulled her in closer to him. “I would love nothing more than to share that with you.”

Molly smiled and pecked him a few times on the lips. She turned and pulled George around her so they were spooning. George kissed her shoulder and wished her good night as she drifted off to sleep.

George was soothed by her steady breathing and felt himself grow tired, but his mind was reeling which was preventing him from falling asleep. He couldn’t believe how perfectly things had gone and that his patience had actually paid off. His instincts were spot on and he knew that this girl was the one for him. George recognized that they were in the early stages of something special, but he knew he had found his soul mate.

#george weasley #george weasley fanfic #george weasley x reader #george weasley x oc #george weasley series #weasley twins fanfic #weasley twins

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sunnysviolin · 3 years

Note

Kel and Aubrey going around interacting with people to learn about the different cultures everywhere as they travel, wearing cultural outfits, participating in cultural activities, just having an overall good time...

Would they be good at any cultural dances? Since they're traveling to Spain first, I can just imagine Aubrey in a flamenco dress with Kel as they just dance together and enjoy themselves (or maybe Kel wearing the dress- or maybe both of them wearing dresses-)

...I kinda wanna draw them dancing around together now.

-from a videogame-world traveling anon

nonnie.....nonnie wait....if you drew something we created together I would be SO EMO WAIT!!! No oh my god like my brain literally just exploded like art?? ART??? I wanna be able to draw so bad...but I can’t I just gotta continue on w my lil writing bits....here take some more writing bits nonnie

*Singing to myself* This got lonnng againnnn I’m putting itttt under a readdd moreeeee

Kel’s parents are....less than pleased to find out their son isn’t directly going to college like Hero did, and they make that known.

They don’t approve of his choice to take at least one gap year. They don’t approve of him not continuing his education. They don’t approve of him throwing away his life for that bad girl that spent so many years terrorizing him. Even two years after changing her ways, Aubrey is still regarded as a nuisance among the town old timers. Kel’s parents tell him plainly that they don’t approve of Aubrey, and they won’t be changing their mind.

Which leads to Kel having a minor breakdown and finally admitting what he’s known his whole life- that he will never be good enough to measure up to Hero, and he’s finally tired of trying to be someone he’s not. He isn’t Hero and he never will be, but for once he wants being Kel to be good enough.

Seeing their bright positive middle child finally crack under the weight they’ve been unintentionally laying on him is...it’s painful. Kel’s parents never meant to make it a competition between their sons, they just wanted what was best for both of them.

Having Kel sobbing at their dining room table at 3:00 am on the night of his high school graduation teaches them that they might not know what’s best for Kel after all.

So...yeah the talk the morning after that is filled with a lot of awkward pausing. Kel isn’t used to sharing his true feelings, and he isn’t used to exposing anything other than cheerful hope. Ultimately they come to an agreement. Kel can go with Aubrey, follow her and his heart on their crazy plan, but he has to spend the year before they leave working and earning and not just hanging around the house

That was Kel’s plan anyway, so he’s ecstatic. He calls Aubrey immediately after, and she comes over so they can plan things out together

That year before they leave is definitely not easy. They’re working multiple retail and menial labor jobs, spending 12-15 hours a day on their feet in steamy kitchens, being screamed at by rude customers, and delivering so. many. pizzas.

At some point in that year Aubrey and her mother have the inevitable fight that has been coming her whole life, and her mother kicks her out. Aubrey shows up in the middle of the night with her things next to her. Kel’s mother welcomes her inside and gets her a cup of tea. Kel wakes up and comes downstairs the next day to see his partner curled up asleep on the couch under a blanket his mother had just finished knitting

His mother doesn’t explain anything (”It’s her story dear not mine”) but after Aubrey comes to stay with them his parents warm to her quickly. Aubrey and Kel are allowed to share the room that Hero and he once shared, but they’re adamant that the beds stay on opposite sides

((He and Aubrey fit cramped but happy into his twin bed every night, but she always wakes up early to switch beds in order to be respectful to his parents wishes))

Soon enough its the afternoon before their journey is beginning (They decided to redeye to Sevilla). They have hostel confirmation numbers for a dozen different European countries, a thick binder of plans and itineraries, and a joint account that has a surprising amount of money in it.

Turns out working 15 hours a day, taking only your eight paid vacation days, and having all of your dates be creative free dates in the five hours a week you both have off together means that you are able to acquire quite the nest egg. Kel’s parents sit them down at the dining room table, and his father is shocked to see how this year has shaped Kel.

It’s a strange thing to see your son as an adult for the first time. It didn’t feel strange when it was Hero, he always expected it from Hero. Seeing it in Kel rocked him.

They drive the two young adults (calling them kids now feels...wrong) to the airport and make them promise to call and write daily.

There’s an undeniable energy and excitement as they board the plane. He and Aubrey breathe an audible sigh of relief. They shouldn’t, but they sleep on the plane. After a year of running, they’ve earned it

OKAY SO THAT WASN”T AT ALL WHAT YOU ASKED FOR....HERE HAVE DANCE LESSON HEADCANONS

Aubrey planned for everything, so she planned that they would need at least two days to recover when they finally got to Spain. The first two days are spent in a combo of sleeping and eating fantastic food and finally being able to spend a full night in bed together instea of sneaking unsuccessfully around Kel’s parents.

She splurged and got them a private room at their first hostel in Sevilla. It was more expensive, but ultimately so very very worth it.

But day three is when they start to explore. They finally venture off of the block around their hostel and began to deep dive into the tiny back paths of the city. They meet a nice handful of locals who invite them to breakfast the next morning (Kel’s spanish speaking skills are undeniably useful to them in this moment)

And that night...that night is the beginning of the wish fulfillment she’s waited for since she was five years old. A flamenco lesson that promises an authentic experience, real outfits, and a party for all involved at the end. Aubrey was frugal with accomodations, but she spared no expense when it came to the experiences. Especially this one.

Flamenco is traditionally a single dance with one woman, but she asked and Kel is allowed to come if he likes. The instructor in charge recognizes Aubrey from her call, and drags Kel over to where another man sits with a guitar. He and the man begin to converse in Spanish, and Kel seems to be rapidly making plans. He’s fine with only watching for tonight, this is her dream

Aubrey is thrust into a room with a bunch of other tourists, even a few from her own state, and a gaggle of women who work at the studio. They show her a row of gorgeous traditional dresses, an overwhelming rainbow of frills and explosions of color.

Aubrey has let her hair go back to it’s natural color by this point, and her long dark locks catch the eye of one of the instructors who pulls her over to a corner of the rack of dresses. The instructor winks at her and pulls out a dress. It’s perfect.

Kel is also having a fantastic time. He and the guitar player who’s name is Raphael are discussing guitar playing. Raphael wants to teach Kel to play himself so “He can play for his lady when she wants to dance for him again”

All conversation stops when Aubrey walks out.

The others are dolled up as well, but Kel only has eyes for his girl. Her dress is black, hugging to her waist and her body. As the ruffles of the dress begin on her arms and her legs, the dress goes from black to a striking bright red. Around her wrists and on her neck is bright gold jewlery, gleaming against her skin.

Aubrey’s dark hair is wrapped up in a bun with a series of pink to red carnations following the curve of her hair. Her lips are tinged with maroon lipstick.

Kel is left speechless. Aubrey asks him something and Kel just has to nod and try to catch his breath. The rest of the group giggle at their antics, and Aubrey rolls her eyes at him. She presses a kiss to his cheek, maroon imprint left in its wake, and then she is over with the other girls in front of the instructor.

Raphael begins to play at the instructors insistence

The dance lesson is fun. Even just watching Kel has fun. Aubrey normally has a hardness in her eyes, a tightness in her shoulders as if she’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Within minutes of the instructors careful praise and guidance Aubrey is loose and even giggling. Kel hasn’t heard a sound like that from her since they were children.

At the end the group performs the dance all together to a raucuous applause form Kel, Raphael, and the instructor. Then they all go to the patio behind the studio which has been decked out in warm golden lanterns with a table of food prepared.

Raphael begins to play again and the others mingle close to the food. Aubrey takes Kels hand and they go to a separate corner of the dance floor. They don’t dance in any particular way, just holding one another and rocking to the melody. Her hair has begun to come out of it’s tight bun, but her eyes are bright with happiness and she can’t manage to stop smiling

That night under the glow of the lanterns is the night they first say they love each other. It was a given, they already knew it, but those words are saccharine sweet against their lips as Kel holds Aubrey close to him and they spin while the music plays.

#videogame-world traveling anon #asks #anon #omori #omori headcanons #omori headcanon #i guess #omori au #world travel au #kelbrey #omori kel #omori aubrey #omori kels parents #This is cute #I love this sm

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cosmiclatte28 · 3 years

Text

6 Shots of Coffee (Jaemin x you + Dreamies)

a/n: I am back! With a sudden wild oneshot. Please be aware that this is purely fan-fiction. Anything happening here is mere pure imagination. I did not intend to connect any disorders with the idols in real life.

Warning : characters with disorders, a lot of dozing off characters, character with slight adhd (i tried my best to picture them correctly but I’m sorry if everything is wrong, i only did a short research). Mentions of orphanage, drunk parents, and a broken family. HAPPY ENDING!

CHARACTERS : dream (minus Hyuck and Mark), Taeyong, and Yuta also our brave (y/n)!

here we go,

If there are three things in life you hate, that will be Jaemin, Jaemin, and oh god another team assignment with Jaemin!

Jaemin has been the most excruciating classmate you ever have! Not only did he tease you about your freakin need of keeping things in their proper place and keeping things spotless, but he also keeps using you to help him pass his classes. Yet no teacher minds your complain, and all the school girls think you're a freak for being mad about sharing a group project with the handsome guy.

No you’re not sick or weird. You just love organizing things and you like clean things a bit too much. Why? Coz you've had some bad memories with dirty things. Okay Jaemin is just another naughty kid in your class who likes to play and have fun with others, but you certainly did not find his jokes funny.

“Come on calm down (y/n)! It's only coffee, we can clean that.” Jaemin tries to laugh it off despite seeing you standing completely frozen in front of him with an empty cup and you with a brown uniform. Although you clearly see there is a slight worry in his eyes.

You hold yourself back. How come the worst day has to become worse?! You woke up to period cramps, you forgot a homework thanks to late night distracted room cleaning, and as you were about to rush to type your homework in the library, Jaemin decided to meddle and spill his coffee on your white uniform.

A part of you want to scream and yell and pull his hair apart, but you're too tired to talk with Jaemin. Let alone think about Jaemin, there's just so many things you hate related to Jaemin.

Despite him trying his best to apologize and to help you wash your clothes, which is something new… Jaemin never cared if he messed up with you. You ended up slapping his hand away when he wants to drag you to the office to ask a spare uniform.

“Go away! I have to rush,” you push him aside with your shoulder and run to the library. Knowing so well you'll probably get another minus score and a weird look from the library thanks to your stained uniform.

You hate the feeling of sitting down with this coffee stained shirt, and as much as you want to open that shirt and change into something else, you don’t have the energy. So, after sitting down on the table with the library's laptop you stare into the keyboard only to focus more on your uniform and the least wanted thing happens.

You cry. You cry by yourself in the corner of the room and you don’t really mind the stare they give. You just want to end life here, can anyone just stab you? Or can the ground split and swallow you?

There’s another thing you hate other than Jaemin meddling with your ugly life. It's dirt and unorganized objects. Why? Well you were once a very regular kid, always playing in the rain mud and all kinds of sand. You don’t mind having dirt all over your body you know when you go home you can shower. That's until you grow up and notice how your family is different. Your parents look like they are okay, but every night you hear them argue and argue. The argument gets stronger and scarier, they shout, scream, throw things down and you were always awaken to the no longer comfy homey house. You realize one day you woke up to seeing your dad getting drunk, your mother depressed, and the house super dirty like a tornado just hold a party. It’s awful to wake up to the smell of cigar and alcohols instead of bacons and eggs. You had to keep one plate with you or else it will end up like its friends, lifeless, prickly, sharp, on the ground.

Your maid stopped working, you're moved to a new school, this middle school where you meet Jaemin and some other annoying problematic students. Your once colorful life turned dark and gloomy. No longer you woke up to morning kiss and breakfast. You find yourself sitting alone in the dining room, preparing your own sandwich from some cheap dry bread. No more nutella and you're grateful for butter.

You tried to understand, keeping all to yourself as you grow up and noticed your family is broken. You thought everything will get better, one day mom and dad will love each other again and you'll be back with the bright family you love.

Life is not that kind. Life is cruel, on your 14th birthday your dad left for another woman and your mother dropped you off to an orphanage. She said she can no longer pay for your school and living fees. Heck she even had to borrow money to buy you your monthly pads.

The cheerful friendly you turned 180° into a mournful secretive teenager. You hate everyone who looks bright and you hate every single dirt. Seeing unorganized things and dirty objects just remind you of the dark memories you want to forget.

The orphanage found your smart talent and you got a scholarship making you still able to attend the school. The orphanage you live in has a rule where there is a schedule for cleaning up and preparing dish. You meet a similar boy who has the same problem with you; just that he looks like he had overcome his bitterness and chooses to live a happy life. Which you deadly want to do but cannot.

Renjun, is the only person you talk to in that house. The adults taking care over you, still cannot make you talk comfortably with him and you're not planning to do any sooner.

“Hey, it's me. Should we make a letter to the office and go home?” Renjun's soft voice comes to your ear and you look up to him with blood red eyes.

“How long have I been crying?” you sniffle.

He shrugs his shoulder “I just came an hour ago when I noticed you're missing Chemistry class and Jaemin too. I thought he was with you.”

You scowl “Why would I be with Jaemin?”

Renjun scratches his head “I don’t know… you were always assigned a team with him… I thought both of you are rushing a task.”

“I am having a bad day.” You exhale.

Renjun shakes his head “That is more than a bad day. Here, put this on that coffee is hot or cold?” he gives you his school blazer and you gladly put it over your stained uniform.

You sigh, of course Renjun noticed. He is also like you, despise any single speck of dust.

“Jaemin spilled his cold coffee on me. Now I am late to submit my work, I'll never get the essay done and I am skipping classes. GREAT! Looks like I will be kicked out of school next week.”

Renjun shakes his head again “Silly, you're dramatic. They won’t kick you just because of that. What about your achievements?”

You scoff “They can always find another better painter. I could barely tell difference in colors.”

Renjun smiles well that’s what makes you different. The school honors your brilliant talent of drawing although you have a hard time distinguishing colors. But your emotions are well delivered on every picture you paint. That gives honor to the school when the art teacher secretly sent your works to different curators and exhibitions.

“Come, we will go home. I'll make your letter. Can you wait for me in the lobby by yourself?” Renjun smooths your hair away.

You shake your head and clearly looks afraid “Can I join you?”

He nods and lets you go with him, blaming himself for ever offering you that option.

You got home, Renjun fixes your mood by giving you new clothes. Yes, as simple as that, and you’re already less scarier than before. He makes you tea when he saw the circled date on the calendar and drops you some pain killers.

“It's that month, sorry for not noticing had I known, I'd bring you home when I heard Jaemin looking for you around the school.”

You pause from cutting the potatoes, well you need to start cooking dinner for the others. “Jaemin looked around for me?”

Renjun nods “Uh huh that's also how I know something is not right. Jaemin never looked for you except when he needs your score.”

You curl your lips “Weird. He also wanted to bring me to the office, which he never did before.”

Your sudden emotional change is a regular thing to Renjun. Although at first he has to bear with your monthly exploding sensitivity since you're the first teenage girl in this house, Renjun manages to tame you down when he calmly offer you a cup of warm chamomile tea you love.

“Maybe it’s the coffee.” You shrug it off. Come to think of it, you never see the school selling coffee but Jaemin always brings his cup of super dark coffee.

“Oh home early?” Taeyong, the oldest son of the orphanage owner, greets you both. Well Taeyong is like the head matron here, every school letter directed to him and every new kid will meet him.

“It's not her day. I brought her home before she spent another day dozing off in the school's garden.” Renjun whispers to Taeyong and the older just nods his head.

“Oh! Did I mention to you we will have a new family tonight? Please be nice, he comes from this neighborhood and we actually had been waiting for his arrival since last month, but he always escaped before his vise parents want to drop him here.

You grow annoyed at this news. Well you don’t really like having to act kind and good in front of the others. Especially when meeting new members. Taeyong always asked you to at least be welcoming and less patronizing but you cannot keep your resting bitch face to yourself.

“I might as well skip dinner.” You taunt at Taeyong “No way I am acting kind in front of that person when I had a shitty day.”

Taeyong just hums to your threat, it is nothing new. You're a stone heart and he doesn’t want to have to slap you because of your stubbornness.

“I don’t mind. Just try to be welcoming, he had a rough time too.” Taeyong waves his hand and disappears behind his study room.

“I wonder who is going to join us. Our dining table is empty after Mark and Hyuck got adopted.” Renjun is excited to welcome the new family, maybe because he really likes it better here and therefore, he wants to make sure everyone else is welcomed.

Unlike you who still can't swallow the bitter truth. For you, your real family was the best, yet you didn’t know when everything started to fall apart.

The other comes home, you see Jisung, Jeno, and Chenle coming from the backyard and you hide yourself back on your room. Dinner is ready they just have to heat it up. The stew.

You close your window and come back to sit in front of your paper. Trying to remember what project you missed and have to do.

You look around the room, you used to have a bigger room, but after Taeyong knew you cannot stay still when there are mess, he moved you to a smaller room where you cannot store so many things. He said its for your own good. He doesn’t want you to stress yourself and distract your studies just to clean things up.

You feel your stomach rumbling but when you hear the noisy sound downstairs, you remember the new family. Actually, you are curious, so you sneak from your room and take a peek from the walls.

Your mind might be playing tricks on you, you rub your eyes and focus more to the familiar man in the same uniform as yours. You want to doubt it, but when you hear Jisung repeats his name you want to jump away from this house and run far away.

Life must have hated you so much to send Na Jaemin not only to your school but also to your “house".

Although you try to ignore him, your mind wonders what makes him come here. He looks like he is okay, only naughty, but he doesn’t look like an orphan.

“Dinner?” Yuta, Taeyong's younger brother asks you when he was about to go down and greet Jaemin.

You quickly gasp and shake your head before making a quick run to lock yourself in your room.

You try to think of any reason why Jaemin is here… from dinner to nine you cannot think of doing other thing rather than fiddling with your pen as you let your brain wonder and wonder.

Only around twelve did you suddenly jolt and realize you've wasted another night without doing your paper. You hear a step on the squeaky floor, and you have to stay quiet. Taeyong and Yuta wouldn’t like seeing you still awake this late. However, you don’t recognize the footsteps. Must be Jaemin’s.

The next morning, you escape earlier from the house. Leaving before breakfast for the sake of not meeting Jaemin. You're still mad at him and you hate him. You hate him for giving you hard times at school and now at “home".

You were waiting in the class when suddenly Jaemin comes into the class with a nervous face. You wonder did he just see a ghost? Jaemin really looks out of his place. Did he finally realize he is thrown away to the orphanage? Or did he finally realize you're secretly writing foot notes to the teacher that Jaemin is only leeching on your grades? Did he get called by the office?

You try your best to stop distracting your mind and continue working your essay. Thank goodness you can submit the work when the teacher leaves the class, only then did you see Jaemin's frozen state on his chair.

“Jaem?” you surprise yourself too for calling out his name. He also looks surprised.

“Yes?” he puts on his damn sickening pretty smile back like he always did to other students.

“Erase that smile. It's creepy.” You mutter and the other girls in your class is wanting to end you up there and then.

“Sorry, it’s just that… I … I didn’t get my coffee this morning.”

You raise your brow, oh right. Taeyong and Yuta are not giving us caffeine until we are 20.

You raise a brow “And? Can’t you skip once?”

His feet thump on the floor and he looks around nervously “You're right. I- don’t mind me.” He stands up and suddenly leaves you with bigger question mark in your head.

He sure is weird. What’s wrong with skipping one cup of that bitter liquid?

“(Y/n)! Come let's go home.” Renjun greets you on the lobby as you wait for the youngers to come too.

“Noona, you should meet Jaemin hyung! He is so sweet last night!” Jisung tugs on your uniform.

You frown and shudder your shoulder “Jisung, I hate that man.”

Jeno just laughs at your words and at Jisung's surprised expression “So, should we wait for him?”

You click your tongue “Actually that weird man left class after the first session and did not come back to class. Maybe he ran away. Let's go before it rains.” You start leaving the lobby, but no one follows you.

“Is it because of us?” Jisung worriedly asks his brothers.

Renjun thinks for a while “You mean what happened this morning?”

Jisung nods. Your ear can still hear them, for they start walking after you too. You have to hold yourself from turning around and asking them what happened this morning that made him weird!

When the five of you enter the house, that's when your brain finally clicked on what Jaemin must be suffering.

There in the middle of the living room, is Jaemin looking so uncomfortable as he forces his hand to write on a paper with a textbook opened by his side, but what comes out of his hand is just scribbles of lines and curves and he looks like he is painting instead of writing an essay.

“So damn hard to be productive!” he suddenly throws his pen and pulls his hair. All five of you are shocked to see this. Even you! You never see this side of Jaemin in school. He always looks like the charming prince every girl’s crush, but this is definitely not the same man.

His lips are trembling, limbs unable to stop shaking and he looks in pain. And he starts to hit himself as if scolding his body for not cooperating.

You are in awe and you have to quickly usher Jisung and Chenle away.

“Jaemin! Calm down okay.” Jeno and Renjun quickly stand by his side and tries to keep the boy from hitting himself.

You bring Jisung and Chenle to their rooms while your head is quickly thinking of what to do. You sure see he is panicking and he's throwing tantrum. Taeyong and Yuta are not here yet but when you see your reflection on the window with a clean uniform suddenly your mind reminds you of the incident yesterday.

Coffee. Na Jaemin needs coffee. As silly as it sounds, you've read somewhere that coffee can help someone with ADHD or something like that. You're not sure, but you want to give it a chance. You run to your room, break your saving jar and pick out the bills you've been saving.

“Jaemin, how many shots?” you ask him when you pass through him.

Renjun and Jeno look at you with question in their face but Jaemin understands you and holds out a number with his hand.

Your eyes widen but you run to the nearest coffee shop, the one with the brand you always see Jaemin holding.

“Give me americano with six shots of espresso. Cold I don’t know with water or not.” You sound as mad as a hatter, but the barista seems to notice something.

“Are you by any chance taking an order for Jaemin?” he asks you nod your head baffled that he is a regular here until the shift knows his order and name.

“I was confused when the morning shift told me Jaemin skipped his coffee today. Alright i'll make it like how he always orders.” The man with a name tag Mark punches the bill and gives you the amount.

You don’t mind paying such high price for the black bitter drink you never like, as soon as Mark hands you the drink you walk as fast as you can back to the house.

You see Renjun waiting for you in the porch and he looks pale.

“Where did you go?! I was worried.” Renjun almost scolds you for leaving suddenly.

You walk past him “Jaemin! I have your coffee.” You yell at him, who is currently staring on the TV that's off. Jeno is still sitting next to him, afraid that Jaemin will do anything dangerous.

Jaemin's eyes widen as he quickly takes over the drink and gulp it down like his life depends on it.

All three of you wait for him to finish half of his drink and like magic, Jaemin looks calmer.

He closes his eyes and leans on the couch. His head rests on the small pillow Jeno tosses to him and you can see his usual self back.

After ten minutes, he opens his eyes stretches his body and like a robot who has his reset button pressed, Jaemin shoots a “what?” look to the three of you.

“Sorry if I freaked all of you out. I…” he shyly scratches his head “I have a minor ADHD and … coffee seems to be helping me focus and calm down.”

Now everything clicks. You understand why the teacher actually always assigned you with him, because no one else can handle Jaemin as patient as you and you're too blunt to notice he has his own trouble. You understand why he always brings a coffee to the class and why he looks calm when he has them. Unlike yesterday when he spilled it over you, you clearly see a slight terror in his eyes, and he disappeared from class. Maybe he was shy of showing his true self in class. You now know the reason he skipped class today because of the lack of caffeine and you just didn’t know he is also as wrecked as you guys.

That night, Jaemin knocks on your door and invites you to join dinner.

“You skipped dinner last night, I don’t know if it’s because I was there… and yesterday I was really ruining your day. I'm sorry I wasn’t a good friend too at school.” Jaemin speaks rather in a calm tone and you're taken aback he can speak in a soft kind voice and not the high pitch annoying teasing voice you regular get in school.

You're flustered, but you quickly put back your cold face “It's okay. T'was my fault too not looking the way. Don’t worry I skipped dinner last night coz I am not hungry.” You lied.

No way you were going to spill the truth to him, not when you already know how hard his days are. He was not as bright and happy as he looks like.

“Renjun told me last night everything about you. I am so sorry…I didn’t know my jokes were very painful and disturbing to you. I should’ve stopped but you know I sometimes cannot hold my brain back.” Chuckles Jaemin nervously.

You sigh and place a hand on his shoulder “Life is hard right?” He nods his head and you squeeze his shoulder, “We also find it hard. But at least we're not alone now. We have each other and the others too. I am also sorry for picking on you to the teacher for leeching my score, but I promise I won’t do that again. I'll help you Jaemin.” You smile sincerely to him.

His face brightens “You're the best! I always have hard time focusing! Well coffee helps me, but still it's not healthy.”

You take his hand in yours “Na Jaemin, you're a part of our family now. Since we're family, we will get each other's back! Don’t worry things will be okay and you too will be okay!”

He Smiles and that is a new smile you've ever seen on him. A smile that's pure and true. That shows he too is also a human who can feel pain not just the angelic handsome boy in class.

“We should eat. The others are waiting,” Chenle's appearance in the hallway makes you and Jaemin turn your heads to him.

“She's right. We're family, now family eats dinner, together right? Come on! Taeyong hyung got us some pizzas for your welcome party.” Chenle drags the taller man's hand which automatically pulls you too.

A smile comes to your face when you realize just how perfect this imperfect family is!

Yes you also struggled focusing on a certain job, yes you also hate messy stuffs, yes it's true Renjun took three months to open his mouth and speak complete sentences, it also takes Jeno five months to be true about his feelings, and Jisung plus Chenle? They also have their fish to fry. Now Jaemin, is here with his own battle that will soon be shared within us.

Just like the famous quote, Ohana means family and family means no one is left behind.

Looking around the table, although you really wish you have a sister or a mother figure here, you're more than happy to call the 7 men your brothers and families.

end

please let me know if there are anything I can fix. I am trying a new genre and it’s a bit challenging but I am happy with finishing this.

Contact or reach me out if you have any curiosity of what happens to the members or maybe you wonder what their problems are.

Thank you for reading :D 🤗💖

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peaceoutofthepieces · 3 years

Text

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @saraben00 @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane

~^~

Sunday, 12:40

Song: Peter Manos - In My Head

Lucas is surprised his dad hasn’t come to tell him how pathetic he is yet. He supposes it isn’t necessary. Lucas is more than aware of it himself.

He’d dragged himself out to go to the bathroom and get breakfast and managed to avoid a run-in. Now he’s curled up in his bed with the covers pulled up to his neck, trying not to feel too sorry for himself.

It isn’t easy.

He’s tempted to call Kes, but he’d called him yesterday, and he doesn’t want to be so needy. He’s thought about messaging Isa, but he isn’t really sure what he would say. He’s sure they’re all busy anyway. Possibly even hanging out together. Without him. As is likely the new normal already.

Lucas had been so sure he’d found his new normal already, too, but nothing feels normal about his situation anymore. He feels more stupid than anything. He doesn’t know what he’s been thinking. He doesn’t know how he has managed to mess everything up so massively already.

Jens was offering him friendship, and of course Lucas went overboard with it. Of course he’s a fool.

He’s spent the weekend rewatching the vlogs. He’s already in that deep.

It goes against all his rules, but he can’t bring himself to stop. He can’t get any of it out of his head. He can’t stop feeling Jens’s hands on his hips, or his breath on his ear. He can’t stop remembering the pump of his heart when Jens has done nothing more than smile. He can’t stop imagining what Jens might have done, if Lucas hadn’t pulled away from their dance, if Lucas had made up for it when Jens pulled him down to sit in front of him by leaning right back against his chest. He can’t stop considering all the possibilities that have never been possible in the first place.

He can’t stop seeing Jens with her, looking entirely at home.

He’d avoided Instagram entirely yesterday, resisting the temptation to open Jens’s message or stalk his page or Jana’s for any possible torture. He hates how dramatic his heart is being. He knew not to expect anything, and he’d let himself get much too carried away anyway. Jens had just seemed so close and so possible. Now Lucas is realising the boy is probably even more like Kes than he thought.

Lucas is long over that, but there’s still a leftover sting regardless, even as he cringes at his own thoughts and thoughtless actions. It makes him feel worse, sometimes, now that the feelings have slipped away, to look back at it, but he can’t quite bring himself to regret it.

It’s given him plenty of time to come to terms with everything. With himself. He can’t exactly bring himself to regret something that taught him so much.

It just obviously hasn’t taught him enough.

It’s in moments like this where a little of that self-hate returns with full force, and he can’t help wishing that he was just normal. It wouldn’t feel like this, if he was just crushing on a girl who didn’t return his feelings.

He might have no proof to back this up, but he feels pretty sure of it all the same.

It would be fine, if he thought it wouldn’t mess anything up with Jens. He’s mostly angry with himself because of how much he’s already letting it affect him. He had run from the party without even saying goodbye, and he hasn’t responded to the message that Jens had so sweetly sent him afterwards. Or to the second message Jens had sent him yesterday, saying that he hoped Lucas got there safe and was having fun. He’d laughed at the irony of it. He doesn’t know how to explain to Jens that he’s completely miserable, and that he hadn’t gone anywhere in the first place.

He’s lying in his bed in Antwerp, and he’s giving in and clicking on Jens’s Instagram story.

It’s a video of him at the skatepark, flying up the ramp towards the camera, grinning as he jumps off his board and pushes the person away. The responding giggles sound like they come from Robbe. He looks as beautiful as ever, and Lucas wishes more than anything that he could join them. The pained twist of his heart isn’t entirely strong enough to make him want to stay away. It’s just an additional ache.

He escapes the app in a rush and opens Spotify, hoping to distract himself. His fingers twitch, tempted to draw, but there’s already a cramp in them. It was all he’d done yesterday. He’d needed to get his thoughts out, needed to put his emotions on paper, in something real, and endless sketches had poured out, inspired by the past few weeks. He’d sketched Sander first, stood in the art shop with his camera and his smirk. He’d sketched Luca, taking care with her curls and her glasses, one eye closed in a wink, adding extra details as he refused to pour out his mind’s main focus.

It still hadn’t stopped him from creating a dozen sketches of Jens, most only half-completed, the image lost midway as another one came to the forefront.

He needs a break from feeling like this, for a while. Before he remembers that he has to return to school tomorrow, where it will be unavoidable.

He doesn’t get very far, unable to make up his mind, before a notification pops up at the top of his screen and destroys any notion of forgetting his feelings.

Jens has messaged him again. Undeterred, it seems, by Lucas’s previous lack of response.

hey, you’re probably still busy but I was wondering what time you would be back? I’m at the skatepark with the boys, and we’ll probably be here until late, if you wanted to join for a while

Before Lucas can even take this in, another message appears.

you’re probably staying with your friends until the evening though, so don’t worry about it

Lucas blinks at the message with furrowed brows. At first his heart twists, thinking Jens has changed his mind and is politely telling him not to come after all. But the rushed manner in which it had been sent makes him doubt himself, and he rereads it again, searching for the purpose of it. The meaning behind it. Another thought comes to mind, but he can’t quite let himself entertain it. That can’t be right.

There’s no way that Jens is nervous.

It sounds an awful lot like he might be, though, the more Lucas reads it over. He begins to feel a little bad. He hadn’t thought too much on what his distance might feel like to Jens. He hadn’t considered the idea that he’s being unfair. It isn’t Jens’s fault, that Lucas feels hurt. He couldn’t possibly know. Lucas hopes that he doesn’t know. To Jens, it probably feels like Lucas is ignoring him now that he’s with his friends in Utrecht. That he simply takes a back seat. Lucas is the terrible person for knowingly hurting him this way.

He can’t help but smile slightly, and then his hands are moving on their own, opening the message and typing a reply.

I’m already home

It appears as ‘seen’ almost instantly, and it takes just as little time for the typing bubble to appear.

you left early? is everything okay?

I never went

He watches the texting bubble appear and disappear a few times before quickly typing out another message.

came home to my dad waiting for me. he found my (very small) stash. wasn’t pleased.

The typing bubble doesn’t appear for long now.

shit

grounded? I was wondering why you hadn’t replied

Lucas hadn’t even realised that he was creating the perfect out for himself. It’s that simple. It probably makes sense, that his grounding would include a lack of phone privileges. It isn’t too extreme, especially if it includes the idea that he’d already gotten it back. He could let Jens believe that his father had dished out that mini, extra punishment. He won’t even be lying. Not really. He just won’t be mending Jens’s incorrect assumption. Skipping over a tiny detail.

yep. I am to remain in this house indefinitely

fuck

he couldn’t be convinced to let you out for even an hour?

Lucas blinks.

Could his father be convinced?

Can Lucas?

He doesn’t have to think about it too long.

let’s check

He locks his phone and slips out of bed, suddenly eager. Determined. Still, he’s slow and quiet as he opens his door, and he winces at the faint creak of the hinges. He tiptoes up the hallway towards the kitchen, running through what he should say, giving himself a bit of extra time. He needs to go into this with patience. He needs to stay resolute. His father will shut him down the instant he blows up, so he simply needs to keep his cool. Throw in some persuasion. It’ll be difficult, probably, but not impossible. Hopefully.

Only his father isn’t in the kitchen, or the adjoining sitting room. Lucas furrows his brows in confusion and moves back down the hallway. The bathroom is unlocked and empty, and his father’s door lies open, proving without any doubt that the room is unoccupied. He’s completely alone in the flat.

His heart thrums and his mind races in time with the quickening beat. He’s not the most passive person in the world, and he wouldn’t let himself be walked over, and he’s not a model citizen. This isn’t too far past his realm of disobedience.

His father is already beyond pissed, and while Lucas initially cringes at the thought, he shrugs it off.

Might as well go the extra mile.

He heads back to his room and pulls a sweater on over his t-shirt, a light pastel green Isa had once bought him. He snatches his denim jacket from the hook by the front door and swipes up his keys as he shrugs it on. He hesitates for half a second before returning to collect his skateboard from his room, and then he’s off.

I’m on my way

Jens’s response is instant.

fucking nice :D

Lucas’s lips quirk, and he shakes his head slightly, and feels unbearably fond. Jens is so easy. Everything he does is so easy. He’s a steadily burning flame, bright and warm and sure, and Lucas is another brainless moth. Drawn in and set alight.

He doesn’t even know how he’s managed to develop such a ridiculous crush so quickly. He just hopes he can get rid of it in the same manner. Maybe he should be giving himself more time, especially now that he has a genuine excuse. He could have stepped neatly away from Jens for a while with the excuse of his imprisonment and Jens would understand. Lucas knows he would. He knows that would be the best thing to do. It’s unfair to Jens and himself to indulge these feelings, the excitement and the urgency and the pleasure at the mere idea of seeing him.

But Lucas has been miserable the past few days, and it’s starting to make his head whir in much more dangerous directions. He just needs to appease it for a moment. He just needs to see Jens once and let his heart quiet.

He’ll be pleased, at this stage, to see any of them. It makes sense for him to want to join as many of these outings as he can. He’s just beginning to fit into this friend-group.

The skatepark is relatively full, as to be expected for a Sunday afternoon, but it takes Lucas no time to find them. His eyes seek out Jens automatically and he finds him easily where he’s now sat at the top of the half pipe, laughing at someone Lucas doesn’t bother looking at and occasionally glancing at his phone. Lucas has to pause for a second and gather himself, squashing down the mixed emotions that bubble up and plastering on a smile.

It’s only when he’s halfway towards him that he does a double take, catching sight of white-blonde hair. His smile slips into something more real, and some of his familiar bounce returns to his step as he heads towards them.

“Yo, Lucas!” The cheer comes unexpectedly from Moyo, and Lucas twists around until he can see him, jogging in the same direction to meet him as he finally stops next to Jens, kicking up his skateboard and catching the tip in his hand.

Jens smiles up at him, left eye squinting more than the right against the sun. He’s still wearing just a shirt and a deep red hoodie, but he looks soft and warm and pleased as Lucas sits down next to him. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Lucas returns, feeling uncharacteristically shy, nerves twisting in his chest. The party and the hours before it skim through his mind, and then the hours after and all of yesterday when he’d attempted to purge himself of all unwanted feelings, pushing this boy away in the process. He doesn’t deserve the easy friendship Jens has handed him. He’s taken advantage of such an innocent thing, and Jens has absolutely no idea. He wouldn’t look so fond if he did.

“You got grounded?” Moyo questions him as he swings up next to them, dropping down on Jens’s other side with furrowed brows.

Lucas shrugs, twisting his hands together in his lap. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“What? Why?”

Lucas twists around to look at Robbe, who has finally detached himself from his boyfriend long enough to notice Lucas’s presence and migrate over. Lucas catches Sander’s gaze over his shoulder and Sander brightens, slipping around Robbe to greet him. Lucas allows him to clasp their hands together with a grin, but ducks away when he moves to ruffle his hair.

“My little protégé. I was starting to think these idiots were never going to let me see you again.”

Lucas huffs, shaking his head as Sander simply drops down to sit cross-legged behind him. Robbe looks at Lucas and rolls his eyes fondly, and Lucas watches with a twist in his stomach as he sits down behind Sander, wrapping his limbs around him and letting him settle back against his chest. “You say that like I listen to them.”

Sander raises his brows at this, nodding approvingly, and this is when Jens makes a small noise in the back of his throat, strangled with confusion.

Lucas looks at him to see him glancing between him and Sander in deep concentration. “Have you already met?”

“Yeah, on Thursday at the art shop,” Sander says easily. “We had a very educational chat.”

Lucas snorts, thinking of the mini lesson Sander had given him on all his favourite dead, supposedly-gay artists as he led him around the store and then to an ice cream stand down the street, instantly winning Lucas’s heart. It may not have been the most educational experience, but it had been enough for Lucas to learn that Sander is someone he could get along with.

Jens swivels to look at Robbe. “You knew about this?”

Robbe hums. “Yeah?”

“Since when?”

“That night?”

Sander takes in Jens’s expression of utter betrayal and snorts, and Lucas can’t help but raise his own brow in amusement as Jens turns his pout towards him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Lucas tilts his head. “Why was I supposed to?”

Jens struggles to form a response to that, pout deepening, and Lucas really wishes he’d stop doing things like that. He wishes he would stop treating them as if they are so close, the way Robbe and Sander are close, sharing everything automatically and having a sunk-in understanding. He wishes Jens would make it easier for Lucas to let go of this idea of something more between them.

Sander knocks his leg against Lucas’s arm to get his attention, and his expression is dramatically serious. “Jens just gets a little jealous,” he mock-whispers, loud enough even for Moyo to hear him and let out a snort.

Jens’s pout shifts into a scowl and he rolls his eyes, and Sander knocks a leg against him instead in some semblance of apology. He raises his brows at Lucas, however, in a silent ‘told you’.

“What, you don’t seriously think Sander is going to steal me away or something, do you?” Lucas can’t help but tease, raising his brows in interest.

Moyo butts in with a laugh of his own, gesturing at Sander and hitting Jens’s arm. “Sander is basically a part of the group anyway, man. Where would he go?”

“That’s not the point,” Jens mumbles, mostly under his breath. Before anyone can question him on it, he’s turning back to Lucas and asking, “How’d you get your dad to let you out, anyway?”

Lucas shrugs, smiling sheepishly. “I didn’t. He wasn’t there, so I just left.”

“Ahh, a little rebel,” Sander teases.

Robbe huffs a laugh. “A match made in heaven.”

“Don’t encourage them,” Jens protests, leaving Sander sticking his tongue out at him. His gaze turns concerned as he looks at Lucas. “Won’t that make it worse for you when you get back?”

Lucas isn’t sure it can get much worse, but he can say with certainty that this is the happiest he’s been this weekend. It’s bad. This familiar warmth flooding through his chest under Jens’s gaze. It would probably be best for him, to be locked up at home.

But he can’t bring himself to regret this, either.

He gives another shrug, allows himself to smile, allows himself to enjoy how easily Jens returns it when he says, “It’ll be worth it.”

#van der stoffels #vds #wtfock #skam nl #sink or swim #vds season fic #sos clip

66 notes · View notes

citizen-l · 3 years

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01. Door

Chanyeol curses and wonders what he did to be locked out of his own apartment as the door slams on his face. In truth, it wasn't his fault. How was he to know that taking his roommate to a party would lead to him falling for Chanyeol's best friend. Which would lead to steamy make out sessions, and possibly more, in his apartment. Resulting in him being kicked out for the night.

Chanyeol tried not to think about the mess Junmyeon and Sehun would probably make. God, they better clean up afterwards.

He sighed and looked at the keys in his hand. Not his keys. Sehun had tossed those before shutting the door, telling Chanyeol to sleep at Sehun's place for the night. Jeez, a little warning would have been nice! Chanyeol didn't even get to unplug his phone from the charger. His laptop and notes are still open on his desk. This was ridiculous!

At least it was Friday. And Sehun did say his roommate was out on a date. So Chanyeol will have the place to himself. Since Sehun and Baekhyun even got a TV in their apartment, Chanyeol can just binge shitty soap operas and pass the night. Great plan, sure. Not like Chanyeol had a life or anything.

The walk to Sehun's place was short, and the night wasn't too warm or cold for Chanyeol to feel uncomfortable in his bed clothes. Jesus. He was wearing his sweats and an oversized sweater. He would've been embarrassed if people saw him like this in the daytime. Thankfully it was late enough in the night that not many were out and about. He felt like he was the one making the walk of shame back to his apartment. Ironic, since he was single, too busy to be in a relationship with anyone, and hadn't decided whether he just didn't like anyone all that much or if he was plainly aro. Not something he wanted to think about tonight.

He walked up the stairs to the third floor and went down the hall to Sehun's door. Chanyeol had been here multiple times since Sehun had moved in, but he never stayed over at night. Mainly because of Baekhyun. To be completely honest, Chanyeol was a little afraid of Sehun's flatmate. He wasn't sure what it was, but that tiny boy with cotton candy hair always made Chanyeol nervous.

Well, at least Baekhyun was out tonight. And judging by the way Sehun explained it, Baekhyun was unlikely to return until the next day. Chanyeol would be long gone by then.

Sehun's apartment was posh, spacious and modern, unlike Chanyeol and Junmyeon's tiny cramped flat with just two room and a tiny kitchen. The lights were on. Maybe it was a rich people thing, leaving the light on. Who cared about bills? Or maybe Sehun was too whipped and crazy for a fuck that he didn't even bother turning off the switches.

Jesus. Chanyeol sounded angry even to himself. He wasn't actually that angry, just a bit irritated to be collateral to other people's sexual activities.

Barely two steps in and he stopped dead, caught in a stare with a green faced guy standing in front on the kitchen with a bowl of soup. Before Chanyeol could do anything, the guy screamed and stumbled back, hitting the stool with his leg and splashing hot soup all over himself as he lost his grip on the bowl. Chanyeol hurried towards him to help, but it only backfired. The guy, Baekhyun, judging by the hair, became more agitated and fell back right where the bowl had crashed and broken.

"Motherfucker, ow!" Baekhyun cursed, forgetting for a moment his terror of seeing another person in his apartment.

Chanyeol's fear came true as Baekhyun inspected the pain in his hand and found a large cut, blood oozing down his arm. Chanyeol was there just in time to catch the pink haired boy before Baekhyun cursed again and fainted at the sight of blood.

Jesus, how did a lazy evening in Chanyeol's own apartment turn into spilled soup, bloody wounds and an unconscious twenty-two year old in his arms?

It took him two hours to get it all cleaned up. He debated calling Sehun, but he was probably too busy in the throes of passion to pick up the phone anyway, so Chanyeol decided to tackle one pressing issue at a time.

Baekhyun's cut wasn't deep, but it was long enough to cause alarm. Poor guy must've slid his hand right over the broken ceramic. Thankfully the soup wasn't scalding, not hot enough to bruise. Chanyeol decided the leather couch can weather some sticky chicken soup and carried Baekhyun over to lay him down. He found the first aid kit in the bathroom cabinet and went on to clean and dress the wound before Baekhyun woke up. Chanyeol never would have thought he'd be the kind of guy to lose his shit at the sight of blood. But, oh well, everyone had their kryptonite.

Cleaning up the broken bowl and soup was a bit harder, Chanyeol had to look for missing pieces of ceramic that got knocked away out of sight. It could cause more problems later on. By the time he was done, it was past midnight, and he was hungry enough to indulge in cooking himself a quick snack. Baekhyun was still unconscious on the sofa with his injured hand propped up over his head, breathing normally. He probably didn't get to have dinner if the soup was it. Chanyeol decided to make use of the ingredients in their fridge and make something for both of them.

"Ah fuck," Baekhyun cursed the moment he woke up. "This is so not my day."

"Hey," Chanyeol said quietly. "Don't freak out. I'm Chanyeol, Sehun's friend, remember?"

"Jesus, you could've knocked maybe?"

"Sorry," Chanyeol did realize he shouldn't have barged in like that. But in his defense, Sehun had told him nobody would be home. "I had Sehun's keys, he's spending the night at my place so, he said I could stay here, and that you'd be out. I didn't know you'd be at home."

"Right. Wait, why is he at your place?"

"Uh, my roommate, Junmyeon... "

"Good God, stop. No more. I've heard enough about Junmyeon this, Junmyeon that. No more. Let them fuck it out. I need a break."

Chanyeol agreed. It was slightly getting on his nerves as well. He went back to his meal, sitting on the floor and watching the muted sitcom.

"Oh, Uh, did you…?" Baekhyun sat up and fumbled with his bandaged hand.

"Oh yeah," Chanyeol looked back at him. "Sorry about that, I really didn't mean to startle you. I cleaned it up, the kitchen too, so don't worry about it. And, the cut isn't deep as far as I can tell, but you probably should get it checked out tomorrow, might require stitches."

"Just my luck," Baekhyun sighed. "You said you cleaned the kitchen?"

"Yeah, didn't want any more accidents happening tonight. Also, there's some stir fried rice and chicken if you want. I was hungry so..." Chanyeol pointed at his own food.

"You cleaned, and you cooked," Baekhyun repeated like he couldn't wrap his head around the facts. "Please switch places with Sehun and move in with me."

Chanyeol laughed, if only. His meager job wasn't even remotely enough to afford all this luxury.

"Alright, I'm gonna...I'm gonna go clean up. Jesus, what a night to do some beauty care. I've probably aged five years, a lot of good this mask will do me. And ugh, I smell like chicken, probably taste like it too."

Chanyeol couldn't help but laugh as Baekhyun slowly went to his room down the hallway grumbling about his bad luck. That was when Chanyeol realized that this was probably the first time he was ever alone with Baekhyun, and not once did he feel nervous or unsettled. He laughed, Baekhyun was actually funny. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad spending a night here like this. Granted, he could've done without the mess and injury.

Chanyeol finished his meal and cleaned up the leather sofa where Baekhyun had laid unconscious by the time the other boy came freshly showered and a little out of it.

"Uh, not to sound demanding or anything, but," Baekhyun sounded a little nervous. "Do you mind cleaning the bandage? It got wet and there's a red patch and...yeah."

Chanyeol tried not to laugh because it wasn't actually funny, it was just too adorable. Never did he imagine Byun Baekhyun, the boisterous theatre major around campus to be lightheaded because of blood. He looked too cute with his wet hair and too big T-shirt and loose shorts, holding up his injured arm and desperately trying not to look at the wound.

"Sit down, I'll get it cleaned up," Chanyeol said, taking out the aid kit again.

"You cleaned the couch," Baekhyun observed as he sat down, momentarily forgetting all about his injury and sounding surprised.

Chanyeol didn't bother replying, he focused on the task at hand.

"Close your eyes," he said and Baekhyun shut his eyes instantly. Button-like nose scrunched up, face a little red from rubbing off the mask, hand trembling outstretched.

Chanyeol sat on the floor and changed the dressing. Then he put things away neatly and brought Baekhyun the meal he had prepared.

"You can use your left hand, right?" Chanyeol asked.

Baekhyun gaped at the food, spoon clumsily held in his left grip. He nodded minutely and Chanyeol decided to focus on the TV screen.

"You can turn on the sound now, I'm wide awake," Baekhyun said. "Sorry for the drama, but then again, I'm an actor, what did you expect?"

"You're majoring in Theatre, right?" Chanyeol asked in conversation as Baekhyun nodded. "What do you do when you have to act with props like blood?"

"Well," Baekhyun scrunched up his red nose and Chanyeol had to bite his cheek to not smile. "It's not a big deal since I know it's fake. But when it's real…"

"That's okay," Chanyeol felt the sudden urge to reassure the guy. "I don't think there's anything to worry about, give it a week and it'll heal properly."

"Thanks," Baekhyun avoided eye contact. "For patching me up, twice. And for the meal."

"No worries. I'm sorry again for walking in on you like this. Giving you such a scare. Sehun told me you went on a date and won't be home tonight."

Baekhyun made a face. "Yeah, that…"

Chanyeol guessed it didn't go well. But he didn't want to ask, it was private.

"I didn't show," Baekhyun said.

He stood his date up? That's… a bit cruel, Chanyeol thought.

"No, that's a lie," Baekhyun sighed. "I showed up two hours early and sat watch from a distance and I was right, some guys just wanted to mess with me. So I came home and decided to pamper myself."

Chanyeol really wanted to know who those guys were. The anger he felt wasn't new, and he wasn't surprised how much he hated whoever those people were who wanted to mess with Baekhyun. Chanyeol hated guys like that who only preyed on other people thinking they were weak. Sure, Baekhyun was maybe small compared to a lot of the guys around campus, and his sassy attitude and cotton candy hair would hurt a lot fragile egos, but Chanyeol really struggled to understand why people would want to hurt a complete stranger.

"Do you know those guys?" Chanyeol asked even as he tried to hold himself back.

"Yeah, don't worry about it, I took care of them. They're probably sitting in a cell for the night. I reported them."

Chanyeol felt relieved. Though guys like that deserved more than a night in a cell, at least nobody got hurt today. Or, at least not by them. He felt a pang of guilt thinking he was the reason Baekhyun got hurt. Jeez, why couldn't Sehun just wait until daytime to have his way with Junmyeon?

"You always like this, a neat freak?" Baekhyun asked when Chanyeol grabbed his empty plate and went on to clean it at the sink.

Heat in his cheeks probably was evidence enough that he was blushing. Chanyeol's inability to leave anything unclean or untidy was not necessarily a problem, he didn't think he was obsessive about it. But it did stand out sometimes. Especially while living with Junmyeon who was not the neatest or tidiest person in the world.

"Sorry, habit," Chanyeol said.

"Oh, don't be sorry at all. I haven't done a single thing since you came. Please teach some manners to Sehun."

"He's a little beyond help."

"Unfortunate."

Baekhyun bid him goodnight, giving him free reign of Sehun's bed as he went to his own. Chanyeol never made it to the bed, however. He was dozing while sitting on the ground with his head back on the couch when cold fingers shook him awake.

It took him a while to wake and sit up properly, not knowing what was going on since it was still pitch dark with only the light of the TV.

Then he registered Baekhyun's strained voice. He was alert immediately, remembering everything that happened last night.

"Uh, I think… I got hurt… in my sleep… it's... "

The wound was bleeding, blood seeped through the hem of the bandage and down Baekhyun's arm. Maybe the wound was deeper than Chanyeol thought.

Before he could say anything, Baekhyun fainted right on top of him like a sack of potatoes. He was lighter than Chanyeol thought, which he hadn't exactly noticed hours before when Baekhyun first fainted.

Chanyeol laid the guy down on the sofa again and reached for his phone, only then remembering that his phone was back in his apartment. Christ.

Chanyeol quickly walked to Baekhyun's room. His phone was password locked, but Chanyeol could still use it in case of emergency. He grabbed the first pair of shoes he thought would fit Baekhyun and slid them into unconscious feet.

"Baekhyun? Baek... " waking the guy wasn't very successful. He was probably too tired, and the blood loss was probably not helping. Damn guy was too pale to have much blood in him anyway.

Chanyeol knew he was being stupid. Baekhyun probably just needed a full night's rest and a visit to the doctor's in the morning. But the guilt was eating at Chanyeol.

The pharmacy was maybe seven minutes away. Double, if Chanyeol had to carry an unconscious Baekhyun all the way there. But that was still better than sitting here and not doing anything. What if there was a piece of ceramic stuck in the wound that Chanyeol hadn't been able to clean?

He roused Baekhyun enough to carry him on his back and make sure he wouldn't fall off, and then he locked the doors and headed out.

"The wound nicked a vein, nothing big, just needed a few stitches," the pharmacist said while performing the sutures.

Chanyeol was a little relieved that Baekhyun was awake again. Sitting with his eyes closed, his uninjured hand gripping the packet of strawberry milk he had requested and humming some song to distract himself. At least he'll be fine.

Chanyeol, however, couldn't shake off the weird gaze of the pharmacist and his assistant at the counter. They looked at Chanyeol the same way people looked at murder suspects. He tried to not show his nervousness.

That worked until an officer walked in purposefully and stood right in front of, sizing Chanyeol up.

"You okay, son?" the officer asked Baekhyun directly.

"Oh, Joey! What are you doing here?" Baekhyun asked. Gone was the faintness of his voice and dullness of his eyes. He was again distracted from his own distress as he focused on anything but his injury.

"Byun! I really didn't think you were the one they called me about, I got those bastards you told me about. I didn't think they hurt you!"

Someone called the officer. Probably the assistant pharmacist. Good God, they probably thought Chanyeol purposely hurt Baekhyun and brought him here at four in the morning. Jesus Christ, what the hell was happening?

"Oh no, this was at home," Baekhyun said casually. Almost cheerfully.

Chanyeol nearly swallowed his own tongue as three pairs of eyes honed in on him and Baekhyun remained oblivious, or pretended to. That was it, Chanyeol was going to jail.

"I slipped in the kitchen, got soup all over me. Dreadful thing. And then I managed to fall on my ass and scrape my hand on a broken bowl!" Baekhyun summarized it like telling a story.

"I'd say this is more than a scrape," the pharmacist grumbled. "If you hadn't bandaged it properly, you would have lost a lot of blood by now."

"Well it's all thanks to Chanyeol. I can't even look at blood, makes me faint. He cleaned up the wound and everything. Even carried me all the way, can you believe it?"

No, they could not. But at least they didn't think Chanyeol knifed Baekhyun's hand himself. That was good enough for now.

"I'd be lying in my own pool of blood, dead, if it weren't for Chanyeol!"

He probably wouldn't be hurt in the first place if it weren't for Chanyeol. But nobody needed to know that. He looked up at the others and they seemed convinced Chanyeol wasn't the bad guy here.

This is why Chanyeol had always been nervous around Baekhyun. Or, to be more precise, nervous because of other people due to Baekhyun's presence. This guy could make friends with patrol officers and pharmacists and make them feel concerned for him in a heartbeat. That was some power to have over people. Not saying Baekhyun was manipulative, on the contrary, he was sweet and charming and that won hearts.

"You sure you don't want me to drop you off?" Joey said as he got into his patrol car.

"Nah, it's okay, I think I need to walk it off, have some fresh air to feel a bit better."

"Alright," Joey eyed Chanyeol one last time and then smiled at Baekhyun. "Call me if there's any trouble." And then he was off.

Jesus, that was nerve wracking. Chanyeol desperately wanted to go back to his own cramped tiny apartment with the partitioned room he shared with Junmyeon and sleep in his own bed.

"You really didn't have to carry me all the way here, did you?" Baekhyun asked as they walked back to the apartment.

"Didn't wanna risk it, and it was a short distance."

"Short!" Baekhyun laughed. "I can't decide whether I should be glad you were there or me mad at you for causing the accident in the first place."

"Sor…" Chanyeol was going to apologize again but Baekhyun cut him off.

"I'm not mad, don't worry about it. It was just an accident. I'd blame Sehun but it was my choice to come back home, my choice to go on a date with a douche bag in the first place, their fault for being douchebags and waiting to gang up on me… what's the point of blaming. We're all still alive and well, let's just enjoy the moment."

It wasn't such a bad philosophy, especially at nearly half past five with the sun coming up on the horizon and cold breeze sending mild chills through the body. Chanyeol looked at Baekhyun when he realized the boy was only wearing a thin, oversized T-shirt. He should've put a jacket on him before rushing him to the pharmacy.

"Let's hurry back," Chanyeol said.

"What's the rush, let me enjoy the cool weather."

"You'll catch a cold."

Chanyeol didn't realize Baekhyun had stopped walking until he was a few steps ahead without the pink head near his shoulder. He looked back to find Baekhyun gawking at him with his mouth open.

"What, what's wrong?" Chayeol quickly turned back. "You okay? Feeling lightheaded?"

"Uh…" Baekhyun stuttered. "Yeah, I think so. Think you can carry me the rest of the way?"

"Yeah sure, get on my back, it'll be easier," Chanyeol crouched down and waited for him to lean forward.

Even after seconds, Chanyeol didn't feel an extra body on him. He turned his head and looked up. Baekhyun was still staring at him open-mouthed.

"Baekhyun?"

"Hm what?"

"Get on?"

"Oh yeah, never turning down a ride," Baekhyun said as he leaned his weight on Chanyeol and grabbed his shoulders while locking his legs around Chanyeol's waist.

Chanyeol faintly wondered whether Baekhyun was joking or not, faking his lightheadedness. But he didn't think too much about it, the apartment was barely five minutes away. It was good exercise anyway.

"Jesus, what do you do to become this giant ball of goodness with muscles?"

Chanyeol nearly avoided stumbling on the stairs as he went up to the apartment. Giant ball of goodness? What?

"You can put me down now," Baekhyun whispered, breath fanning the shell of Chanyeol's ear and almost making him lose his grip on Baekhyun's thighs.

Chanyeol dropped Baekhyun safely on his feet and handed him Sehun's keys. Baekhyun gladly opened the door and walked in.

"I think I'll head back now," Chanyeol said from the threshold.

"Oh, isn't it too early?" Baekhyun looked back tilting his head.

He looked less pale now, maybe the sugar of the strawberry milk helped, or maybe the walk. Baekhyun looked good, not sick. Better. Pale pink hair all ruffled, clothes swallowing his thin frame, shorts and boots looking adorably comical with his bed shirt. Chanyeol was staring.

"No, Junmyeon usually gets up by now, I can catch him if I go now before he starts his morning run."

"Shame," Baekhyun said. "Well, if you must go."

Chanyeol didn't know what to do when Baekhyun kissed him full on the mouth. He tasted sweet like strawberry. Lips soft like candy. Chanyeol hardly brought up a hand, fingertips grazing Baekhyun's angular jaw when he suddenly pulled away, leaving Chanyeol gasping and gaping at the shorter guy.

"Thanks for the rescue!" Baekhyun laughed. His cheeks soft and glowing in the rising sun.

Chanyeol didn't have time to react until the apartment door was being shut. For the second time in less than 8 hours, Chanyeol was standing in front of a closed door and desperately questioning his life. What just happened?

#fanfic #exo #university au #mmromance #fluff #part one #byun baekhyun #park chanyeol #chanbaek #writeblr #writing #my writing #writers on tumblr #ao3 writer #fiction

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fandom-imagines-stories · 3 years

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Family Roadtrip

Sam Winchester x Reader

Words: 1783

Masterlist

Summary: With your vampire foes vanquished, you and Makayla adjust to life with your new family.

Notes: You didn’t really think I was finished with Makayla’s story did you?! This imagine is a bit shorter and may seem like a filler, but I really wanted to do something sweet and fun-loving after four parts of drama. I hope you enjoy and are excited to see more of the Makayla Chronicles!

Want more Supernatural? Find it HERE

You peaked around the corner carefully, motioning to Sam that it was safe to follow. He took the lead, keeping his weapon low. The two of you crept silently around the dark bunker. Noises kept your nerves on edge, making you jump at every rustling paper or creaking floorboard.

A small form darted past the doorway and you quickly went after it.

“Y/N, wait!” Sam called, trying to keep up with you as you sprinted into the library. You stopped so suddenly that he almost ran into you.

“Not good.” You uttered, having lost your target. You had led yourself into a trap. A voice boomed throughout the room.

“Now!”

The light switched on and Dean lunged out from behind a shelf. Makayla crawled out from beneath the desk and the two mercilessly unleashed the power of their water guns upon the two of you. They didn’t stop until you and Sam were soaked.

“Okay, okay, you win!” Sam shouted over Dean and Makayla’s cheers of victory. Despite your defeat, you and Sam couldn’t help but laugh.

“Makayla and Uncle Dean three-” Dean beamed.

“Mommy and Daddy zero!” The two high-fived and stuck their tongues out on you. Sam eyed his brother.

“I don’t like how much influence you have on her.” He chuckled. Dean shrugged and Sam shook out his hair right by his face. Then he looked at Makayla. “You know what I could use right now?” He motioned for her to come closer. “A great big bear hug!”

Makayla squealed as she tried to get away, but Sam was quick to catch her. He engulfed her in a soaking wet hug until she seemed like she’d burst from laughter. Dean smirked, bringing you all towels to dry off.

It had been a slow week. No hunts, no demons, no impending doom. Mary was gone, having revealed her connections with the British Men of Letters. It was still a sore subject for the boys so you and Makayla decided to come up with some games to distract them. She teamed up with her uncle and you teamed up with Sam.

You were all sitting down for lunch when Makayla had a sudden outburst of enthusiasm.

“I want to go on a road trip.” She exclaimed. “A big family road trip.” You smiled at her excitement.

“Where do you want to go, sweetie?”

“Anywhere!” She giggled. She started tugging on the sleeve of Sam’s flannel. “Can we go on a road trip daddy? Can we? Can we? Can we?” Sam laughed and pulled her into his lap.

“I don’t really see why not.” He looked at you and his brother. “What do you say, guys?” Dean shrugged, giving his niece a smile.

“It’s not like we’ve had a case in a while and with mom gone…” He trailed off, trying not to let his frustration show. You jumped in.

“I think it’s a great idea.” You could use a little time out of the bunker. Besides, Makayla had only ever really traveled because of hunting. It would be good for her to just have fun with her family. Hell, it would be good for all of you.

“It’s settled then.” Sam concluded with a grin, bouncing Makayla on his knee. “Go help your mom pack and Dean and I will make a plan.”

His daughter jumped down from his lap and hurried off to her room. You gave Sam a kiss on the cheek before following her to make sure she didn’t pack a bunch of snacks instead of clothes. Sam watched you leave with a small smile.

“Things have been going pretty well between you too, huh?” Dean said, noticing his brother’s puppy-love look. Sam broke his gaze and turned to Dean.

“Yeah.” He sighed happily. “Yeah, they have.” He drank the rest of his coffee. “You know, it’s like nothing has changed and everything has changed at the same time. Y/N is back, and we’re back together, but it’s so much more than it was before.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Sam fell quiet, trying to sift through his own thoughts. His feelings for you weren’t the same anymore and it wasn’t just because you were the mother of his only daughter. It was like all of his feelings for you from all those years ago had not only resurfaced, but had grown to be so much more. Like he wanted something more.

Makayla watched the road ahead with excited eyes. You had been on the road for about an hour and she was still practically bouncing in her seat. Sam had actually insisted on sitting in the back with her, so you were in the passenger seat while Dean drove.

The plan was to hit a few places in Nebraska and then circle down into Colorado to Estes park. You would be camping instead of renting motel rooms, which would definitely be interesting, but Kayla begged and begged to sleep under the stars like they did in the Western movies Dean had gotten her into.

The further up into Western Nebraska you got, the more you tried to clear your mind of monsters and demons. This weekend was for you to spend real, quality time with Sam and Dean and for Makayla to have a normal childhood adventure.

“Daddy look!” Kayla exclaimed, pointing out her window at the dark shapes roaming the fields. The animals seemed to watch as the impala drove by.

“Those are called pronghorns.” Sam grinned at her awestruck expression. The fact that she still had that innocent fascination with the world made his heart swell. He wanted her to hold onto that forever.

You’d be arriving at Toadstool soon, your first camping stop. The sun was getting lower and lower in the sky, painting the clouds pink and orange. Nebraska may not have a whole lot in it, but damn it had good sunsets. You didn’t notice, but Sam’s gaze had shifted from your daughter to you. Seven years since he had met you and you still took his breath away.

You finally turned your head, seeing him in the rearview mirror. The way he was smiling made your heart stop for a moment. It scared you how much you loved him. What if you messed up again? What if he couldn’t forgive you? What if he couldn’t love you because of what you did before? You wouldn’t blame him, of course.

Once you reached Toadstool Geological Park, Sam helped you set up the tent while Dean grabbed the cooler and the snacks. When Makayla started running towards the trail, Sam took a few strides with his long legs to catch her.

“It’s too late to go hiking right now, Kayla.” He explained gently. “We’re going to go in the morning when we can see everything better.”

“I still don’t really get the appeal of it.” Dean muttered. “Just a bunch of rocks.”

“It’s a ‘natural wonder’, Dean.” You snarked. You gave him a flashy smile. “Just like me.” Dean narrowed his eyes.

“The only thing you are is natural pain in my ass.”

“Dean.” Sam scolded, motioning to the young child in his arms.

“Yeah, that’s a bad word you son-of-a-bitch.” Makayla exclaimed.

“Makayla!” You gasped. You glared at her uncle. “Dammit Dean!”

“How do you know it was me? You curse like a sailor!”

“Guys, it doesn’t matter who taught her what.” Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “Can we just try and make sure it’s not a regular thing?” You both nodded in agreement, still slightly glowering at each other.

You started a fire and broke open the hot dogs. You had bought plenty of campfire foods, including everything that was needed to make smores. You wanted this to feel as postcard perfect as possible for Kayla. No monsters, no villains, no impending doom. Just a family around the campfire with marshmallows and chocolate and laughter.

“You really went all out for this,” Sam noted, motioning to the array of fireside foods. He handed you a nice cold beer and wrapped an arm around your waist.

“I want this trip to be everything hunter’s don’t get.” You sighed. “Not just for her, but for us.” You leaned your head on his shoulder. “I know things are rough for you guys right now and having a kid around isn’t making that easier-”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Sam shifted so that he was facing you, holding your face in his hands. “You and Kayla… you’ve changed my life in so many ways. And Dean’s. You give us a purpose that isn’t always dark and bloody. You gave me life again.” You smiled, feeling tears prick the corners of your eyes.

“I never thought about it like that.” You stood on your tiptoes so you could reach his lips for a sweet and devoted kiss.

Dean had decided that he would sleep in the impala, so cramped in the little tent was you, Makayla, and the 6’4” mountain that was trying desperately not to squish both of you. Makayla was already asleep, huddled in between the two of you with her head resting on Sam’s chest. His arm was outstretched so it was both holding her and his hand could rest on your shoulder. You tangled your fingers with his, looking at him over Kayla’s sleeping form.

“I’d say this trip has been successful so far.” You whispered. Sam nodded.

“We all needed this. A chance to get away from everything with Lucifer and hunting… and mom.” His smile faltered and you squeezed his hand supportively.

“She’ll come around. Mary is just…” You trailed off, trying to figure out the right word.

“Complicated?” Sam finished solemnly.

“Yeah.” You blew out a breath. For some strange reason, you felt connected to Mary Winchester. Like you were cut from the same bloody and worn out cloth. Feeling Sam’s eyes on you, you pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. “We should get some sleep. The Tasmanian devil over here is gonna keep us on our toes on this hike tomorrow.” You motioned to Kayla with a stifled laugh. Looking back at him, your expression was serious, but warm and bright at the same time. “I love you, Sam.”

“I love you too.” He gently ran his thumb over your bottom lip, wishing he could kiss you, but not wanting to wake Makayla.

As your eyes closed your breathing steadied, Sam felt so many emotions rising in his chest, seizing his heart and clearing his mind. In that moment, he knew more than ever before, what he wanted.

He wanted to marry you.

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks Supernatural: @desimarie12; @deandreamernp; @vicmc624; @halesandy; @livshaes; @d-whinchestergirl87; @mrspeacem1nusone Sam Winchester: @theamuz; @adeliness Makayla Series: @rhiannon-the-troublemaker; @hoboal87

#sam winchester x reader #the makayla winchester chronicles #Jared Padalecki #dean winchester #supernatural imagines #winchester family

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ficsnroses · 4 years

Text

Comfort - John Wick x Reader Oneshot

John Wick? More like Fluff Wick.

Word Count : 2.6k

Warnings : None! Mega fluff. Although it does get kinda heavy towards the end...

Summary : John comforts his girlfriend, Y/N, while she’s on her time of the month.

A/N : This is for the lovely anon who requested John comforting reader while she’s on her period & size difference. I had too many ideas for size difference, so I’ll throw them into another one shot later. Lemme know if it was alright! ❤️

This is a one shot, but I imagine it to be centered in the same universe as these two fics, that are very dear to my heart. Check out Put Your Head On My Shoulder & Nightlight :)

If there’s one thing John appreciated, it was the feel of the golden sun cresting on his face on a beautiful evening, as today. After all the dark he’s seen, he’s learned to take joy in the simpler parts of life, being thankful for anything, and everything one may rather take for granted. For John to get these things, be able to delight in them, was an accomplishment.

Gratitude, was exactly what he felt; as he sits with Dog tucked away by his feet by the window, a thick novel popped in his hand to scan, awaiting his love’s arrival. Y/N would be here soon, as planned, for them to enjoy the rest of the evening together.

She’d been coming over a lot more recently, and John would have liked it no other way. She’d been the missing piece the entire time, the reason his house had always fell lacking before, why it had remained just a house he was residing in.

She made it a home.

Each moment she wasn’t there, John wished she was. He yearned to hear her silky giggle down the hallway as she played with Dog, her euphonious singing in the kitchen as they prepared lunch together, her soft, ever so slight snores as she slept beside him on an early, Sunday morning.

As the days and weeks passed, more and more of her belongings had been concluding their way in. He’d find a spare toothbrush next to his on his bathroom counter, corresponding along with her favourite face wash & night creams positioned away in his medicine cabinet. Laced with his own clothes in his closet, he’d find her pajamas or blouses peppered in, her fuzzy knit socks, long forgotten in his drawers. She’d even left a copy of the novel she had presently been cruising on his nightstand.

But he treasured every part of it. He sought it, more than anything. He wanted to be one with her, to have her embellish each part of his life. Because quite truly, it was better with her.

To the sound of the lock jingle, he’s snapped out of his thoughts.

She’d finally made it home.

John had given her a house key recently, and it had felt like a big step in their relationship. He wanted to let her know that he trusted her, felt flattered to have her around. She’d given him one to her apartment as well on the spot.

“John?” Her sincere voice calls out, from the front door, as she shuffles her shoes off. Dog’s ears perk up immediately, his tail wagging tremendously as he runs towards her voice. Dog loved Y/N a whole lot, sometimes John felt a little jealous at how fond they’d become. Nonetheless, it made his heart smile each time.

“Living room!” John calls out to her.

Barely, from the depths of his ear, he hears Y/N’s calm voice welcome Dog. “Hi, honey.” She smiles to him, probably in the midst of giving him an abundance of pets behind his ears. John smiles to himself, eager to hold her soon. He’d missed her today. He hadn’t seen her since the morning before, when she’d stayed over for the night and they’d waken up together, before she had to leave for work.

As she ambles into the room, Dog trails at her feet. She smiles as her eyes land on her boyfriend.

“Hey, beautiful.” John grins, setting his novel aside, opening his bulky arms for her. The sun continues setting outside, leaving a nice gold to envelope the room, the lilac sky behind not far.

“Hi.” She smiles, although she moves slow. She seems, tired, possibly exhausted. Departing her bag on the wooden floor, she walks to John, leaning down to give him a quick kiss hello, before taking place beside him on the couch. He frowns when she pulls away.

“How was your day, princess?” he asks, as she wraps her arms around his waist, allowing him to hold her in a hug, a delicate kiss placed on top of her head. She nuzzles into his chest, sighing.

“It was okay.” She speaks through a yawn. “I’m worn out.”

John leaves another soft kiss in her locks, gently stroking her back. “Aw, I’m sorry to hear.” When he rubs her hip in a soothe, she winces, sucking in a sharp breath. John flinches, taken back.

“Woah, everything alright?” He inquires.

She lets out a small whimper. “Yeah, I’m just not feeling too well today.”

“Tell me what’s wrong,” John says, taking hold of her hand. He plays with her fingers, paying close attention to her ring finger. It may have been too soon, but he knew to the brim inside, that he’d place the biggest diamond on there someday, whenever that some day may be.

Y/N groans, practically laying herself on John at this point. “It’s nothing, really. I just feel a little sick and have a little pain, that’s all.” John shifts, brows furrowing. He pulls back slightly to look her in the eyes.

“Wait, sweetheart, do you need to see a doctor? Because we can go right now it’s not-” He’s cut off by a shake of Y/N’s head. “Are you sure, Y/N? I don’t want it to get worse and then you’ll be in more pain and-”

“John. I’m okay. I need you to relax, baby.” She giggles, cupping his cheek to place a tender kiss to his chin. “But it’s cute how worried you get.” John shifts his gaze down, smiling, a little shy. Truth be told, John always worried about her. Even the slightest thought of any harm coming her way, it deeply scared him. He’d had so much stripped from him in his life, so much taken away prematurely. He couldn’t bear the thought of Y/N being taken away from him too.

Even if it was just a little cold that threatened her way.

Y/N releases her grip on John, raising off the couch to pad towards the kitchen. “Besides, what doctor would even be available at 7:00pm, on a Friday?” She states. John follows shortly behind, throwing Dog’s favourite ball into the other room.

John’s coarse voice speaks. “You know I…know people.” He shrugs, low.

Y/N stops at the kitchen counter to look at him, as he leans against it on the other side. “Oh…right.” She frowns. “I’m sorry.”

John had told her about the truth of what he did. Keeping secrets from her, was something he refused to do. He wanted to be open with her, allow her to love him for exactly what he was. Maybe that’s why he fell so deep, so rapid. She understood him on a level, many others didn’t. Y/N tried her best not to mention it too much, she knew John wasn’t proud of what he was, and the reality he lived in.

It ate away at him, more and more each day. She understood that more than any one else.

Drowsily, she moves to grab a bottle of water out of the fridge, taking a long drag before setting it down. John watches her, biting his lip at how weak she looked. Uneasy, he opens his mouth to speak, before Y/N’s lips yelp in pain, hand shooting down to her stomach. Before she knows it, John’s rushed to her side with his large palm placed on her back, helping her stand. His eyes race in worry, brooding as concern overtakes.

“Y/N, I’m taking you to the doctor, okay?” He asserts, thoughts racing a million a second.

“John…”

“And I’m not taking no for an answer Y/N,” He argues.

“John! I’m alright! It’s just…”

John relaxes a little, allowing her to explain. “What, Y/N? Babe you’re screaming in pain. Please let me help you…”

She places a hand on his shoulder, urging him to calm down. “John it’s just…promise you won’t get grossed out?” She settles. He nods in response, intrigued. “I actually got my period this morning. I get really bad cramps and feel kinda sick. But it’s normal and it passes, alright?”

John lets his shoulders relax in a breathy exhale. Wiping a hand across his forehead, he sighs, taking seat beside her at the counter. “You scared me there. Why would I be grossed out?” he wonders, taking hold of her hand.

She shrugs. “I don’t know, some men do that. But it’s nothing to worry about, okay? I do it every month.” She giggles, seeing him ease. John brings her hand up to his lips, to press a light kiss to her palm. “As your very concerned boyfriend, I’m going to take care of you now. Whether you like it or not.”

It sure hadn’t been that long, but John would never pass on an opportunity to call himself her boyfriend, just as she would never miss a chance to call herself his girlfriend. It felt nice to acknowledge their relationship. It gave it a power over them, made it more real. It made their bond stronger.

“John, it’s really alright. I’ll just pop some medicine and it’ll be all fine.” She smiles, still holding his hand. It was truly pulling at her heart strings to see the concern and care. John shakes his head, affirming.

“There were girls in the orphanage as well, I learned some stuff growing up.” He raises up off the chair, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You left some pajamas here, they’re washed and folded in the laundry basket. Go change, and relax on the couch while I get some stuff together.” He smiles.

As Y/N rests on the couch, the sun has fully set, leaving the view from the window lit up with city lights afar. Dog rests at the foot of the couch, nuzzled beside his stuffed bear toy. John’s house was slightly on the outskirts of town on a small hill, leaving the city below glittering on a pitch noir night like tonight. The city lights seem to outshine the stars, the buzzing life between reminding of just how fast the world moves.

A few moments later, John walks into the room, a tray full of goodies in hand. He sets it down on the coffee table, before turning to his much discomforted girlfriend, resting on the couch with her eyes closed.

“Baby,” John speaks softly to her. “I brought you medicine. It’ll help with the pain.” He proposes, holding two tablets to her. “Take it with this warm water, I don’t want you drinking any of that ice cold bottled water tonight. I’ve put a jug of this on the kitchen counter.” He gestures. “Keep sipping on this by the way, I’ve heard hydration helps with the pain. Try to finish the entire jug.” He sits down beside her, watching her take the medicine. From his side, he pulls out a heading pad he’s warmed up.

She eyes it curiously, smiling. “John Wick owns a heating pad?” She giggles.

“He does.” He replies in a matter of fact tone. “It helps soothe muscle aches really good.” Placing it just over her abdomen, as she rests against the couch ledge, he kisses her forehead once more. “This should help with the shooting pain. I’ll heat it up again every 20 minutes.”

Smirking, he turns towards her again. “I know this is a cliché, but, I brought you some chocolate as well. I’m not sure if it actually helps though.” He chuckles, placing her favourite dark blend beside her.

Giggling, she picks it up, unraveling it immediately. “I’m not gonna say no to chocolate.” She laughs.

Running a hand through his hair, John’s expression turns serious again. “Okay, I know sometimes you might just want to be left alone at a time like this, which is okay. I won’t be offended. I can go work on some bookbinding.” He smiles, rubbing her arm. “Would you like that, sweetheart?

Her eyes sparkle, heart gushing at the man in front of her. She knew John was special, caring, considerate, but this was a whole new level she hadn’t been exposed to before. This was incredibly grounding. This felt, as it does to be truly, honestly, unconditionally,

Loved. Purely loved, asking for nothing in return.

She scoots closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing a delicate kiss to his cheek. “No, I would not like that. I want you to stay with me.” She grins, looking into his café eyes.

“Alright.” Kissing her soft, briefly, John allows her to lean back on the couch ledge again, as he props her legs on top of his lap, covering her in a blanket tenderly. “Food should be here in about half an hour. Got your favourite.” He smiles, turning the TV on. “Your call.” He hands her the remote, allowing her to browse the catalogue. His hands working their way to her fuzzy socks equipped feet, gently kneading, massaging away. His fingers worked, trying his best to calm away any ache from her long day.

For a moment, she just quite literally watches him, awestruck, at the way he’s treating her. She never quite imagined, she’d find someone this perfect. This utterly perfectly, in all senses. She’d really struck gold with this marvellous, wonderful man.

Unable to help herself, Y/N slides the heating pad off of her, rearranging her legs off of John’s lap. With his brows knit in confusion, John watches her move towards him, only stopping once her arms are wrapped around his neck, as she’d rest her head on his chest, sitting beside him. He engulfs her smaller frame, toned arms wrapped around her, as she rests on him, eyes closed in contentment.

“Also,” John starts again, leaning his chin on her head. “I can run to the supermarket quickly if you need me to pick up whatever you…use. I promise I’m not the type to get embarrassed.” He chuckles.

She stays silent for a moment, indulging in the way he’s holding her. If there’s one thing, that she cherished in the most, it was the way he held her close, each and every time. Letting her know he’s near.

That he’d always be near.

With a soft voice, she probes, tangling her legs with his. “John, are you real?”

John halts, slightly jumbled. “What do you mean, love?” he asks.

Shifting, she keeps her arms secure around his neck, close enough to breathe in his woody scent. “What man does this? I fear you’re just a dream. A really fucking amazing dream.” She cups his cheek in her hand, locking his gaze, sincerely.

“John, I know people have not been kind to you. I know they’ve cut at you and chipped you down each chance they got. But I need you to know,” She pauses briefly, collecting her words. “You are the most precious, amazing, wonderful man. You deserve so much. Don’t you dare forget it.” Bringing her hand down, she captures his, holding it tight. “I love you, John. I can’t say it enough.”

John looks down, having trouble holding her gaze. Perhaps he’d been told so often, too much, that he wasn’t worthy. Perhaps, he’d been called a monster far too many times to hear any truth to her words.

Perhaps, he was too far gone to believe anything she’d said. But it meant a lot, to hear it, regardless. It meant more than it may to anyone else, for John Wick, to hear, that someone thinks he’s good enough.

That he’s not a beast.

Relieving a breathy exhale, John looks up at her again. “I love you, Y/N.”

Resting her head back on his chest, Y/N takes her place again, limbs wrapped around her lover as she reposes. With her petite hand hovering, moving to place over his heart on his broad chest, both their gazes glance out the window to the city in the distance. The beautiful city, with it’s warm evening glow, glittering, glimmering, life bustling inside at its fast pace. It moves so fast, reminding us to take joy in the present, believe what is truly there, in the moment.

She whispers into the evening air, voice silken as the evening calm.

“You’re a good man, Jonathan.”

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Taglist Posted Separately (Ask to be added or removed!) :

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