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imaginesfordifferentfandoms · 8 months

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Not Leaving You

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Prompt - "You need to leave."

Requested - anon

The Doctor never said more about his past than he had to. Most of the people who travelled with him never asked too many questions, too caught up in the life that came with knowing the Doctor to ask about who he really was. When they did ask he gave them just enough to stop asking.

He didn’t know what was different about you. When you asked he found he didn’t mind sharing a part of himself with you, a part of himself that nobody else knew. He couldn’t say for sure why because it ached his hearts terribly to talk about a life long gone but it was a little bit easier with you at his side.

You were a curious thing too, he’d lost count of how many times he’d lost you, you wandering off, too distracted by something or other and ready with a million and one questions by the time the Doctor finally did find you.

He knew sooner or later you’d be curious about him too, once you found out he had two hearts that had taken up about a week’s worth of conversation, you asking questions about Time Lords and what else was different about them, not knowing that there were no more Time Lords out there and missing the sad look that the Doctor forced off his face.

He had taken you to a planet he had found many, many years ago, one that made his chest feel warm and a smile pull on his face as you repeated the name after him, the word Zirafell sounding as beautiful as the planet itself coming from your lips. He had never shown it to anyone before but there was something so extraordinarily different about you that he wanted to share all his hiding spots and secrets with you.

The two of you were sitting in the field, the TARDIS parked not too far away. The grass was littered with little pink and blue flowers and a lilac lake glistened under the two suns in front of you.

“Where are you from anyway?” You asked softly, breaking the peaceful silence that had settled between you causing the Doctor to look at you in surprise but you kept your gaze on the lake.

“Me? Oh nowhere really.” The Doctor answered after a few beats of silence, watching as a frown pulled at your face.

“Everyone’s from somewhere.” You told him, finally turning to face him and seeing the discomfort on his face. You wondered whether to push it but before you could decide the Doctor spoke again.

“Not me. Not anymore.” The Doctor sighed and you stayed silent for a moment, just looking at him.

His gaze was on something just passed your shoulder, refusing to look at you as his mind played memories from long before you could even imagine. You wanted to know what he was thinking about though, wanted to know what put that sort of look on a person's face.

“You could always go back home.” You told him, keeping your voice soft.

The Doctor looked back at you, a sad smile spreading across his face. You hadn’t seen that smile in a while, of course you’d seen it plenty when you’d first met him. A sad man sitting alone looking like his whole world had fallen apart around him and there was nothing he could do about it.

It took some time but eventually he told you about the people he’d lost and how travelling with him was dangerous. He had told you he’d take you home, that he’d understand if you wanted to leave but you just wrapped your arms around him, pulling him in for a hug, smiling into his chest when he gripped you tight.

“Not even I can do that.” The Doctor laughed softly, no amusement in it as he turned to look out at the lake. He never wanted to talk about it, about all that pain and suffering, about what he had done and yet sat here with you, he wanted you to know that sad, angry, lonely part of him.

“My home’s long gone, Y/N.” The Doctor said after a long silence where you had figured he wasn’t going to share anything with you. “It was a beautiful place, you’d have loved it. I’d love to have shown you. The Time Lords, my people, the universe was so much brighter with them in it. People would cheer when they saw one and now, now they’re gone, my planet’s gone.”

“What happened to it?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper as you looked at him, his eyes glazed over.

“There was a war.” He told you, swallowing around a lump in his throat. “It doesn’t matter, but nobody won that day. Nobody ever really wins I suppose. Everyone died. Everyone but me.”

When you first saw the Doctor, before you knew who he was, you just referred to him as the sad man. Watching him now you couldn’t think of a better way to describe him, the sad man, the sad man who was all alone in the universe, the sad man who had lived through the destruction of his whole planet, his whole race.

The sad man with a magical box who spent his life bringing hope everywhere he went.

“The last of the Time Lords.” You murmured, remembering what a woman from several months back had hissed to him, at the time the Doctor brushed it off when you asked questions, now you knew why.

“The last of the Time Lords.” The Doctor agreed just as quietly and neither of you said anything else, there was nothing left to say so you rested your head on his shoulder, his coming to rest on top of yours as the two of you stared ahead at the lilac water.

From that day onwards you and the Doctor were closer than ever, he shared more of his life with you and you found yourself falling a little bit more for the man as each day passed. It was a dangerous thing to do, falling in love with the Doctor and yet you let yourself fall, not bothering to question if he would catch you but enjoying the fall while it lasted.

You felt closer with the Doctor than you had with anyone you had known back home, not a single day went by where you regretted leaving, regretted choosing the Doctor over your old life. You knew you’d make the same choice over and over again. You could never give the Doctor up.

Months passed since that day, months where you and the Doctor would spend your nights floating through the galaxy, legs hanging over the TARDIS door as the Doctor told you about the different stars and planets that surrounded you with such fondness, months were he took your hand in yours and you couldn’t help but smile, savouring the feeling of his thumb running softly across the back of your hand as he pulled you along, tugging you back to him when you went to wander off. Months were you and the Doctor traded secrets in the quiet of the night, things that you’d never have dreamed of sharing with anyone else and yet knowing the whispered words were safe with each other.

“You’ll love this one, Y/N/N!” The Doctor told you with an excited grin on his face, hurrying you to put your coat on causing you to laugh before he finally grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the TARDIS, pausing long enough to lock the box before the two of you were off.

“Welcome to Thucruiruta.” The Doctor beamed at you and you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you as you finally looked around.

The planet was beautiful, the sky was golden and all sorts of creatures were moving around you, so many things demanded your attention and the thing that won it was the Doctor squeezing your hand.

“It’s beautiful, Doctor.” You breathed out, watching as the Doctor’s grin softened and you didn’t even try and stop yourself from smiling back, leaning into him before letting him lead the way.

The Doctor was eager to show you everything, used to your curiosity and the hundreds of questions you came up with, more than happy to show off and answer them, making his way through the stands and insisting you try all the different foods on display.

It was hard to imagine such a perfect day taking a turn but you had also gotten used to trouble following the Doctor by now, so when an explosion sounded not too far in the distance you immediately turned to the Doctor, waiting for him to do something.

It didn’t take him more than a second to grab your hand, pulling you into the heart of the danger and you went along with him willingly. You knew you always would, you never gave it a second thought, you knew that you would always follow the Doctor no matter where he went.

You gasped as you took in the scene, people were scattered all over the floor, some crying out and others not moving at all. You gripped the Doctor’s hand in yours and he squeezed back before moving further into the chaos, looking around for some clue as to what had happened.

There was a child on the floor, a deep cut in their green skin as blue blood poured from it. You pulled your hand from the Doctor’s and made your way to the child’s side as the Doctor pulled the sonic screwdriver out to try and find what had caused the explosion.

“You alright?” You asked softly, pulling your jacket off and using a sharp bit of rubble to rip the end of your shirt in lieu of a bandage.

“Hurts.” The kid whimpered and you gave her an encouraging smile, warning her it might sting as you tied the torn material around her arm as tightly as you could.

“Good job, that’ll be good until we can get you to your family.” You told her standing up and holding a hand out for her, pulling her up by her uninjured arm and looking around. “Where was your family?”

You watched as she pointed the way you had come from, away from where the explosion was and you glanced over your shoulder to see the Doctor glaring down at the sonic, a furious expression you couldn’t ever remember seeing on his face that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Come on then, let’s see if we can find them.” You said, pulling your gaze from the Doctor and forcing the uneasy feeling you suddenly felt in the pit of your stomach away, leading the young girl away from the scene.

Even in the sea of screams and shouts for friends and family you managed to find the young girl's family quite easily, her mum falling to her knees and wrapping her arms around her daughter, mindful of her arm after she winced.

You stayed long enough for the family to thank you tearfully and the girl to hug you before you pushed your way through the crowd and looked around for the Doctor, frowning when you couldn’t see him.

You made your way further into where the explosion had gone off, gasping when something sharp dug into your arm, looking to your left to see a tall figure beside you, sharp teeth visible as the thing grinned down at you and pushed you forward, dragging you alongside it and not even pausing as you fought back against it.

There was a slimy sort of wet texture to the creature and you couldn’t stop yourself from wincing as it’s nails drew blood from you, the thing snarling the whole time until it pushed you onto the floor and you were staring at sharper nails and blue feet, looking up to see more than a dozen of the things standing together.

“Let her go.” The Doctor’s voice sent a wave of relief through you and your head snapped around to look at him. “Now.”

The Doctor’s voice was cold, so devoid of any emotion that it scared you. The creatures, however, didn’t seem at all phased by him and instead laughed at the Doctor.

“The Doctor always was too fond of the humans.” One of the creatures laughed, sending a wave of spit flying from his mouth. “Too bad he can never save his precious little pets.”

That seemed to hit a nerve with the Doctor and you had heard the stories of his past companions, of how much danger they had been put in simply by being with him. You knew it was scarred on his two hearts, every loss, every defeat, every life lost, every life he blamed himself for.

“The Doctor’s not good at saving anybody.” Another one called, amusement clear in its voice, “Poor little Doctor, all alone, no Time Lords around anymore.”

The creatures all laughed together and you winced as you watched fury take over the Doctor. It seemed these creatures had history with the Doctor, at the very least they knew exactly what buttons to press to tear him apart.

The Doctor looked different, he didn’t look like the Doctor you had seen every day, he looked like a whole different person. Cold fury in his eyes, mouth set in a thin line and his knuckles bone white from the grip he had on the sonic.

“You will let her go and you will leave this planet.” The Doctor told them, voice low and commanding the attention of everyone.

You could only stare at him, fear in your eyes, not sure who you were more afraid of in that moment. Usually you could read the Doctor easily, always seeming to know what his next step was but right then, in that moment you didn’t know what he was going to do.

“Or what, Doctor?” One of them spat but you didn’t bother looking behind at them, keeping your gaze on the Doctor. “The last time we met you were a coward, what’s changed?”

“What’s changed?” He shot back, taking a step forward and you felt your breath catch in your throat at his tone. “What’s changed? The last time I showed you mercy. That was a mistake. I won’t make the same one twice. Now leave.”

“Or what?” It asked again, tone hard as the creatures refused to move.

“Or I’ll burn this entire planet with you on it.” The Doctor said without hesitation and your eyes widened, staring at him in shock.

“You wouldn’t, the Doctor wouldn’t harm innocents, not in the name of revenge.” One of them laughed but it sounded nervous, like it didn’t believe its own words and looking at the fury on the Doctor’s face you had to agree with it.

“Do you really want to test that theory?” The Doctor asked, the silence stretching as the creatures all looked at each other. “All I have to do is press this button and you’ll be dead before you realise it.”

The Doctor held the sonic up and you shook your head, not that he was looking at you but you couldn’t believe him. He wasn’t bluffing, he wasn’t improvising whilst he came up with a plan to deal with this without harming anybody. He was being deadly serious.

You were terrified of the man before you. He wasn’t the Doctor, not the Doctor you knew anyway.

“Liar!” A creature yelled and the Doctor gave it an unimpressed look before going to press the button but you stood up before he could.

“Don’t!” You shouted, reaching a hand out like one would around a scared animal, locking eyes with the Doctor for the first time since you’d been pushed onto the floor. “Don’t.”

“Y/N, you don’t know what these are.” The Doctor told you, his thumb hovering dangerously close to the button on the sonic.

“I don’t care. This isn’t you, you’re the Doctor! People look to you for hope, you’re not a murderer, don’t do this! Don’t become them.” You pleaded with him but his face was still set with cold fury and you feared there was no changing his mind.

“Get to the TARDIS and don’t look back.” He instructed and you immediately shook your head.

“No.” You told him. “No, I’m not letting you do this. There are millions of innocent people on this planet and you will not destroy them for whatever grudge you’re holding.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, you need to leave. Now get on the TARDIS, Y/N!” The Doctor snapped and you felt tears sting your eyes but held your ground.

“No. If you’re going to burn this planet you’ll do it with me on it.” You said, voice shaking as tears made their way over your eyes, hating that you didn’t know what the Doctor was going to do.

“Get on the TARDIS.” The Doctor commanded through gritted teeth but you shook your head again.

“I already told you I’m not leaving.” You told him, blinking away the tears as they carried on running down your face.

The Doctor held your gaze, the small part of him that wasn’t consumed with anger and hatred felt guilt and hurt as you looked at him like you were terrified, like he was the monster instead of the creatures behind you.

“Leave.” He spat out, not taking his gaze of you as he addressed the creatures. “Get off this planet and if I ever see you again I won’t show a shred of mercy.”

The creatures wasted no time scurrying away, hurrying over to their ships and taking off just as quickly, leaving you and the Doctor staring at each other. Just as the Doctor opened his mouth, you cut him off.

“Take me home.” You told him, suddenly feeling drained.

“Y/N,” he sighed but you just shook your head at him, moving past him and making your way back towards where the TARDIS was parked, using your key to unlock the box and letting yourself in.

The Doctor sighed to himself, rubbing a hand across his face before pocketing the sonic and following after you, desperately trying to think how he could salvage this. He hadn’t wanted to let himself fall for you but over the year and the months you’d spent at each other’s side he couldn’t help it.

Now he was losing you because he had held onto a grudge from so many years back.

The anger had taken over him to the point he couldn’t control himself but you could, you stopped him even when he didn’t think he could be stopped.

When he walked into the TARDIS you were sitting in one of the chairs, looking away from him as he quietly worked on setting a course for Earth, hoping you would change your mind before you got there.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, watching you closely. He could tell you were listening but you didn’t say anything.

“Those creatures, Y/N…” He trailed off and you finally looked over at him, seeing him take a deep breath before he spoke again. “Those creatures are called Eelvo’s. I met them a long time ago, long before I had this face. I lost somebody because of them and I let them go.”

“You don’t kill people.” You told him, your voice quiet but firm and the Doctor sighed as he came and sat next to you.

“I have bad days, Y/N. Days where I am not a good man.” The Doctor told you, ashamed of himself, ashamed that you had seen him like that. He had never wanted that.

“Doctor, today I was more scared of you than any of those other things.” You said softly, glancing at the Doctor as he shut his eyes and swallowed thickly around a lump in his throat, fighting back tears.

The last thing he had ever wanted was for you to be scared of him.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know what happened, seeing them again after so long, seeing the destruction they were still causing, the pain and lives they were still taking…” The Doctor trailed off, a single tear making its way down his cheek.

You sighed softly, reaching over to take his hand in yours and giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. You were still unsure, still hadn’t liked seeing the Doctor so furious but he was still the Doctor, he was your Doctor again and seeing him in pain was the last thing you wanted.

“I’m sorry, Y/N/N, I never wanted you to hate me.” He whispered, his voice breaking around the words and you felt your heart break with them.

“I don’t hate you, Doctor.” You told him honestly, “I’ve never seen you like that and I didn’t like it but I don’t hate you. I’m not sure I could ever hate you.”

The Doctor smiled over at you sadly and you returned it, squeezing his hand again.

“I’ll take you home.” He whispered and you frowned, you had asked him to take you home but the thought of actually leaving the Doctor behind sent an ache through you.

“How about Zirafell instead?” You asked him, a small smile pulling at your lips as he looked over at you in surprise.

“You sure?” He asked, a hopeful note in his voice and you nodded, watching as his shoulders lost the tension in them and he let out a small breath, nodding himself before standing up and moving around the console to change the course, hoping that the two of you would be alright.

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mrsnancywheeler · 3 months

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the river (2) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: the Capitol has taken you away from Finnick, the life you've been trying to build together and now he has to fight to get every part of you back

the end of a trilogy series

previous chapter / next chapter

masterlist

6.1k words

warnings: angst, fluff, self-destructive behavior, finnick's bias now so you can see how they both view the other as the more broken one, mental health issues, allusions to suicide, allusions to trafficking and trauma surrounding it, the opposite of a slowburn it's giving their soulmates, mentions of death/torture/violence/brainwashing, unedited, no use of y/n

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Seeing your face again could have sent Finnick into another frenzy, he'd been scared he'd forget it even though he thought about it every second of every day. But he couldn't do that, he needed to listen, hear your voice again. You had that smile plastered on your face that everyone could easily believe in, and had for years, except him. There was a mournful, numb look that would settle in the back of your eyes whenever you put on a performance, one that usually leads to dissociation. On top of that, you looked tired, the way you looked when after you'd won your Games and hadn't been able to escape the nightmares.

Your voice was like music in his ears when you greeted Ceasar back, a tune that could soothe his soul if he wasn't so worried about you. It pained him to notice that in the midst of everything, of holding you captive, of the rebellion, they'd still managed to play dress up with you. Goosebumps covering your skin, the outfit barely covered any of you, you'd always run cold, and the Capitol seemed to know this. “So you're saying you knew nothing about the rebel plan?"

You shook your head emphatically, “No, I told you all how sure I was that I was never coming out of that arena. It was just as much of a shock to me." His clever, clever girl, trying so hard to play it safe.

“At the end you were screaming about forgetting something, what was that?" Caesar asked.

The tracker. The stupid tracker. "Finnick…" You trailed off, looking into the camera for a second like you were trying to reach out to him, “We had a special way of communicating with each other that comes with being together that long, I needed to find him, I still don't remember why.”

"So did he know about the rebel plan?”

Your foot was tapping slightly and Finnick prayed, for your sake, that no one else knew how anxious that indicated you were. “If he did, he didn't tell me." You looked at the camera again, addressing the citizens of the Capitol, "And I want everyone to know that if he did know anything, he would only do it if he thought it meant we could be together. He would never want this, the rebellion, the terror, both of us love all of you and Panem so much. His intentions would've been of love, not harm.”

Finnick was so proud that your years of charisma for the Capitol was pulling through now. He felt like he was going to cry, the way you were defending him in the off chance that everything went wayward and he also ended up in Capitol clutches somehow. Maybe, if Snow really thought you knew nothing, he'd consider you more than just bait, maybe there'd be quite a few of these interviews left to boost morale for Capitol citizens. To see one of their favorite victors spewing out propaganda, it would also keep you alive longer, so out of all things that's what Finnick would place his hopes on.

“Peeta called for a ceasefire, would you agree with this, that things should just be called off?” You glanced off camera, anxiously scratching at your arms.

"Yes, a ceasefire needs to be called.” Your smile reeked of discomfort and fear, and he was even more grateful that it was something only he knew how to sense from you. “The destruction being caused, the death, will get so much worse if this continues. No one wants that, this can all be sorted out. President Snow is merciful, but only if a ceasefire is called for.” It was sickening, the lies you were being forced to tout. Snow was anything but merciful, he'd probably throw the victors into the arena again, or just line them all up to be shot, or make death causing ‘accidents’ occur as soon as possible. Then you were crying and Finnick longed to hold you, to tell you it would be okay, to give any words of comfort he could. "I'm sorry, so much has happened recently.”

"Well us in the Capitol are glad to still have you with us." Finnick hated that they had you, that Caesar could still force you to perform for all of Panem and act like you're fine.

"I'm glad to be here with all of you too!” You mutter through tears and your signature, fake smile.

"Before we go, is there anything you want to say if the rebels are watching out there, if Finnick, your husband is watching out there?”

“He's not a rebel." You say quickly, with as much urgency as you can. Your eyes shut for a second and you're muttering to yourself, “He's my husband, he's not a rebel, not a rebel."

"Right, he's not a rebel.” Caesar says with what's supposed to be a comforting smile.

Your eyes open and you nod, wiping away stray tears, “And I'm just reminding everyone how badly we need a ceasefire, to stop all of this. To stop the suffering and all that could come.” Your smiling again, so forced it looks like it hurts and you're rubbing your necks until it's red, "Ceasefire, ceasefire, ceasefire is important.” It's like you're chasing a thought you're being forced to remember.

“Yes, a ceasefire is important." Caesar nods, "Well a big thank you to the Capitol Princess for her message here today.” Your smile drops as you nod at the camera before it cuts and Finnick has been once again abandoned with his thoughts.

What are they doing to you to convince you to say things you would never believe? How sweet you are for insisting upon his innocence anyway you can, he misses you more than home, the ocean, the feeling of fresh air in his lungs, the sun shining down on his face, he would happily live without it all if you could just be here, with him. You'd looked so exhausted and he misses being able to hold you, keep you warm so you could rest and feel safe when you did. He longs to see your genuine smile, the way your eyes would soften and the way your nose crinkled when you laughed.

A fantasy he can drive himself into before the anger can fall back into place, how he needs to hijack something so he can rescue you. He'd rage to President Coin herself if he could force her to do it, but they barely even let him out of the hospital wing. He's sobbing again, calloused hands trying to clear his face of the tears. Maybe they think he hasn't seen it, so they aren't worried about his reaction, they probably assume he's sleeping or focused on tying his knots, but it's just the eye of the hurricane. He can only stain the plain, scratchy sheets with his tears for so long before the hysteria will return. But for now he can mourn. He can hate himself, wish the rope was long enough to let him leave, and wish you could've both just chosen to be together in death. It would've been better then torture he's going through now. How there's not a second he can't focus on you, what he misses, what he dreads could be happening to you, the dreams of your future.

Dreams where you could be at home, surrounded by friends and family having the traditional District 4 wedding, sea shanty's and all. Where there was no fear that Snow would manipulate the games to force your children to be spectacles so you'd had children, as many as you wanted. Who you'd take to the beach, teach them about the animals, teach them to swim, and be the family he knows deep down you'd both have wished for. There'd been a glimpse where that was possible and then there'd been the impending doom that it wasn't. That instead it would be the wish he had when they told him you were dead.

Death. You. The idea that death could creep up with its slender hands and drag you away into the cavernous pit, that would leave him forever alone. He'd gratefully dig the claws of death into himself to bring you back or lay with you in the lowest parts of the cliffs forever. Death. You. Him. Freedom. Chains broken, no more threats, no more needs, just the end with you.

Instead he needed to face the brazen winds to return you to his arms. You'd looked so cold and he missed being able to warm you, for you to cool him down. He had to get you back and the frenzy was back. Finnick was back on his feet, tearing himself from the bed, not giving a care to the things around him, if they fell to the floor it was something else out of his way. This commotion did alert the medics close by and Finnick was instantly trying to run by them.

“We have to save her, I need to save her!” He urged, but they were used to his antics. They'd long ago retrieved the manpower required to overpower him when he got like this. That didn't mean he still wouldn't fight, he still had the strength it took to shove most of them off, react violently when they got their hands on him, and struggle when eventually a larger group had their arms on him, ready to sedate once again. Maybe that was a good thing though, it allowed him to fully focus all of his thoughts on you and everything you two had.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

He was early, but he didn't care, well he kind of did when he paced by the cobblestones not far from your house wondering when he should knock. Wicker picnic basket being moved between each of his hands, careful not to hit the bouquet of flowers he was holding, as he anxiously counted down. Finnick knew he said noon, but did that mean five minutes before would be the right time to show up? 10 minutes? Exactly at noon? He wasn't used to feeling this anxious, he'd adopted a suave personality for Panem to gobble up that had become nearly effortless, but now he wanted desperately for you to ignore that and just be perfect.

The gift he had for you weighed heavy in the pocket of his shorts. He wanted to give it to you, he hoped you'd like it because he really wanted to see that smile that he'd daydreamed about again. He checked his watch, 13 minutes, and the worry was still there. Would you be scared off if you looked outside to see him waiting so early or would you find it sweet? What if you were inside anxiously waiting for him because you doubted it was real, because you wanted it to be genuine, and he reasoned from what he did know it was probably the correct assumption. You were too full of self-doubt, of an unspoken want to be seen, to be realized, and he wanted nothing more than to really comprehend each intricate detail that made you, you.

‘Fuck it,’ He told himself when he made his way up the cracked cement, the grass and weeds peeking through. All the way up the two steps on your crickety porch, light blue paint peeling away to reveal the rotting chunks of wood. Slowly he tapped his knuckles on the wooden door, hoping the knocks didn't seem aggressive, but were enough to gain attention. Since when had he worried about the way his knocks were perceived? Only to gain a chance to perceive you.

The door creaked open and there you were, glowing in another beautiful sundress. “Hi!” Your smile was enough to wash away most of his anxieties even if your own voice seemed riddled with them, he despised the fact you felt anything less than sure of yourself, then sure of his interest in you.

“Good morning, angel." Morning? Afternoon? Did he care which one was more accurate, did you? Finnick pulled on his dazzling smile, feeling like he was swept up by you.

He pulled the bouquet up, "Um, I got these for you.” You stared at them for what felt like an eternity and made him blush, scared he'd misread something,"I wasn't sure what you liked, so I just-”

"They’re for me?” Features so soft it made his heart want to melt already, even the smile was so sweet and fond.

“Yeah, they're for you. These ones just reminded me of you." He wasn't about to say he'd spent hours at Mags this morning trying to pick the perfect flowers from her garden that he thought you would not only adore, but that gave off your very essence.

“They're perfect." You said in a soft amazement,"Really perfect.” Your fingers brush through them before you're ever so gently taking them from him,"Thank you.”

Flowers were definitely a win, something that could rely on for you to adore. “Of course, sweet girl." You smiled as you smelled the flowers and he concluded that you didn't get many gifts, even one's as easy as that. He'd plant garden after garden to keep you smiling like that. You shut the door and it clicked behind you as you stepped towards him, porch creaking.

“Really, thank you, Finnick." To his surprise you hugged him and how cold you were was almost as shocking, you had such a warm, inviting aura that it was hard to imagine the icincess of your skin. Yet he melted into it, he'd always been so warm that it was nice to have something to contradict that, like when he went for his early morning swim. You smelled the peaches and the ocean, it was delightful and an aroma he'd always want to remember. He longed for your touch to return the moment you pulled away and suddenly he was just hot again. He must have stood there staring and longing for a while because your melodic voice stopped this, “So, are we planning on standing here all day?”

“No, no sorry!" He shook his head, breaking into a nervous chuckle as he tilted his head to the side. You laughed as you began walking down the rickety steps and he followed. “How was dinner?" Maybe he was jealous, he shouldn't be, there was really no good reason to be, but he was.

You looked at Finnick for a moment, confused, like it hadn't quite processed in your brain. “Oh, yes! It went well!"

“What'd his sisters have for you?" The fond look you gave him for remembering a small moment in a conversation made his heart swell and he swore he'd remember everything about you.

“We like to try and find the prettiest things in the sand, seashells, sea glass, things like that and we all have little collections from each other. They're sweet."

“You're sweet."

“How would you know that, you don't know me." You said, fingers playing the flowers and trying to keep watch on the ground. The cobblestone was uneven, broken, crumbling apart and very just a tripping hazard.

“As you keep reminding me, it doesn't change the fact that you're sweet. ” He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. His free hand slides into his pocket, “Saw something else that reminded me of you." He pulls out a necklace, something a vendor had made of shining seashell fragments and the occasional pearl, but something about it just seemed so much like you.

“Finnick." Your steps halted and he did the same,"I don't need you to buy me things.”

"I know, I want to buy you things.” The necklace dangled from his fingers, glistening in the rays of sun.

"But I don't have anything for you, so it's not-”

"You don't have to get me anything, I'm just spending time with you and I want to do it. Not because I feel obligated too, but because I like you.” Finnick reassured, this didn't have to be transactional, he just wanted to show you he paid attention, he cared.

You closed your eyes and sighed before nodding, “Okay."

“Unless you don't like it, in which case you should tell me now for future reference.”

“No, no, that's not what I mean, I mean I do, I just-"

“Need to get better at accepting gifts?" He finished, raising an eyebrow.

You scoffed, “I'm good at accepting gifts!" There was a beat of silence where the two of you both stared at each other, him with his brow still arched quizzically, before the two of you burst into laughter. “Sorry, that's not true."

“I can tell!" When the laughter had somewhat subsided, he took another step towards you, lifting the necklace slightly, “Here, let me help you." He was thankful for another chance to let his fingers ‘accidentally’ brush against the skin of your neck and be cooled by it.

His nimble fingers secured the clasp, "This seems to keep happening to us.” You said, trying not to bristle when his warm hands did in fact make slight contact with yours.

"Maybe I'm just a mastermind.” His voice was so close to your ear as he gave himself an extra second of touch before forcing himself to step back.

"Or maybe you're full of yourself." You turned back around to face him before the two of you continued on the walk.

Finnick shrugged, “Two things can be true."

“Maybe not those two." He felt like a lost puppy dog who'd trail behind you, at your beck and call, every single time you spoke. It was terrifying, bone chilling, to think he'd become infatuated from afar and now it was like he'd been bewitched. As if your aura had its own siren song attached to allure his own in and he'd gladly crash his ship on the rocky shores for you. Yet the fear was combated with the fact that you, the core of you, was closer to the shine of the lighthouse, guiding him to safety. A thin line between destruction and refuge.

Banter has easily continued until he'd finally led you to the beach locked behind the gates of Victors Village, its view was truly breathtaking. He laid out the blanket on the warm sand, picnic basket on top, and you'd already been rid of your sandals. You stood, arms out as the breeze blew through your arms, inhaling the salty air and Finnick would've sworn you were some type of ethereal blessing gifted to the Earth from the ocean itself. Slowly he lifted the lid on the wicker basket, “Here." He said, holding up a peach.

You opened your eyes to look over and he could see the instant surprise on them as you sat down, “Finnick!" You didn't take it from him, just put your hands around it to draw it closer as you smelled it like you weren't sure it was real. “Oh my god!" You exclaimed when you caught a glimpse of the bag of peaches within the basket.

“Thought it might convince you to not barter the necklace." He chuckled as if he hadn't been certain he'd buy the whole array of peaches to see you smile and hear your laugh, to see the spark in your eyes.

You paused to touch the necklace, suddenly serious, “I wouldn't do that." Your eyes were so gorgeous, so addictive, so kind. The type of eyes he wanted to gaze into until everything else had faded away. Every piece of art, every sunset, every sunrise, every star’s beauty lessened in comparison. “Finnick Odair, you can't be real." That shining smile had returned and he couldn't help but follow in your footsteps to give one back. “Seriously, you have to tell me what's wrong with you before I become too attached."

Finally you took the peach from his hand to bite into it, “Afraid I can't tell you yet, angel, scared you'd run away on me.” His tone was light enough to be a joke, but deep down he knew he'd never be able to tell you about the things that he felt the most self-loathing for, how self-destructive he could be would be something he'd try to keep you away from.

"Well you've already got me; hook, line, and sinker.” When you smiled and spoke, your nose would scrunch up in what he imagined was the most adorable thing possible. You stopped taking bites and quietly sat on the bed, observing him.

"No need to stare, I'm staying right here.”

"Oh my god, I could kiss you.” He wasn't even sure if you'd processed the words as you stared at him longer before your brain finally seemed to register what you'd said. The look of shock had barely begun to pass your face when he decided he'd just kiss you instead. Perhaps it was all too fast, a day for him to be tasting the peach on your lips, for his fingers to be on your cold face besides the slight warmth on your cheeks. Whirlwind romances were either tragedy's or a fairytale, so time would have to tell, but maybe it should've been a sign. The ending could be uncertain as it liked, but he was sure your souls were yoked in the first ocean tides to bless the world.

His nostrils filled with the scent of peaches and the salt air you had meshed with how you tasted like the peaches, once again, and vanilla. So calming, like he was being softly rocked in the waters, nothing less than perfect. When he finally pulled away from you all he wanted to do was be enveloped by the taste once again. You looked so flustered and taken aback, it was so precious to him. “I beat you to it, this time." Cocky smirk even if he was slightly breathless.

You nodded at him slowly with your eyes wide, like all thoughts had been taken from your head. Finnick would've said something else if it weren't for the refreshing chill of your hands grabbing his face to pull him in for another kiss. He'd never get sick of peaches when they reminded him so much of you, if he was ever to be away he'd spend his time learning endlessly about them just to feel near. Although it couldn't compare with the way your lips molded to his so easily. Then there were your hands in his hair, something he usually couldn't stand, but when it was your gentle hands he couldn't find it anything but endearing. Eventually you'd pulled away as well, chest heaving, yet it was like you couldn't say a thing. Faces and bodies mere inches from each other as you stared at each other, listening to each other breathe.

Suddenly you were quickly removing yourself from him, running forward in the sand. “Where are you going?" Finnick called after you, somewhat terrified he'd scared you off. But you turned back to him smiling like you hadn't a care in the world.

“Swimming!" You shed yourself of the sundress to be just left in the swimsuit you wore underneath, “Are you coming?" Now it was Finnick's to scramble up, chasing you towards the water.

You must have spent hours swimming, like there was no other world except the now. He'd swim under the water, scaring you when he'd pull at your ankle and you'd fight back by trying to dunk him under the moment he bobbed to the top. This was usually unsuccessful as he'd simply drag you down with him, except when he wanted you to feel like you had succeeded. He'd randomly lift you from the waters and you'd screech for him to put you down and once or twice he'd used it as an excuse to kiss you again. After hours of similar actions the sound of the waves hitting the shore was the only thing that could be heard as you both waded to stay afloat.

Finnick stared out at the horizon, “I want to take you sailing when I get back."

“When you get back from what?" You asked, looking at him. Suddenly he was flooded with guilt, here he was dragging you along when he couldn't even be fully yours or honest about it. But he wanted to be with you so bad and for now that was all he had to cling onto.

It didn't mean he could look at you when he tried to explain it, so he looked down into the waters, “I'm supposed to leave for the Capitol tomorrow, just Victor related things.” He mumbled, shrugging off the mention.

"Oh, okay.” You didn't sound actually upset, "When will you be back?”

"A week at the most.” He peeked up at you through his eyelashes surprised to see you didn't look upset either, at most a little dejected that you wouldn't see him for so long.

"Well, we better have a killer party then to end all of this off, make sure you don't forget me.” You teased, raising your eyebrows.

"I could never forget about you… but you're not upset?"

You shot him a quizzical look, “Why would I be upset, we all have responsibilities, even if they come with different territory.” You shrugged and nearly fell backwards when he pressed his lips to yours again, steadying your back when you began to fall backwards. You had to be an angel who'd been sent to keep him sane and grace him, but a darker side of him urged him to realize he didn't deserve someone as understanding as you.

“You're so perfect." His arms held you and he looked at you with nothing less than amazement.

“I'm definitely not."

‘You’re perfect for me, we're perfect together,’ Finnick thought as he looked at you, water droplets running down your skin, breathing hard from all the excursions, eyes sparked with their usual twinkle and so many hidden thoughts he wanted to dive into. He accepted the conclusion that the only reason he would be feeling all this so fast would be because you were destined to be, all the stars had aligned for this moment, and the oceans had moved mountains to ensure this lifetime was no different. If you were Eurydice he had been your Orpheus, the Dante to your Beatrice, you would have been the Penelope to his Odysseus, regardless of any fate he knew there was never a life where you'd not been irrevocably bound together.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You were going to be rescued, saved from the Capitol's grasps, and what had brought elation at first was quickly ruined when he learned that he couldn't help rescue you. He wasn't quite yet considered mentally stable enough for it, even if slowly he'd been able to mask it all better. Instead he had to stay in District 13 and do nothing but beg the universe to return you to him. Hadn't there been enough tragedy in your short lives? Hadn't there been enough tragedy in every other ending, in every other life? They should've let him brave death to bring you back, it would've settled him more then the torture of not knowing. Especially since he'd caught every airing you'd had from the Capitol which made him grateful that Katniss had wagered for your immunity. Snow had you begging for ceasefire, showing off outfits to parade, as if there wasn't a textile shortage, and it broke him when you seemed to be getting less sure of questions regarding him, regarding you. Then had been when Peeta announced the planned attack on District 13 and seeing you scream when he was violently attacked for the warning. A scream that would have forced Finnick to be sedated if it weren't for the more impending doom of the bombs.

Katniss was filming a distraction propo about Peeta, how he'd saved her, loved her from the beginning. It was intimate, but apparently not enough for Plutarch who was calling Finnick over. Or maybe he's thought of something when Katniss mentions Snow's own admission of the Capitol's fragility.

“The Capitol is fragile, Snow is fragile, if we can manage to make a major blow to that, it could take their focus off of the prisoners. Force them to focus on damage control instead." Plutarch explains.

“And you want me to say something that could do that?” Finnick looks down at his rope, you'd never been able to master the butterfly knot, and he can imagine himself going over it again to try and teach you.

“If you have anything worth sharing." Of course everyone knows he does, among the elite, the powerful, the other victors it's just an open secret. “It could help us save her."

"But you don't have to open that up, there's no guarantee it'll do anything.” Haymitch argues, he's been forced into sobriety and has maintained his aggression.

“I have something, more than one." Finnick finally says once he's completed his knot and Plutarch can't hide how pleased he is with this outcome. Finnick swears he can hear the blood draining from his face and the nausea rising in his stomach as each second passes, but he persists to stand in front of the cameras.

"You don't have to do this.” Haymitch reiterates.

"Yes I do, if it'll help her.” There's no other option, if the only thing that stopped you from being safely brought to District 13 was the lack of a good distraction, he'd find a way to get a longer rope. He undid the knot before balling it tightly in his hand, “I'm ready." Finnick says to the camera crew and he thinks of you. He turns off any physical sign of emotions he may have because he knows if he doesn't it would lead to another damaging spiral.

The cameras click on and he's given the all clear to begin, “President Snow used to… sell me… my body, that is. I wasn't the only one.” Far from it, and Finnick wanted revenge for all of them, for him, for you, for Cashmere, for everyone Snow had forced into his scheme. "If a Victor is considered desirable, the President gives them as a reward or allows people to buy them for an exorbitant amount of money. If you refuse, he kills someone you love.” What had happened to Johanna, what he'd been terrified would happen to you when you'd first been together. “I wasn't the only one." He repeats and this time it really is for you, for how much he had to watch it break you. The nightmares, how long it took for you to accept any form of physical contact, how even years after it still affected your own intimacy with each other. They stole it all, your girlhood, most of your spark, whatever they could they ravaged from you like vultures on a corpse. Wasn't the prize of winning supposed to be life? “But I was the most popular. And perhaps the most defenseless because the people I loved were so defenseless." Finnick would never have mentioned this to you, but he'd begged Snow to give him more rather than give you any. The President had said you were too popular for none, but had given you less than what you could've had in exchange for even more of Finnick's time, his so-called uses. “To make themselves feel better my patrons would make presents of money or jewelry, but I found a much more valuable form of payment. Secrets.”

That's why he was such a threat to Snow, he knew too much, he needed to be silenced, but he hadn't and now he could tell all of Panem each one. “And this is where you're going to want to stay tuned, President Snow because so very many of them were about you. But let's begin with some of the others.” And prominent name after name spewed off of his tongue. It felt like he was dropping chains off of his body to reveal them to the nation. Each one more heinous than the next, “And now, on to our good President Coriolanus Snow. Such a young man when he rose to power. Such a clever one to keep it. How, you must ask yourself, did he do it? One word. That's all you really need to know. Poison." More names, victims of Snow's climb to power, the elite he trampled so he could trample the weak. Suddenly he's on fire, Finnick can't stop thinking about all the pain it caused you, about how it ruined his own childhood and life, how Johanna lost everyone she loved, how Cashmere worked so hard to protect her brother only for them both to be dead and he's so very detailed. Ensuring that it can't be swept under the rug and it's so harrowing that no one cuts the camera even when he's stopped speaking. There's too much shock, too much intensity, "Cut.” Finnick eventually intervenes.

Finally the stupor is over and people rush to air the footage, Plutarch is making endless comments that Finnick can't comprehend when he's so lost in his own head. Auto-pilot took control for most of the day, he tied knots until his fingers bled. You would've scolded him and bandaged them up, insisting it's why you didn't care for them even if you loved pouting for him to help you just so he could be so close by. Then he's got his arms wrapped around his knees, the day has been too slow, what if you were dead and he'd have no idea until they arrived and he would be at peak hope.

“Did you love her right away, Finnick?" Katniss' voice finally pulls him away from the endless myriad of thoughts.

“Not for the years when I knew of her and then I don't know what changed. She was just so herself in every way and I knew I wanted to just speak with her at least, but once I had a taste of it, yes. Like I'd been knocked over by a wave with it. For a while she didn't understand, but I didn't either, I just knew that there was no else for me." He feels like he's tearing up again when Haymitch rushes into the room.

“They're back. We’re wanted in the hospital. That's all I know." But Finnick feels like he can't move, he realizes he's scared of what you'll be like now. The Capitol had taken the you with her free-spirit and love of being in the moment and made her hate that she was able to breathe oxygen, which he'd so diligently worked to prove you were worthy of. Now they'd had you again, a version that was already hurt, untrusting, and self-destructive, and he couldn't imagine what they could have done to you now. Katniss is softly grabbing his hand to guide him upwards and he feels robotic. She guides him through the winding, gray hallways to the hospital wing. It's not until he can hear your screams that his brain clicks back into action. He has a responsibility to you, one of care, of love, of support in your weakest moments.

He's screaming your name as he runs from Katniss, searching for you desperately. Then he spots you on a hospital bed, pushing off the doctors trying to take care of you. Finnick needs to just be there with his soft words, let you know they're trying to help, so you'll stop. But that's not what happens when you hear his voice or see him. “Angel!" Your panicked screams become more shrill when you see him and in his confusion he steps closer, “It's just me." His voice is more broken then he wanted it to sound, more dejected.

“Get him away from me!" You're frenzied, scrambling to get out of the hospital bed or as far away in it as you can. The doctors are trying to reassure you as you scratch, and kick, and hit, and scream, begging for them to keep you safe from him. He feels the doctors trying to lead him away, hears Johanna laughing harshly in the background noise, but he's frozen. Your head is banging on the metal back of the bed which rattles. “Please, please.” You're sobbing and they're staying to sedate you, "He wants me dead, you don't get it, he's gonna kill me.”

And Finnick is once again determined to get hands on a much longer rope.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you so, so much for reading I am so sorry this took me so long! I hope you enjoyed it and as always feedback, comments, likes, reblogs are all much appreciated. my ask box is always open and currently so are requests which I'm working through! love you all and thank you again 💋

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tkaulitzlvr · 6 months

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can u do more tom fluff please !! <3 i luv ur work !!

COMFORT - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: when your dreaded time of the month comes at an inconvenient time, tom takes it upon himself to make the pain as bearable as possible, not leaving your side the entire day.

content: fluff

a/n: thanku sm for the request - someone requested this scenario directly but i’ve lost it cause tumblr is BROKEN, but omg this took hours cause tumblr kept glitching i hate this app sometimes. for some reason i’ve had so many requests for fluff recently lol, i don’t write it often so decide to switch things up a little. and i also hit 600 followers whilst writing this so thank you so much!!💗

the tightening pain in my stomach is the first thing my body registers when it awakes, one that is unable to be mistaken for anything else. the room is still dark, curtains not allowing any light to leak through their cracks, signalling that i probably shouldn't be awake right now, however i soon realise that sleep doesn't seem a possibility as the pain begins to worsen. clutching my lower abdomen, i soon realise that the sheets below me feel strangely damp, my eyes widening at the thought that crosses my mind, praying for the reality to be anything but what i am imagining. though when my free hand reaches to pull the covers over my frame, my eyes widen in embarrassment, a loud groan leaving my lips once i spot the deep shade of red that soaks into the once pearly white cotton.

tom sleeps peacefully beside me, his arm draped loosely around my torso, mouth slightly parted as weak snores escape it. though his slumber doesn't last much longer, his eyes fluttering open when i slowly climb out of the bed, hand reaching out aimlessly to find it empty, instead of the presence of my body beside his own. he soon becomes more alert at my disappearance, eyes fully opening to scan the room, soon softening once he spots me standing just a few feet away, clutching at my stomach whilst taking slow sips from the glass of water that sits on my bedside table.

"schatz, what are you doing up at this time? come back into bed, it's getting cold without you." he mutters, voice low and groggy, still thick with sleep, clearly not able to stay awake much longer. his eyes squint through the darkness, trying to make out my figure more clearly, unable to distinguish the discomfort etched upon my face. but when i don't respond, he soon picks up on the fact that something isn't right, sitting upright and clearing his throat, though it isn't enough to disguise the lethargy evident in his voice.

"baby? what's wrong? c'mon, get into bed." he is becoming more concerned, our close proximity making it impossible for me to not have heard him, that idea quickly being ruled out as he considers the endless reasons for my silence. but the true reality of the situation hits when a quiet sniffle escapes my mouth, followed by the presence of tears welling up, creating a glassy sheet over my irises, reminding me how dramatically emotional i get when the time of the month hits - just about anything enough to make me burst into tears.

he shuffles slightly in the bed, his brows furrowing when his leg brushes over the wet spot in the sheets, hand following the same pattern mine did just minutes ago, lifting the covers up as the realisation soon hits him, his face quickly softening. though his calm reaction isn't enough to console me, even when his eyes, filled with pure concern, lift up from the dark red patch imprinted on the material, the tears now running down my cheeks before i can apologise.

"oh honey..." he trails off, stepping out of bed and tiredly walking over to the spot on the other side of the room where i stand, his arms quickly wrapping themselves around my trembling frame, one hand reaching upward to run through my hair lazily. my sobs are muffled into his bare chest, own hands wrapping around his waist as i move closer into his embrace. in quick and short bursts, my breathing speeds up, usually reduced to its normal rate by the kisses that tom places into my hair, his voice gently hushing me as his arms maintain their steady hold on my waist.

"hey hey hey, c'mon baby, don't get upset, it's okay. don't worry, i'll clean it up, okay?" his voice is barely above a whisper, soft and calm, the tone calming my nerves and the guilt that sets in for ruining the sheets, no matter how insignificant it seems to him. he seems to sense my continued discomfort, and after placing one faint kiss to my forehead, pulls away, his hands still resting loosely on my waist before his gaze travels downward, registering the faint stain on my small shorts.

"i'm sorry." i hiccup, gesturing to both the stained sheets and my clothing, feeling utterly humiliated knowing that he is looking at me like this, having disturbed his sleep for nothing. he seems confused by my apology, lips curving into a slight frown as his eyes soften, taking in my guilty state, not understanding why i am so ashamed.

"why are you sorry? it's just an accident, i can get fresh sheets, and you can put clean clothes on. don't stress, everything is fine." his eyes look into mine, searching for any sign of me calming down and understanding where he is coming from, though i am unable to mirror his relaxed approach, having blown the whole thing so out of proportion that the guilt begins to eat me up inside. "how about i run you a bath? i'll change the sheets, and get you some fresh clothes, hm?"

i nod weakly at his suggestion, a soft smile creeping upon his face in response. the pain habituating within my lower stomach suddenly intensifies, my face twisting in discomfort as my body almost doubles over, tom quickly moving to hold me up, one hand coming upward to rub slow circles across my abdomen, his other resting on my back as my eyes squeeze shut.

"you're okay, deep breaths." he whispers, studying my face intently, slowing the rhythm of his hand on my stomach once he watches the discomfort ease, my face returning to its normal expression. the warmth of his hand resting on my stomach, paired with the gentleness of his gaze acts as the perfect natural remedy, the cramp subsiding temporarily as i force a weak smile, straightening my posture and meeting tom's gaze, only his continues to be filled with concern.

he holds his hand out, gesturing me to take it, giving my own a gentle squeeze once i do, before leading me into the bathroom adjacent to our bedroom. the firm grasp of his touch picks me up, placing me gently on the counter in one swift movement, his thumbs absent-mindedly grazing the skin of my stomach as they slide underneath my small crop top, their soft touch easing the dull aching pain there just a little, making it that small bit easier to cope with the discomfort. if that wasn't enough, his body threads it's way between my legs as they dangle off of the counter, standing in between them whilst his thumbs reach upward, wiping the tears that reside along my cheeks, and drying the fresh ones that form along my waterline.

his movements are careful, kind and gentle in an attempt to soothe me more than he already has, intent on relieving the stress in any way that he could, doing so seeming like his duty, the silent reward of my contentment all he needs to prompt him to continue, until the only evidence of my upset is the rosy tint that spreads across my cheeks. once satisfied with his work, his hands move to rest on my thighs, his touch forming goosebumps over the skin, whilst his face nears my own. his lips collide with mine ever so gently, pecking them repeatedly, the contact so tender that i almost don't feel it, though the love that radiates from each movement reminds me that the moment is real, and enough to make me forget about the pain, even if it is only for a few seconds.

"love you." he mumbles against my lips, smiling softly and kissing them once more. my cheeks heat up at his words, heart tugging at its strings, realising that no matter how long we have been together, his ability to make me blush with the smallest of actions is long lived, and i don't think that it will ever go away.

"love you too." i smile slowly, the moment only lasting a few seconds as he pulls me into a short hug, fingers fiddling with the waistband of my shorts, reminding me that they need changing, the feeling of them making me cringe. he steps back for a second, only to walk toward the bathtub, twisting the taps on as gushes of hot water begin to spill from them, the tub quickly filling up.

"get in meine liebe, i'll be right back." he says, gesturing towards the bath and shooting me another warm smile before his figure disappears from the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. my feet step out of the dirty shorts, picking them up and tossing them into the laundry basket, my crop top soon following. my hands fiddle with the strands of hair falling at my shoulder blades, scooping them upward and tying them into a messy ponytail, my body quickly shivering from the lack of warmth that my clothing had brought.

i step into the tub, sinking further and further into the water as its heat envelops my body, my shoulders quickly falling, eyes closing in satisfaction as quiet breaths leave my parted lips. the silence is calming somehow, distracting me from the pain that comes and goes, though i soon long for tom to return, wondering what has taken him so long, needing to feel his embrace despite the comfort that the water brings. so i quietly wait, fingers tracing the outline of the large bathtub, droplets of water forming along the exposed skin of my arms, the drowsiness that takes over only increasing, my eyes on the verge of falling shut, until the sound of footsteps nearing the room soon turns my attention toward the door, my face lighting up when tom walks through it.

his hands hold a t-shirt, neatly folded and freshly washed, the material spreading out and creasing slightly once he places it on the counter, revealing a fresh pair of panties and some tampons wrapped within it, my heart melting at his thoughtfulness, the smallest of things being what make me aware of how lucky i am to have him. his attention turns towards me quickly, clearly determined to take care of me despite his tired eyes and the dark circles that habituate beneath them. he walks over to the bathtub, crouching beside it and dipping his fingers aimlessly into the hot water.

"how are you feeling?" he takes my face in his hands, pulling it closer toward him carefully and kissing my forehead lightly after speaking, keeping his fingers resting against my cheek, thumb running up and down it comfortingly, whilst his free hand brushes the loose strands of hair behind my ears.

"better." i say, offering him a genuine smile, sitting up slightly to better my view of him.

"i got you one of my t-shirts to change into. i tried to find your favourite, you know, the red one? i searched the whole house, but i couldn't find it anywhere, i'm sorry baby. but i found another one that i know you wear sometimes, the white one with the purple writing, i hope it's okay-"

i let out a soft chuckle at his rambling, repeating his motion just seconds ago and wrapping my hand around the nape of his neck, cutting off his voice with my lips, pulling back after a few seconds, giggling slightly at his genuine concern over a t-shirt. he struggles to see what is so funny, though his eyes narrow in confusion, a soft smile mirroring my own spreads across his face at my own happiness. "it's okay baby, thank you."

he stands up, clearing his throat and wiping his hands that had gotten slightly wet on his sweatpants. "i'll give you some space, i'm in the bedroom if you need me, okay schatz?"

though before he can exit the room, or even get within a few steps distance of the door, my hand reaches out, wrapping around his wrist lazily. he stops in his tracks, turning around swiftly to face me once again, eyes softening at my pleading look, already assuming what i am going to ask. he had always been good at that, guessing what i will say, before my mouth had chance to utter the words, and this time proves no different, his body taking one step toward the tub.

"can you get in with me?" i ask, looking upwards with pleading eyes, widening them in an attempt to convince him, my hand squeezing his wrist gently. i know what the answer will be, certain that he would never refuse a chance to lay beside me, despite the frequency that we do so anyway.

"yeah, sure." he nods calmly, quickly reaching to tug the only item of clothing that he is wearing down, the grey sweatpants pooling at his feet. he drags them off, folding them neatly and placing them beside my fresh change of clothes on the counter. my body moves forward, giving him room to climb in behind me, and he soon does so, resting his back firmly against the bathtub. he gets comfy, sinking into the water and stretching his legs out as my body rests in between them. after a few seconds, he snakes his arms around my waist, using his secure grip to pull me backward, my back resting firmly against his chest.

his fingers sit on my stomach, tracing circles over the skin, applying more pressure when i would sigh out in pain, gently massaging the cramping away, all whilst his lips would place quick kisses into my hair, though some would linger for a few seconds, often followed with the simple phrase 'i love you', each time he would utter them leaving me in the same state - a light shade of red creeping onto my cheeks whilst my lips curved into a small smile. he would always acknowledge my flustered state, though never tease me about it as he would in any other circumstance, deciding on savouring the peaceful moment, scared to ruin the tenderness of it, as it is memories like this which will be cherished forever.

though there are a few times when his head would dip downward, lips ghosting the skin of my neck, testing the waters between loving and lustful, but he knows that there is nothing sexual about this moment, knowing better than to create something sensual out of it. so he keeps his touches caring, the pads of his fingers running up and down my sides, eyes sparkling with joy as i can sense the cheesy grin on his face from behind.

though his sleep is put on the line, he seems to show no regret for choosing me over his slumber, standing up slowly and taking my hand, his other resting gently on my waist as he helps me exit the bath, following afterward and finding a towel big enough for the both of us. his arms open outward, gesturing me to come closer, and when my body nears his, naked frame pressed against his own, his arms close around us, the towel providing us with some warmth, though the majority of heat felt comes from what radiates from tom's body as he continues to keep his arms wrapped around me, refusing to increase the distance between us.

we stay like this for a few minutes, bodies against each other, swaying side to side ever so slowly, his chin resting on top of my head, a peaceful silence between us until he steps back, handing me his t-shirt. he tugs his own clothes on, cleaning up the bathroom whilst i fix myself up, his gentle hand coming to rest at my back once i am finished.

"c'mon, let's go back to bed, you must be tired." he says, walking us both into the bedroom. by now, light had managed to leak into the room through the curtains, a medley of ambers and pinks melting across the walls, though i barely acknowledge this, my focus instead on the bed in the centre of the room. it is freshly made, dressed with crisp white sheets, the dirty ones nowhere to be seen.

tom collapses onto the bed, his head delving into the pillow as i fall onto the mattress, only alone for a few seconds as he quickly pulls me into his side, arms wrapping tightly around my waist, fingers playing with the hem of his t-shirt, hiking it upward from its previous position where it rested just above my knees, the majority of tom's clothing insanely big on me, though i don't mind. he places the covers over our bodies, legs intertwined as i lay practically on top of him, this not enough for tom as he drags me closer, my chest against his. after getting comfortable and making sure that i am too, his head buries into my neck, placing a few gentle kisses there as a silent way of saying 'i love you', though his verbal confirmation comes soon after as he tiredly utters the three words, muffled by the skin of my shoulder.

"thank you for helping me. i'm sorry about the sheets." i mumble, his head soon reappearing from where it had rested, a soft chuckle leaving his lips at my repeated apology.

"it's what i'm here for. i'll always be here to help you, and you don't have to be sorry about it either. it's just some sheets, you're much more important. now get some sleep, okay? i'll be right here when you wake up." he kisses my lips softly before i can respond, only this one is much longer than the ones we had shared earlier, his hand moving to cup my cheek, only pulling away for breath when he can no longer kiss back.

"i love you." i whisper against his lips, eyes fluttering open and shut as i find myself becoming increasingly tired, quickly uttering confirmation of my love towards him before i fall asleep, snuggling further into his embrace as he gives my waist a gentle squeeze.

"i love you too schatz, more than you'll ever know."

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tomkaulitz #tokiohotel #kaulitz twins #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz fluff #kaulitz #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz angst #bill kaulitz

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wnderkoo · 1 year

Text

🏎️ ꒱ letting off steam | JJK

summary: a bad day on track has jungkook storming off and disappearing. where else would one find him but in the comforting arms of his loving girlfriend?

pairing: f1 driver! jungkook x sunshine gf

genre: pure fluff

word count: 1.3k

warnings: an innuendo and allusions to sex but no smut, no other warnings just jungkook being absolutely whipped for his gf :)

author's notes: HAPPY NEW YEAR LOVES! thank you to those who are still here and who have faith in me, this is for you <3

Jungkook often has to remind himself that with the good days, where he's top of the podium drowning in champagne and camera flashes, also comes the bad days, where all he wants to do is slam the door and shut himself off from the entire world for a few hours.

Sure, this life can be draining sometimes- both mentally and physically- but his persistence and determination is what makes him one of the most successful Formula One drivers in the present world.

Today is one of those draining days, and steam practically rolls off his race suit as Jungkook storms down the pit lane, past paparazzi and interviewers, back into the main building and up the stairs. His nerves ease ever so slightly when he thinks about who sits waiting for him in the room at the end of the hallway, but the fantasy fractures when he remembers the bullshit that happened on the track not too long ago.

The door slams open harder than he intended, and Jungkook curses himself when he sees the way you jump in fright from where you're settled in on the couch, eyes previously glued to the TV where a replay of the final moments of the race plays.

He offers a sheepishly gruff apology, still feeling tension in every part of his body. You don't bother asking why he isn't currently in the cool room with the other two drivers who made it on the podium, deciding to instead open your arms for him to drop down into.

You unzip half of his race suit, knowing how hot it gets in there for drivers, despite this Jungkook doesn't smell absolutely horrid, even though he still apologises for it. You run a hand through his very sweaty hair, encouraging him to tell you what happened when he's ready.

He doesn't say anything for a moment, deciding to hold onto your waist and lay his head on your chest for a moment. Your sweet scent and warm embrace remind him that beyond his frustrations and enmity was an untouchable goodness that would anchor his sanity.

You figure he's ready to talk when he rolls you both over so that you're now straddling his lap, arms instinctively coming up around his neck while his still hold around your waist, you note his grip as tighter than usual, but never enough to cause discomfort or pain, but he holds you a little more as if he needs the contact to keep from completely losing himself.

Your hand comes up to cup his cheek, and the way he leans into your touch completely contrasts the animosity vibrating in his bones. Rather than talk your ear off with rants about the recklessness of a certain rookie driver, Jungkook focuses on filling every one of his senses with you.

Why relive the moments that make him want to drive his head into the wall when he can be in the present with you?

You'd seen it on the TV, the unnecessary contact between number 7 and 22 and the way number 22 seemed to get a kick out of pushing Jungkook to the limits of the track, you were close to storming down to his team's pit and having a word with the team principal.

No one treated your boyfriend like that.

Of course despite the unsportsmanlike behaviour being committed against him, Jungkook still made it first over the finish line, with fastest lap under his belt to match.

Although, first place was currently missing from the post-race shenanigans, and Jungkook would face the music later, but for now he was content where he was.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Your soft voice draws him away from the crook of your neck, and Jungkook catches sight of the worry etched onto your features.

"Talk about what?" he questions casually, easing his thumb over your furrowed brows because he knows how much you fear a wrinkly forehead in the future.

"What happened out there.." you frown, not liking the way he wants to avoid talking about it.

You know it's because he doesn't want to burden you with the grievances of irrelevant people, but sometimes you just wish he'd know that you were there for him for anything and everything.

Unbeknownst to you is that Jungkook already knows that. Though, he was content to just be in your presence as that was enough for him to be at ease.

"Nothing happened out there," he hums, kissing your cheek lightly.

"There is no out there. Right now it's just you and me, in here."

You want to snort at how sappy this man can be, but then he speaks again.

"How was your day baby? Did you get to take your pictures?" he asks tentatively, twirling a piece of your hair around his finger as he waits for your reply.

You hadn't seen him since shortly before the race, when you'd kissed him goodbye and good luck before he was whisked away for pre-race activities.

You had taken your new camera out into the general areas, capturing moments of fans in true race spirit, with painted faces and decked out head to toe in team colours.

You'd never know this, but Jungkook hired a private bodyguard to keep an eye on you just in case anyone were to try something with you. You were starting to gain popularity, less for being Jungkook's girlfriend and more for your charming and down to earth personality and surreal beauty, and Jungkook would seriously hurt himself if anything were to happen to you. Unfortunately, your kind personality wouldn't be enough to scare off any drunken aggressiveness, and he just wanted you to be safe.

Your VIP pass got you to access to pretty much everything, a privilege you'd never exploit, choosing to stay almost invisible as you wandered through the pits. You were friendly with most of the other drivers, and they were more than happy to pose for your pictures.

Once the race had started, you'd packed up and headed to your private viewing rooms to watch the rest of the race.

After being reminded of your photoshoots earlier, you bounce off his lap and Jungkook watches with adoration as you practically run across the room to grab your camera before climbing back into his lap and showing him your pictures.

You mumble something about finding your favourite ones to show him when Jungkook stops you, telling him he wants to see all of them.

Your heart swells in your chest, and so you show him every picture you took.

All two hundred and thirty seven of them.

Jungkook listens as you animatedly explain the story behind some of the photos, about fans who took dedication to another level and the two team principals who recreated a scene from Titanic just for your camera.

"These photos are great baby," he smiles, and how genuine he is makes you blush.

Leaning down, you bring your lips to his, capturing them in a sweet kiss that has Jungkook groaning. Your hands settle on his shoulders, and the tension you feel beneath them has you pulling away, much to Jungkook's dismay.

"Wanna go back to the hotel? I know something that'll make you feel better, get your frustrations out."

Your suggestive offer earns a teasing squeeze of your ass.

"Be good." Jungkook laughs, kissing your cheek.

In all seriousness, you were more than down to let Jungkook use you to feel better, the thought of extra rough sex making your thighs twitch. But Jungkook was already feeling infinitely better than he was when he walked in here, and it had nothing to do with sex.

All he needed were some smiles and a hug.

"I'll be fine as long as you're here with me."

You feel the conviction of his words deep in your bones.

#bts #jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook crack #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook imagine #new jungkook fic #jungkookfics #bts jungkook #jeon jeongguk

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lyney-s-bitch · 1 year

Note

how do genshin character react to someone checking out their partner or make partner uncomfortable? I’d like to see of Kaeya, Childe, Shenhe, Scaramouche, Heizou, Kuki Shinobu, Cyno and Tighnari but if you think they are not good match then please write other, thank you!

Thank you for the request dear anon!!

a/n: I left out some people because there were just so many at once, but feel free to request again if you really want to see them :)

————————————————————————

reacting to someone checking you out || sfw

Kaeya

• at first he’s pretty chill about it, like, it’s not like he can blame the dude that keeps checking you out from a distance as you’re hanging out in the tavern

• hell, that’s how he met you in the first place

• but after a while it starts bugging him, he does not appreciate that pesky vulture leering at his princess so blatantly, as if to check whether Kaeya is just a friend

• so he decides to make it a point that you are indeed taken by him

• so as smooth as he is, he will casually pull you in for a deep kiss, opening his eye to glare coldly at the perpetrator, who better averts his gaze if he knows what’s good for him

———

Childe

• whether you say something or not, he can tell how uncomfortable you are and even if you weren’t… he is

• how dare that weirdo check out his beloved?? in itself he gets it, you’re gorgeous, but you belong to him and him only, so it practically pains Childe physically to just sit there and watch as the other man keeps looking you up and down

• has the most casual smile on his face as he walks over to the creep and places a hand on his shoulder, but his grip is almost enough to break a bone

• "Hey comrade! I’ll give you this friendly warning cause you seem to be too dense to notice, but my girl doesn’t enjoy being gawked at by anyone but me. So leave before I change my mind."

———

Shenhe

• to be honest, she’s fairly oblivious to your discomfort at first

• maybe it’s due to her lack of social and - even more so - romantic experience, or maybe just because she’s so used to being checked out herself, but as soon as you tell her that someone is making you uncomfy? it’s over for the dude

• like, literally over. unless you make a genuine effort to stop her, that man’s life is over

• she already has a fairly short temper towards others when it comes to how she’s being treated herself, but when it comes to you, that temper is damn near nonexistent

———

Scaramouche/Wanderer

• the Wanderer is not unlike Shenhe when it comes to temper, but when it comes to attitude… he’s far worse

• the moment he notices the lecherous looks you’re getting, he’s getting furious

• it just pushes his buttons to see a worm like that not knowing their place, and like hell he’s gonna let that happen on his watch, far less when it concerns you (he probably also wouldn‘t let you hold him back even if you tried)

• "The fuck you think you’re looking at, maggot? You don’t even deserve to walk the same earth as her, so make yourself scarce. I won’t repeat myself."

• needless to say, if the man is stupid enough to stick around or even talk back to Scara, he’ll be watching radishes grow from down under very soon

———

Shinobu

• Shinobu is way more rational than most of the others, and she’ll certainly avoid getting arrested for mayhem

• else who would bail her out? Itto??

• though she wouldn’t hesitate to take the man down if it came to it, like if he were to grope you or anything the like

• if it’s just looks though, she will most likely give the cause for your discomfort a warning at first, and if it doesn’t get better she’ll take you and leave

• will probably invite you for a snack to take both your minds off of the whole thing, holding your hand most of the time as silent promise that she’s there to look after you no matter what

———

Cyno

• nothing escapes his vigilant gaze, so he noticed the stares even before you did

• chances are he’ll just whisk you away before you even get to notice (and before he gets to lose himself lmao)

• this is one of the few times he’s actually thankful for his reputation as the General Mahamatra, because it keeps most people at their best behavior in his presence

• but if this particular individual still decides to test their bounds for whatever reason, he will not hesitate to put them in their place and make sure they wouldn’t dare lay eyes on you again (or probably anyone else, for that matter)

#genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact #kaeya alberich #childe #shenhe #scaramouche #wanderer #kuki shinobu #cyno #kaeya x you #childe x you #shenhe x you #wanderer x you #shinobu x you #cyno x you #my writing stuff

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gabbbyyyyyyyyyy · 1 month

Text

So called “Free thinkers” when there’s a bandwagon circulating around one of their favs

My take on Clock Tower / Glockenspiel headcanons!!

this man has me in an actual chokehold sorry not sorry

-Basic HCs

He/It

Clocktower/Anthro Clocktower robot

CANONICALLY 59 yrs old (going on 60 in may)

Voice HC: The Landlord (Oh!Super Milk chan- English/Americanized Dubs)

Height = 36’9 (36 ft 9 inches)

His personality can be summed up as being Sweet, fatherly, and calm—But can occasionally go overboard with his emotions, whether it be him acting too protective or sweet to the point of obsession, or going cuckoo (pun intended) over even the most minor of inconveniences. Everything else aside, he’s as sweet and smooth as honey, as long as everything is in moderation, he will be too.

-BATCH 1

This guy is basically the Timekeeper of the Wasteland, keeping track of certain dates and events in the wasteland, etc.!

Despite claiming that he knows the time, at any given moment, by heart (knowing his 50+ years of experience), little things, such as Daylight Savings time, may throw him off…and when he DOES get thrown off, he’d usually throw fits out of embarrassment.

There was once a time where the Small World ride was closed down (by Glockenspiel himself) for a whole week simply because he got the time wrong by 1 hour once (1) due to Daylight Savings… THAT IS HOW MUCH HE TAKES HIS JOB AS THE WASTELAND TIMEKEEPER SERIOUSLY.

As a nod to the OG Small World clock’s facade, and how it opens up to show the time—He has a chest crevice, which he can open up at given request, and show the time. Sadly, he can’t change the time by himself, and usually needs someone (usually a gremlin) to go and fix the time for him, when necessary (Time can be rearranged VIA differently shaped/sized Cogs inside said chest cavity

Both the cogs + The aforementioned chest cavity are incredibly sensitive, and even the slightest pains can throw the big guy off…

Also don’t tell him this… but the damned song that constantly plays on repeat in his daily life … actually comes from a Gramophone stored inside said chest cavity

-BATCH 2

Was actually still alive prior to the events of his boss fight (thinner/canon route), It just took like. Day or two before someone came and threw paint back on the poor guy

Still holds a grudge against Mickey after the maingame events, Despite the fact he’s practically required to just smile and wave at everyone willy nilly… here’s a visual demonstration

Has the memory of an elephant, once you do something to him, he (most of the time) remembers like it was yesterday… which isn’t too much of a good thing, given you know what

Drama Queen, very very big Drama Queen

Longlasting memory + Drama Queen = Hell no.

He can also recognize and perfectly memorize any face or object, so anyone who vandalizes the small world, or just any person thats worth seeing in a negative light, can be immediately recognized, and brought to justice

-BATCH 3 (+some Doll HCs)

Acts as a teacher/legal guardian figure to all of the dolls in the ride,

The dolls have Hivemind mentality, usually doing things in-sync and in unison, without rehearsal, as well as deciding how to act

Some times they’re pains in the ass to Glockenspiel, other times they usually help with certain chores and tasks, such as cleaning, getting certain things, etc.

Despite the fact the dolls resemble kids + have the mentalities of tweens, they’re extremely skilled and talented, even in tasks or activities that are normally considered hard, even for adults. But alas, the same cannot be said for their social skills, considering how their only real interaction is with eachother, and Glockenspiel

Though the dolls may cause some trouble or discomfort to Glockenspiel himself, any physical harm to them, from ANYONE (unless from another doll, without extremely malicious intent). Will set him off, no matter how bad the doll in question was behaving

If anything, if you break ANYTHING in the small world attraction, he will literally go over there and smack the Hickory Dickory FUCK out of you

Please note that Glockenspiel isn’t strict in the slightest, so you need to do something BAAAD to set him off like that.

The dolls carry information from the outside world, such as different cultures, fashion senses, food, etc.

As taken from a friend, Glockenspiel can reflect his own emotions onto the Dolls, if dormant, the dolls will act as normal, But if Glockenspiel goes into thinner form, the dolls will either:

Go completely stationary, not dare make a peep whilst the Clock Tower works his “magic”

Will wreck havoc on whatever person Glockenspiel is agitated at, Especially if said person has come with the intent to harm Glockenspiel, or the Small world in general. Please note that these dolls are approximately (in headcanon) 6-7 feet tall, and weigh about 250.

-BATCH 4

Glockenspiel usually feeds off of Oil (as a coffee-like substance) , and literal Computer chips (as snack)

Despite this, he doesn’t mind indulging in human cuisine every hour or so every once in a while, even having grown a bit of a sweet tooth from it, as well as having the aforementioned dolls make little foods for him, even if it’s not always perfect, or… even if it’s even considered edible. (Not like he cares though… he’s a damn robot!)

Speaking of how Oil acts as a sort of “coffee” to him, he’s. Pretty much addicted to the point that the oil may be apart of him, given how he has to deal with the 200+ sentient dolls, timekeeping, sitting around doing NISH. Keeping the ride fine and dandy, and listening to the same dumb song on loop for over 50 years…yeah!!!

If he doesn’t get his frequent dosage of oil, he’s just gonna be bitchy bitch mcbitcherson for the whole day, many complaints were filed to the gremlins for that and the ride’s service hours got cut short because the bitchiness was getting too much

-BATCH 5 (backstory edition)

He was apparently popular in the outside/“mainstream” world back in the 80s, in which he looked extremely different, with his appearance resembling that of those punk/rock idols that catered to the rebellious teen generation

His appearance in the 80s was much more lively and had much more going on than the mellowed out old man we have today—though i have not drawn an actual design for it yet, it’s color palette is heavily similar to that of the Glockenspiel shown in the Epic Mickey comic “Clocktower Cleaners”, that + just being reminiscent to Hong Kong Small World

Was a massive pushy egotistical jerk back in the 80s, partied a lot (not a healthy amount for a 36 foot tall, 6 ton weighing Clock tower), typical “young and free” hooligan—way less soft and collected as he is today

Something happened one day that cut his fame short, possibly an accident at a party that caused him to get thrown off from the Mainstream world, and straight into the Wasteland, where he was forced to be on some googoo gaga weenie hut Jr. ass ride for the remainder of his time as a punishment for his recklessness

There were even rumors that have diffused to the Wastelands from the Outside world that they even went on to REPLACE Glockenspiel with somebody else…it doesn’t bother him as much, but it’s definitely worth noting

-BATCH 6 (more physical stuff)

Despite all laws of physics, regarding the texture and form of metal, wood, and all things that create a mechanism such as himself…. He is squishy.

Specifically on the face (considering one of his attack animations in his boss fight), and certain bodily areas. Though this shouldn’t, and can’t be possible… it is… very much so

Despite the latter, he is also somewhat soft on other areas of his body, especially due to a protective inner rubber layer on certain parts of his body, like his chest and limbs, you can’t feel it much considering it’s *inside* of his metal shell of a body, but it’s there

However, his stomach contradicts acts this, having the protective rubber layer outside of the body, given how he doesn’t have a shell on his stomach, but rather another, thicker rubber layer to replace it (making his stomach’s exterior just be two layers of rubber) making his midsection area, and his face, the squishiest parts of his body

His forms can also control the heat of himself + the environment around him, given his tremendous size

In Paint form, everything is at a comfortable, room temperature, and leaves the Clock tower being warm to the touch, especially on the facial area, given the fact that this man is literally competitious with the actual sun, given the fact that he’s just this big ball of artificial sunshine when he’s not being all moody

However, his Thinner form causes the environment around him to be uncomfortably cold, not in a “hoohoo chill breeze” way, but in a “Holy shit. Its cold. im gonna get sick out here” kind of cold, Any physical touch with this guy in thinner form feels like you just took him out a freezer, which may or may not feel worse when you’re getting absolutely crushed by this absolute mammoth of a man

It’s a rumor that if you hug, or squeeze him in a tight/forceful way, he’ll make one of those cartoon squeak noises (specifically the one in MLP)

-CRACK/MISC HEADCANONS

Allergic to dust, somehow (also canon?)

Probably caused an earthquake like 45 times now

Actually put a crack in the floor once because he tripped

Without his glasses, his sight is equal to that of a 144p video

Touch starved.

Actually very clumsy, the size doesn’t help at all…given the last few entries

His favorite “human” food so far is probably pavlova, specifically pavlova cake rolls. The dolls make that for him a lot

Somehow is able to decipher any. ANY given language, speak it, and even translate it under any circumstances

Lullabies are one of his strongest weakness

Lemme elaborate—There was once a time where the Gramophone in his chest got damaged, and they had to replace it with a music box (the ones used for lullabies), and ended up having to close the ride because this mf decided to go Night-night after about 30 minutes into opening hours

Adores anything considered soft by texture, especially fabric, in clothing or blankets

Developed insomnia from constant oil consumption

Will usually call people who wander into the ride “little one”, regardless of physical age, to him, everyone is small

Got turned into a human once and nearly made like. Half of the Wasteland faint

Shortly after he was turned human, the first thing he did was hug somebody. It did not go too well considering his physique

Lives with 3 other objects in the Small World, which take form of a Cloud, a Sun, and a Hot Air Balloon, which may get separate HC dump posts sometime soon (once i find out what to do with them)

Cracks a lot of Time puns. the dolls really don’t like them

#epic mickey clock tower #epic mickey clocktower #epic mickey #clocktower #clock tower #headcanons #headcanon dump #bandwagon

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ihni · 7 months

Text

Bubbles the fish

My last fill for the Short fic challenge ("That emotional moment that you can’t find a plot for"), as well as written for day 13 (yeah I know, I'm a little late ...) of Angstober, prompt: "From childhood".

~~~

Jim Hopper is not what you would call a people’s person. He knows how to do his job and he’s good at what he does, but there’s a reason why he most often makes his deputies or Flo deal with the more emotional people – and contrary to popular belief, only part of that reason is that he dislikes it. The main reason is that he’s simply not good at it. Angry people, he can deal with no problem, because Jim is big and imposing and does not back down, but the sad ones? The crying ones, the ones who are silent and hurting? Jim is not the right person to deal with those people, and he knows it, so he usually lets someone else do it.

So when he walks into Billy Hargrove’s hospital room, two months after Starcourt, and finds the kid hugging his own knees, shoulders shaking with silent sobs? A big part of him wants to turn right back around and walk out, pretending he didn’t see anything.

But. The kid looks so small huddled up to the headboard of the bed, scarred forearms wrapping around scrubs-covered legs. And just like every other time Jim has been visiting, no one else is here. It doesn’t sit right with him, because he knows that the doctors lifted the ban on visitors as soon as they were certain that the kid would live; as soon as they knew that he didn’t pose a threat to anyone. Yet every time Jim stops by on his way home after work – spurred on by El, who keeps asking about the boy who saved them – no one else has been around. The doctor said that the kid’s sister – El’s friend Max – has been by a couple of times, but there hasn’t been a word mentioned of his parents, or friends.

Kid must be lonely, Jim thinks and steels himself against the discomfort that emotional people cause him. He will go in there, because the kid got between Jim’s daughter and an otherworldly monster – saved her life when Jim wasn’t there to do it – so the least Jim can do make sure the kid is okay. Or as okay as one can be while recovering from being shish-kebabed by said otherworldly monster.

But hell, Jim is not equipped for this.

He takes a breath and knocks on the doorframe. The kid flinches and looks up, eyes wide, and then grimaces as if he’s in pain. He probably is. He’s got more stitches in him than Jim’s best suit.

“Hey kid,” Jim says, voice gruff even though he’s trying to soften it. “You okay there?”

The kid looks away, frantically – and futilely – wiping at his face as if it’s not obvious to anyone with eyes that he’s been crying. His hands are shaking, and so is his voice when he says, “I’m fine.”

“Hate to break it to you, kid, but you don’t look fine.” Entering the room fully, Jim spots an opened parcel on the floor on the other side of the bed. It’s just a cardboard box, looks to be empty. “You in pain? Want me to get a nurse?”

“No!” the kid says, and it’s too fast and too loud. He’s trying to hide something under the blanket, as if he doesn’t want Jim to see whatever it is.

Alarm bells go off in Jim’s head. The doctors had mentioned that they’re making the kid talk to a shrink, that he sometimes hasn’t seemed all that interested in recovering. That he, at one point when he’d just woken up, grabbed a syringe from a nurse and tried to stab himself with it before they could wrestle it away from him. And now the kid is crying, doesn’t want the nurses to come in here, and is trying to hide something?

It all adds up to nothing good, and Jim is the Chief of Police. He is very familiar with ‘not good’.

“What’cha got there, kid?”

The kid in question shakes his head, and – hell – his eyes well up again. Jim’s got a bad feeling about this, so he strides up to the bed and ignores the hands trying to stop him when he reaches down under the blanket to fish out …

A fish. Literally. A stuffed animal in the shape of a fish, and by the looks of it, it’s been well-loved over the years.

Confused, he lets the kid yank the fish out of his hand, and feels a twinge of guilt as he can’t do anything but watch as the teen shuffles his way painfully to the other edge of the bed, as far from Jim as he can, while clutching the stuffed animal to his chest. His head is turned down, but Jim hears his hitched breath and knows that he’s crying.

And great, now Jim feels like an asshole.

“Uh,” he says, and then quiets. Because what do you say to a teenager who’s been traumatized beyond belief, and who is now desperately clinging to a stuffed animal like he’s five instead of eighteen? “Sorry, kid, I …” He trails off. Doesn’t know what to say. Considers going to fetch the doctors – maybe they can give the kid some sedatives or something – when he looks down and sees something else on the floor next to the empty box. A piece of paper with hand-written text on it.

The kid is not looking at him, so Jim bends down to pick it up. It’s a letter. Or, more of a note, really.

Dear Billy, it says, in loopy handwriting.

I heard about the fire. I’m glad you’re okay, and really proud that you saved those kids. It’s strange to think of you all grown-up and saving kids, since you were just a kid yourself the last time I saw you.

I went through some boxes recently and found your old friend Bubbles. Do you remember him? You used to take him with you everywhere you went. I thought he should be with you, now.

I’m also sending a photo of the two of you. I hope he can bring you some comfort now, as he did when you were younger.

I hope this finds you well.

Mom

Jim looks from the note in his hand, to the boy in the bed who has curled up with his back to Jim, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Then he looks at the note again, and frowns. He read through the kid’s file after the incident at the Byers’ house back in November, and he knows that the kid lives with his father. That his mother is not in the picture. Max once let slip that Billy hasn’t had any contact with her in years.

Bending down again to pick up the box, he sees another piece of paper on the floor, having ended up halfway under the bed. It’s a photograph. A polaroid, of a blond little boy, no more than seven, in a hospital bed much like this one. His arm is in a cast, and he’s sleeping, curled up around a purple plush fish that looks much bigger than the one the kid is clutching now – but of course, the boy in the picture was much smaller back then.

“Please leave,” the kid says, voice muffled. “Please.” He can’t suppress his sobs, and the part of Jim that can’t handle it when people are crying wants nothing more than to do what the kid asks.

But the part of him that is a father hates watching a child hurt – because eighteen might be an adult in the eye of the law, but no one who saw the kid curled up and hurting like he is now would consider him anything but a child.

So he doesn’t leave. Instead he turns the box over to examine it, and as he does, his heart sinks. Because Jim is a cop, and he’s damn good at finding clues and coming to conclusions. So when he looks at the box and the note, he sees beyond the brown cardboard with its carefully scrawled delivery address (addressed to William Hargrove at this specific hospital – they sender even got the room number right), and sees what the kid must have seen, too.

The address shows that his mother knows where he is, and that she could have contacted him this whole time, but chose not to. The lack of a return address means that Billy can’t contact her back.

The fact that she mentions the fire – the official story that the media ran with, when Starcourt was destroyed – shows that she knows that he got injured. That she’s writing it now, a couple of months later, and addressing it to a hospital, means that she must know that he was badly hurt, and still on the mend. But instead of showing up herself, or contacting her son or the hospital staff to get updates on his condition, she sends an old toy, a photograph and a note.

A note in which she writes I hope this finds you well. Not Love, not Hugs, nothing that can be interpreted as personal in any way.

“Aw, hell kid,” Jim says quietly and drags a heavy hand down his face.

The kid sobbing in the bed has been through hell and back, only to get slapped in the face with the reminder that his own mother does not want him in her life. The woman might have thought she was doing a good thing, but Jim looks at the kid now and thinks that it would have been better if she’d stayed gone.

“I’m sorry,” Jim says, and finds that he is. He’s sorry that the kid got dealt such a shitty hand in life. That he got involved with all the Upside Down bullshit in the first place, that he got hurt saving the kids, that he’s got a shitty dad who never visits his own kid in the hospital and that he’s got a shitty mom who sends a shitty kid’s toy instead of showing up in person when her son almost died.

And he’s sorry that he’s the only one here now, when the kid so obviously needs someone else; someone who could help him, or comfort him, or make him feel better. Jim is woefully ill-equipped to provide any of that.

No wonder the kid is inconsolable.

#billy hargrove #jim hopper #stranger things #bubbles the fish #ihni writes #short fic challenge #angstober

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beyonddarkness · 1 year

Text

Thoughts on Haladriel/Saurondriel

(I might be converted)

Okay, can I be COMPLETELY honest?

I always understood the shipping of Halbrand/Sauron and Galadriel, but for the sake of analyzing, I never let myself believe that there was any element of attraction from either side. Because they have a "cosmic connection," you know?

But something changed today (even though that "cosmic connection" is still very much a thing). I came to the conclusion that, while my pain for Galadriel has now increased manifold, I am so relieved from everything Morfydd said in her recent interview, particularly that the ambiguity behind their relationship was Charlie's idea (how dare he) because now I know that Charlie is Sauron, irl. Let me explain. (Prepare for a long read—bonus content at the end):

Charlie never told a lie in press.

"Were we in a relationship of seduction or power? It's up to the viewer to decide" (Morfydd).

What Morfydd said didn't give anything away. It truly leaves everything up to interpretation even more than before, and yet any way you slice it, everything makes sense. It fits with everything that everyone has said in press (the 'cosmic connection', 'it's not romantic', etc.).

Think of it this way:

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

If everything was purely platonic, and Galadriel was not attracted to Halbrand in the least, then Sauron was tempting Galadriel with power. This makes sense, since we know that Galadriel left Valinor in large part because she desired to rule over a realm of her own. Power is very enticing to her.

That also means that Galadriel would never, ever, EVER think of anyone but Celeborn, which is nice. I mean, once Elves marry, that's it. No backsies. In this case, Sauron would be playing it safe, not fooling himself into thinking that Galadriel would fall for a MAN (of all things), after she has already been married.

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

On the other hand, BOY is Sauron able to seduce.

Now, when we think of seduction, some of us automatically think:

But Galadriel most likely would not be enticed by an extremely forward approach. She would slap that guy so silly.

So here's why Sauron is terrifying: Halbrand is so nice.

His approach would be: Become friends first, to make it difficult to resist joining him in the end. He made himself attractive in a way that, if successful, would make her attached to him for much longer than if he was strictly flirtatious (a few thousand years should do it). He never said anything forward until their friendship developed to a certain point (1x06).

And as long as I've been denying that either side was attracted to the other, the one thing I have never been able to get out of my head is the fact that in episode 7, Galadriel called to Halbrand before anyone else. Later, she mentioned Celeborn to Theo (for the first time in presumably centuries, after she assumed Halbrand had died). Then, when she saw Halbrand again, she called him her friend, and he for some reason had to say:

"Nor will you."

Then he made that STUPID SMIRK, and poor Galadriel looked SO TORN. We just barely learned that her husband was in the picture, so he was fresh on her mind. And then we had this thrown on us, to indicate that something about this friendship was not right.

(Oh, the discomfort and second-hand embarrassment I felt for Halbrand, before I knew that he was Sauron.)

Since Galadriel hasn't seen her husband in centuries (even though she loves him a lot—I mean A LOT), she was very vulnerable to seduction, because... she was alone. Halbrand saved her life, rivaled her intelligence, didn't beg for her attention on account of her beauty, connected with her on a level that probably hasn't happened in a while, became her really good friend, made her feel free fighting at his side, etc. If that doesn't spark someone's interest, I don't know what does. (His looks are a major bonus.)

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

Now, here is what's really unfortunate, and causes me pain beyond measure: Sauron wouldn't have fallen in love. But Galadriel would have, and he knew that.

No one (JD, Patrick, Charlie, and Morfydd) ever lied in any interview. Have you ever noticed that whenever they spoke of the lack of romance, they were always talking specifically about Sauron's perspective? :')

Here are some examples:

Charlie: "I mean, look. I don't see it as a... strictly—I don't know. I haven't run this past you guys [Patrick: 'Run it by!']—as a King and Queen thing. I love the reflection bit. But it's not like... I think ultimately, if she had said yes, he's very much the King, and she's like his sidekick, in terms of ruling." Patrick: "And it's not like a marriage—[Morfydd: 'How...]—proposal...—[...dare you.'] [...] Charlie: "You guys sent me something really early on. It's WH Auden, talking about good and evil in Tolkien, and the difference when it gets to evil. It's affection—I'm paraphrasing here—but affection goes out the window. And you see this relationship, and you see affection, but in the end, it's only for personal gain. [...] The whole season, you see them working together, and they have this sort of—we like to call it a 'cosmic connection'. Not romantic. [laughs] Although, I got in a lot of trouble for saying it wasn't romantic yesterday, because of the 'shipping'; the people shipping. [Interviewer: 'How dare you.'] [laughs] Yeah, exactly. And I think it's very clear on the raft that he's just using her for his own personal gain, rather than any sort of love and affection to her." (Empire Spoiler Special)

Charlie: "I think they have a 'cosmic connection', but I don't think it's necessarily, in his mind, a King and a Queen... like husband and wife kind of situation. I think it's more, 'I can use you to get what I want, and effect my designs faster.' Because ultimately, I think he would have ended up ruling by himself, whether she joined him or not. And when she says no on the raft, it angers him, but it's not the end of the world for him." (Deadline Inside the Ring)

So, if Sauron was trying to effectively seduce Galadriel into falling in love with him, it was always going to be one-sided. He would have never felt any real love towards her, but his goal would be to get Galadriel to feel something like that towards him. For personal gain.

And if Galadriel did feel something, how much more ashamed and violated would she feel in the end, knowing that he did it on purpose?

:'))))

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

Here is the ultimate question:

Did Sauron tempt Galadriel with power, or seduction (or both)?

Here's the thing -> Charlie

Morfydd said in her interview that "Halbrand's hold on Galadriel was less connoted in the storylines," meaning it was more straight forward, and not much was implied. But she did not say which direction the scripts leaned, meaning Charlie said one of two things:

"Let's make it seem less romantic."

"Let's make it seem more romantic."

Either way, he's actually so mean, I can't put it into words.

Here's why both possibilities work perfectly: Every time Charlie or anyone else has talked about the lack of romance in interviews, they're always speaking from Sauron's perspective; Galadriel's feelings are wide open for interpretation. Whether Sauron tempted her with power or seduction, he never loved her. He knows how to seduce, and he does it well, but it doesn't mean he feels it. That's why I'm terrified of him, and I'm also afraid of Charlie.

Ever since that interview with Morfydd, I've realized that Charlie has a lot more to do with the character than he's letting on. He knows enough about Sauron to propose an idea that fits into the lore. The fact that the scripts were "less connoted," and he managed to convince everyone to make the relationship more ambiguous is just... GAH. How dare he!

Is it power or seduction?? Both work so well, it could very well be both at the same time! (Charlie and his ambiguities. *sigh*)

But again, it's a matter of what Sauron is tempting Galadriel with; not what he feels, himself.

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

So, why am I relieved? Because Chapter 6. :)

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

Bonus: Translation of the Haunting Music

It is time.

With all of this in mind, I would like to take a shot in the dark. Remember that ultra creepy/seductive part of the music in The Broken Line? A couple of months ago, I was driven crazy by the fact that right in the middle of a musical phrase, the vocals transitioned from Black Speech to Quenya, when Sauron's doing this:

I wanted to know the translation, so I used Paul Strack's lexicon. I managed to pick out most of the words in the music, but since I'm not fluent in Elvish grammar, I don't dare try to translate it. I will just give you the translation for each word, and let you decide what it means for yourself. It'll be fun. :)

Here's the music:

Here are the words (red is confirmed, purple is what I made out, and the [?] is the last word that I cannot figure out, for the life of me. So if someone could enlighten me, I would greatly appreciate it):

ash gul ishi ghash [ash] gul insangarë antani márië i cilmë [?]

Here are the translations:

Black Speech:

ash: "one" gul: "phantom" ishi: "in" ghash: "fire"

Quenya:

insangarë: "temptation" anta-: "to give, present; to add to" ni: "me, I" márië: "well, happily; goodness, good estate, being well, happiness" i: "the" cilmë: "choice, choosing"

In episode 6, Adar said in Quenya, "What I seek. Give it to me." His sentence ended with "antani". So... if "antani" comes after the subject of a sentence... "insangarë antani"? O_O

Someone please help Galadriel. I can hardly stand it. Where's Celeborn?

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glossyybabie · 4 months

Text

identity

part 19 || part 20

Summary: You can feel yourself crumbling away.

Warnings: Kidnapping. Blood and gore. A Missy-esque bit of body horror.

Word count: 1376

Notes: Applying to internships has taken up all of my time so I haven’t been able to update in aeons. I’m not even sorry.

Waking up dazed and confused was becoming a very natural feeling for you. This ceiling was a strangely common sight. The pale grey tiles felt as though they were staring back at you with a shared kind of familiarity.

You pushed yourself upright. Your body immediately put up plenty of resistance, but not as much as you’d been expecting. A morbid part of you knew that you were just adjusting. This sort of discomfort would be the new normal.

Your gaze drew towards a tray of bloodied tools, resting harmlessly against the arm of a pristine white chair. The blue latex gloves on the other armrest had been twisted inside out to avoid splattering the chair in red.

Your palms smoothed down your hospital gown against your skin. You felt no bruises, no unevenness in the form of bumps or scarring. Your skin was clear, if dull, almost monochrome. You wondered just how many basic vitamins and minerals you were dangerously low on.

You started forward on wobbly legs. Pain radiated in a multitude of areas — some areas you didn't even know were capable of being in pain. But it was easy enough to ignore. That pain wasn't too sharp or troublesome. It didn't have you doubling over. If you could walk, you were fine.

You toyed with a blood-caked scalpel in your hand. In hindsight, you weren't even sure what had compelled you to pick it up. It wasn't as if any weapon existed that was a match for Missy. And even if there was, it wouldn't be a scalpel. The fires of hell probably weren't strong enough for that bitch–

"Who? Me?"

Missy stood behind you. Just a few feet away, she was just as refined and imposing as you'd always remembered her being. Her plum skirts swished around her legs as she took a step closer. You followed the line of her vision towards the scalpel in your hand.

"Now, where exactly were you going with that?" Missy asked calmly.

When interacting with Missy, there was no such thing as a lie. Lies were for just about anyone else.

"For a walk."

Missy grinned, a sweet yet cold expression that exposed her teeth. "Sure you are, poppet. Come on, back to mummy."

She was beckoning you back, her hands open and waiting for you to take. You stared at her palms. She didn't make a move towards you. She was letting you make the next move.

You shifted the scalpel around in your hand. "Why should I?" you challenged her. "Why should I do anything you say if it doesn't matter anyway?"

Missy exhaled sharply. "Sweetheart, I can't do this with you every time you have a crisis of self. Just come over here, give me your new toy, and no one has to get hurt. Alright?"

You watched her go still. Even now, your move in this game wasn't over yet. She was giving you a rare chance to reconsider. This was her showing mercy. She wasn't hurting you . . .

Yet. But she hadn't hurt you for a year of your life, and yet she'd never created wounds that ran so deep. She didn't need to cause harm in order to hurt. She was above that.

You shook your head. "No."

Pain shot through your arm like nothing you could have imagined. Your fingers were frozen around the steel door handle. You couldn’t consciously move them. You couldn’t move anything.

All too soon, sensation returned. You jerked away and stumbled onto the floor. The scalpel in your hand scraped across your face, eventually skidding across the shiny floor to a halt and leaving a notable trail of blood in its wake.

Your face erupted in blistering pain. You let out a pained cry and clasped your hands over your nose and mouth as blood poured over your trembling lips.

Missy stooped down and pinched the chunk of mangled flesh from the floor. “I suppose I can officially say got your nose.”

You wanted to scream for so many reasons. Tears burned in your eyes. Your throat was tight, but that feeling was nothing compared to the hot, thick viscera that coated your mouth and chin. You struggled to breathe past the fluids on your face.

You started to roll onto your front, but Missy slipped the tip of her boot beneath you before you could manage. She started to forcefully turn you over, ignoring your sobbing, garbled protests.

“Come on,” Missy said lightly, kneeling carelessly in the pool of blood beside you. “Let’s see what you’ve done. Don’t be shy now.”

This was all her fault — all of this was her fault. You were so defeated. The blood started to dribble down your cheeks and through your nose where it reached your throat. Your attempted coughs resembled inhuman grunts.

Missy pulled your damp hands away from your face. She laughed.

“Oh dear. See, this is why we don’t walk around with sharp tools. It’s only a matter of time before I get bored and shock you into slicing your organs off,” Missy sighed. She toyed with the exposed raw meat of your open wound, uncaring of the way you writhed in pain and clawed at her arms, gurgling incoherent words. “I think we can do better though. Shall we go again? I’ll aim for something more substantial this time, like an eye. Ooh, maybe an ear. Your tongue, if I time it right.”

You couldn’t stop crying. You were humiliated. You’d sustained injuries to last several lifetimes, you’d been torn apart and hastily glued back together in every way possible, but this felt more real than anything Missy had hurled at you before.

This was your face. It was the only familiar sight in your reflection. It reminded you of who you truly were. And now it was as disfigured, haggard, unattractive as the rest of you. Crumbling and wasting away like a plastic-corroded doll in a charity shop.

This was the largest piece of your identity to flake away so far. And it hurt.

Missy started to pull you up. You were just relieved that she was no longer poking her sharp red fingernails into the gaping hole in your face. “Come on, that’s enough sulking,” she said impatiently. “You humans are so hopelessly hideous with or without basic facial features, so I wouldn’t worry your ugly little head about it. That’s the spirit.”

She forced you to walk towards the bed you’d woken up in, disregarding the crippling pain you were in. Your knees buckled hopelessly beneath you. Missy half-dragged you alongside her.

“And hey,” she continued, “maybe someday I’ll get bored and reattach your nose. Or a nose, anyway. That’ll give you something to look forward to.”

You choked on a gasp. Blood spurted out of your mouth, all tangy on the tip of your tongue. You tried to make the most of the sensation — it was a matter of time before Missy started focusing on new areas of your face to maim.

Your knees slammed firmly onto the unforgiving floor. The blood-loss was starting to make you feel lightheaded. The thumping against the front of your skull wouldn’t cease, no matter how much you willed it.

You tried to speak, with little success. Your words tumbled out gurgled and splattered with blood. Hardly coherent.

Missy leaned in closer, tilting her ear towards you. “What was that, dear?”

You felt sick. The way she made you feel was dehumanising. On your knees in front of her. Pleading. Begging. Worthlessly so.

You cleared the immediate blood from your mouth and sobbed. “. . . Help me, Missy.”

Missy sighed, lowering her head in resignation. “Oh, alright,” she conceded. “Since you asked so nicely.”

She lifted your limp body off the floor. You put up no resistance as she carried you the remaining distance, her arms firmly supporting your weight this time. She gently set you down and lowered your head onto a soft pillow.

She moved the tray of tools towards herself. You watched her settle down comfortably, one leg neatly crossed over the other, as she reached for a familiar silver rod. Dread settled in the pit of your stomach.

“Let me just give my cautery rod a chance to heat up first.”

#first update of 2024 is off to a strong start #doctor who #doctor who x reader #missy x reader #doctor who master #reader insert #missy #doctor who missy #bbc doctor who #the master x reader #obey your mistress

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serenefreakgeekao3 · 1 year

Text

Jim Halpert x Trans Man Reader 5 +1

Summary: Five times Dunder Mifflin noticed your transitions, and one final result. You are a recently discovered trans man, and yet you work at Dunder Mifflin with some of the most well-meaning yet completely ignorant people you’ve ever met. But you’re brave and ready to transition. What happens when the office takes notice- and who comes to your rescue each time? Warnings: misgendering (but only because closeted!), dysphoria, anxiety, slightly misogynistic rules/views (according to Dwight, who is wrong/ very brief), use of the word queer (positive) like once, gratuitous use of italics for emphasis, A/N: so i was supposed to sleep for work but insomnia said no you’re going to think about jim instead so i went to work with no sleep but with a mission. I tried to beta and used grammarly to help, but pls excuse if this is rather a trainwreck, as my brain probably isn’t functioning at full power currently (i also might’ve gotten carried away in the ‘tea mug’ arc cause of something that happened at work but who can blame me really)

You had always felt different. Off, separate, or not comfortable in your skin. No matter the descriptor, it made you shrink into yourself and try to disappear away from anyone else. The idea of the world perceiving you when you couldn’t even recognize the person in the mirror? That wasn’t who you were and you certainly didn’t want people to think it was, but what else were you supposed to do? It took a lot of soul searching, self-discovery, and a few mistakes but you eventually realized the biggest factor of your discomfort.

You were a man. You were born with the wrong body, you presented the wrong way your entire life. Adding it all together made sense, especially when you thought back to your childhood- a lot of things made sense now. Now you knew, and this was your chance. You knew transitioning into who you wanted to be- who you are- would be a long and painful journey, but it felt worth it. Something finally felt worth it for once.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you took in your appearance. Your hair was long, nearly down most of your back, though you usually tried to keep it up into a tight bun most of the time. Your closet next to you was full of blouses, skirts, and dresses. Business professional outfits, fit to wear to Dunder Mifflin paper company, where you worked in customer service alongside one of the most feminine women you’ve ever met- Kelly Kapoor. When you first started, she had gone on and on about how you two were going to be the best girlfriends, go shopping and get manicures and whatnot. You weren’t very excited, and after turning her down one too many times to just relax at home instead, she eventually stopped inviting you. After a few repeated outfits, she even stopped commenting on how cute- how feminine- you were. You preferred when everyone glossed over you, eyes skipping your form as if you weren’t there.

Biting your lip, you turn around and eye the suit laid out on your bed. You had gone out and tried on multiple suits- you didn’t bother getting anything tailored specifically for your form, feeling too self conscious for such an act- but you returned with only one that fit well and looked nice. It was a solid colour, a dull khaki. You hoped the dullness would be less noticeable, that you could just slip in without issue. You eyed the full masculine suit in front of you, approaching and letting your hand drag against the rough fabric.

Anxiety welled up in your chest and you took a deep breath, stepping back again. It seemed too big a step, too much all at once. So, what if you took a smaller step? You studied the suit through your floor-length mirror, then turned and returned to it. Instead of lifting the whole outfit, you wrangled the slacks off of the hanger. You slipped them on, buttoned them up, and studied your half-dressed appearance in the mirror. Nothing even really looked that different right now, so a very small step indeed, but it felt different. Your smile slowly grew, and after finally settling that feeling in your chest, you reached into your closet for a blouse.

The drive to work was rainy, the skies full of grey that matched your dull outfit. After rushing into the Scranton business park, you pulled your oversized hoodie off of your form and smoothed down your blouse with a huff. You smiled and nodded toward the security guard, then took the elevator up. That anxious feeling returned- were you really going to do this? Sure, it was only slacks. Plenty of women in the office wore pants to work- but this was your first time. Maybe no one would notice? No one ever noticed you anyway.

Ding! You held your breath as the elevator doors opened, then let it out slowly before finally stepping off. You pushed through the glass doors, nodding toward Pam when she welcomes you in. You watched her do a double take at your appearance, then lowered your head and tried to rush to the annexe where your desk and safe haven remained. You were stopped in your path by a tall figure, and glancing up you were met with those silly glasses. You hardly ever interacted with Dwight, but you heard the stories.

“Y/N, you are in violation of the dress code.” You blink a few times, staring at the man blocking your way. You huff, shaking your head.

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re not wearing your usual skirt with that blouse, nor any of the three dresses you own.” You raise your eyebrows at this, a horrified look crossing your face. He knew how many dresses you owned? Who is this man?

“As far as I remember, Dwight, slacks are allowed per the dress code.”

“Yeah, for men,” Dwight added, crossing his arms. He couldn’t possibly know the spear of hurt that lanced through your chest at those words. You felt unable to continue, unable to think up any sort of response to that. Unable to even breathe.

“Dwight, leave her alone.” You turned to see Pam walk up behind you, placing a hand on the small of your back in solidarity. She couldn’t possibly know the tightening of your chest from hearing that pronoun- but at least she was trying to help.

“It’s in clear violation-”

“There is no violation here, Dwight! Look at what I’m wearing!” You glance down at the same time, taking note of her feminine pants. Comparing the two side by side, you could tell the cut was different for each. How yours widened out and were more masculine- you hoped that they wouldn’t look too closely at that. Returning your gaze to Dwight, you could see a staring contest happening between him and Pam. After a particularly funny raised eyebrow from Pam, Dwight pushed past the both of you.

“Michael!”

“Run, while you still can,” Pam whispers into your ear, and you huff a relieved laugh. Nodding, you walk away from Pam’s hand still on your back, returning to your original path. Before you could get too far, however, you heard your name called from behind.

“Y/N!” You turn, glancing through the various faces before settling on Jim Halpert, one of the best salesmen in the building. Also one of the funniest. “You’re looking fantastic today. Keep it up.” Also, apparently, one of the sweetest.

Unable to respond due to the anxiety choking you still, you nod your head at him with a smile, then hurry to your work.

Should you do this?

Earlier, your response would’ve been a resounding yes, but standing here in your bathroom, scissors held open to your hair, you began to wonder. Sure you wanted it cut- well, truthfully you wanted it gone- but maybe you should pay a professional to do it? Taking a deep breath, you let the scissors close.

Cutting your hair was a longer process than you thought it would be. You had to even out the choppy look a few times, but eventually when you finished you felt like you did a decent job. Your hair no longer stretched down your back, tied back and forgotten about. It fell to just above your shoulders, much shorter and much more freeing. Biting your lip, you consider the rest of it. You knew you wanted it even shorter, sure, but you absolutely weren’t confident enough to do all of that by yourself. Maybe you should schedule an appointment with a hairstylist? Or a barber?

Returning to your room, you began pushing through your closet. After the first day of success, you wore the slacks for the second day in a row. Luckily, that had been a Friday, and the following weekend was spent shopping once more. You purchased a few more full suits, only having pulled out the slacks to wear into work since then. There now sat a box in the corner of your closet, full of skirts and three dresses.

You pulled on an outfit, smoothing down your ruffled blouse in the mirror. You frowned to yourself, pulling the sides of the shirt under your armpits and trying to straighten it out more, to fall without showing your curves. But that’s what the shirt was made for, so your insistence was pointless. Eventually, with an aggravated huff, you pulled on your comfy hoodie and made your way out to work.

Short hair was certainly a head-turner, it seemed. Pam had called out your name with a surprised lilt to her tone. This drew the attention of a few people in the bullpen, which began the whispers. By the time you were halfway across the room, it felt like every eye in the room was on you. You heard your name called out behind you, but you pretended to not have heard it, pushing into the break room.

You breathe out shakily, filling the kettle on the counter with water before placing it on the burner. You pull down your favourite mug from the cabinets above, then pulled a teabag from the box you brought in from a nearby drawer. Placing the dry teabag in the empty cup, you were just about to go sit when the door to your left opens, and you look up to see two people entering the break room.

At least it was Pam and Jim. Out of everyone in the office, they certainly seemed the most normal. Jim hesitated at the door, obviously eyeing your new haircut, while Pam took slow steps toward you as if approaching a cornered animal. “So, Y/N,” Pam began, smiling toward you in a stretched way that seemed like she was trying to be comforting while missing the mark. “Did something change? You seem different.”

“You can just say I cut my hair, it’s pretty obvious.” You turn back to the kettle, staring at it and willing it to whistle.

“It is,” Jim agreed from the door, taking a few steps forward. “Looks good, too.”

You startle, raising your eyes quickly to him. “Wait- really?” He nodded, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I had a feeling that everyone was staring because it’s so choppy.”

“It doesn’t look choppy at all!” Pam inserted, smiling encouragingly at you. “It looks brilliantly cut! Where’d you get it done?”

You eyed her, then mumbled under your breath. Pam glanced at Jim with a confused expression, then politely asked you to repeat yourself. You sigh, trying to force a smile. “I did it myself.”

“Wow- that’s- you did this yourself?”

“Like I said,” Jim interrupts, walking around to your other side and leaning a hip against the counter, “Looks good.”

“If you want,” Pam inserts, pulling your attention back to her once again, “I could give you the number to my hair stylist, next time you want a cut?” You bite your lip, turning to stare into your empty tea mug. After a beat, Jim chimes in.

“Or my barber.” You startle once more, your head snapping up quickly in his direction. Your eyes must’ve looked wide and hopeful, as Jim’s smile slowly spread, and he laughed, nodding. “I’ll remember to grab his card next time I’m in.”

“Fuck these stupid, floofy, puffed up-”

You growl, tearing the blouse off of your body where you attempted to put it on straight and unwrinkled- instead now throwing it to the floor. You were tempted to stomp on it out of childish aggravation but had just barely refrained. You look back up to your floor-length mirror, slumping at the half-dressed image in front of you. You eyed your bra- you recently switched from padded to sports, and thankfully no one noticed that change in the office- and grumbled under your breath before approaching your closet once more.

Angrily swiping through hangers, none of your blouses appealed to you. You wanted comfortable, not itchy. Straight, formless, and plain- not frilly or cinched at the waist. You push the last of your blouses to the side, growling under your breath in aggravation. You only swiped through half of your closet, and you were now looking at where the remainder of the suits you bought were hanging. Slowly, you felt your shoulders relax as you stared at the hanging dress shirts. You glanced down, checking which coloured pants you were wearing, then quickly grabbed a matching dress shirt.

They were certainly easier to button up as well, though slightly tight in the chest area. You tucked in the shirt, then pulled a belt from your set of drawers nearby to complete the look. Well- not quite complete it. You bit your lip once more as you thought over your new problem. With the lack of a blouse and the addition of a dress shirt, that meant you had to wear a tie. That wasn’t exactly something you were opposed to- if only you knew how to tie one.

You tried and failed multiple times, getting frustrated, sure, but you could see the progress. Glancing at your clock, your eyes widened at the time. You threw the current, wrinkled, tie away and snatched a new one from its hanger. You tried as carefully as you could, and though it sat crooked it was at least there. Enough for work, which you would be late for if you didn’t leave right now.

The weather was grey but lacked the rain that was common in recent months. Generally, you’d grab your hoodie no matter the weather, but something in you felt settled enough to forgo it this time around. You hoped you wouldn’t regret it later.

The business park’s lot was full of cars when you pulled in, having to park in one of the furthest spots. You tried not to run, but you certainly didn’t walk into the building. By the time the elevator dinged, you had completely forgotten about your change in dress. Rushing out of the elevator, you pushed through the glass doors and immediately tilted your head to the side to see the clock. You released a sigh of relief- you made it by three minutes.

“You know,” Pam whispered from her spot behind the receptionist’s desk, and you took a few steps closer, “It really isn’t the end of the world if you’re just a bit late.”

“I wouldn’t care usually,” You begin, glancing warily around the room, “But Dwight’s been kinda up my ass lately and I’ve heard how he harasses people when they’re late.” Pam sent you a sympathetic look, and you took this as the end of your conversation.

Your walk through the bullpen to the annexe was slower lately than before. It likely wasn’t noticed by anyone but you, but you didn’t feel the need to rush by without being seen anymore. Before, feeling the eyes of your coworkers on you created an itchy, crawling feeling across your skin. Now, you’re able to even look them in the eyes.

You smiled at Jim as you passed, his expression stuck in what seemed like one of concentration, directly at you. You tried to ignore the hurt pulsing through you when he didn’t smile back, only followed you with his eyes. You pushed into the break room, beginning your usual routine of filling the kettle for your morning tea. You opened the cabinets above the sink, then furrowed your brow, pushing a couple of mugs to the side. Where was your favourite cup?

You heard the door open, and you began to ask before even looking to see who it was. “Hey, you don’t happen to know where-” You pause, locking eyes with Jim. “Oh, hey.” He still wore that face of concentration, and he took long strides toward you until he stood close. You turn to face him, leaving the cupboards open, laughing awkwardly. “What’s up?”

Jim’s response was to reach forward toward your chest. He tugged, and you felt something around your neck pull and- oh right, your tie! You look down, feeling breathless for some reason as Jim begins to undo your terrible knot. He pulls it free from your shirt, smoothing it out against his chest. He lifted your collar, looping it around your neck, then paused as he held each end out.

“Watch,” Jim mumbled and waited for you to lower your eyes once more to his hands. He had some nice hands, actually. He began the process of knotting the tie, moving slowly as if trying to show you the proper way. You tried your best to take in the silent instructions, but his proximity was making you almost lightheaded. He finished, tightening it up close to your throat, then slowly folded your collar back down over top. He patted your shoulder, his look of concentration finally falling into his usual smile. “There we go, that’s much better.” You look up to face Jim and- wait, wow, had he always been that attractive? Was it getting hot in here?

“Thank you,” You stutter out, your eyes darting between his hazel eyes.

“Dwight has it, by the way.” You furrow your brows, confused. Just then, as if to remind you, the kettle began whistling next to you. You jump, switching the burner off and lifting the kettle from the source of heat to stop the high-pitched whining.

“My cup? Why?”

“Well…” Jim dragged the word out, wincing with a shrug. “Something happened to his mug. He said he grabbed a random one from the cupboard that he didn’t think belonged to anyone, but I recognized it.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“Oh I did,” Jim added, smirking and crossing his arms, leaning his hip against the counter. “I told him it was yours. He said you can have it back once he’s finished with his morning coffee.”

“Coffee?” You exclaim, shaking your head quickly, “No, that’s my tea mug! I actually bought that one specifically-” You cut yourself off from a rant that Jim didn’t deserve, groaning under your breath before pushing back into the bullpen. You walk directly behind Dwight, crossing your arms. “Give it back.”

Dwight spins in his office chair to face you dramatically, shooting you a look that only aggravated you further. “Give what back?”

“You know what.”

“Well, unfortunately, I’m in the middle of using it.” You narrow your eyes at him, though he doesn’t flinch. “I’ll return it to the cupboard once I’ve finished my coffee and washed it.”

“Then finish your coffee now, I’ll wash it myself.”

“Can’t do that,” Dwight said, shaking his head. “It’s not appropriate to rush through a cup of coffee. That could have disastrous effects on my body.” You sigh heavily, raising a hand to rub your face.

“Here, just hand it over and I can pour it into another mug-”

“So you can spike my drink? Absolutely not.” You roll your eyes, turning to move as you speak.

“Then I’ll just bring you a cup and you can-”

“Negative, there is no way I am transferring my coffee into a contaminated cup.” You halt your movement, locking your eyes with Jim before slowly turning around, narrowing your eyes at the infuriating man once more.

“How about this, Dwight.” You take a few steps closer, ducking your head down and lowering your voice. “Empty that cup now, or I’ll do it for you.”

“And how exactly do you propose-” Dwight’s annoying comeback was interrupted as he gasped loudly, standing in surprise. It was warranted, considering you had just poured the entirety of the mug onto his trousers. You tried your best to smother your smile, tilting your head with a fake-innocent tone to your voice.

“Oh! Dwight, I’m so sorry! I’m just so clumsy sometimes.” You turned, walking directly back to the breakroom. You heard the predictable ‘Michael!’ from behind but your eyes were locked on Jim, who looked astonished, his hand cupping his mouth that seemed to be hanging open. You couldn’t hold back your smirk anymore, pushing into the break room and heading directly for the sink. You heard Jim enter behind you, evident by his boisterous laugh once the door closed.

“Holy shit! You actually just did that!” You chuckle, turning the hot water on and reaching for the dish soap.

“Well, he’s just lucky I didn’t do worse. I’m very particular about my cups.”

The door opens again and Pam rushes in, pulling the door closed behind her and dropping her jaw at you. You chuckle nervously, shrugging, as she finally speaks up. “That. Was. Amazing!” She rushed forward, taking hold of your arm and shaking you. “I didn’t know you had it in you!”

“Yeah, neither did I,” You mumble, laughing a little less awkwardly as you glance from Pam to Jim. He was watching you with a softer smile now, and a curious look in his eye. You bring your attention back to your mug, rinsing it out before setting it on the drying rack. You put the kettle back on the burner and grab a dish towel to dry your cup off with.

“Regardless, that was amazing, I have to agree with Beesly here.” Jim’s input, while mild, certainly cemented something solid in your chest. You nod slowly at him, letting your smile grow. “I like this new you,” He adds on, his voice quieting down, and you almost forget Pam is still standing next to you. “You’re a lot more confident. It’s-”

Jim was interrupted by the door opening again, spinning around to see who would be walking in next. It was safe to say none of you three expected to see Dwight walk in, carrying his pants in one hand and a hair dryer in the other. He paused on the threshold, wearing only tighty-whities on his legs, and he glared at you. After a few moments too long- though any amount of time is too long when looking at that- he resumed his walk, pushing himself into the men’s bathroom.

Jim puffed out his cheeks, then blew out his breath slowly, turning to look at you and Pam with wide eyes. Pam stood there shell-shocked, eyes so wide it was a wonder they didn’t pop out of her head. The kettle began to whistle, knocking a bit of sense into you finally to turn and lift it off of the burner.

“I could’ve gone my whole life without seeing that.”

“Holy hells,” You mumble under your breath, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Gently, you placed your hands against the black, stretched fabric across your chest. You actually felt flat. You felt up and down, tapping against your chest a few times before turning sideways, seeing how far your chest stuck out. Sure, this was your first binder, but it seemed to mould to you like a second skin. You were amazed to actually get the size right the first go around.

You couldn’t help the giddy giggle that bubbled up, raising a hand to cover your smile, more in astonishment than to hide it. Warmth filled your chest, and you couldn’t remember a time when you were so consistently happy than when you finally decided to start transitioning. Even just this moment, it could beat any other moment before this year began.

You finally moved to your closet, pulling your dress shirt off of its hanger and throwing it on. Buttoned up, you check yourself out again. Tucking in your shirt, a look at the mirror once more. You grab a tie- actually one that was gifted to you by Jim, ‘celebrating the new you,’ as if he could read your mind- and moved back to the mirror. You flipped the tie easily through the motions, having had time to practice a lot more since that first day. Your mind flashes back to the image of Jim’s hands so close to you, showing you how to do this properly, although you were more enamoured with how large and handsome they looked as they slowly flipped the fabric around.

Shaking yourself of these thoughts, and tightening your knot to complete your look, you take a step back and admire yourself in the mirror one last time before heading out the door. It was a sunny day, but a cool breeze kept the temperature at a nice level. You drove to work with the windows rolled down, then huffed when your hair kept flying into your face. At a red light, you pulled an old hair tie from somewhere in your car, attempting to grab your loose hair and pull it into a bun in the back. It had grown longer since you had last cut it, but even with the majority of your hair in a nice bun a few strands hung down on either side of your face, defeating the purpose.

You run a hand through your hair, pulling the stray strands to the top of your head before resuming your drive. You managed to snag a parking spot close to the door, and you walk into work with your briefcase and a smile. Pam greets you enthusiastically- having grown close since you’ve begun to open up- and your smile widens as you wave at her. Turning the corner, you smirk toward Jim standing behind Dwight’s desk, sliding something into his drawer. He had looked up at Pam’s voice calling a greeting toward you, and he seemed to fumble with whatever was in his hands as his eyes landed on you. You heard him curse under his breath, looking back to his task as you snicker and walk past, heading toward your daily ritual.

You were pouring the hot water into your mug when Jim finally walked in, smirk firmly in place. You raise your eyebrows at him, picking up the string of the teabag and dunking it a few times. “You seemed preoccupied earlier, Halpert. Planning something malicious?”

“Oh, nah, not malicious.” He leaned against the counter nearby you, unconsciously curling his body toward you, “Just a little practical joke. As I’m sure you know, Dwight just loves them.”

“Oh, I’ve heard,” You snicker, letting your teabag rest to turn and face Jim more directly. “Sometimes I wish I could sit in the bullpen just to watch your pranks. Seems a lot more entertaining than listening to Mr Decker complain about a missed delivery once again.”

Jim scrunches his nose in thought, then puffs out, “Phyllis?”

“Stanley,” You correct with a smirk, watching Jim’s face fall in defeat.

“Damn, thought I had that one.”

“And I complain about him often, Jim. How could you forget?”

“Who, Mr Decker or Stanley?”

“Stanley is actually a sweetheart,” You mention, turning to the cupboard to pull down another mug. “He just doesn’t have the tolerance to put up with bullshit.” Jim’s nose scrunched again, and you tried not to find it cute. It was a daunting task, so you distracted yourself instead, pouring from the pot of coffee on the counter into the new mug you brought down.

“But he’s constantly eyeballing me?”

“Jim, you prank Dwight like every other day. Of course the man is wary of you.” You stir in a couple of spoonfuls of sugar, adding a touch of dry creamer to it. You slide the coffee over toward Jim, reaching instead for the teabag in your cup to toss in the trash. Turning back to Jim, you open your mouth to continue when Jim suddenly reaches forward, taking hold of your tie.

“Isn’t this the one I gifted you like a week ago?”

You hesitate, caught off guard by the random question. His thumb glides against the fabric, silky smooth in his grip. You swallow roughly, mouth suddenly dry, and attempt to answer without croaking. “Yeah. Yes, it is.”

“Looks good on you,” Jim mumbles, and neither of you notices the door behind Jim flying open, Kelly rushing through and bumping directly into him. Like a domino effect, he’s knocked into you, and you’re knocked into the table behind you. As you all try to process what happened in such quick succession, one thing sticks out clearly. In an instinct to catch himself, Jim threw his hands out forward- and they were currently placed against your chest, your arms stuck behind you to catch yourself against the table.

Kelly’s apologies were as quick as she was, the door to the annexe already closing. You thought you heard her mumble something about a ‘fashion emergency’ but you weren’t exactly paying attention to that, with your current predicament. Jim finally realized where he was, springing backwards quickly and raising his hands up, fear coursing through his expression.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m-” He hesitates, confusion taking over his features as he glances down at your chest. Ok, now you were feeling self-conscious again, the tight fabric constricting your chest suddenly very noticeable once more. He seems to shake himself of it, raising his eyes quickly as if worried he’d be caught. “I’m sorry, Kelly kinda-”

“I know what happened Halpert,” You interrupt gently, a light laugh to your voice, “I was standing right here when she came barreling in.” It was quiet as you straightened up, turning to grab your tea and take a drink, something to occupy yourself with. Eventually, Jim’s amiable voice spoke up once more.

“And you have to sit in the annexe with her every day? Rough.” You laugh, having not expected him to say that. You didn’t know what you were expecting of him, to ask about your binder? Maybe he didn’t even notice it?

“Right next to her, yep. We share a cubicle wall.” Jim hisses in sympathy, and you laugh once more. “She’s really not that bad anymore, honestly. At least she’s stopped calling me ‘pretty.’” You take a sip from your tea, then pause midway through. Wait- did you really just say that? Your eyes shoot up to Jim, watching his own eyes flicker between your face and your chest, then back again. You slowly lower your mug to the counter, finding it hard to swallow.

“Well,” He mumbles, taking a step closer to look you more directly in the eyes, “She was right that you’re attractive. Though, I’d use a different descriptor.” You were finding it difficult to find your breath in so close proximity, eyes widening as you look up at Jim.

“Like what?”

“Gorgeous,” He hesitates, biting his lip before adding, “Handsome.”

You were smiling at yourself in the mirror. You didn’t feel silly, or childish in doing so. You were smiling because you were happy with your appearance.

This past weekend contained the scheduled barber’s appointment you had made through Jim’s connection. Your hair was finally short. It wasn’t tickling your neck or draping in some sort of feminine way. Going in, you were unsure exactly what style of haircut you would want, but after perusing some magazines, and a suggestion from the barber himself, you ended up with a fantastic cut that showed off the line of your jaw and cheekbones. Where once your hair had curtained your face and hid you from the world- or was pulled back to forget you even had it- now you finally felt free and willing to face the trials ahead of you.

You were giddy going to work for once. Let them look at you, you weren’t hiding yourself any longer. You didn’t need to anymore. You spot Jim leaning against the receptionist’s desk and pushed through the glass doors with a wide grin, just in time to hear the tail-end of Jim’s thought.

“He just keeps getting more and more handsome, Pam, I don’t know what to do.”

“Who does?” You ask, popping up right next to Jim and waving down to Pam. Jim jumped, eyes widening as he turned toward you, then widening further as his eyes scanned the top of your head. You grinned down toward Pam, who wore a mischievous smirk. “Is it Dwight? I bet it’s Dwight.”

“Y/N! How, uh-” Jim stutters, eyes falling away from your new hairstyle, “How much of that-”

“Yes,” Pam interrupts a bit loudly, and you turn to her with your constant grin, “It was absolutely Dwight. Jim thinks Dwight is incredibly handsome and doesn’t know what to do about it.” Right after Pam finishes, a new voice joins in.

“Of course he does,” You jump, turning to watch Dwight walk directly to his desk, not sparing the three of you a glance, “I am the peak male form, everyone should be jealous of me.” Jim glares daggers at Pam, but you laugh along, too giddy to let Dwight ruin your mood. No one bothers to correct Dwight and he begins to unpack his suitcase.

“Well, anyway, a mug of tea is calling my name.”

“Wait, Y/N,” Pam calls out, and you retrace the one step you took away to look back at her. “You’re staying after work for the party, right?” You tilt your head, unaware there was going to be a party, but you shrug.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?” Pam’s grin was blinding in its intensity, and she looks directly at Jim with raised eyebrows. You glance between the two of them, watching them practically communicate with each other just using their eyes. “Am I missing something here?”

“You just never used to stick around for any of the voluntary office shindigs,” Pam answers, shrugging. Jim places a hand on your shoulder with a warm smile.

“We’re just glad you’re opening up.”

“It’s practically inspiring, isn’t it Jim?” You watch the silent communication for another moment, a pang of something eerily similar to jealousy pang through your chest. Nope, you weren’t going to let something that ridiculous ruin your good mood.

“Oh, you hear that?” You place a hand to your ear, turning around to face them while walking backwards toward the kitchen. “It’s my mug calling out to me. Y/N! Save me from this dry and lonely existence! Don’t worry muggy, I’m coming!” You knew you were being silly, but as you hear Jim’s laughter following you, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel embarrassed about it.

The rest of your day, surprisingly, flew by. Jim came by to see you twice more throughout the day, claiming that his usual buddy (Pam) was otherwise occupied with the Party Planning Committee. He complimented your hairstyle, calling you handsome once again. You thanked him for the barber recommendation and you swore you heard him say, ‘I’ll need to thank him next time I see him,’ but that didn’t make any sense. Why would he thank his barber for giving you a haircut?

Before you knew it, you were shutting down your computer and grabbing your briefcase from the floor nearby. Bringing it out into the bullpen, you studied your coworkers. Half were already walking out the door- Stanley was the first to exit the building, you were sure- but there was a decent-sized crowd heading toward the conference room already. You couldn’t spot Jim- until he appeared right next to you.

“Jesus, Halpert!” You huff, shaking your head. “What were you doing, hiding beside the door?”

“Waiting for you,” Jim answers easily, an easy grin claiming his face. You hoped your cheeks weren’t as red as they were warm, turning away from him just in case. “Here, you can set that on my desk.”

He led you over to it, indicating a spot next to his own briefcase, and you couldn’t help the soft smile that crossed your face at the offer. Turning back to Jim, your smile grows when it seems like he’s about to say something to you- until he’s cut off by Pam’s voice in the conference room.

“Jim!” He chuckles, dropping his head in defeat, peering up at you through his eyelashes. Your heart stuttered in your chest at the sight, but he pulled away and went to go assist with whatever he was called over for.

Walking into the conference room, it was certainly decorated, but you still couldn’t tell the purpose of this party. You thought maybe it might be someone’s birthday, but with the cake on the table reading out ‘Happy Quinceanera’ you really couldn’t tell for sure. At least you were assured in the fact that if it really was a Quinceanera, for whatever reason, there’d be a lot more sombreros than there were. (Just knowing Michael would insist, even though you knew better.)

“You know, Y/N,” You turn around, empty plate in hand as you were about to grab a slice of the pink cake. “You’re really not going to attract a mate that way.” You furrow your brows, deciding just to abandon the empty plate to focus on whatever Dwight had going on right now.

“Excuse me?”

“Dressing so masculine. Cutting your hair so short.” He stuck out his fingers as he listed off points, his tone serious, “You’re never going to attract a decent man if you keep trying to look like one.”

“Maybe that was the point,” You mutter under your breath, scanning the room to make sure no one was paying too close attention to your conversation. The room was small though, and while their heads were turned, their ears were definitely perked. Your eyes met Jim and Pam across the room, Jim had just finished hanging whatever decoration Pam had called him over for.

“What, to repel a mate?”

“To look like a man.” You turn, locking eyes with Dwight, who mainly just seemed confused.

“Why would you ever want that? It’s not like you’re a guy.”

“Well, maybe I am! Did you ever think of that?”

You suck in a breath, realizing what you just admitted. Your eyes immediately shoot toward Jim and Pam, hoping beyond hope that they wouldn’t be sneering or disgusted. Instead, they were grinning. They seemed glad, maybe even proud. You quickly look back to Dwight. He was blinking rapidly as if processing this information. Suddenly, in a bout of quick movement, Dwight was leaving the room and plopping himself into his desk chair, turning his computer back on.

“Hey,” Jim’s voice calls gently, and you turn to see him and Pam now next to you instead of across the room. “That was really brave, what you did there. Probably not the way you wanted to come out, granted, but-”

“Did you know?” You didn’t know why you asked, but then again, neither of them had seemed surprised.

“Well,” Jim began, his eyes turning worried.

“We’d suspected,” Pam offered gently, smiling toward you. “Just know that this changes nothing between us, though.” You study Pam’s expression, finding nothing but sincerity. You turn to Jim, meeting his eyes fearfully. Jim’s worried expression softens into something consoling, and he reaches forward to rub your arm.

“You’re still you, Y/N. Although,” He begins a soft smile, ducking his head, “Your new confidence sure is sexy as hell.”

You’ve been out at your work for a month now, and honestly? It was nowhere near as nerve-wracking as you thought it’d be. You didn’t regret it once. Michael was kept on a tight leash with the trans jokes, Oscar came over to congratulate you on coming out and thank you for being the second out queer person in the office, and you found out the reason Dwight had rushed away when you first came out was that he didn’t know that trans people existed and had spent an hour afterwards researching it. If Jim and Pam hadn’t been around, you would’ve sworn that Dwight was the most supportive of you.

However, Jim and Pam were around. They treated you the exact same, joked around with you and invited you in on their pranks. Jim continued his sincere compliments that were starting to sound more and more like flirting, and Pam was growing more playfully aggravated by the day, though refused to explain why. You wondered if you would ever hang out with them outside of work, though they never asked so you never brought it up.

You were so happy now, as well. Not just for your transition, which happened so smoothly and, thankfully, without ridicule. But on top of that, you had gained a confidence that bled into every area of your life- work, friends, even just walking through your local supermarket had you striding with your head held high. Then, gaining Jim and Pam as friends- perhaps even best friends, where at one point they were just coworkers, acquaintances at best? Probably the best part of it all. Although, there was one thing that still had your anxiety racing, and you had no clue how to handle it.

You were hopelessly in love with Jim Halpert.

#the office #jim halpert #x reader #jim halpert x reader #jim halpert x you #trans reader #trans man reader #5 + 1 things #5 + 1 fic #fanfiction #pam beesly #dwight shrute

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drabbles-mc · 1 year

Text

Flashbacks

EZ Reyes x F!Reader

For Day 19 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: choking / "I'm worried about you"

Warnings: 18+, angst, mentions of violence

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: The way I just fell in love with the pain surrounding these two. Idk. I have feelings about it.

EZ Reyes Taglist: @rosieposie0624 @noz4a2 @queenbeered @choochoo284 @thesandbeneathmytoes @mijagif @withmyteeth @kelpies-shed @louisianalady @gemini0410 @buckybarneshairpullingkink @amorestevens @garbinge @justreblogginfics @nessamc @winchestershiresauce @artemiseamoon @littlekittymeow @frattsparty @fanfic-n-tabulous @beardburnsupersoldiers @justazzi @solidly-indulgent @danzer8705 @passionatewrites @jveudlamoula (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

It was impossible to wipe the image of it from your head, the way that EZ looked with his hands wrapped around the man’s neck. It put a strange ache deep into your bones ever since it happened. You couldn’t wrap your head around why it did, either. You knew it was more than capable of that kind of violence. You knew that it wasn’t the first time he had used that type of brute force against someone. You weren’t so naïve to think that he was as deep in with the club, after all of those years spent behind bars, and that he never raised a hand to anyone. You knew better.

But watching it play out right in front of you in real time, to hear it, to see not only the face of a dying man, but also the look in EZ’s eyes as it all happened, was something completely different. That was something that you don’t think you could’ve ever truly prepared yourself for. You’d expected to see anger, rage brought on by his protective nature over you. You wouldn’t have even been surprised if there had been fear in his eyes, an air of frenzy to him because of how quickly everything unfolded, how drastic it all became.

What you hadn’t been expecting was the calmness that was radiating off of him. There was an air of routine to what he was doing that caused your entire body to lock up out of fear. You could hardly see any strain in his expression, not nearly as much discomfort as you’d expected to see.

Now that expression, that night, was all that you could see when you looked at him. Each time he reached out to touch you, hold you, you found yourself freezing up or completely pulling away. The same hands that had never been anything but loving and gentle with you now felt like they were turning your skin into scorched earth every time they landed on you.

EZ wasn’t stupid—you knew that he noticed the shift in you. What you didn’t know, though, was if he fully understood why you were so rattled. You didn’t tell him what you were thinking. How could you, really? There was no way for you to try and explain to him what was going on in your head without making you sound naïve, or worse, ungrateful for the fact that he without a doubt saved your life. So you kept your mouth shut. Whatever his assumptions were about your change in behavior, you would let him have those until you could come up with the right words to say to him.

You’d spent another night, lying awake for hours staring up at the ceiling while EZ slept peacefully on the mattress beside you. Normally he’d keep you pulled close, tucked tightly against his chest. But after the first few nights of you flinching, putting yourself as close to the edge of your half of the mattress as possible, he got the message and gave you space. He figured that once enough time had passed, and the residual panic from that night subsided, things would slowly start to shift back to normal. You wished that you felt the same way.

Unable to fall asleep, and not wanting to toss and turn and risk waking EZ up, you carefully extracted yourself from the bed and started making your way to the living room. You turned the television on but kept the volume low, just wanting the light of it to cut through the darkness more than anything else. Pulling the throw blanket off the back of the couch, you slumped down and tried to make yourself as comfortable as possible.

The change in location didn’t make your sleeping endeavors more successful at all. Instead of staring at the ceiling, you found yourself staring at the TV instead, watching one infomercial after another but not retaining any of it.

When you heard the creaking of the floorboards in the hallway, you sat straight up. You squinted, trying to see through the darkness of the hall. You knew that it was probably EZ, but it felt like you couldn’t ever be sure anymore. And, with the way that things had been going, you felt like even if it was EZ, you still had to prepare yourself a bit.

Then, sure enough, EZ emerged into the blue light cast off by the television. He was rubbing at his eyes as he walked, his steps slow as he brought himself closer to you. Your heart hammered in your chest and you were desperately longing for the days when he had that effect on you but it wasn’t born out of fear.

He stood by the couch, staring down at you with a confused look. Tilting his head slightly, he asked, his voice still heavy with sleep, “You okay?”

You forced a nod, clearing your throat before saying, “Yea. Just…just couldn’t sleep.”

He nodded understandingly despite the fact that he had no real idea what was going on. “Anything I can do?”

You shook your head. “No. Just one of those nights, I think.”

He frowned for a moment before sitting down next to you, leaving a sliver of space between you on the sofa. “Seems like you’ve been having a lot of those nights lately.” He saw the way that you froze, not saying anything in response to the observation, or even looking at him. “It’s okay.”

You felt a knot forming in the back of your throat. “Is it?”

The shake in your voice made his heart feel heavy. Leaning back against the cushions behind him, he draped his arm along the back of the couch. Not quite touching you, but the best gesture of physical comfort that he could offer while still keeping a little distance between you.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked.

Your eyes widened slightly, giving away the fact that you knew exactly what he was talking about. Still, you tried to play dumb. “Talk about what?”

A sad but sympathetic smile quirked the edge of his lips. “It’s okay if it still bothers you.” His tone was so earnest, it almost hurt. “It was a lot. Especially when you’re not…used to it.”

Even though there was no better phrase for him to use than that, something about the prospect of getting used to it made you feel as though you were going to be sick. “It’s not…” you trailed off, not really sure where your sentence was going. “It’s not that.”

He couldn’t hide his confusion. “Then what is it?”

Your face twitched, trying to keep the tears at bay. Taking a deep breath, you finally spit it out. “I’m worried about you.”

He couldn’t stop the quiet chuckle that slipped out—it seemed so backwards given the circumstances they were currently in. “About me?” He shook his head as he gestured vaguely to himself. “I’m good, querida. Promise.”

“Are you?” the crack of emotion in your voice caught you both off-guard.

He scooted a little closer to you on the couch, still mindful of not touching you. “What’re you talking about?”

“Just…I don’t…” suddenly it became impossible to string any of your thoughts together, every word getting jammed at the base of your throat threatening to choke you. “It’s hard to believe that…I just…I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“About what?”

You were surprised that he could even hear your voice as you said, “About the look on your face.”

The statement caused him to lean back. He wasn’t expecting that response. Of all the things that he thought would’ve scared you about that night, he never thought that he might’ve been one of them. He paused, trying to carefully construct his response. He didn’t want to run the risk of pushing you even farther away than he already had.

“You know why—”

“I know,” you said, your voice still quiet but a little more certain now. “I know. It was…it was him or us.”

Part of EZ wanted to say, “Him or YOU.” If keeping you safe meant burning down the rest of the world he’d do it. Disposing of one body was nothing. It was more than worth it. “Then what is it?” He couldn’t pretend that he had any idea of what was going on in your head now.

“I’ve never seen you like that, Ezekiel,” the waver came back to your voice as the mental image of it flashed across the backs of your eyelids again. “You…you weren’t even angry. You were just so cold. I don’t, I don’t know how to explain it.” You dragged your hands down your face, trying to pretend that you weren’t wiping your tears away in the process.

“I don’t feel bad about what I did,” he told you honestly.

“I know,” you said with a nod, “and I don’t, I guess I didn’t expect you to. But I just,” you covered your mouth with your hand for a moment as you tried to keep your sobs deep in your chest where they belonged, “I didn’t expect to see you like that.”

“I can’t afford to be anything else. Not when it comes to that. To keeping you safe.”

“But, but you get it, right?” It was impossible to keep the nervousness out of your voice. “You get why I can’t just…” your trailed off.

He frowned. He understood it in a way even if he didn’t like it. “So, what? What does that mean for us?”

“I don’t know,” you said, finally breaking down with a sob as you buried your face in your hands. Lifting your head enough to look him in the eye, you tried to salvage the mess you’d made for the two of you. “I know why you did it. And I’m, I’m glad you did or we’d be…But I can’t unsee that.”

“I know.”

He knew better than anyone, and for a moment you felt foolish for even saying it. You night not be able to forget this, but EZ wasn’t ever able to forget anything. It crossed your mind that maybe that’s why he was so cold about it.

“I’m sorry,” you said, more tears trickling down the sides of your face.

He reached out to brush them away but he stopped himself short. Placing his hands in his lap, he shook his head. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“It will be,” he reassured you, despite not knowing if he was actually right. He didn’t know if things between you were going to end up okay, if they would ever get back to any semblance of what they’d been before it all. But you’d stayed. You hadn’t left when it would’ve been so easy to do so. That had to count for something. “We’ll figure it out. I’m not,” he shook his head, “I’m not going anywhere.” He paused. “Are you?”

You sniffled, taking a long moment to think about your response before finally giving the tiniest shake of your head. “I don’t think so.”

Neither of you really knew where that left you, besides a few inches away from each other on the couch with no intentions of moving closer. But it had to count for something. It had to be some sort of start.

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