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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Consciousness Of Guilt

Chapter 1

Summary: It’s a year since Ransom was murdered, and you’re settling well into your new life in Boulder. It hasn’t just provided you with a fresh start-it’s brought you a new sense and purpose, an appreciation for the things you took fore grated, and the friendship of a former ADA…

Warnings: Bad Language, allusions to past abuse (Non Con/Dub Con) but nothing explicitly described in this chapter.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

W/C: 5k

Consciousness Of Guilt Masterlist // Main Masterlist

A/N- So, here it is! The sequel to Murder, He Wrote . This is the last time I’ll post this note, however, please be aware that the prequel is a Dark series. Whilst this is not, it will contain flashbacks and themes as we progress, however nothing will be as dark as MHW. Chapters will be clearly labelled with appropriate warnings. If anyone is uncomfortable with the themes of a certain chapter, I will be more than happy to post/provide abridged versions which will not deviate from the storyline.

Sunrise. You used to hate the coming of each day. It meant another monotonous day in your young adult life. A 'depends on the day' type of job at the paper in which you got your start, it meant earning little for the slave work you put into each piece or research. It meant another day you'd woken up in fear, not knowing what was coming next. Then, for a little while, sunrises were okay. They were a soft glow across the room, illuminating hard lines and soft curves, whispering words and lingering kisses. And then, they became fearful again, bringing the unpredictable nature of a life in which you were trapped.

But now, over the last few months, since taking up your new hobby, sunrise had become a beautiful thing. The feeling of peace and comfort washing over you like a warm rain, bringing the redeeming nature of a new day as vibrant watercolours paint the new-born sky. Whether you caught it from the East side of your condo; your master balcony and study or your garden, or even your hikes, you appreciated every, single sunrise as if you were seeing it for the first time ever, each and every day.

For this morning's sunrise, you were perched along Boulder Creek Path, a trail that runs from the foothills to across town, a typical recreational getaway for many locals and tourists. You looked out over the bridge as the creek flowed beneath your feet. You were lost in the serenity of it, the bubbling water lulling your mind into a deep mediation that washed peacefulness through your entire body.

A year ago today, your life changed and you were freed. Free of the nightmare that had plagued you, robbing you of nearly a year of your life. The months that followed weren't so easy, but once things settled and the fires were extinguished, you found peace.

You found you.

Your phone buzzing in your pocket brought you back from your reverie, pressing your thumb onto the screen to unlock it. You opened your messages tab and tapped the most recent incoming text.

A smile flicked on your face as you slipped your phone back in your pocket. It didn’t escape your knowledge how Andy didn’t need to even ask what coffee you wanted. But then again, this wasn’t the first time you’d had breakfast in the small, independent coffee place not far from your home and place of work. You knew when you arrived that a large caramel vanilla latte, with an extra shot would be waiting. But no food, your order varied depending on your mood.

Twenty minutes or so later, you parked your sting-grey Jeep Grand Cherokee SRT 4x4 back in your garage to your condo at the corner of 9th and Pine Street and set off on the short ten minute walk to your designated meeting place, centred near the town square, not far from your office which was a gorgeous old red-brick building on the corner of 16th and Walnut Street.

As you approached, you didn’t spot Andy’s black Audi TT in any of the spaces littered around but it didn’t bother you. Barber was reliable, if he said he was going to be there, he’d be there.

And sure enough, as you walked along the side of the cafe you, spotted him at your usual, preferred table by the large window, overlooking the street. He saw you approaching and smiled, giving a small wave.

The smell of roast coffee beans, baked treats and other delicious aromas hit your senses as you opened the door. You approached the table and Andy stood up to great you, smiling. A light grey tee sat exposed under a partially zipped up light weight blue leathered hoodie whilst dark and crisp denim covered his narrow hips and long legs, his go to well-worn black work boots on his feet. His hair was styled and soft looking, his beard always trimmed and neat. He gave you a strong, yet gentle hug, a juxtaposition he managed effortlessly before he turned and waited for you to sit first before he took up his previous seat, nodding to your waiting drink.

“Thank you.” You beamed at him, taking a quick sip. "Of course." He smiled as he took a drink of his own coffee, straight black, before he leaned back a little. His left arm rested over the back of the booth bench, the platinum of his wedding ring catching the early morning sun which streamed through the window. You momentarily glanced at your own hand, bare of the heavy rings which had been taken in the ‘mugging’. Mind you, you wouldn’t be wearing them even if you still had them. Your story was a lot different to his.

“So, where'd you go this morning?" his soft baritone drifted across the table and you glanced back at him. "Fiddled around down Boulder Creek Path." "You seem to be getting around better now." "Yeah, thank God for GPS. Did I tell you that last week I was looking for some store Amber vaguely told me where about it was and ending up like thirty minutes down the highway towards Denver." He laughed, his whole body smiling, radiating genuine amusement. "You have more faith in GPS than me, when I first moved here I got pulled over for going the wrong way down a one way street because it told me to.” You grinned as he shook his head. "And that annoying voice! I want to wring her damn neck." You gave a chuckle but before you could reply, the middle-aged woman, who owned the café, interrupted you both with her usual familiar greeting and the smile she reserved for Andy. “Hey Patti, how are ya?” He smiled back. “Same old, same old.” She winked back. “What can I get you kids today?” “Y/N?” Andy looked at you and you smiled. “Can I get an almond croissant and a granola pot, please? With the blueberry compote.” “Sure honey, and for you Mr Barber?”

“French toast please, all the trimmings.”

A fizzing filled your ears as you were suddenly back on a clinically clean, modern kitchen, nervously scouring a fridge and cupboards for something to make your captor breakfast with. You swallowed, taking a deep breath, counting backwards from five as you always did to keep the memory from swallowing you.

“Hey,” a gentle touch to your hand jolted you back and you looked at Andy who frowned. “You okay?” "Yeah, no, I mean yes, I'm okay. It just…it dawned me this morning that this was the best thing I could have done for myself. Like there's just a newfound peace that's settled with me, you know?" He just smiled as he squeezed your hand before slipping his away. “Yeah, I do.” No more was said about it, and Andy didn’t press. He never did. In the eight weeks or so that had passed since you’d met him that Friday evening in the bar, the pair of you had struck up a friendship that was based on a mutual understanding. You both carried a heavy burden of a traumatic past on your shoulders, but you had an unspoken rule. He had never mentioned Ransom. And you, in turn, never broached the subject of Laurie or Jacob. You understood you were both moving on with your life, both wanting to heal from the past and you wanted to spend the rest of your life never in fear again. Instead, a simple chatter always flowed between the two of you, and today was no exception. You barely stopped to thank Patti for dropping your order off at the table. Current work was never a topic of conversation, although office gossip featured on occasion, but mostly it was always about happenings around town, him asking about you, your parents and your old job, the two of you talking about your favourite places in Boston. You never missed certain facial and eye cues Andy gave off at the mention of certain things, but when you saw them, that sag in his smile or the far off look his eyes would give, you'd change the subject. You ate in comfortable companionship and after another coffee, Andy asked for the bill and then pulled out his card to pay. "Next one is on me, you paid for the last two and coffee all this week." You gave him a stern look as you headed towards the exit. “Well, if you wanted you could grab us a beer later.” He shrugged, pulling the door handle to open it, allowing you to step out before him. “I gotta nip into the office for a coupla hours but...” "Breakfast AND drinks?" You smiled as he fell into step beside you. The July day was starting to warm a little now, the slight chill of the early morning all but gone. “If I didn't know any better, I'd say you actually like hanging out with me." “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I just find you slightly less irritating than everything and everyone else.” He teased and you laughed. “So... Happy hour?" "Yeah." You nodded “It's a date." Andy confirmed and you quirked your eyebrow, trying not to laugh at the look on his face as he realised what he had said. “A date?” “Well, I don’t mean a date date but...” You felt the heat in your neck a little, so to save your embarrassment and his blushes, you smiled, "it's a date-not-date. Say Oskar’s, 6:30?" "Oskar’s." He confirmed. "I'll save you a tall, cold one." “You’re an angel, you know that?” "I wouldn't go that far. My halo is held up by horns” “Even Prometheus was an angel at some point, Y/N.” He replied as you reached the corner of the street where you would part. Him towards the office, you back home. You rolled your eyes and shook your head. "I'll see you tonight." At that he gave you another quick hug, his hand rubbing your back over the top of your light jacket before you headed your separate ways.

You enjoyed the walk home. It gave you the perfect chance to just mellow out and walk off a bit of your breakfast. You tucked your hands into the pockets for your vest, your white thermal keeping your arms covered. You headed down Pearl Street, watching as the little shops and boutiques began to set up their patios and side walk spaces for their Saturday. You took in the clean fresh mountain air deep into your lungs and allowed a warm smile to cross your lips.

From Pearl to 9th you went, hooking a right up 9th until you walked to the corner of Pine, and onto the porch of the nice and spacious condo you closed escrow on just weeks ago.

That deep feeling of home greeted you as you stepped inside, wiping your boots on your door mat just before kicking them off and setting them by the back door you’d come through. The cream walls invited you in, the oak furniture and fixtures, a feature that reminded you of home, the decor you grew up with, a safe place.

You'd bought the condo outright with the money you'd inherited from Ransom's untimely death and subsequent estate. You knew before you'd even stepped foot into the property initially, that it'd become yours. The week you closed escrow, you and your parents moved you into the three bedroom, three and a half bath condo, never looking back.

The open floor plan and panoramic views had stolen your breath and it was then, the first night your parents had left you alone, too anxious to sleep alone, you had fallen in love with the sunrise, seeing it from your front garden patio, bundled up with tea and a wool blanket. All three rooms in the space had no adjoining walls and their own en-suites. The master bedroom, your room, was massive. An en-suite with walk in shower, soaking tub and Jack and Jill sinks. Two walk in closets that you knew you'd probably never fill completely, an Eastwardly view and balcony. The two spare rooms, were separated, one on the second floor down the hall from yours where it's balcony looked West, as it were above the garage and the third on the top and final floor with its own balcony. That was your office space, a spot for you to work and to breathe in the fresh air.

Everything in that condo was yours, down to the logs you'd put in your fireplace and the silly little amenities you'd given yourself from knickknacks to the colour of your dishes. There was one space however you left untouched. And only your parents had been inside to pack away your unused things as storage space. That room was your basement. You didn't need to go down there, you figured if you needed something from there, you'd go buy it anyway. All that was truly stored down there anyway were things from your childhood your mother insisted on you bringing along.

As if her ears were burning, your phone buzzed from your back pocket, revealing your mother calling.

"Hey, Mom." You answered.

"Hi, honey. I was just calling to see how you were doing. Check in on you." You could hear the worry in her voice and you couldn't help but smile.

"I'm really good, Mom. It’s been good here." "You still hiking every day?" She sounded hopeful now. "Lately it's just been on the weekends. I've been really busy at work, which isn't exactly a bad thing either." You had made your way to your room, looking for some lounge pants to change into while you continued your conversation. "Well, busy is a blessing. Do you have anything planned for today or...." "Uh, well I just had breakfast with a friend from work who I'm also meeting for drinks later." You smirked at the thought. There was a joyful sigh that poured into your ear from the ear piece, "Oh, this friend wouldn’t happen to be the mysterious Andy you’ve name dropped the last few calls would it?" You hesitated, "y..ye...yeah." Then you heard the tell-tale sound of your mother's chuckle. “We’re just friends.” "I'm not saying anything." You could picture her with her hands held up in defence. "You sound happy." “I am. I feel okay, more than okay even. I’m good.” "Alright. Well, don’t waste your day. Enjoy it. Your dad and I will talk soon." “Yeah, listen Mom, why don’t you come over for a few days in a couple of weeks? You’ve not been since the week you came to help me move in. It would be nice to show you round now I’ve got my bearings.” "We would love that. I'll have your father look at booking some time." “Okay just let me know. Tell Daddy I said hi.” "I will, sweetie. Love you, bye.” "I love you too, Mom, bye." The seventeenth of July, a date that you hope one day will come to mean nothing and be like any other day. But for now, it was a sting that reminded you of all that had happened. Not unlike Halloween, a day in which you'll forever hold in a fearful anxious place in your soul. It served as a reminder of the moment your life had taken a very dark turn, a darkness that you were still, in a lot of ways, finding your way through. Ransom. His name still tasted sour on your tongue. But left a sadness over your heart like a sheer curtain. You had truly hoped he wasn't going to revert back to the beast that held you captive. But you were wrong, and post the revelation of the real reason he had taken you, he’d been far more brutal and cruel than he had with you before, something you’d thought was impossible. And he’d broken you for a second time, or so you’d let him think. Desperate to escape his clutches, you’d done the only thing you could- you’d killed him. Whilst you may not have held the knife, you’d arranged it all. And, even though it had been an absolute last resort, you’d be lying if you said there hadn’t been a satisfaction to watching him bleed out and choke on his own blood. The realisation that had clouded his arrogantly handsome features as he came to understand it was your doing would be forever etched into your brain. That said, it made you feel a little bit queasy when you thought about how taking someone’s life could make you feel a sick sense of pleasure. The nightmares had plagued you for months after. The torture which sleep brought you only ceased around the time things were settled within the system between you and his parents. With a deep sigh and the need for distraction, you set about some spot cleaning in between loads of laundry and by early afternoon you had settled in on your couch with a beer and your latest box set binge. Not two episodes in and your phone pinged next to you.

With a smirk, you snapped a photo of your beer bottle in your hand and a few moments later his response came through.

The angel made you laugh, a direct reference to his teasing before. But before you could reply, you got another text with simply saying “fuck it” along with a picture of a tumblr of whiskey on his desk. With a snort you replied

With a smile you tossed your phone down onto the seat beside you, and resumed your watching.

***** Andy was kidding when he playfully said he'd be there by 6:45, fully intending on their agreed upon 6:30. But, he was late. He'd been so involved with his brief that he'd lost track, and for the first time since meeting her, was late for a meet up with Y/N. She was fully understanding as he'd text her apologizing for the time as he'd rushed out of the office and quickly headed for Pearl Street. He'd gotten very lucky with close parking and literally stepped inside Oskar's Taproom promptly at 6:45. He found Y/N sitting at the bar, her hair down, a nicely fitted black tee and skinny denim jeans, her foot tapping against her bar stool in waiting. Next to her was an empty stool and a full, cold looking tall pilsner on the bar, saving his space.

"Hey," he said as he leaned into her, a gentle hand on her back, getting her attention.

Y/N startled a bit but realized it was Andy and grinned, "'bout time! I was going to get started on yours without you." She nodded to the cold beer. “I’m so sorry.” He shook his head, “I just got caught up.” "Well, you haven't stood me up yet, so I trusted you'd show." “And I did tell you 6:45 before. You know, on account of you being a cheeky little shit.” She rolled her eyes at him, "whatever." She smirked. He slid onto the stool next to her and took a long pull of his beer, damned it tasted good. He gave an appreciative sigh and turned to her. “So, do anything much this afternoon?” "I did absolutely nothing, well nothing of importance. Talked to my mom, did laundry, you know nothing exciting." “To be honest, sounds like a pretty good afternoon.” He chuckled. “Sometimes there’s nothing better than laying in front of the TV with no where you have to be.” "Cheers to that," she raised her glass to him. He clinked his with hers and returned the smile she had. The blues band that was set to play happy hour was starting to tune up and it gave Andy an idea. "What do you say we find a spot in the patio, little less noise." “Sounds good.” She nodded. Andy flagged the bartender down for another round to take with them. But before Y/N could pick up her glass, Andy took it for her and gestured with her head for her to go on in front. She looked a little surprised at his act of basic good manners, and not for the first time. He'd often seen her look at him in a similar way when he held doors open for her or helped her with her jacket. It made him wonder what kind of asshole Drysdale had been. But, then again, he got the impression it hadn’t been a particularly happy relationship to start. Not that it was any of his business, nor was he one to talk. The last seven months he’d been married to Laurie had been as strained as they'd ever got. They found a spot at a two top near the corner of the patio at the gate that separated it from the sidewalk. Andy waited for Y/N to sit before he set their glasses on the high top table and took his own seat. "So...much better," he leaned in across the table. "Love this place, but it's not always the best for conversation." “Yeah but it has a good atmosphere.” She smiled. “I like it. Not the type of place that-“ she stopped dead and took a deep breath. “Doesn’t matter.” He half smiled, "you know, I've been meaning to tell you, it's okay to talk to me about anything you want. No pressure, no strings. Just a friendly ear." She smiled. “I know, thanks. And the same goes for you too.” For the first time, an interesting silence came between them. They each sipped their drinks in an almost a mirrored like fashion and chuckled when through. "I think that's the first time we've ever not had something to say." Y/N shrugged. He nodded, and then she took a deep breath. “I was just gonna say its not the type of place Ransom would ever have taken me. He’d have thought it beneath him.” "I think that's the first time you've ever mentioned his name." He pointed out. "Yeah, I try not to. It's uh," he watched her as she struggled to start her story, playing nervously with the earring in her ear. "Complicated." He leaned on the table, his forearms crossed and supporting his weight. He wanted her to know she had his full attention. “Well, from what I know about him, which granted is only what I saw on the news or heard around Boston, he certainly enjoyed the finer things in life.” "That's one way of looking at." She chuckled dryly. "It wasn't an easy marriage, despite how short lived." "Well, I was with Laurie since law school and we still had our ups and downs. I don't think marriage is easy in general." Andy admitted. "I was with Ransom less than nine months before we got married. It, uh, lasted three weeks."

Andy paused, “okay, so granted Laurie and I were a whirlwind what with her falling pregnant so fast but... I’ll give you that one.” “A whirlwind?” She asked and Andy nodded. “Yeah, we hadn’t even been together a year when she got pregnant with Jake. Not gonna lie, I shit myself but...” he sighed, swallowing. “Well, he was worth it.” "I'm sure he was." She nodded. Andy cleared his throat. “He was a good kid, despite what he, well what he was accused of.” “I can’t even begin to imagine how that felt, for any of you.” She said gently. “Fucking shit.” He said bluntly. She blinked and then the pair of them laughed quietly. "I'm sorry, Andy. And I mean that in all sincerity." He sighed and gave a soft little smile. “Thanks. You know, for the most part it’s just happy memories. But then sometimes it’s hard...” he trailed off shaking his head, “but of course you’ll know that.” “Suppose so.” She shrugged. “I doubt our marriage was anything near as loving as yours. I, uh...well, Ransom was mentally abusive, very controlling. Getting married wasn't exactly what I'd wanted but, I felt trapped in a way." She paused as he listened intently. "I guess it's harder to explain than I thought." She bit her lip and then shook her head. “Then the asshole went and got himself killed.” "I hate that you had to witness that." She shrugged and her finger swiped at the condensation on the outside of her half empty beer glass. “It was a year ago today.” “Jesus fucking Christ.” Andy shook his head in shock as he took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry.” “I’m not.” She sighed. “And I know that probably sounds awful but... I don’t mourn him, I can’t. Not after everything. I’m just glad to be away and out of it. Fuck, that makes me sound like a really cold hearted bitch.” She scrunched her nose and chuckled a bit. Andy cocked his head to one side, studying her face which was, despite what she said, laced with sadness and he took a deep breath. There was more to her story than she was telling him, he could see that, but he had his own secrets too. And he found himself realising he didn’t care. Moving away post the accident that claimed Jake and later Laurie’s life had been a way for him to leave all that shit behind. And she was trying to do the same. “Okay, let’s make a deal.” He leaned forward. “No reverse gear. We look forward and not back, at least not at the hard stuff.” It took a moment for her to process it, and Andy watched her expression behind her eyes as he did so. Then she smiled, "deal." Andy smiled as she reached for her beer. He watched her pretty face as she drained her glass, setting it down in the table before she leaned towards him. “Have you eaten? Because I’ve suddenly got a hankering for something greasy and very bad for me.” “Sounds like someone I used to work with.” Andy shot before he could stop himself and Y/N threw her head back in a loud laugh. “Lawyers for you.” “Hey, not all of us are jerks.” He pouted and she shrugged. “Jury’s out.” She winked. At that Andy raised his brows, downed the rest of his pint and then stood up. “Something dirty and greasy that isn’t an attorney coming up, I’ll grab us a menu.” They each ordered a greasy, filthy cheeseburger with all the fixings and two smaller beers a piece to go with it. They moved their conversation away from their pasts and talked music as the band played some songs they were familiar with. Y/N finding the perfect moment to joke with Andy again about his age versus hers, despite it being maybe seven or eight years. Neither seemed to mind. Again, when the bill came, Andy slapped his card down before Y/N even had a chance to grab her wallet, which caused him to laugh loudly at her pout. “You’ll just have to get it next time.” “Oh," she smirked, "so that’s your game? You paid, so I owe you a next time?” He shrugged. “Would that be such a bad thing?” She bit her lip and grinned with a shake of her head. “No, not really.” “Good, I’ll hold you to that. And, as a lawyer I feel obliged to tell you that’s a legally recognised verbal contract.” “Uh, I’m sure there’s a rule that a social agreement made between friends is done so without an intention of being enforceable.” Y/N shot back and Andy felt his mouth curl up on a little surprised smirk. “Therefore no intent, no legal comeback. Your move, Counselor.” He laughed and shook his head. “Nope, I got nothing.” “In that case, I call recess.” She grinned. “Oh faahk off with the legal puns!” Andy snorted and once more she laughed as they stood up, their night at an end. He walked behind Y/N with a gentle hand on her back as she weaved through the tables on the patio, eventually ending up on the sidewalk out front.

"Thanks, for breakfast, dinner, drinks," Y/N shook her head, feigning annoyance. Andy smirked, "thanks for meeting me. You're not walking home are you?" "I can, it's not far." She replied, folding her arms over her chest.

"Absolutely not, I'll take you," he nodded his head in the direction in which his car was. He gave a small wink when she accepted his offer. He held the door open for you as you slid into the passenger seat of his Audi TT. You quickly realized that this was the first time you'd been in his car and the very first time he would see your doorstep. However, the thought of both those things didn't bother you one bit. In fact, you found yourself more comfortable than you'd expected.

All in all the drive was no more than five minutes, and if he hadn’t been going that way already, you’d have felt like a complete fraud, but he assured you it was on his way.

You helped yourself out but Andy waited for you around the front hood and walked you to your doorstep, lit by the lantern porch light your Home Owners Association contract insisted be up. "So, this is me," you sighed. Andy had his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans and he rocked a little on his heels as he waited for you to open your front door. When you'd opened it, he scratched behind his neck and said, "so I'll see you Monday?" "Yeah," you agreed. He turned to go but you called out to him, "Hey, Andy?" He quickly turned back to you, his one foot on your stoop, the other the next step down, "yeah?" In a sudden moment of courage, you stood on your toes and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. His smooth cheek and the slightly rough yet softer than anticipated scratch of those dark whiskers, intermittent speckled with auburn, felt amazing against your lips. And fuck, did he smell amazing. Which you knew already from the tight and friendly hugs he'd seemed to start giving you. The first hit of his aftershave was always the same, dominated by a white-out of bergamot and pepper, a bright flash of sweet, dewy citrus that is both crisp and clean, underpinned by a freshness that was both light and gentle and completely different to the heavy sandalwood based fragrance you’d grown so used to. It was brief, but when you pulled back, you gave a content huff, “Huh.” “What?” He was clearly puzzled. “Your beard. It’s kinda soft.” “What? What the hell did you expect?” He laughed. “I dunno, maybe a toilet brush type bristle.” “You kiss a lot of toilet brushes Y/N?” “Try not to.” She winked. “Thanks again, Andy. I enjoyed today.” He chuckled and shook his head as he watched you turn back to your door and finally stepped inside your home. Before you closed the door, you turned back, noticing he was watching you go in. "Bye."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

**** Chapter 2

#consciousness of guilt #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans characters #reader insert

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titilationexpress · 3 years

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Sweet Dreams are Made of Screams Ch.3

You awoke with a start, gasping as you found yourself back in your bed, heart racing and sweat beading down your forehead, yet you were clearly where you had last been when you fell asleep.

Rising from your mattress, you looked down at yourself, seeing that you were back to your human self. Or...were you your human self in that...dream?

You couldn’t really remember, suddenly feeling quite tense. “God, what WAS that?” you said aloud, rubbing your temple.

You checked your phone and saw yet more requests for Starscream popping into your messages. You flopped back on the bed with a groan. It seemed that you wouldn’t be getting away from him, whether it be your dreams OR wide awake!

Yet what you had experienced…

Throughout the day, you found yourself unable to focus on anything. Whether it be at school/college/work or in your free time, the Decepticon would not leave your brain. That wasn’t really new, the constant requests for him made his presence in your mind a regular, yet this was different. You didn’t know how to explain it, but Starscream seemed to make his presence known. As in, ridiculous as it sounds, like he’s always over your shoulder, watching you.

A fictional character was somehow transcending reality and subtly manipulating you into doing his bidding. Or was it yours, as, despite the feeling of eyes on the back of your head, you have been wanting to write about him for some time.

Yet unlike before, something had changed. True, that dream you had left you rather flustered (not to mention quite wet that morning), but also...inspired? Was that the word? Well, whatever it was, it eventually managed to get you going on churning out more reader insert entries. You went through your requests, going down the list of bots and scenarios when finally, one snags your attention.

Vampire!Starscream X Reader.

Well, that was quite the challenge, wasn’t it?

Sure, you had experimented with that in the past, yet once again, Starscream seemed to haunt you everywhere you went. Just what was it that...that made him so difficult for you? Why couldn’t you just write something?!

It was then though that your mind went back to the dream and your...intimate encounter with your favorite version of the character. His words regarding your doubts, your insecurities regarding your ability to write for him….how all of it was true. And how, to overcome it, you had to cast aside your inhibitions.

You just had to “do”.

It was an hour later or so that you were still at your computer/laptop, trying to figure out where to go from here. You had the scenario in mind, now to build a plot off of it. So far, all you had was that it was in G1 (or at least some version of it at least. Hey, headcanons and AUs were serious business, you had learned), and that you somehow became Starscream’s vampire bride in the end. It was kinda stupid, but hey, G1 was known for equally crazy shit.

The only problem was where to start.

True, you knew what the end result would be, but how to get there was the question. Better yet, how the hell do robots turn into vampires?! Ugh! You couldn’t do this! You just couldn’t! You were doomed for failure! You slapped your hand against your head, trying to keep yourself from getting too frazzled. But how were you going to do this?

It was then that you heard something. Or rather, thought something.

‘Shockwave this, Shockwave that. All I ever hear about is how great Shockwave is!’

You knew that quote! Starscream’s brigade! It grew to be one of your favorites of G1! But what did that have to do with…wait a minute. Shockwave...Shockwave was left on Cybertron but was also somewhat of a scientist. And there had been references to other planets and aliens in the series (hell, Season 3 had barely anything to do with Earth at that point), and there were such things as Petro Rabbits, so why couldn’t Shockwave have a collection of live specimens to study?

And you, the Reader, we’re going to be his assistant.

From there, more and more came to you, you typing like mad as you clicked and clacked the keyboard, everything just pouring out of you at once! You were doing this, you realized. Holy shit, you were doing this! On and on you wrote, getting the outline and first part done. Then came the second, third, and so on.

And when you finally gained the courage to post them (you had not submitted them quite yet, having held back), you saw that the reception was...good.

It was good.

Sure, the first part only had a few likes so far, but it seemed to be ok. Still, you didn’t get your hopes up too high. But it wasn’t long after that you found yourself aboard the abandoned ship again, only this time, there was no one in the cell. You knew well who should’ve been in there.

“S-Starscream?” You stammered, voice echoing off the walls. It was then that you felt a servo trail it’s way up your spine, causing you to nearly leap out of your skin. Turning, you saw the amused, chortling form of your favorite Starscream, clearly pleased with himself in having given you a fright. “Don’t do that to me!” you held your chest, feeling your heart beating.

“Welcome back.” The Seeker greeted. “It looks like we’re in for another eventful night.”

Your eyes widened. “We are?” You remembered last time well. How bizarre the whole situation was...but also how good it felt. How good he felt.

“Yes, you’ve been aching for another night with me, haven’t you?” He whispered in your ear, sending a chill down your back. “Don’t bother denying it. I can see into your thoughts, remember?” His eyes then began to glow red. “And I also know what you’ve written about me recently.”

“Oh, that.” Your cheeks grew red. “Yeah, well...it was my first time writing for you, and...well, I’ve never done anything with vampires before, so…” it was then that you noticed Starscream’s eyes seeming more...red than you remembered. And...and since when did he have fangs?! “The hell?!”

Starscream only chuckled. “Don’t you remember? This was from what you had written but a short time ago.”

Oh, right. “It’s…kinda stupid though, the story I mean,” you shifted nervously. “I mean, it’s not really meant to be taken seriously.”

“But,” Starscream approached you, holding your chin gently. “You DID finally face your fears, right?” You nodded. “But yet, you’re still unsure.” Sighing, you nodded. “Well,” his optics glimmered. “We’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”

You stiffened, knowing where this was going. The environment around you changed to that of the Nemesis’ brig, you in a cell with Starscream. The same position the Reader was in near the end of the story. You knew well what was about to happen, Starscream slowly backing you up against the wall. And yet not once did you tell him to back off. True, your heart was racing, yet it wasn’t entirely out of fear. No, you feared what would come next.

“Relax, my dear.” Starscream assured you. “I’ll be gentle.” He opened his mouth, revealing pronounced canines on his upper set of dentas.

You released a heavy sigh and let it happen. The Seeker bit down on your neck and into your flesh. There was slight pain, yes, yet you could stop this anytime you wanted. You let it continue. The sting from his fangs entering you lasted only a few seconds though, as there was a rushing warmth that overtook you.

“Ah, found your courage, have you?” Starscream questioned. “Well then,” he lowered his hand to your lower regions, lightly stroking it. “Shall we take things one step further?”

Honestly, you didn’t see why not.

That night, you two had another session, the Decepticon exploring and driving you crazy with his methods, you, in turn, responding in kind. Turns out a tongue savoring his spike was one of the things you did that could make him, fittingly enough, scream. And then, you woke up, a kiss bringing out of the dream once again. More requests, and yet...and yet, this time, you felt somewhat more...confident.

You decided to try out another scenario, taking your time with this one, yet not allowing anxiety to have as much of a hold over you. And, to your surprise, this Starscream x Reader fic got good reception too! True, you still wrote for all the other Autobots and Decepticons, yet the Seeker, whatever incarnation he was, proved to be some of your most popular.

Which, in turn, led to you getting more and more visits from him.

It wasn’t each night, yet sometimes, especially when you were either in the midst of writing one, or were struggling to come up with a scenario, he would appear. Luring you into the darkness to join him, allowing yourself to cast away the chains that once held you back.

And thus, you found yourself here again. The same ship, and same voice calling you. It seemed he wished to repeat how you two had met the first time.

“I know, I know...you belo-o-ng to so-omebody ne-e-w,” you heard his voice echoing all around, you recognized the song. It was an older one, one that your mother liked, remembering it from your grandmother’s vinyl collection. What was it called? Patience and Prudence’s…

“But toni-i-ght, you belong, to me…”

Ah, yes. How...oddly fitting. You followed the Seeker’s surprisingly bearable singing, listening and taking note of which direction it was coming from. What would it be tonight, you wondered. A dive into a new situation for the Reader, aka yourself, or something new? Sometimes Screamer himself came up with ideas, of which you would do, if not just to allow him to let you finish. Though you did get your revenge mostly, there were times where you were just wanting some smooth pillow talk. Starscream frankly made you exhausted. In a good way? Honestly, even now, you weren’t sure.

And yet, here you were, about to indulge him yet again.

“My honey I know, I know,” the source of the voice was close. “With the da-a-wn, that yo-o-u, will be go-o-ne,” you saw the cell, yet Starscream wasn’t confined. You couldn’t confine him now, even if you wanted to. “But tonight…” and, if you had to be honest, “You belong,” you didn’t want to. “To me.”

#starscream x reader #starscream #prime #g1 #animated #transformers animated #transformers #smut #first lemon

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amphxtrite · 3 years

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2 • Hideaway.

chapter summary: Cedric finally catches the chance to talk to you, hidden away in the shelves of the library. What starts as an innocent attempt to befriend you ends in your walls crashing down, but Cedric is willing to change and listen.

series summary: alone almost everyday from the moment you were born, thrown to the side by everyone in society because of who your parents were and who you were said to be, a death eater. Your parents were to of the most powerful dark wizards ever known and because of that you were shunned everywhere you went. When the hufflepuff golden boy sees you for the first time and falls, but is he willing to be judged, feared, and hated, and how far will he go, To Be At Her Side.

warnings: swearing, flashback, breakdown, mentions of wanting to be dead.

taglist: @mullthingsoverinthehotwater @hoe4cedricdiggory @queenl04 @persephone-archives @0niko-san @annasdani @joalinbenefits @awritingtree

word count: 2.2k

enjoy <3

__________________________________________

Hideaway.

a place used as a retreat or a hiding place.

The Hogwarts library was a grand room, filled top to bottom with books of all kinds; Fantasy, romance, science fiction, history, anything you could imagine, could be found in the pages of a thick leather bound journal or thin paperback with a cracked spine.

Most students took the library for granted, preferring to spend their time at Hogsmeade or around the lake, but for you, anywhere with too many students was a disaster waiting to happen.

The library was your hide away, a retreat from the prying eyes of the student body. A place you could smile, read and do whatever you pleased without judgement. Madam Pince had practically left this place for you to roam, she was far enough away where you could be at peace from her constant shushing, and because of the lack of students most days, it was usually just you.

The past few months, you’d been slipping into the deep bookshelves to hide yourself, immersing yourself in the text of the wise witches and wizards who had come before you, reading their stories and spells and learning all they knew.

Your safe space became the closed shelves, home smelt like old books and wood, tranquility came in the form of muggle stories and old journals.

While you sat stowed away in a far corner of your hideaway, eyes scanning over the stories of old Greek heroes, Cedric sat in the great hall, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

He had barely seen you since the incident in potions all those months ago, winter had arrived, and he felt strange saying it, but he missed you.

He missed the girl whom he’d never even spoken to.

He missed your eyes filled with strength, holding yourself with pride despite what people believed.

He missed your hair that frames your face so perfectly.

He missed you although he barely knew who you were, and he wanted to see you more than just a quick glance in class before you disappeared through the door.

Cedric wasn’t proud of it, but he began following you after your last class with him, to see where you snuck away to.

The first couple tries resulted in him losing you through the crowd, but he’d managed to catch you slipping into the library on a Saturday morning during breakfast.

His hand hovers over the door knob, mentally debating if he should enter, try his luck at talking to you.

It was Saturday, Hogsmeade weekend. No one was going to be in the library today, he should be alright.

Pushing open the large door, Cedric readjusts his eyes to the dim lighting of the library paired with the bright white light streaming through the windows.

He made sure to be quiet, closing the door and slowly walking through the room, using his lightest steps in hopes not to be noticed.

Pince must’ve been at breakfast because besides the small ruffle of pages being turned in the distance. The library was completely silent.

A small yellow light flickered in the corner of Cedric’s eye, guiding him as you lay unaware, nose stuck in a book.

He follows the sound of paper being turned, and light breathing.

He begins his ascend up a stairway to the second story of the library and through the shelves where he saw the flicker of light.

His heart began to rush as your breathing grew closer. His hands were clenched into fists and his face was flushed. This was it, he was finally going to talk to you.

You sigh in content as you set down the muggle classic ‘To Kill A Mockingbird.’ You lay for a couple moments just staring at the ceiling as you shook your head, maybe you didn’t have it as bad as what others dealt with in the muggle world.

You sit up and pick up the small novel, slipping it back into place on the shelf.

“Harper Lee. I’ll have to read up on her.” You mumble to yourself as you skim the old spines.

Your thoughts are cut short when a shiver runs down your spine and you sense a presence behind you. Swiveling your body, only the sight of rows upon rows of books make themselves present, but you knew better than to believe you were alone.

“Who’s there?” You ask no one in particular.

You’re about to open your mouth again, when a mess of brown hair, pokes out from behind the science fiction shelf.

“H-Hello.” The boy spoke, finally revealing himself from the shelf.

You recognized the boy as the one from your classes. The one you gave the note too.

He doesn’t give up does he?

“If you’re here to make a snide remark, please leave me alone.” You sigh, pulling a random novel from the shelf as you turn and retreat back to your spot.

“I-I would do no such thing.” the boy states, beginning to follow you. “I’m Cedric, Cedric Diggory. We have potions and transfigurations together!”

“I’m aware.” You nod, trying to ignore him.

You almost felt bad for the boy, Cedric. He obviously hadn’t planned this far and his mind was frantically searching for words.

“Look I’m sorry for coming around like this I just-.”

“I don’t need your pity Diggory, now please just leave me be.” You remark, sitting on your blanket laid neatly on the floor.

“No please, y/n right?” Cedric smiles extending his hand.

“I know you know my name Cedric. Everyone at this bloody school does.” You hiss, voice laced with venom, surprising Cedric and causing him to step back.

You don’t mean to be cold, but you were not in the mood to make friends. This was bound to end in disaster, and you didn’t need to add another person to the long list of failed attempts.

“I-I understand, I was just-.”

“Oh that’s rich.” You scoff.

Cedric can see your attempt at being rude, but for some reason, he isn’t hurt by it.

Your eyes are jumping around him, refusing to meet him. Your leg is shaking up and down anxiously. Your hand is massaging the area on your chest your locket should be.

You were nervous.

Cedric takes a deep breath, refocusing himself.

“Look y/n, I just wanted to talk to you, try and become your friend.”

Your eyes flicker down, doubt and fear swim through them as you shuffle away from Cedric, trying to make yourself as small as possible, hoping he’d grow bored and leave.

“W-Where’s that locket you always wear?” He attempts, only causing you to flinch back further and drop your hand from your neck.

“None of your business Diggory.

Cedric wasn’t about to give up, and he took a seat on a chair at a desk not too far from you.

“I-I’m not interested in making friends.” You murmur, cursing yourself for your voice, cursing yourself for being weak.

“There’s no need to be afraid, I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I’m not here to hurt you.”

Your mind is thrown into a distant memory that haunted you, and your head begins to spin.

The horrid day the aurors surrounded your house.

Your parents clutched you close to them as the wizards holding wands to their throats ripped you from their grasp.

“Take the child for a moment.”

Unfamiliar arms encased you before placing you on the carpet, leaving you as you bawled for your parents. You could only see them being disapparated away as your mother's locket appeared in your hand. Your last piece of her and your father.

The large boots of ministry workers and auror’s stood before you, discussing amongst themselves what to do with you.

“There’s no need to be afraid, I’m not here to hurt you.” One remarks, lifting you up, but holding you an arm lengths away.

“There’s no way people will be safe around her.”

“Her parents have probably already brainwashed her.”

“Can someone shut her up?!”

That was the last thing you heard before the sleeping charm was cast on you.

Your vision goes red, your fists clench and without thinking you pull your wand from your pocket and stomp forwards.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me, but you ruined my life! You’ll never know what I fucking went through because of your ignorance. I was a child you asshole, I was three and you fucking took my parents from me and left me to die at that god forsaken orphanage!” You scream, eyes clouding with tears as you press your wand closer to someone’s neck, but it slips your mind, who.

“They may have been evil, but they were all I ever had! You should’ve just killed me there, it would’ve been better than living this life!” You rage, bringing your wand to meet their neck.

Cedric stands with his hands beside his face in surrender, his breathing heavy as he watches your grip on your wand tighten and your tears stream down your face.

“Y/n, I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. P-Please don’t hurt me.”

Cedric’s eyes squeeze shut and after a couple moments of silence the sound of wood cluttering on the floor signals him to open them again.

Your hands fly to your face as your legs fail you, dropping you to the ground as you back yourself into the nearest wall, tucking yourself into a ball.

“I-I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry.” You sob, pulling your hair and using your palms to wipe the tears.

“Y/n!”

“No! Stay away from me! I’ll only make it worse.” You sniffle, trying to escape Cedric’s gaze.

“Please just leave me, I’m a monster Cedric, leave before I do hurt you.” You sob, hiding your face again.

Cedric ignores this and slides to the floor next to you, pulling a handkerchief from his book bag and holding it to you.

“No, y/n it’s not your fault. I made you remember something. Didn’t I?” Cedric sighs, sitting in front of you.

“Does it matter? I could have killed you! I’m just like them.” You shout, turning away from the hufflepuff as he turns with you.

“Y/n, look at me. Please look at me.” Cedric pleas.

“You’re afraid of me, admit it.”

“Y/n, I-”

“Admit it Cedric.” You cry, pushing yourself farther away.

“It's not your fault I made you cry y/n. I’m sorry.” Cedric apologizes, gently pulling your hands away from your tear stained cheeks.

“D-don’t touch me. I could have hurt you Cedric. I can’t forgive myself for that.” You whimper, turning your head to avoid his kind grey eyes.

“I’m fine y/n, look at me. You didn’t hurt me, just scared me is all.” Cedric smiles, attempting to reassure you.

“What have I done?”

Cedric’s smile drops at your comment.

“Y/n.” Cedric lifts his hand to wipe the tears from your face.

“No, please don’t.”

Cedric sighs and drops his hand, opting to take your hand into his instead.

“You could never hurt me y/n, please don’t do this to yourself.”

“Oh it’s too late for that Diggory. I’ve been doing this my whole life.” You smile incredulously.

“I’ll always be the daughter of the l/n’s. I’ll never be able to change that. And you saw what I did. I’m just like them.”

Cedric opens his mouth to deny your claim, but you cut him off.

“You know what's funny too? I still miss them, I still wish they’d come to hold me, but I guess that’s just the childhood loneliness talking.”

“Y/n.”

“How could they bring a child into this world after everything they did and expect it to be okay? How could they leave me here?” You whimper as a fresh wave of sadness hits you.

“I’ve been alone everyday of my life Cedric, treated like an animal, a threat, a monster.”

You take a deep breath and allow the tears to flow freely.

“I feel like I’m just payment of a debt my parents owe, l-like I’m nothing.”

Cedric listens intently, slowly stroking the back of your hand and offering the handkerchief to you again.

You shake your head.

“I-I’d like you to go now.” You mumble, retracting your hand from Cedric’s warm grasp.

“Please don’t push me away y/n. If you don’t want my pity I understand, but I really do want to be your friend.” Cedric smiles gently and extends his hand out to you.

Your eyes flash in fear and doubt again, but you accept his outstretched hand.

“You understand how hard it’s gonna be for me to trust you?” You state.

Cedric nods his head.

“You’re not going to be afraid to be seen with me in public?” You push, remembering the first day he saw you.

Cedric freezes for a moment, knowing what you’re referring to, his head fights with his heart, but he knows his answer. He pushes his own fear aside and smiles.

“Why would I? You’re my friend now right?” He chuckles, earning himself a small grin from you.

“You have a beautiful smile you know.”

Your eyes lift from their spot on the floor into Cedric’s bright grey ones.

“T-Thank you.”

Cedric nods, sitting in peaceful silence beside you as you slowly catch your breath.

“Any chance you’d like to meet here tomorrow?” Cedric suggests, scratching the back of his neck.

“I-I’d like that.” You smile, sniffling into your sleeve.

#cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #harry potter imagine #cedric diggory imagine #harry potter #cedric diggory fluff #cedric x y/n #cedricsbrowncurls #angst

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gaawachan · 3 years

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https://twitter.com/tendertiefling/status/1416442250507214849

Had a good rant dump w tendertiefling, thought I’d post it here so I could find it again later.

So much of cr lore is just colonialism.

A lot of colonialism that is never unpacked or reflected on.

To the CR cast, setting depth seems to equate to good cops bad cops and State-enabled abuse stopping at the one directly committing it.

I think the thing that's most annoying to me is that a lot of the unchallenged racism in CR is rooted in D&D history, but the colonialism? The colonialism was ALL Matt, and particularly with respect to Xhorhas it seems like he used it as a clumsy attempt to "fix" the D&D racism (wtf), and while the situation is certainly more interesting than standard D&D lore, the problem is that the cast completely failed to engage with the subject matter.

Oh, goblins are treated like beasts in the empire and that coupled with magical forces causes them to conform to expectations but they're just normal people in other nations? So did anyone ever bother to challenge Veth's racism? No. Oh, the Empire is literally a totalitarian state- in-lore Blumenthal is a medieval surveillance dystopia! But let's just take out Trent, not dissolve his position, and become a teacher, and... "serve the empire" by flailing impotently against the corruption.

And Xhorhas? Xhorhas is the poster child of the belief that colonialism can be done non-violently. Destroying the cultures of the local peoples by holding a mcguffin over their heads and saying "we'll purge the curse of Bane from you if you convert and join our dynasty" It's like when Christian converters go to a place and say "We'll give you food if you read the Bible."

And ALL of it would have been okay... if the cast had bothered to engage with any of it, but they didn't!

>>> exactly, all of this. the problem is not that that those things are there in the universe (though i do have my problems with the way matt did the goblin lore. "they're not an inherently evil race, they just have a curse that makes them so" is not exactly the non-racist lore upgrade that mm thinks it is), because i feel like there's a message to be taken from those themes in fiction, it's why they're included in the first place. to raise questions. but it falls flat when you add them to the story and do nothing with it, especially when these incredibly complex issues are simplified for the sake of brevity. beyond that, fantasy peppered with colonialism and fantasy racism that don't condemn and/or unpack them does make me think that creators simply cannot imagine a world where those things are not part of the human experience, especially white and western creators. and how unimaginative of us, really.

>>>>

One of the most interesting thing about Mercer's setting is the existence of the dranassar, something that was never mentioned in either campaign and was barely mentioned in EGtW (they didn't even get a playable race entry). Whyyyyyyy? One of the most interesting things about Exandria that has yet to be explored are the intersectional layers of the setting, and the dranassar are are great way to do that, but they feel almost like an afterthought. It's so frustrating to see the cast dodge delving hardcore into the setting because "it's boring." No. You know what's boring? Watching cowards pussyfoot around actually fixing systemic problems in the setting and failing to properly resolve many of the most important conflicts in the story. It's galling to viewers who have been victims of abuse, racism, and colonialism.

I don't understand how people can be so subsumed in neoliberal simpery (for lack of a better term) that they can't be bothered to actually address terrible systemic injustices... in a fictional setting. You have the power to bend reality to your will, and you're not going to use it to actually fix things? That's not "character growth." That's avoiding responsibility. If you have the power to fix things, USE IT. I think this, more than any other reason, is why I hated how Caleb's story ended. It didn't make ANY sense to me.

I have said (and I believe) that it is NOT Caleb's responsibility as a victim to mop up the mess of his abusers and the government that enabled his abuse... but he WANTS to! and then he gets an ending like that?! What kind of message does that send? It's nothing short of gross. It ends up being unsatisfying both for people who truly wanted peace for Caleb AND for people who wanted the Empire to change, and people can point at the pandemic all they want to deflect blame from the cast, but... how do I put this?

This is going to sound terrible but I think that this is both Matt and Liam's fault. I do not think that Matt sufficiently displayed to the cast just how vile the Dwendalian State is (he tied Trent to too much of its evil). And then there is Astrid. *sigh* The first Astrid scene in Rexxentrum was the worst thing to happen to Caleb's character. He gently challenges her, but if you pay attention to Caleb from that point on? it's like he semi-adopts her attitude. Like LIAM agrees with her. I find it incredibly disturbing. Like Caleb thinks all the oppression and all the abuse the the people of the Empire endure is worth it... as long as it's not coming down directly on the heads of children anymore. It's an echo of the conditioning Caleb went through that just a single scene with Astrid could affect him like that, and I find it so, so gross.

It's one of multiple reasons why Caleb's ending doesn't feel like growth. It feels like surrender. It feels like despair.

#critical role #critrole #critical role spoilers #critrole spoilers #caleb widogast #astrid beck #colonialism #fantasy racism #just argh #no i'm not over it #i'm very sad

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iam-kenough · 4 years

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Will you ever notice me? Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Summary: During they wandering in deep snowstorm, man from van der Linde gang found odd looking girl and Dutch decides to take her to camp to see if she can be any use, leading life of outlaw with them. Quickly, new girl develops feelings towards Arthur, but he sees her just as a kid...and she won't take that! It's an original character story that starts in the place where Arthur, Dutch and Micah were supposed to first meet with Sadie. Instead she's already with them. Author’s notes: Hi, I’m new to all that stuff but I tried to write a story and keep this romance slow burning. Also, if the grammar is weird sometimes it’s because english is my second language. ^^ Hope you gonna enjoy it and get back and be ready for drama.

Words count: 2790 Chapter 1 Iris heard gunshots sounds coming from the outside and she curled even more, hidden behind big wooden table with rock in her hand. She did not have any plan, she just imagined that if anyone will come here, she will tear them apart. Her knuckles became white as she grasped cold, uneaven ans sharp surface of a rock. Local gang, O'Driscolls have taken everything from her. They murdered her only brother, the only provider of their household and then this bizzare blizzard happened. Gang searched home for food and all she had left in the end was pack of oatcakes. At first she tried to hunt something using a gun or a bow but she didn't posses enough amo for more than one attempt. So she was sitting there, for almost a week without food and water she needed she drank by eating snow. The O'Driscolls killed her brother and would probably kill her but she was small enough to hide in one of kitchen cabinets. Iris was listening in terror as one of Colm's man slaughter her older brother, Olgierd and she couldn't do anything at this moment - all she possessed then was her night gown, wet from sweat she produced in this stressful moment, sticking to her body. All she could do was to not get killed. She wasn't some kid but her small, petite almost elvish frame and big eyes in bright, toxic green color made her look like one. Or at least younger than she really was. Door to her cabin opened and she saw pair of high boots but owner of boots didn't saw her. Good. It was dark and howling of the wind masked sound of her breathing. Iris waited till he turned around to search thru cabinet. She jumped, he screamed and fall on the floor unconscious. - Micah?! - Dutch furrowed his brows - Arthur, come on, we need to check on him. - Sure - outlaw murmured. If it was for him, he wouldn't check if Micah Bell is safe. He would even make sure that whatever put Micah in danger would kill him. Iris grabbed Micah's guns. She wasn't some Missy who couldn't hold weapon properly. Olgier tought her how to shoot. If this weather wasn't so wild and the amount of amo so short she would be prospering much better now. - Miss? Hey! - Dutch tried to use his charming tone and put his hand in the air. So did Arthur, his emerald eyes piercing thru silhouette in front of them. It was a girl, pale and freckeled, with long black hair that was tangled, her green eyes looking in their direction with fear. Arthur saw one more thing in those odd eyes - fury. - Take him and go away, please! - Iris tightened her grip around guns - I have no interest in harming you - her voice was soothing and sad and she tried to ignore the fact it sounded ridiculous. She reminded Arthur of some kind of magic dryad. - You look like you couldn't harm anyone, miss - Dutch grinned and without any waring he catched her in his arms. Iris dropped one of the guns, the other one was fired in the wooden floor. - GO AWAY! - she screamed at the top of her lungs - LEAVE ME BE! I HAVE NOTHING! - Jesus, girl - Arthur chuckled while he was checking on Micah. Idiot was knocked out but throwing him right in the snow will wake him up - Life wasn't best for you so far, wasn't it? - I have nothing - she sobbed, dangling in Dutch's arms like she was toy made from rags - I have only pack of oatcakes...You can have them if you want...but it's already opened - tone of her voice changed. Iris realised that those man will take these oatcakes and will probably rape and kill her. It will be at least quicker death than starvation. Dutch put her on the floor and with quick, swift move he took away another of Micah's guns. Iris eyes was wandering from Dutch to Arthur to Micah on the floor. -I'm sorry for your friend - she murmured and blushed, looking directly at her dirty feet and bruised knees - I wanted to tell him I'm here but he didn't notice me at first and started lurking. I thought that he gonna shoot me if I would make any sound. - You got him right, haven't you - Arthur chuckled and casually grabbed one of oatcakes. Iris moaned in disappointment, she offered them those cookies just because it was right thing to do. They looked like bounty hunters or something worse, but they didn't seem so wild and dirty as O'Driscolls. They didn't kill her so far too. - You seem like you could use warmer clothes and a plate of hot soup, Miss... - Dutch said, waiting for her name. - I'm Iris, sir. My brother Olgierd was murdered by O'Driscolls few days ago and I have no ammunition nor arrows to hunt. If you could just give me that much I won't bother you - she looked eagerly towards Micah's guns that Dutch was holding. - I'm sorry, you've been offered help and food and you turn it down? Jesus, woman - Arthur rolled his eyes and lit a cigarette. It was second time he spoke this way towards her. Iris examined his apparition. He was big, seemed even bigger because of winter clothes. His face was scarred but handsome as hell and he had the deepest voice she ever heard. But her face didn't show any admiration, she wasn't some stupid Juliet waiting for Romeo to save her. Then she looked at other man. Dutch seemed like some sort of uncle to her, his eyes was warm and he was smiling despite he was even bigger and even more intimidating than Arthur. Then she looked at the guy on the floor and sighed. - I wanna go with you. Even if you gonna murder me in few minutes, that's still better than starving and freezing to death - her sarcasm was sharp even though everyone in room saw emptiness and fear hidden deep in green eyes. She was put on a horse by outlaw's strong hands. He even gave her his coat, navy blue one with nice, tickling fur inside. Her feet still was freezing but she was greatful. She curled her arms around man's body to get even more warmer during trip. He didn't say nothing but he was nicely surprised with her touch, 'cause no woman who just met him would throw her all over him like she just did. Figuratively. - And what's your name? - she asked innocently, making his ear warm with her breath. -Arthur Morgan, miss - he chuckled and clicked his tongue at his horse. FEW DAYS LATER It's been some time since Iris've been rescued. She seemed genuinely happy and she smilled a lot towards others. She proved she can cook better than Mr Pearson and that she could hunt and use guns properly. At first she felt like outsider but Mary-Beth lacked friendship of someone similar to her so badly she basically adopted Iris. She quickly discovered that new girl can read and that they could talk about books and fantasize about fictional romances. That was Iris's face she was showing towards woman in the camp. But she was reserved when it was coming to Micah. He was still throwing daggers with his eyes. - Look, I'm sorry I've hurt you, okay? I won't say it again- Iris said with iritated tone of voice. She has hidden away from everybody and tried to enjoy plate of stew when Micah came, sat in front of her and also was eating but looking right into Iris's face to intimidate her. He was looking like that at her for days, touching bandage wrapped around his head. - I don't accept this apology. I'm gonna stare at you and follow you 'till you gonna lose your appetite and you gonna feel stalked and uncomfortable - and it's gonna be me who's gonna stalk you until you gonna leave the camp. Iris rolled her eyes and breathed havily. - I don't even know why Dutch did bring you - he said with venom on his tongue and then looked at Arthur who joined both of you. - Is he bothering you again, Miss? - he sat next to her. Arthur was eating rather loudly but girl didn't mind. It was slow, weird feeling in her stomach that made her accepting Arthur's weirdness right away. - I'm okay. I guess we gonna have this hate relationship for a long time - she was smiling sarcastically and looking into her plate. - I'm gonna be your nightmare, Iris. - If you fancy me, you should ask me out properly - she showed him her tongue and left both man. Micah was still furious and was following her with his eyes. Arthur chuckled. - She's something, isn't she. If she wasn't, Dutch wouldn't keep her. We already have too much mouths to feed. - Listen, cowpoke, it's not just about taking her with us. You both took her with us after she knocked me out with a fuckin' rock. She's mental. Arthur didn't say nothing. It wasn't his fight and he didn't like taking to Micah. He knew that as long Iris is part of a family because of Dutch's saying so, she was safe even when Micah threated her like this. She was good kid, too, already helping everyone around. He also liked her cooking for the camp, it was nice change comparing to Pearson's skills. - Iris, Iris! - Abigail ran towards new girl. Her eyes was red and she said something to Iris that Arthur couldn't hear. So he got up and come to listen. - He...he's been missing for two days. Everyone here ignores me and says "it's John" but he has me and he has Jack, he needs to be back! - Shhh... - Iris cuddled Abigail like a bear even though she was smaller than her - I will go and search for him, okay? Brother thought me how to track. Arthur's brows furrowed. - You ain't going nowhere, kid. Not alone. - Arthur, go with her then, I know you two will find him! Please, please find him! Outlaw nodded his head without saying anything. He knew that Abigail won't leave him untill he'll find that idiot husban of hers, Marston. There wasn't any words that would calm Abigail when John was missing anyway. Iris was following Arthur, both on their horses. She noticed so far that he didn't talk much and he was rather quiet and shy men, writing or sketching in his journal while he wasn't running errands for Dutch. She was a little bit behind him, enough to examine him without being noticed or considered nosy. He was big and tall and had nice, sun-kissed face. He must be from different parts of country then, she told herself. His beard was freshly trimmed and Iris saw few scars on his face, noticing especially one of them, on Arthur's chin while he was looking around for any tracks. - We gonna go on foot from now, horses won't do here. John's close I think- he wasn't looking at her when he's talking. He seemed occupied with everything around him, but Iris. She didn't know he was just shy, because if it come to woman Arthur was always sure they are laughing at him. Girl just thought she's not much of company. But that was kind of good. This way Iris could admire him for a little longer, he wouldn't notice it. That wasn't like she hadn't love interests before or that she was a hopeless romantic either. But that weird feeling in her stomach was saying "you fancy him, you do". But he won't know it anyway, it's Arthur she was thinking about, the most a-romantic person in the camp. She looked at him even when they were dragging John towards horses. Not constantly, but she peeked every few seconds. His brows were furrowed and he looked rather angry. Well, he was really angry when in no time he had to shoot few wolves. He asked Iris if she's fine with warmth in his voice, ignoring John and his moans of pain completely. When those two returned to camp, Abigail started yelling at John almost immediately she saw him. They were cute, Iris thought. FEW DAYS AFTER Dutch finally decided they gonna have camp in different, warmer place. Snow begin to thawn and the whole bunch of changes coming made everybody excited. They packed everything they had and jumped on their wagon. Iris noticed that Arthur is sitting alone in the last of them and smiled under her breath. There wasn't place next to other girls anyway.-Can I sit here, Mr Morgan? - she asked shyly looking into his eyes. It made her blush a little bit and she put hair behind her ear. She was the only girl in camp having loose hair and it complemented her little face because of deep, black color of them. - Sure, kid - he murmured. Wasn't looking at her either, he refused to notice her rosy cheeks. In fact, when Iris heard being called "kid" something heavy dropped in her stomach. He sees me like someone immature, she murmured to herself. Girl took a place next to him anyway and the ride begin.Arthur wasn't much of a talker and she started worrying he simply doesn't like her. It was almost a month since she joined the gang and Arthur always seemed cold or not interested when he was sharing tasks with her. So she needed to ask but not too quickly so it won't be creepy. - Are you hungry, Mr Morgan? - she chirped, smiling at him. He looked at her surprised. - And what do you have, kid? Ugh. And ouch. - I have beef jerky I made few days ago with Mr Pearson. Everyone already ate them but I have plenty left. Do you want some? He almost blushed. This girl was so kind to him since her first day and Arthur couldn't figure out why. Normally woman treated him like he was air or creep. But she was no woman, she was young girl, Arthur thought, she will learn someday how to pity man like him. - If you want to share it with me - he smirked. - Why not? You are so nice - Iris saw his hands were occupied. She blinked and came with an idea. It will be even more better than just sharing. Her slender fingers slowly put a piece of dried beef to his mouth and he looked at her surprised. Her cheeks flushed and she brushed his lower lip by accident. With any other man it would be clear, she was sweet on him, but he just chuckled and started looking at road again. Was something wrong with her? It has to be my face that's wrong. No way he didn't notice that! If only I could be a little bit seductive - she breathed out with visible irritation. - Y'kay there, kid? - Yeah. Just thinking. - Oh, I get that. Dutch gave us plenty reasons to think, eh? You sure you want to rob that train with us? I know he told you to, but look at you! She did, actually. Her eyes looked at her slender body and stopped on her cleavage. Hm, that might be one of the problems, I'm flat as hell. She was obviously still thinking about what could put Arthur away. He wasn't. - And what do you mean by that, Mr Morgan? He furrowed. Looked like he's searching for right words. - You know, you look so fragile a-and pale. Sure you don't want to stay in camp and cook or read a book with other girls? - he seemed awkward, like he didn't feel good when commenting on Iris. - I will make you sure I am made for those things - she chuckled but it didn't sound iritated, just sweet as always - I am no kid, Mr Morgan, just woman in her twenties. Tilly is younger than me. - But she's different case. Just sayin'. I don't wanna bother you - Arthur's voice was kind and shy as always. It has to be breasts then. Or maybe... maybe he doesn't like short girls? Maybe I should do something with my hair, like all mature woman does? Or is it the fact I didn't wear a dress yet? God, tell me how to make him notice me - she was thinking.

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x oc #romance #fluff #angst #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader

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esonetwork · 3 years

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Who is Captain Future?

New Post has been published on https://esonetwork.com/who-is-captain-future/

Who is Captain Future?

The Big Bang Theory

This month (for me, anyways) has been all about Captain Future. I have been living, breathing, eating and sleeping Edmond Hamilton’s pulp era science fiction hero.

But who is Captain Future? Popular in his hey day, the 1940’s, the final decade of the pulp magazines, today he is an obscure character, encountered by the younger generation either through an almost equally as obscure Japanese Anime series or through the medium of the sit-com The Big Bang Theory as a somewhat prominent poster on display in Leonard and Sheldon’s apartment.

None of which answers the question: Who is Captain Future?

For that answer I turn to the Hugo award winning science fiction writer Allen M. Steele.

Cover art by Earle K. Bergey

“Captain Future is a creation of Edmond Hamilton,” says Steele. “The legend is that in 1939 at the World Science Fiction Convention the publisher of Startling Stories, Mort Wesinger, went to the convention in New York city and was so impressed by the turnout and the enthusiasm of the fans that, on the spot, he announced that they were going to create a new magazine called Captain Future.”

The actual story is a little more complicated than that, Allen explains. “By the time the World Science Fiction convention rolled around Better Publications had already decided that they wanted to publish a ‘hero’ pulp to compete with Doc Savage and The Shadow and The Avenger and other characters who were very popular at that time.”

Weisinger had come up with a character he called Mister Future who was the world’s smartest man and had this huge head. He lived on top of a skyscraper and he had an alien being named Otho who lived in his ring. He took his idea to science fiction writer Edmond Hamilton.

“Hamilton said: No this isn’t going to do, so he borrowed a little bit of Doc Savage and a little bit of Batman and various other creations that were out there and he came up with something entirely new. That was Captain Future.” Steele explains.

Cover art by Tommy Pocket

“The first issue appeared in late 1939. It was a quarterly magazine and Hamilton wrote all but three adventures. It lasted until the mid-1940’s and, like so many other pulps, was killed off by the wartime paper crunch. Some more adventures were published in Startling Stories for a couple of issues after that. Then he went away for a while. The series was briefly revived in 1950 as a series of short novellas, again, in Startling Stories.”

The character went away again in 1951. “They said: It’s going to go on a short hiatus,” Steele explains. “And that hiatus ended up lasting until I revived the character a few years ago. Basically Captain Future is a spacegoing version of Doc Savage. Doc Savage was an early predecessor to James Bond and a lot of other characters. He’s a troubleshooter. He’s a hero. Hamilton’s version of the character had him being a super scientist.

“He’s an adventurer, and he has this weird cast of characters, the Futuremen. They go about the solar system righting wrongs, protecting the common man and fighting the good fight. This is something that attracted me a great deal when I read those adventures when I was a kid.”

Cover art by M. D. Jackson

So much so, that Steele took over the mantle from Edmond Hamilton and began writing new adventures featuring the pulp hero. “One of the first Captain Future novels I read was Outlaws of the Moon. My first Captain Future, Avengers of the Moon, was very much an homage to that particular title.”

Avengers of the Moon was published by Tor Books in 2017. For Steele it was a dream come true and one he wanted to continue. Unfortunately the editor who signed off on the project died. His replacement was not as interested in continuing with the series.

Fortunately Steve Davidson and his Experimenter Publishing Company, picked up the idea. Steve, the publisher behind the revival of Amazing Stories Magazine, has been releasing a series of novels under his Amazing Selects imprint, and Allen Steele’s Captain Future novels are among those releases.

Illustration by H. W. Wessolowski

The books are fully illustrated, much like the Captain Future novels from the original pulp run. This is where I come in.

The second Captain Future novel began with a longer story called Captain Future in Love. It was serialized over two issues and I was fortunate enough to be tasked with producing the cover art for the second issue.

The story was re-printed by Amazing Selects, followed by the next two instalments of an overarching story. The Guns of Pluto continued the story as does the sequel, 1500 Light Years from Home. Both books feature black and white illustrations.

Illustration by M. D. Jackson

This, for me, has been an incredible opportunity to pick up where pulp artists Earle K. Bergey who painted the covers, and Hans Waldemar Wessolowski, credited as H. W. Wessolowski (also sometimes simply as as “Wesso”) who drew the interior illustrations. As a life long fan of the pulp magazines, this is obviously a dream assignment.

I have completed the illustrations for 1500 Light Years from Home and the book is scheduled to be released sometime in the next month. I am hoping to be involved in the fourth and concluding instalment which will be released either later this year or early 2022.

But there was to be an unexpected bonus this month. I had got wind that a magazine, The Pulp Fan, was on the lookout for artists to provide portraits of pulp characters. I contacted the publisher, Jim Main and asked if there was anything that I could do. He suggested that I could paint a portrait of Captain Future.

This was the icing on an already delicious cake. The Allen Steele Captain Future books have been “updated”. The science has been brought into line with what we know now about the solar system. Steele didn’t want to have the setting be the “quaint” one that Edmond Hamilton had created. Just as his stories reflected the science as it was understood at the time, so does Allen Steele’s Captain Future. So that the illustrations will not look dated or out of place in the 21st century, I adapted a similar esthetic.

This, then, for Pulp Fan was a chance to present Captain Future as he was back in the 1940’s, anachronisms and all. I am working on it was we speak and, I have to tell you, I am having a heck of a lot of fun with it.

The Pulp Fan issue #3 will be available soon from Main Enterprises.

Allen Steele’s Captain Future: 1500 Light Years from Home will be available from Amazing Selects. You can find that and his other Captain Future Books here.

#Allen M. Steele #Captain Future #Earle K. Bergey #Edmond Hamilton #H. W. Wessolowsky #pulp heroes #Startling Stories #Wesso

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #320

we on a spree today!

Would you rather be twice as smart or twice as happy? Give me the happiness, please. What happened the last time you cried? I was having a PTSD episode. What happened the time in your life when you were the most nervous to do something? I think the most nervous I've ever been was in elementary school when I won the D.A.R.E. essay contest and had to read my paper in front of the whole 4th and 5th grade in the gym. There may be something else, though, there's just a LOT of instances where I've been an anxious mess. What was the greatest television show of all time? Meerkat Manor, man. I canNOT wait for it to resume, I believe this summer. What one thing would you be most disappointed if you never got to experience it? Maybe petting a meerkat, particularly a descendant of a Meerkat Manor character, Flower Whiskers in specific. I would cry, and that is a promise. I am just... so thankful for those little creatures. Because of them, I've met so many irreplacable friends and developed a hobby that was a way to dump my creativity into since I was what, 10 years old? What celebrity would you trade lives with? BITCH let me be Amy Nelson (Mark's gf) for OBVIOUS REASONS. Haha on a serious note though she is an INCREDIBLE person that I'm so glad Mark found. :'''') What story do your friends still give you crap about? Nothing, really. What is your weirdest dealbreaker? I'unno... define a "weird" dealbreaker. I find mine to be pretty reasonable. What’s the first thing you’d do if you were the opposite sex for one day? Well, look at myself in a mirror? See how I look. What is the weirdest quirk your family has? We have this thing where we say "I love you mostest period" at random to imply we love the other person more than they could love us, indisputably. How old is the last person you kissed on the cheek or lips? On the cheek, it was either my niece or nephew, who are 4 and 6. The person I last kissed on the lips is 22. Do you own a pair of skinny jeans? Not anymore, no. I don't wear jeans. Do you think you could live with your best friend? I would fuckin LOVE to. Do you have someone who you can be your complete self around? I'm most comfortable with myself around Sara. What were you doing when you found out Michael Jackson was dead? I was swimming in the pool while Dad was grilling lunch. The last person you kissed, was it a drunken or sober? Sober. Have you ever introduced yourself with a name other than your own? Online, I've introduced myself with my account name, but generally, I say I'm Brittany. Are any of your siblings married? I don't know about the half-sister I don't know, but two are married, and one is engaged. Do you use an umbrella when it rains? Not usually, no. When was the last time you had a lot of fun? A lot of fun? That's one damn good question. Probably not since I last hung out with Sara. The last time you cried, who was there to comfort you? I was alone. What was your most recent reason for smiling / laughing? I chuckled at something in a John Wolfe video. Are you attracted to the last person you talked to? Um, that would be my mother. So no. Do you like your middle name, or does it embarrass you? It's pretty, but I hate having it. It's one of the most common white chick middle names ever. Are your toenails painted? No; I don't paint my nails. When was the last time you couldn't stop laughing? Why? Probably a funny YT video, I dunno. Any ways in which you're very different from the person you love/like? We have some differing political views. Why did you first kiss the last person you kissed? The timing felt right and I love(d) her. Has anyone seen you kiss the last person you kissed? Yeah. Who was the last person’s voice you heard? Besides via YouTube, my mom's. Who do you get along with best in your family? Mom. Have you ever been kissed in a car? Yeah. Is there anyone in your life that knows right away something’s wrong with you? Oh, absolutely my mother. Has your phone ever gone off in the middle of a class at school? Oh god no, I'd die. The last time you washed your hair, did you use conditioner? I never do. It adds oil to your hair, and mine is naturally oily enough. Do you prefer light or dark jeans? DARK. Do you have an item of clothing that reminds you of someone? Tell me about it, and the person it reminds you of. I have a good handful of those. When you listen to music, do you generally sing along, or just listen? I just listen, usually. Do you have any of your exes as friends on Facebook? Yeah. Does more than one person like you? *shrug* You log into Facebook and see the red ‘1’ notification next to the message icon. Who do you want it to be? I fucking hate that my answer is "Jason." If your hair is long, would you ever think about having it cut short? Or, if it’s short, would you like to grow it long? As far as I'm concerned, my hair will never be long again. I love it so much more short. What if you were told that your life has to stay exactly as it is right now, and nothing will ever change? How would you feel about that? I'd... honestly probably kill myself. I don't know that with certainty, but yeah. I'd be pretty damn devastated. What’s the most expensive thing you own? Probably my snake. Name something you really can’t wait for? MAY!!!!!!! GIMME MY TATTOOOOOOOO!!!!! What do you want in your future? E.g marraige, kids… A great career, a healthy and permanent relationship, lots of pets, adventure, life satisfaction... Got any major celeb crushes? m a r k e d w a r d f i s c h b a c h Do you have any glow-in-the-dark items in your room? If so what? No. Have you ever stalked anybody? Yeesh, no. If you could be on any TV show, which would it be and why? I'll just hypothetically say I WANTED to be on television for this, because irl, I don't. Ummm. I guess That '70s Show, because I love the '70s, and it'd be so cool to have a big group of friends like that. What is your favorite brand of hairspray? I don't use hairspray. What is the last thing you tripped over? Our doorstep, lmao. Do you were glasses or contacts? If so what color are your frames/contacts? I wear black-rimmed glasses. Do you like stickers? If so what kinds do you like? Yeah. I used to collect them as a kid and put them all over my dresser. Do you like coloring? Yes. What is in your backyard? Some bushes and a shed. Maybe a tree. I've been out there like, once. Do you own a globe? No. What is your favorite wild cat? Snow leopards are the prettiest, imo. As animals in general, I find lions the most interesting. How many continents have you been to, and which ones? I've never left North America. How many continents has your best friend been to, and which ones? She hasn't, either. How many continents has your dad been to, and which ones? Same as above. Have you ever been so terrified that you felt paralyzed? Yep. What’s a place you have a strong emotional connection to? The community college I first went to. Particularly where Jason and I took his senior prom pictures. Who was the last relative you visited? Grammy, before she passed away. My uncle was with her, too. Do you ever wonder what kind of person you’d have turned out to be if a certain event never happened to you? Oh, certainly. I wonder all the time what would have happened if Jason didn't leave. I could still be horribly depressed, or dead, considering ultimately, the event led to me finding the help I so desperately needed. Or maybe I'd be perfectly happy with kids and know how to be an actual adult. I was only a teenager, and yet with him, I never felt more mature and just... capable. When you’re home alone, do you still shower with the bathroom door closed? Yes. Have you ever bought something really expensive and ended up returning it? I don't believe so. If you could have anyone’s singing voice, whose would you choose? Amy Lee is the brazenly obvious answer. What are your top 3 favorite genres of music? Metal, rock, indie. Same general category, I know, but it's almost all I listen to. Is there anything you’d like to say to your last ex? We're best friends, and I talk to her regularly, so I can tell her anything. Where did you buy your dishes from? No clue. We've had the same plates and bowls I think my entire life. Do you think Mars will be colonized in your lifetime? No. Have you ever been on a ship? Boats, yeah. I think ships are just the really big ones, right? Sails and all? Do you ever take intentional breaks from checking/posting on social media? No. Who was Van Halen’s better singer - David Lee Roth, or Sammy Hagar? David Lee Roth. He's an arrogant bastard, but boy can he sing. Which fictional character has the most memorable quotes? I don't know. Maybe the Joker. Do you watch The Office? Gossip Girl? Grey’s Anatomy? None of 'em. Name someone you know with a birthday in December: Sara! What color was the last vehicle you were in? White. What is your dad’s name? Kenneth, but he's just called "Ken." When was the last time you slept in a bed with someone else? Not since I last visited Sara. Do you have any indoor pets? Both my pets are indoors. How do you feel about teenagers claiming to be in love? It's entirely possible. I was; nobody could EVER convince me I wasn't. Are you dating anyone? If so, for how long? No. Do you know anyone with Down's Syndrome? I think so? What animal that is endangered is your favorite? Oh yikes, I don't know. I don't really know every endangered animal, y'know, and I love all animals SO much. Maybe elephants or tigers. How do you believe the Earth and life on it was created? I feel like there was SOME sort of ultimate intelligence that created the universe, but I don't know anything about it/him/her/whatever. Then I believe in evolution. Basically, some sort of conscious creation, and then let life do its thing. What’s your religion? I don't have one. You could say theism, but is that even a proper religion? Do you like your teeth? No. During my worst depression, I was very bad at taking care of them, and now they have a yellowish tint. Have you considered getting contacts that change your eyecolor? What color? Oh yes, I've wanted to have more sapphire blue eyes. Do you wish you lived somewhere else? Yes. Living in the suburbs just isn't my jam, but it works for right now. What’s the craziest color you’ve seen on a house? I think I've seen a pink house before? Don’t you hate the texture of lotion on your skin? Yes. What’s the prettiest cat you have seen? There's this brown British Longhair with beautiful green eyes that I adore on social media. Name's Smoothie. What is your favorite doughnut? Chocolate frosted or glazed. Do you have a hot tub? If so, where is it located? No. What is your favorite party game? Man, I don't even know popular party games, haha. Do you or your parents rake your yard? Neither of us do. No matter where we've lived, ever since Dad left, no one rakes. Do you buy drugstore make-up or high-end make-up? We always buy drugstore makeup. What’s the last good love story you read? I don't think I've read a love story since The Notebook. Do you own a lava lamp or disco ball? No, but I wish I had a lava lamp. When was the last time you went to the roller rink? It's been many years. Do you own a kaleidoscope? No. I did as a kid, though. Have you ever made an inspiration board for your room? No, but I absolutely plan to once I get a big enough board to hang on the wall, and my "office" is cleaned out. I want that room to be full of motivation. Who is the best-looking male celebrity? Take a wild guess. Where would you like to travel to next? Yellowstone. I want to spread Teddy's ashes there in an area with wolves to rest in his roots. Less importantly, I want to take looooooaaaaaaaddddddsssss of photographs. Where are three places you go to relax? Just my room, really. If you became famous, would you change your name to something exotic? No. What color is your favorite pair of shorts? I don't wear shorts, ever. List five items on your current wardrobe wish list. I've wanted a black, studded leather jacket since I was in high school. I also really want big, spiked leather boots, too. Then there's tons of band tees I want. Who makes great song covers on YouTube? JONATHAN YOUNG!!!!!!! GO!!!!!!!!! LISTEN TO HIM!!!!!!!!!!! Who is one of the best songwriters? Otep Shamaya. Painting or drawing? I strongly prefer drawing. Painting that shows brushstrokes or painting that looks like a photograph? The latter. The former can be quite stylistic, though. First thing you wash in the shower? My hair, but if you mean my actual body, my chest. Brown or white egg? I don't even know the flavor difference. Favorite time of year? October-December. Do you own a gun? I legally can't due to a suicidal history. Have you ever been in a castle? Excluding the Disney World castle, no. Are you a clingy person when it comes to relationships? I honestly am. Have you ever been bitten so hard that there teeth marks were there after? I mean, I've had hickeys before. Would you ever date a disabled person? (Be honest) Yes. If you found a baby randomly by itself what would you do? Call the cops and stay with it until they arrived. What is the most personal question you have ever been asked? I'd rather not repeat it. When was the last time you wished time would move faster? Literally every waking moment of my life. It's so sad, thinking about it. I'm just rushing my life away. Are there any owls in your room (as decor, of course)? No. If you’re not straight, who was the first person you came out to? Sara. Do you enjoy hearing birds chirp? I do. Have you ever hiked a mountain? No. Where did you meet your first crush? School. Who is your favorite little girl? My sweetheart niece. What is your favorite song by the last band you listened to? Oh boy, don't make me pick. Does your best friend have kids? No; she doesn't want any, either. Where did you go the last time you drove for longer than an hour? The beach, I think. If you were pregnant, would you want a boy or a girl? Hypothetically, a girl. How often do you get fountain drinks from a gas station? Rarely, but every now and again. Who is your favorite character in your favorite movie? Mufasa. What junk food can you never pass up? Donuts came to mind first. But I think that's because I'm craving donuts, haha. Have you ever had a UTI? Yeah, multiple. I don't drink nearly enough water. I've had one so bad my kidneys hurt like a bitch. What's the last color you dyed your hair? Red.

#survey #surveys #questions

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quagmireisadora · 4 years

Note

Hey!!! Could you please write Jongyu soulmate au? Something like Jonghyun is abused by his previous partner and comes to the hospital for treatment. Jinki is the one treating him. Though it's first meeting, they find out they are soulmates. Ending is upto you but I would prefer happier one!!! 🖤🖤🖤 Thank you in advance!! 🤗🤗

A/N: “I would prefer happier one” Wow, Rach, what shade! (I love you).

T/W: mentions of physical abuse. Also, I am not a professional therapist, so please regard this as fiction only.

——

“And… what do you do for a living?”

The man continued to grin like his life depended on it. Jinki supposed it was a charming expression when its owner wasn’t in a cast that kept his arm stretched out to his side. Like an inordinately large bird caught mid-flap.

When he got no response, he pursed his lips and sat back in his chair. “OK,” he decided. “What would you like to talk about?”

More grinning. More silence. More ogling at the bookshelves and framed certificates. A scratch of the cheek, but nothing beyond that.

This wasn’t going to be easy. But it never was, if Jinki were honest with himself. When a patient was too heavily medicated for their pain, they could barely pay attention to their surroundings, much less interact. All the information Jinki had gleaned so far was from the man’s medical file, handed to him by the nurse who accompanied the patient. Kim Jonghyun, it said, was thirty years of age and living with his partner who he had a physical altercation with three weeks ago–an altercation so violent it ended with him in the hospital.

“Well, if you don’t feel like talking, that’s fine,” Jinki decided, folding his arms across his chest. “Is there anything else you’d like to do instead?” He waited knowing he wasn’t going to receive any kind of acknowledgement. When a minute of expected silence passed between them, he nodded his understanding. “OK. That’s fine,” he said, then searched through his drawers to bring out a small basket of stress balls. He offered it with a nod of encouragement. “Go on. For the good hand. It’s actually a great way to exercise when you’re recovering.”

A slip in the grin, a tentative look between basket and back. A small shake of the head, easily missed if Jinki had blinked.

He nodded again as he withdrew his offer. “OK, then. We can spend your sixty minutes just… sitting here and doing nothing? How does that sound?” he suggested in a friendly tone.

A few blinks that looked like guilt.

“Jonghyun ssi,” Jinki raised his palms between them in a placating gesture. “We are all here to help you. If that help is sitting here and doing nothing, I’m more than happy to give that to you. But,” he conditioned. “In my experience, talking about it is always a little bit better.”

Silence continued its reign between them while one waited patiently and the other shifted in his seat like it’d suddenly grown painful spikes. A small hint of fatigue stole onto the man’s face now, like sitting here was taking a toll on his existence. Like it demanded far too much of his strength.

Jinki glanced at the time for a moment. Forty-eight minutes to go. He smiled again with reassurance. “Actually. Maybe we should cut this session short. The weather’s nice today, isn’t it?” he motioned to the window behind his seat. “I’m sure you’re wanting to sit in the sun instead of this stuffy office?” he gestured to the door. “Please. One of the nurses will help you.”

The guy hobbled to the door like he couldn’t wait to get away. But he did turn and give one last look; a look somewhere between a grimace and that same empty-eyed grin. And then he was gone.

——

“Broken rib,” Gwiboon pointed at the x-rays and shrugged. “Dislocated shoulder. Lesions… when they brought him in last month, I thought this guy went through a shredder,” she snorted without humor. “We patched him up but he’s got a long way to go–as you’ve seen,” she motioned to Jinki.

He hummed. When Jonghyun hadn’t shown up for their appointment that day, he decided to speak with his doctor. Just so he could build some context to work with. “How long was he with this guy, did you say?” he asked.

Gwiboon shrugged again. “Police records said four years. Yeah,” she agreed when she saw the shock on Jinki’s face. “He was really convinced this… asshole was the one. Same story as always.”

He touched his forehead, horrified. “That’s… that’s terrible.”

“Mm hmm,” Gwiboon showed him other charts with bloodwork. “He’s healing really fast, but I’m not sure he’s all there. Something like this… it always makes them lose some parts of themselves, you know?”

“What, the matching symbols thing again?” he raised his eyebrows.

“As usual,” she sighed.

He shook his head in exasperation. “Unbelievable.” He’d seen these kinds of cases before: people who clearly didn’t belong together but had tried to nonetheless. People who weren’t soulmates but had pretended they were, because it was easier than searching for their other half. It was easier than giving up the search. He’d seen people who’d tried to force two mismatched pieces of a puzzle together, only for it all to end in unnecessary violence and pain.

Gwiboon went around her table and slumped into her chair. She looked as exhausted as Jinki felt.

“Did you…?” he tried after a few minutes of silence. “Have you seen what he had? The symbol on his hands?” he asked.

She made an incredulous face at him. “Of course not! That’s so personal!” she chided. “Come on, man. That’s not something we should be fixing.”

He nodded, apologizing repeatedly. “You’re right. I’m just–it’s stupid how common this stuff is. People are… just settling for the wrong choices. Even when they can see those choices are hurting them. I mean, four years is such a long time to take this sort of… abuse. Without wondering: am I really supposed to be living like this? Is this what my life is going to be from now on?”

Gwiboon shook her head at him. “You should be the last person I have to say this to–” she began. “But some people just… accept that’s as good as it gets for them,” she explained. “Some people accept what little they can find. Even if it’s hurting them, even if it’s clearly not good for them. Even then, they live with what they have. It’s a self-worth thing,” she added. “You have to pull him out of that kind of thinking, there’s only so much I can heal with bandages.”

Jinki wondered about that for a while as he read through Jonghyun’s charts. Broken-spirited, it translated to. Brokenhearted. He pondered on that for a long while that day, trying to think of a way to move forward.

On his subway ride home that night, he thought back to the man’s demeanor, to his strange out-of-place grin. Four years, he shook his head with disbelief. Four years was an excruciatingly long time, maybe Dr. Kim was right:the man had lost something along the way. Maybe it’d be something hard to retrieve. Maybe it wouldn’t make its absence known immediately, maybe it would take four more years to discover the place it had once resided in.

Jinki hung off the safety straps as the train wound through a tunnel, and wondered where he could start.

——

The answer to that made itself known two weeks later, when Jonghyun decided to attend his therapy session of his own accord. He opened the door carefully, peeked in like a timid and lost puppy. And when the nurse opened the door wider for him, he stood in place with some indecision.

Jinki smiled at the man, doing nothing to hurry him along. He didn’t say a word, wanting to leave all the talking to the other.

Curious eyes roved over the room again, this time with more cognizance than Jinki had realized the man’s gaze could hold. There were no drugs in these eyes, he noted. This was as conscious a patient as he could expect. He followed with his own interest.

The cast on Jonghyun’s arm was still in place, but somehow looked less awkward than before. The vest attached to the cast was covered by a woolen sweater–white, with a small dot of spilled food. He wasn’t grinning, he wasn’t afraid this time, but he appeared to stall at the most insignificant of details–a joint in the wall linings, a tiny dent on the corner of a shelf, a frame hung not quite straight. He neither made a move to correct the aberrations, nor shared his thoughts. He simply watched, simply blinked for several moments and moved on to the next irregularity.

When he finally took a seat, Jinki leaned back in his own. Again, he waited.

Maybe Jonghyun wanted to wait too, the idea occurred when he maintained his quietness. This time, there was nothing in his expressions to say he was disturbed, nothing to reveal that he was troubled. There was nothing that pointed to him needing help, much less wanting it.

If this was a competition over who could last the longest with nothing but tranquility around them, Jinki was willing to play. If this was indecision on where to begin, Jinki was willing to wait. If this was no more than stubborn silence, Jinki was willing to allow that too. This treatment couldn’t begin until Jonghyun willed it to.

The second hand continued to glide along its path while they watched each other.

From his place, Jinki discovered several tattoos on his patient. They weren’t large, which told him they weren’t meant to be on display. Even so, he could tell they had a meaning to them, each one of them. He noticed the man’s hair was mostly dark with some stray shocks of auburn hidden in the mass, like they’d been deliberately combed over to hide the color. A pair of simple black ear studs, and several piercing holes that currently sat empty. Maybe stowed away for when he was ready to leave, maybe lost on the way to the hospital. Jonghyun didn’t seem to be the kind of man who wanted to make a statement with his presence–at least, not a loud or blunt one. There were several latencies in him. Several portions of him were implicit, detected only in hints, when he moved a specific way or turned his head to face a specific direction.

Jinki read him, read his peace, and found a heavy turbulence under the still water.

When the man’s hazel eyes traveled to Jinki’s notepad, they betrayed some curiosity in them. But it was never given a voice. Nothing was ever spoken between them. Jonghyun utilized every single second of their sixty minutes together as he liked, as he wanted to.

Jinki smiled when his patient stopped at the door and turned, but he respected the sanctity of that silence, too. He never breached it.

——

Another week went by and Jonghyun returned, no longer limping or sporting bruises on himself. Save for his broken shoulder, he looked healthy enough to walk out of the hospital whenever he liked.

That was, until he opened his mouth to speak.

“Why do I have to keep coming here?” he asked. His voice was low, but it had a lightness to it. Like he’s been crying just before he’d been brought here, or been yelling at the top of his lungs until someone had restrained him and forced him to this wing of the building, to the psychiatrists.

The query wasn’t entirely unexpected. His wounds were healing, his bandages were coming off one by one. It could well be that in Jonghyun’s eyes, there was nothing else that needed to be fixed.

Jinki took a long, calm breath in before replying. “Dr. Kim Gwiboon,” he nodded. “She… suggested you’d like to talk to someone–you know, the kind doctor who’s been looking after you all this time,” he reminded, gesturing to the chair across from him.

“Does she think there’s something wrong with me?” Jonghyun remained standing in his place, but there was uncertainty in his speech. “With–with my head?”

“Do you think there’s something wrong with you?” Jinki tilted his head curiously. He didn’t wait for a reply and continued. “You seem fine,” he observed. “But if you want to stay a while, maybe we can have a chat?”

Jonghyun blinked. “A chat,” he mumbled. “What about?”

“Hmm,” Jinki crossed his arms thoughtfully. “Anything you like, really,” he shrugged. “This can just be a friendly conversation, if that’s all you want.”

“No,” Jonghyun refused. “No, not a friendly conversation. You want to talk about just one thing… all of you want to talk about just one thing,” he spat and touched his forehead in distress.

“And what would that be?”

“Don’t fuck with me,” Jonghyun warned.

“I’m sorry,” Jinki continued patiently. “But I really don’t know. Do you–maybe want to tell me what this one thing is? So I can avoid bringing it up?”

“I’m not a child you can trick into–”

“I–” Jinki shook his head. “I don’t think you’re a child, Jonghyun ssi. Far from it. I think you are an intelligent adult man, who is more than capable of taking care of himself. Now,” he paused and put his notepad away. “We’ve done our duty of physically rehabilitating you. What you’d like to do from this point onward is entirely your choice.”

There was a clear struggle in Jonghyun’s face. He wanted to stay, he wanted to talk. But he also didn’t want that–because of what it signified, because of what it would mean if he asked for help, verbalized it. This was a war between his ego and his rationality.

It took him a good fifteen minutes of shifting on his feet, pacing around the space, making it halfway to the door of the office, before he relented and finally. Finally took a seat.

He looked at Jinki with apprehension. “You… really mean it? We can talk about anything?”

Jinki gave him an amicable smile. “Of course.”

——

“I… I don’t know where to begin,” Jonghyun admitted with a shake of the head.

They’d decided to move outside on Jinki’s suggestion. There were no other patients about, but the sun was bright and the wind was quiet. The sprinklers had passed over the grass some time ago, and the scent of wet mud hung around them. They walked along a paved path for a while before taking a seat on a bench.

“Tell me about yourself,” Jinki prompted. “About your family life.”

The patient blinked, looking around them, seeming clueless. “I… I have a mother. And a noona. I–I like to think I’m close to them.”

“Why do you say it like that?” Jinki interrupted. “Do you sometimes get the feeling that you aren’t close to them?”

Jonghyun sighed. “No, I–I don’t mean that…” he shook his head, played with loose strings on the hem of his hospital-issued shirt. The motion flashed a glimpse of the dark symbols on his fingertips, but Jinki decided not to pay attention to them.

“I mean… I want to believe that the amount of love I have for them is the amount of love they have for me.”

Jinki simply nodded, continuing to listen.

“I… I used to go to an art school, as a child. It–I remember liking it. I remember liking what they taught there. It felt like a place where I could fit in. But… but I had to leave it for normal school. Because of difficulties,” Jonghyun explained.

“You mean financially,” Jinki asked for clarification and received a nod. “Was it because of something in particular?”

“My father,” Jonghyun replied. “He left us.”

Jinki made a mental note to come back to that, but stayed quiet for the time-being.

“So… after that. I just went through school like everyone else, went through the classes they taught. Tried to keep my head down and study. Tried to be. A good kid and. And I guess… I guess that’s all.”

“OK,” Jinki shifted to face the other. “What was your experience at normal school like, in comparison to your art school days?”

“It…” Jonghyun paused to think about it for a while. “It wasn’t–I suppose it also has to do with growing up and mood swings and all that. But I didn’t feel like I belonged, not as much as I used to,” he nodded. “I… maybe that was because I no longer had the friends I used to have. Maybe it was because nothing was interesting to me. Maybe–I don’t know,” he shook his head again. “I didn’t like it. So I dropped out.”

“How old were you when you decided to drop out?” Jinki inquired.

“Sometime… in the middle of first year. Vocational school.”

“So tell me what your interests were at this time,” Jinki cued. “Because it sounds like the school was doing a poor job identifying what you wanted to learn. So what was it that you wanted to pursue by dropping out?”

Jonghyun looked embarrassed for a moment, but it wasn’t an uneasy embarrassment. There was a hint of pride in his expression, like he didn’t regret this part of his past. “I used to be in a band,” he revealed. “I… I played bass guitar. Some friends and I would get together and. And I was a big fan of Seo Taiji,” he smiled a little at that.

Jinki smiled with him. “Tell me more about that time,” he encouraged.

“There–” Jonghyun frowned with some confusion. “There isn’t much to tell, really.”

“Are you sure?” Jinki asked.

“Well… yes?”

“Because when you talked about you being in a band, when you talked about the music you liked,” he noted. “Your face… I don’t even know what that was–but your face lit up. It was like a light went on inside you and you found. Some kind of happiness. That’s what it looked like from the outside,” he related. “Is that what it felt like?”

Jonghyun worried his lip. “I… yes,” he ventured, then grew more confident. “Yeah. I think those years, quitting school and making music with my friends. My mother hated that, and. And she thought I had no future, that I was throwing everything away but. That was the best time of my life. I think I was the happiest in those years.”

“I completely agree,” Jinki reinforced. “Just watching you talk about those memories is enough to tell me that.” He shifted in his seat. “So you wanted to go on and be a professional musician?”

Jonghyun started to nod, but stopped. “I… no, I think I just wanted to keep making music. I didn’t–it never occurred to me that it could be something to do. For a living. We just. Hung out, all us friends. We spent time together. We enjoyed what we did. And then we went home.”

Jinki listened patiently. “Do you still meet up with your friends? For these jam sessions?”

“No…” Jonghyun sighed. “No. They–all the others found jobs. Some of them went back to school. Some of them… just moved on. And I was left,” he shrugged. “I guess I was just. Left behind.”

“OK, let’s look at that for a moment. How did you feel about that?” Jinki inquired.

“How… how do you mean?”

“So you said–” Jinki gestured. “Music gave you happiness. Or, making music gave you happiness. When your friends stopped hanging out with you, you could still make music on your own, couldn’t you?” he pointed out. “You could play your guitar and sing by yourself, you could still do that, even without them.”

“Ye-yeah… I guess,” Jonghyun shrugged.

“So why is it that you sound so… I don’t know, do I sense disappointment when you talk about your friends going their separate ways?” Jinki prodded. “Why do you sound like that? Why is it that it affected you so much, when you could still make music on your own? When you could still be happy on your own?”

“Well…” Jonghyun looked like the answer was obvious to anyone and he didn’t need to spell it out. “Because they left.”

“So what?”

“They left me.”

Jinki smiled. “So how did you feel about that?”

“I…” Jonghyun looked down at his lap. “I don’t know. I felt… betrayed?”

“Absolutely,” Jinki agreed. “You felt betrayed. I think that you’d finally found your place again, you’d finally found somewhere you could fit into again. You’d finally found a way to be happy, and share that happiness. And now that was gone. And that made you feel betrayed. Because it wasn’t just about making music, it was about–” he motioned for the other to go on.

“About… about hanging out, I guess,” Jonghyun looked up at the doctor and tried. There was a sadness in his voice. ‘It was about being together. All of us.”

Jinki leaned back and smiled. “Let’s take a few minutes here,” he encouraged.

——

“Is something making you nervous?” Jinki asked before they started their second session, only a few days later.

Jonghyun hadn’t had much else to share on the park bench. He’d related other stories from his past and talked about times when he’d felt let down or when he’d found some semblance of hope for a future. He’d opened up, not by much, but still. It was something, and Jinki was grateful to have that something to work with.

When they’d ended the session, he requested they meet again before the full week was up. It was an indicator that he’d been comfortable sharing his thoughts with someone else, that he wanted someone to listen to what he had to say. But when Jonghyun had shown up, he’d idled around the room for a while before asking for a glass of water.

“Do–do you think I’m a burden?” he asked out of the blue, having gulped down three whole glasses one of the other. Some of the water had spilled onto his clothes in the rush and his breath raced a little when he dabbed at it. He didn’t seem like he wanted to be there, in those short moments. He didn’t seem sure about this.

“What do you mean by a burden?” Jinki asked back.

“I…” Jonghyun struggled. “I don’t want to keep coming back if I’m. If this is a hassle to you.”

Jinki took a deep breath. “Why do you feel the need to leave a good impression on me?” he inquired, but didn’t wait for a response. “I think you should sit down and catch your breath first,” he offered.

The other did as he was told, but kept his silence. He looked around the room, glancing once or twice at the doctor, but never long enough to hold the man’s gaze. When he reached for a fourth glass, he was stopped.

“You don’t need to be nervous about anything,” Jinki assured. “Like I said, we’re just having a conversation.”

He still looked unsettled, and Jinki didn’t try anything further to convince him. He decided once again to bide his time and let Jonghyun take the lead.

“I… I don’t feel good,” he began after some time, then added in clarification. “About myself.”

“Can you explain that to me?” Jinki requested. “What does that mean. What specifically do you not feel good about?”

“I don’t know–” Jonghyun hesitated. “I… when I see the people around me. My friends. My noona. They’re happy. They seem to be doing well for themselves. But. But here I am,” he motioned to the room. “In a hospital.”

Jinki considered him for a minute. “You say that like it’s your fault you’re in a hospital.”

“Well, yeah–”

“Lets,” Jinki motioned for the other to stop. “Let’s put a pin in that and come back to it later. Talk to me about… give me some more examples why you feel like you’re not doing well but others are.”

“I… they have good jobs. They’re making money. They have great relationships. They’re,” he nodded. “They’re living good lives. They’re living happy lives.”

Jinki nodded. “Are you saying that you’re unhappy?” he asked.

“I…” Jonghyun sighed. “I guess it should’ve been obvious to me that I wouldn’t be as happy as them. I don’t have a GED, I didn’t go to college, I don’t have a stable job. I’m–yeah,” he slumped back in his chair. “I’m not as good as them.”

“Do you think you hold yourself to an unrealistic standard?” Jinki asked him after a while.

“No,” the answer was immediate. “No, society has standards that we all need to meet. To survive. And if we can’t, then. It’s our fault,” Jonghyun nodded. “The people I know meet that standard–I don’t. Because I didn’t live the way I should have. So… yeah.” He scratched his head. “I don’t feel good about myself.”

“How do you think other people feel about you?” Jinki tried. “Your friends and noona and all those people who you say are doing well for themselves. How do they see you?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Do you think they like you?”

Jonghyun ran his good hand over a thigh as if wiping the sweat off of it. He huffed out a slow exhale. “I… I think some people like me.” He shifted in his seat like it was sharp and uncomfortable again. “I try to be good, I try to be. Polite. I try to be a decent human being. I mean, I can’t give to charities but I try to volunteer for things when I can. So. I think people like me.”

“You think people like you,’ Jinki repeated. “Has anyone ever said as much to you?”

“I… not in so many words, but the way they behave around me,” he nodded. “I think they like me.”

“OK,” Jinki accepted. “So let me summarize what I’ve heard you say so far,” he began. “You’re an intelligent man who can draw rational conclusions from his observations. You can clearly provide reasons for the statements you make. You’ve said that the people in your life like you because of their behavior towards you, you’ve said your friends and your noona are good to you,” he listed. “Is that correct so far?”

“Y-yeah…”

“But then you say you’re not as good as them,” Jinki pointed out. “You say these people like you despite the fact that they–as you put it–meet society’s standards, while you don’t. What does that tell you?”

Jonghyun blinked at him for a while, unable to give any form of response.

“Does it maybe say to you that these people don’t care about society’s standards, or–let me put it this way,” Jinki held his palms up between them. “Do you think that the people who like you, do so despite the fact that you aren’t doing as well as them and that you don’t meet society’s standards?”

“I… I don’t know if I could go as far as saying that–”

“Why not?”

“I mean,” Jonghyun began, but didn’t have an argument to back himself. He fumbled for more words but nothing came to him as a solid justification.

“You aren’t holding them to gunpoint to like you,” Jinki offered. “And they’re not obligated to like you. So why do you think they like you?” he continued on that line of questioning. “Why do you think these people, who are doing better than you, still like you? Why do they keep hanging out with you, why are they still close to you, despite their lives being so perfect and happy, as you put it?”

“M-maybe…” Jonghyun murmured, his voice shaky. “Maybe they just…”

“Don’t you think there must be something special about you?!” Jinki proposed loudly. “Don’t you think that–these people who are leading happy and wonderful lives, and living to a much higher standard than you. Don’t you think that, instead of being content among themselves, they like you. So they must be drawn to you because there is something brilliant and wonderful inside you that attracts them to you?”

“N-no…” Jonghyun sniffled, wiping under his nose. “No, I don’t think there’s anything I have to offer–”

“Don’t you think that’s possible?” Jinki spoke over him. “Because that’s what I’m hearing. That despite not meeting this so-called standard, you must have something absolutely exceptional within you, that everyone can see, but for some reason–” he held his hands up in question. “And I really don’t know what this reason is. You can’t see that in you.”

The other shook his head as his eyes watered. “No…”

“Let’s pause here for a bit,” Jinki spoke in a softer tone, backing off. “How are you feeling?”

But Jonghyun couldn’t answer. All he could manage was a broken sob.

——

When Jinki arrived at the ward, Jonghyun’s vest was gone and the shoulder cast was being taken off.

Gwiboon stood grinning at the man, looking more pleased with herself than with his recovery. “There you go!” she exclaimed. “How do you feel?” she asked, checking his elbow. There was a diamond tattooed on the outside of his newly exposed wrist, and Jinki caught a dog on the side of his ribcage when the man pulled his hospital clothes back on.

“Any discomfort?”

Jonghyun slowly moved his arm pack and forth. “It feels a little… different,” he murmured, nodding. “But it doesn’t hurt.”

“I’ll give you some exercises you can do. No arm-wrestling for a while though!” Gwiboon joked and they chuckled. “Right, I’ll leave you to rest. We can talk about physiotherapy later tonight. Hmm?” she nodded and patted Jinki’s shoulder as she left.

“You must feel freer now?” Jinki asked their patient. “I remember when I’d had a fracture as a kid. Don’t think I’ve ever been so bored in my life,” he chuckled.

Jonghyun smiled. “You’ve both been so kind to me,” he said to his lap, fumbling with his hands. “I can’t thank you both enough.”

“It’s our job,” Jinki easily replied and shrugged the issue aside. Instead, he motioned at the other’s palms with a nudge of his chin. “You’re quite the tattoo enthusiast?” he asked of the symbols on Jonghyun’s fingertips, knowing full well that’s not what they were, but unable to bring himself to be brazen about it.

“Ah… no,” ten fingers were spread out for him to study, the thumbs marked with identical circles and the rest with varying sizes of crescents. Phases of the moon, the cypher that Jonghyun would’ve used to search for his soulmate. “It’s my mark,” he needlessly clarified.

Jinki kept his own clammy palms hidden in the pockets of his white coat. There was an odd intimacy in sharing one’s symbol. It was a private thing, something not so carelessly flashed to strangers. One would need to have a lot of confidence, or simply be past caring, to be so open and ready to share them as Jonghyun was in that instant.

“He… he had stars,” the murmur came, a thumb rubbing against a wrist. “On the backs of his hands. He had stars. And I thought–how perfect. We must really be made for each other,” he looked away at that. “I really believed it, right until the end. Maybe… maybe some of me still does.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Jinki stopped him, then gave the man’s ankle a squeeze. “Right now, focus on getting better. Dr. Kim was showing me x-rays of your ribs. It’s looking very good,” he gave an encouraging smile. “And your noona was here too, wasn’t she? I could tell she was related to you, you have the same eyes,” he chuckled.

Jonghyun grinned. “She brought me side dishes she made herself. Hospital food isn’t so bad but… sometimes I really miss eomma’s cooking.”

“You’ll be eating her cooking in no time,” Jinki promised and waved. “I’ll see you around.”

He went back to his office, but he couldn’t concentrate on work. All he could think of was ten moons, held only a few inches from his face and radiating a warmth unrivaled by even the sun.

——

“I want to talk about something you mentioned last time we met,” Jinki started their third session.

The heat had been raised, the blinds drawn. The windows were thick triple-glazed panes but even then the sound of rain pattering against them carried in. Jonghyun looked more relaxed and more at ease than he had ever seemed in their time working together. Perhaps the cast coming off had made more than a physical difference. Perhaps the man was simply settling into these sessions as if they were a welcome routine.

“I want to talk about fault,” Jinki continued. “You implied that your landing in the hospital was somehow your fault. And I really want to understand the logic behind this thinking because–” he shook his head. ‘You are a healthy person. You didn’t starve yourself, you didn’t overwork, you didn’t strain yourself in any way. This wasn’t you drunk driving and then having an accident. Right?”

Jonghyun nodded slowly. “R-right. But–”

“But you still blame yourself, I know. I know you’re going to come up with evidence to support your theory–” Jinki interrupted him. “I know because like I said, you’re a very intelligent person. And the smarter you are, the easier it gets to beat yourself up. I know this, because I’ve seen this before. Lots and lots of times. So,” he clapped his hands together. “Let’s do something else. Lets look at where this blame is coming from, because I think that would be more helpful,” he suggested. “Is that alright with you?”

“Yes…” Jonghyun hesitated, then said with some more certainly. “Yes. I think you’re right”

“OK, great,” Jinki said. “So. Let’s go back to–” he flipped through his notes. “Let’s go back to what you were saying the other day about how your father left your family and then years later your friends did–something similar, they left you behind, and you felt betrayed.” He looked up at his patient. “Do you think betrayal is common in relationships?”

“I… I’m not sure about betrayal,” Jonghyun replied.

“OK, what about getting hurt?”

He nodded at that. “Yeah, I think people get hurt in relationships.”

“Can you give me an example, a general situation in a relationship where someone gets hurt?” Jinki asked. “Just off the top of your head.”

“I would say… I would say cheating on someone,” he answered. “Yeah, cheating. Or lying about something. Or being–not being a good person.”

“OK, stop there,” Jinki held up a finger. “What do you mean by not being a good person? What does that mean?”

“A… I guess a criminal?” Jonghyun replied. “Someone… someone with bad intentions?”

“Yes,” Jinki nodded. “Yes, you’re right. Someone with bad intentions, someone who isn’t a good person. If you get into a relationship with someone like that, it can hurt you. Right?”

“Yeah,” Jonghyun accepted.

“Do you think you have bad intentions in your relationships, Jonghyun ssi?” Jinki countered.

“I don’t–I don’t think so?”

“You don’t think so or you know so?” Jinki cornered. “Because there’s a big difference between: I don’t think I have bad intentions and I know I don’t have bad intentions, right?” he raised his eyebrows.

“Right.”

“So which is it?”

Jonghyun sighed. “I… I try to be a good person. I try to be–I try not to do things that would hurt someone.”

“So someone who tries to be good,” Jinki put his hands side by side. “And someone with bad intentions. Do you think they are one and the same person?”

Jonghyun opened his mouth to make a rationalization, to debate over the subject, but then shook his head.

“No, you’re absolutely right there, they are not the same person.” Jinki smiled at the other. “So is it safe to say then, that Jonghyun ssi, you are someone who doesn’t try to hurt people in relationships? That you try to be good, and you try to be loving, you try to give it your all and be the best you can be for the person you’re with?”

“I… I wouldn’t say it like that, but–” the other nodded after another moment’s uncertainty. “Yes. I try to give as much as I can.”

Jinki took a long and thoughtful breath in. “OK,” he said. “So talk to me about–this guy you were living with. This man you thought was your soulmate.”

“What’s there to say…”

“I would think there’s a lot!” Jinki chuckled.

“He was… he was loud and happy and. And he liked to go clubbing. He liked parties. He liked to cook for us, and he ate a lot. He liked watching winter sports. He enjoyed… he was a very intimate person,” he blushed. “And he… he liked to hang out with his friends. He liked to–”

“You’re telling me all these things he liked,” Jinki stopped him. “But you don’t count yourself in that list,” he shook his head and frowned. “Do you mean to tell me that this guy, who you lived with for four years, liked all of those things more than he liked you?”

“I…” Jonghyun wavered. “I mean, we were in a relationship so obviously–”

Jinki waited, eyebrows raised.

“Obviously…” the other mumbled. “Obviously he had some affection for me…”

“OK,” the doctor sat back. “Fine. So I’m going to jump to another subject for a minute here, if that’s alright. Have you had any other relationships before this one?”

“N-no… I wanted to wait to find my soulmate,” Jonghyun answered.

“And do you think you found your soulmate when you found the man you were with?” Jinki posed. “Or, no let me ask you something more important than that: what do you think a soulmate is?”

“Someone… someone who matches well with you,” Jonghyun nodded with confidence. “Someone who cares for you, gives you love and respects you and. Someone who you spend your life with because you are. Because it feels like you’re destined to be together.”

“So you said some really interesting things there,” Jinki smiled wide. “Some very profoundly great things. But lets focus on the first thing. What do you mean by someone who matches well with you?”

“The symbols, of course,” Jonghyun put his hands out to prove his point.

“So… if you can find a match for the symbols on your hands, you think you’ll have found your soulmate. Is that correct?”

“Isn’t—isn’t that how it works?” Jonghyun asked, frowning.

Jinki gave half a smile. “Why don’t we go back to what you said right after: someone who loves you and respects you. Do you think that matching symbols is… is a guarantee of that? That the person will love and respect you?”

“I…!” Jonghyun’s eyes widened. “Yes, of course, it is–”

“So you think that if you match symbols with someone, they would never hurt you?”

“Yeah, of course they wouldn’t!”

“So then why do you think you’re in this hospital, Jonghyun ssi?” Jinki asked frowning and motioning to his office. “Why, if you found your match, are you sitting here in my boring office and talking to me about these miserable things?”

Jonghyun opened and shut his mouth a few times. “Because… because it’s my fault–”

“But I thought you said you try your best to be a good person in your relationships,“ Jinki shook his head. “Are you saying you didn’t try to be good this time? Are you saying you tried to be hurtful and mean and that’s what caused the fight? That’s why you landed in the hospital?”

“N-no, I’m saying that…” Jonghyun took a deep breath, but he looked flustered. “I’m saying that I–I did what I could to save our relationship. But. But I failed at that and now… and now I have to live with that failure!”

“Was it your failure, though?” Jinki asked. “Was it because of your shortcomings that this happened to you?”

“Yes,” the answer was immediate. “I should’ve done more. I should’ve been better. I should’ve been a better boyfriend, a better soulmate, I should’ve–”

Jinki sighed. “What kind of failure hurts you like this?” he asked in a soft voice. “Two broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, black eyes, broken nose, internal bleeding–” he looked at the other with bewilderment. “What justifies a punishment like that?”

Jonghyun shook his head and looked away. “You don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand,” Jinki readily replied, his tone still kind. “Make me understand, what you did so wrong that you blame yourself for everything that hurts you in your life. Tell me what your fault was to be beaten to within an inch of your life. Tell me what your fault was for your friends to grow out of playing music as a band. Tell me what your fault was for your father to leave the family like that.” He tilted his head in sympathy. “Tell me so I can understand, because I really don’t.”

——

Jinki fixed his hair before he rang the doorbell, fussing over the bouquet in his hold and waiting on the steps. The house was beautiful, with plastered walls and a porch held up on dark stone posts. It sat in the hills, just on the outskirts of Seoul. A set of stone stairs led up to the garden, where several neatly trimmed bushes and carefully pruned plants lined the property boundaries. In the setting sun, the blue roof tiles shimmered like sapphires.

A tall man swung the door open and grinned. “Hyung!” Minho said and held his arms out for a hug. “You made it, haha!”

“He’d killed me if I missed this,” Jinki joked and they laughed until Jonghyun walked into view with two glasses of wine. He looked healthier and, somewhat happier than he had twelve months ago, when he’d been discharged from the hospital.

As soon as their eyes met, he grinned too. “Hyung,” he said in a warm voice. “You’re here.”

“Of course,” Jinki smiled.

They ushered him in where other guests sat chatting and laughing. There was a table overflowing with gifts and bouquets and other offerings of congratulations. There was music in the background and food was offered to him wherever he turned. On a wall in the dining room hung an expensive-looking guitar, surrounded by framed photos of a very happy couple–a grinning Minho and an adoring Jonghyun.

“So I heard your flight was delayed?” Minho asked him, holding out a plate of cut fruit.

Jinki picked a few into his bowl and mumbled a thanks. “Yeah, the weather hasn’t been too great so they pushed it to tomorrow. It’ll be a bit of a hassle when I get there, but as long as I make it in time for my own presentation slot,” he shrugged.

Minho hissed in wonder. “Yah… a conference in the south of Greece. Doctors sure know how to party, eh?” he laughed. “Anyway. It’s good you could come. Jonghyunnie hyung was so anxious–”

“How’s he been, by the way?” Jinki asked in a low tone. It had been several months since they had put a halt to their sessions. Jinki had seen the full spectrum of Jonghyun’s growth until then, and he’d deemed it time to consider letting the man venture out into the world on his own.

“He’s been good,” Minho nodded. “Some stress with the new album coming out, but. He’s doing well. Says it energizes him to work under pressure.” He looked across the room at his soulmate and the sheer amount of love in his eyes was undeniable. When Jonghyun turned to him and smiled, he blushed.

“You’ve been good for him,” Jinki complimented, patting his arm. “You give him a lot of happiness. That’s what he always needed.”

Minho blushed some more, but shot him a salute. “As you ordered, sir!” he joked, and in the action Jinki noted the now-familiar, perfect cherry blossom in the center of the man’s palm–his symbol. His cypher. Holding no more meaning than the fact that it existed like a random mark on the man’s skin. Jinki grinned and nodded when the other excused himself.

Inside his own fists, snug within the pockets of his heavy coat, a pair of suns flared loud and bright.

#jongyu #long fic #shinee #rachanasapre #jjongsmonth

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softjeon · 5 years

Text

The perfect Illusion | Final

• Pairing: Geisha!Jimin x Namjoon | Side-Pairing: Geisha!Jungkook x Yoongi • Genre: Fluff / Angst | Geisha!AU ( → Gifset Trailer) • Words: 9,2k | ↳ AO3 • Disclaimer: mentioning of abusive behavior

*** please note that this story doesn’t mean to represent accurate geisha tradition, it was solely inspired by the beautiful art form, giving it a modern twist in a fictional universe and therefore has been dramatized for entertainment purposes.

written with @cassiavioletblue

↳ He was the perfect illusion. The getaway for anyone who didn’t want to face reality. And yet, there was something in his eyes, something vulnerable and hopeful as if he was dying for someone to see through him, to care for him enough to look behind the mask and draw out the real Jimin. And Namjoon couldn’t wait to do exactly that.

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“You did fucking what?” Yoongi’s eyes were wide as he stared at Namjoon in surprise and shock with a hint of nervousness that washed over his expression. “Wait. Start from the beginning again…how did you get from asking me if I wanted milk in my coffee, which I, by the way, never do, to telling me about paying Jimin’s debt?”

Yoongi felt a little too breathless, too tired from spending almost all night with Jungkook. And now he was sitting in front of Namjoon when they usual morning get togethers for coffee (even though they lived in two different apartments, every sunday morning Yoongi still shuffled down the hallway to Namjoon’s place just like they were used to from living together) made his best friend literally spill his tea, or well…his coffee.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t think of a better way to tell you so... yeah, I asked Hoseok to give me permission to marry Jimin. But the sum Jimin owes Hoseok is no joke and I don’t have enough in my private account to pay all that so I wanted to ask you if... if I could either lend something from the company - or use it as loan security when I ask for money at the bank. I know it must sound crazy to you and maybe I am but… I mean it. I really do. This isn’t altruism or charity. I fell in love with Jimin. And if me marrying him improves his life then why shouldn’t I do it?”

“Sure.” Yoongi nodded, taking the cup of coffee to take a big sip from it, his eyes focused on something completely else than Namjoon. How could he scold his friend about something like falling in love with a geisha, when he was guilty himself? And he was bad at lying, especially when it was to his best friend. So, he quickly reached for his pocket and got out his phone, opening the app of his bank account. “How much money do you need?” This would definitely keep Namjoon from asking question about where he had been last night and simultaneously make him the happiest man alive.

“W…what?” He stared at Yoongi, completely confused. “You… you are kidding right? I thought... won’t you try and talk me out of this? Because of Jimin’s job, his training, the short amount of time we know each other and the amount of money I would have to pay just to be with him? Didn’t you say that it’s all an illusion in there, fake perfection to sell an image to people like us who can pay for it?”

“Love is love, Namjoon. I see the way you changed and Jimin is making you so much happier. Gosh, I just want you to finally get some…,” Yoongi groaned low, trying to keep every attention off of him, “Sometimes it’s worth it, you know? To fight for someone, you love. We’re doing good and we’re making more money than we can ever imagine. Our stocks are doing great, our products are selling fast and now that we are establishing our work in Japan with Mr. Lings investment…we’re fine.” He waved Namjoon off, “We’re doing just fine…so go and get married. Live life, love Jimin…do whatever makes you happy! Life’s too short to question everything. Sometimes you just have to do what your heart is telling you. There’s nothing wrong with falling in love and wanting to marry them. No matter how long you know them. You just know it’s right…you feel it in your heart,” Yoongi pointed at his own, nodding determinately, before adding quickly, “So, just tell me how much you need and the date when we take the boys with us and I’m your man!” Yoongi cocked up an eyebrow at Namjoon, “I’ll be your best man, right?”

“Who are you and what did you do to my grumpy, wary and sarcastic friend?” Namjoon laughed, carefree as if someone just lifted a hundred pounds off his heart. Yoongi didn't judge him or acted shocked by what he was about to do. Even better he actually offered to lend him money which meant the company would be fine and there wouldn’t be any risk of losing it to a bank. Also, he rather paid interest to Yoongi who totally deserved it than to a bank. So, he told him what sum he would need, half expecting Yoongi to gasp in surprise or take his offer back.

But Yoongi did neither.

“Okay, done,” Yoongi announced, turning his screen around to Namjoon, so the other could see that it was indeed the sum he had asked for which was now sent off to Namjoon’s account. Yoongi had saved up enough money to be okay with this and although he needed to lay low a little more with his money now, he had nothing to worry about anymore. If Namjoon was happy, then Jimin was happy, therefore Jungkook was happy. And that’s all he wanted in the end. With a big sigh, he leaned back against his chair.

“That’s...wow. Wow I mean, thank you, Yoongi! So much! I’ll pay you back, with interest and... thank you, really. You can’t imagine how much this means to me! I won’t ever, ever forget what you just did for me. For us.” He chuckled, realization settling in. He had the money. He could pay Hoseok back the moment Jimin told him he was ready to leave. He was in love with a beautiful person who loved him back - and he would marry him.

Like a fairytale come true.

Namjoon couldn’t even hide the smile behind his hand because it was so broad, his dimples showing it a way that spoke of pure happiness. “By the way, of course you’ll be my best man. And Jungkook can be the flower child; I bet he would enjoy that.” He could almost picture the boy throwing flowers around and onto all of their heads.

Apropos Jungkook… his voice grew a little softer, a little more careful when he continued, “How... how long did you stay at the tea house last night? Did you see Jungkook... afterwards or…” How did you ask your best friend if he was able to comfort the boy he liked after they had to spend a night with a stranger?

“W-what, what do you mean…did you see me? Where? In the theater…of the tea house?” Yoongi coughed awkwardly, the nervousness was rushing through him so fast that it was making him stutter. What was that about being bad at lying again?

Yoongi tried a smile, chuckling nervously, “What are you implying? That I bid on Jungkook? My sweet little Jungkookie? My maiko? T-that is now a geisha? B-because someone…paid him…and that someone definitely wasn’t me. Because it was…is a lot of money that you have to pay. You said it yourself we shouldn’t support the ritual! Maybe I just wanted to see him again. I like him, okay? He’s cute. Very much so. I like him. There. I said it. Are you happy now?” Yoongi was stammering, throwing his hands up in a defense, while his voice sounded a little more high-pitched than usual, “Even if I did bid on him, which I totally didn’t do, so stop asking me! It’s none of your business, okay? You are getting married and that’s what we are talking about now. You and Jimin. Marriage. Yes. Not about how I bid on Jungkook for his mizuage. Is it too much to ask for a little privacy here?”

Namjoon blinked, a little bit overwhelmed by the sudden gush of words that had come out of Yoongi’s mouth. His brain had trouble catching up on the meaning of it and when it finally clicked he almost choked on nothing.

“You… no way! I just saw you in the main room when Jungkook was on stage, I never thought that…” He shook his head. Yoongi hadn’t judges him so he shouldn’t either. “Did you see who had the highest bid at the end or did you leave before that? If you want we can go there today again, check up on Jungkook and... I can tell Jimin that you lend us the money.”

“Jungkook is fine,” Yoongi nodded, ignoring Namjoon’s angry expression as if his best friend just disregarded that Jungkook had lost his virginity to a stranger. That the younger could be hurting right in this very moment. But Yoongi knew better. “He…He was with me. Because I bid on him.” Yoongi didn’t dare to look at his friend, who was looking at him in a mixture of disappointment and shock. “I was the one who took Jungkook’s virginity.”

“You...what?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Yoongi shrugged his shoulders, taking his cup of coffee to gulp the rest down hastily, “Virginity is a dumb concept made up by society. Jungkook is fine, that’s all you need to know.” Yoongi bit down on his tongue to keep himself from spilling more secrets. He wanted to keep Jungkook safe, even if that meant lying to his friend.

Namjoon couldn’t wrap his head around it. He just couldn’t. Just a few minutes ago Yoongi had lend him a massive amount of money to make sure that Jimin wouldn’t have to endure living under Hoseok’s roof any longer - and then he was telling him that he had taken part in the most violating tradition of all! Mentioning it as if it was nothing! And then Yoongi even had the audacity to play the “virginity is a concept” card which was true for a discussion about concepts, but definitely not appropriate if you literally had just slept with someone for their very first time. This... this just couldn’t be true. Yoongi must be making an awful joke. Maybe he was teasing him. Or testing their friendship or...something else. As always when he was completely overwhelmed he just kept on talking, stating facts while his emotions were balling up into an uncomfortable thing sitting heavily in his stomach.

“There’s a rumor they showed off the silk sheets after, like some kind of marriage ritual from the Middle Ages where the groom shows off the bloody sheets as proof that the marriage has been consummated.” Namjoon shook his head. It was incomprehensible to him how something degrading like this could still be common. “Looking at stained sheets after sex - that’s simply disgusting!” Yoongi was strangely quiet and so he pushed further. “You didn’t... really do that, did you?”

Yoongi shrugged his shoulders, turning away a little so Namjoon couldn’t see his face which had warning bells ring in Namjoon’s head. “Wait, tell me you didn’t!” His voice broke when the realization sunk in that this had actually happened. That Yoongi had really actually fucking done that. When he spoke again his throat was tight. “Then tell me that at least you didn’t treat Jungkook’s first time like that; like some kind of proof of how mighty you are because you had him first. Tell me you were gentle, and kind and you made him feel safe.”

Yoongi tried to smile but it came out a little off. “Don’t make such a big deal out of this, Joon. It’s a tradition. It had always been like that. And no matter if we like it or not if we don’t play along the rules then it’s Jungkook and Jimin who have to live with that. We have the luxury of making our own rules, but they... if Jungkook wouldn’t have let me have him then he would have never become a geisha. You just can't be a geisha and a virgin at the same time. It might be a stupid rule, but it is one of the basic ones and ... it’s a onetime thing! No one has to touch him ever again if he doesn't want to. He can work as a geisha or get his own tea house or marry now, depending on how much money he earns. He has options now. And all it took was one single amorality.”

Namjoon scoffed but kept his opinion to himself. “As long as he liked it and you didn’t make him bleed I guess I can’t really say anything against that.” Yoongi shrugged his shoulders again and Namjoon felt like he was going to be sick. “You didn’t, did you?!”

Yoongi bit his lip, very obviously feeling like he was getting into a fix right now, “It’s just a symbol, Joon. It doesn't mean anything.”

“A symbol? Are you... Yoongi, goddammit! No one ever touched him before you, they aren’t even supposed to have physical contact with anyone outside the house! You knew how inexperienced he was! How could you... how could you hurt him? I thought you liked him!”

“I do!” Yoongi hastily tried to defend himself without giving their secret away. He had promised that it would be safe with him but right now it wasn’t easy to not just spill the truth, so he tried to play it down which was absolutely the wrong thing to do. “It’s not... it just got a little rough, he’s fine, he just...”

Namjoon held up his hand. “Enough! I don’t want to hear your sorry excuses. How could you. I never thought... I never thought that you of all people…” His heart was aching for Kook, the sweet shy boy who had trusted Yoongi and had gotten hurt in return. He couldn't imagine how betrayed the younger must feel - or maybe he didn't even know that it wasn't supposed to be like that, that sleeping with someone you cared for meant to be safe and that there could be pleasure, not just pain. He felt guilty himself, for letting this happen and Jimin... oh Jimin would be so sad and angry at them for hurting his little Maiko. He needed to get out of there or else he would have continued to scream at Yoongi. He needed to concentrate on the good that Yoongi had literally turned Jimin’s life around with helping him and he hadn’t even thought twice. He felt like he couldn’t get the Yoongi who had just helped him and the Yoongi who was paying to hurt Jungkook on his very first night into the same picture.

He just needed to get some air before he would be sick.

Namjoon felt like he needed to do something, anything, really to show that he was sorry, so he went to Jimin. Because hurting Jungkook also meant hurting Jimin. And as he felt like he definitely couldn’t look Jungkook in the eye right now he wanted to at least give Jimin something for the younger, something to make it better - if that was even possible right now. Also, if Jungkook was hurt…then maybe he couldn’t dance, therefore didn’t make enough money and he needed to wait even longer to get out which would also affect Jimin and therefore himself and.... Namjoon could feel the headache settle in and tried not to think about it.

When he finally stood in front of Jimin he held a bag in hand that was filled to the brim. He had thought through each and every apology he could think of but in the end he still found none that expressed how sorry he was about Jungkook’s first night turning out to be like that, getting hurt by someone who was supposed to care for him. He still couldn't wrap his head around it that Yoongi would do such a thing. He should have known, when Yoongi had told him that he had bought Jungkook’s innocence that Yoongi would treat this no different than all the other power hungry, ruthless men who got off on ruining something perfect and pure for their own pleasure. He bowed deeply in front of Jimin, apologizing with a tight voice while giving him the bag. There was a cushion in it, extra soft for Jungkook to sit on when his back was hurting, relaxing tea in case he couldn’t sleep. An herbal remedy for bruises as he didn’t know how else Yoongi had hurt the boy, anti-inflammatory drugs to keep his body from getting infected which could easily happen even with minor tears in that area and cute, colorful sweets to cheer Jungkook up. He still felt awful. Nothing he bought could turn Jungkook’s first night into something pleasant and Namjoon knew that Kook would never forget it because you just... didn’t.

Especially not like this.

“I can’t tell you how much I regret that I let this happen. Please tell Jungkook that I’m sorry and that I will keep Yoongi from coming here ever again if he wants to.” Jimin looked at him in confusion and when he opened the bag his frown just deepened.

“Joon, what are you talking about?”

The older’s heart sank at the prospect of being the one to tell Jimin why he was here. He had thought that Jungkook would have confided in Jimin right away but maybe he couldn’t. He swallowed harshly before whispering, “He hurt him. Yoongi hurt Jungkook and I’m... I’m so very sorry!”

Jimin’s expression changed and now it was Namjoons turn to be confused. There was a smile on Jimin’s lips. “You mean because of the blood on their sheets? Because he made sure there would be no doubt that they had sex? Joon…”

Namjoon interrupted him immediately horror dawning on him, “Jimin this is not how it’s supposed to be! Please tell me that you don’t think that this is how it should have happened! You should treat someone you…” Jimin held up his hands to stop him, smile growing more softer, but it was still there.

“So, he didn’t tell you? He really didn’t tell you even though you probably accused him of abusing Jungkook to his face?” Namjoon felt dizzy. How could Jimin be okay with all this?

“What do you mean? Of course, I did! I am unimaginably angry at him! How…how are you not? How can you be okay with Kook…”

“He didn't do it.”

That effectively shut Namjoon up and he just blinked at Jimin in confusion until the younger explained: “He really didn't do it. I was just as worried about Kook as you even though the sheets thing is not uncommon. But other than Yoongi, Jungkook told me right away. Yoongi paid the full fee - and then told him that yes, he’d like to sleep with him but only if Jungkook wants and when he feels ready. I honestly was a little worried because as beautiful and thoughtful as that gesture is it could destroy Kook’s reputation completely if it ever comes out. Though I don't think we have to worry if he rather lets his best friend think he hurt the one he loves than breaking his promise.” Namjoon’s head was spinning.

“And... the blood?”

“A smart move actually. That way they won’t ask Kook for details as it’s proof enough on its own. He just cut his finger. And then he held Kook for the rest of the night, brushing through his hair and whispering praises into his ear. Jungkook was practically glowing the next morning with a smile that couldn’t be wiped from his face. No one will ever doubt that he’s gone through with it and is happy to be a geisha now.” Jimin was smiling brightly, taking one of the strawberries he had taken with them as they sat outside in the garden close by the pavilion where they had kissed for the first time.

“I missed you, Namjoon. I was scared you wouldn’t come back,” Jimin leaned his head against his shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment only to snap up immediately though when he realized he had now smeared white powder all over Namjoon’s shirt, trying to wipe it off. “Oh…and then I guess he didn’t tell you about the proposal either, right?”

…

The night of Jungkook’s mizuage and after Namjoon had gone; Jimin had been sitting on his bed, hands folded together, while nervously tapping his foot on the ground. It was late, way too late and Jimin had been worrying so badly about what had happened to Jungkook and about Namjoon. His thoughts had been running wild with endless possibilities - until the younger finally showed up.

Jungkook felt a little dizzy - from happiness. Yoongi had just said goodbye to him, with a kiss and a look in his eyes that was so soft Jungkook was about to start crying again. Though he had cried enough that night. His eyes were still teary and red, but he just couldn't help himself. The moment it had sunken in that Yoongi wanted to marry him to bind their lives together forever in love and trust and everything he had ever hoped for he had just broken down. And Yoongi had been there to catch him, to hold him calming him down with ‘I love you’s’ and the sweetest promises Jungkook could ever think of.

How he would show him the world and take him as he was, they would explore what Jungkook liked and what he didn’t, what hobbies he might enjoy and what his favorite food was. The younger felt as if he had walked through a door last night and ended in a dream world that was everything he ever wished for.

He had sneaked out when they had come to clean up after Yoongi, taking the sheets with them. He had felt their looks on his skin and blushed heavily, but they hadn’t asked anything or talked to him in any way, just nodded their approval and then let him go. He needed to see Jimin, right now, or else he might burst from all the happiness inside.

“Jimin?” He knocked and barely waited for something affirmative from the other side of the door before barging in, closing the door behind him and then sinking down at Jimin's feet to bury his head in the others lap like they did sometimes, when Jungkook wanted Jimin to card through his hair and calm him. He just couldn’t sit properly right now and talk about this normally when his whole world had just turned on its axis.

“Hey,” Jimin instinctively reached out for him, soothing over his hair and holding Jungkook softly. “Are you okay?” It was a simple question, one that Jimin spoke so calmly that it surprised himself with the storm that was raging in his heart and mind. But he needed to know if Jungkook was alright, if he was hurting if he needed anything from him or if he just wanted to sit like this for the rest of the night. He didn’t care.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Jungkook sniffled, the tears coming again when he remembered how scared he had been just to feel this endless rush of relief when Yoongi came in and then gave him back control over the situation. “It... it was Yoongi who bought me and at first I thought he would just have sex with me, but... but...” His voice broke and he took a deep breathe, wiping the tears off his face to speak properly. He had never understood why sadness and joy brought the same reaction when it got too much and he pouted as it was kind of ruining the happy mood right now.

Reaching out for the young geisha, Jimin lifted the youngers chin to make him look at him. “Y-Yoongi? He didn’t want...w-what did he do, Jungkook?” Jimin was fearing the worst right now, his thoughts spiraling out of control, not really getting that Jungkook was crying because he was happy. But Namjoon had said, Yoongi liked Jungkook - that they would protect the younger. “What happened? He didn’t hurt you, right?”

Jungkook shook his head at that question and then broke into tears all over again, sniffling in between as he managed to get out, “He... he proposed to me, Minnie! He told me that he would ... marry me and he didn’t…we didn’t have sex. He realized... how... how scared I was and said he wouldn’t do it like that but... he still... still wants me and.. Minnie, he said he loves me! Can you imagine that? He... he loves me and he can get me out and no one will ever control me... ever... ever again!”

Jimin gasped, pushing a hand onto his mouth – and still he couldn’t stop the tears from rolling. He instantly reached for Jungkook and embraced him in the tightest hug, feeling how shaken the younger was. It was everything Jimin could have hoped for and more. All he wanted was for Jungkook to get out of here and now it was about to come true. And if Jungkook was safe…then Namjoon could come and get him as well.

Jimin closed his eyes, the sobs taking over as he kept holding the younger just a little tighter. “Of course, he loves you! Who doesn’t love you! You’re the sweetest geisha that has ever graced the earth,” Jimin mumbled with a soft giggle, leaving a few soft kisses on the younger’s cheek, while soothing over his back, “You’ll be out of here soon. I told you…I told you it’s going to be alright.”

They were holding each other, crying together and washing away everything that they had kept inside. All the insecurity and tension, the lost dreams and fragile hint of hope, the bottled up emotions and disappointments - everything just broke its way out. When the tears finally dried up Jungkook felt relieved as if he only weighted half of his weight, the pressure on his chest gone so he could breathe more freely. He also was exhausted though. He had slept a little last night, but not much and he ached for a long, deep sleep - and to wake up to the knowledge that it was still true; that Yoongi would propose and take him home with him.

Jimin had helped him up and into the bed with him, neither of them letting go off each other. Jungkook fell asleep almost immediately, snoring softly in the geisha’s hold while he was playing with his hair. Jimin smiled at the thought of Yoongi proposing to the younger, wondering how it had happened if the other had been on one knee or if he just had told him – just like Namjoon had done it. Biting his lip, Jimin looked down at the sleeping boy, tracing the lines of his face softly.

He hadn’t told Jungkook about Namjoon’s visit, just as much as he had never told him anything else bad that had happened. He knew that Jungkook would scold him for staying when he had a way out of here immediately. But now that he was sure Jungkook would be out of here soon, whether it was through working his debt off quickly or Yoongi paying everything and marrying him right away – he didn’t care -, Jimin dared to dream again.

...

Namjoon plucked a strawberry away from Jimin’s heap. “That idiot.” His voice was fond and sweet. “You know I told him that I proposed to you. And I expected for him to be shocked and everything, but he was absolutely fine with it. Now I know why: he had just proposed to Jungkook himself. But he couldn’t tell me, probably because he was afraid to say too much and spill Kook’s secret. I knew it! I knew he had a soft spot for Jungkook. And I’m glad it turned out that it’s even more than that.” Words lingered on his tongue, those who would tell Jimin that Yoongi had lend him the rest of that money that he needed to buy him out of here. But suddenly he got shy. He had proposed to Jimin so shortly ago. Maybe he should wait a little longer before bringing it up again. He should probably let Jimin cope, there’d be so many changes now. And who knew when exactly the two would marry. He could wait. And then, after Jungkook would have left the tea house then he could ask again. That would probably be for the best. He bit his lip, nonetheless, still itching to just blurt it out and ask Jimin again.

“Don’t call him an idiot, Namjoon!” Jimin softly nudged his side, giggling quietly. Reaching out for one of the napkins, Jimin put a finger under Namjoon’s chin to turn his head around. “You’ve got strawberry juice all over you.” The geisha smiled at him fondly and cleaned it up with a featherlight touch. “I’d kiss you if I could right now.” He added in a whispery tone, not wanting anyone else around to hear although they were pretty far off from the usual spots the other geisha’s took their clients in the garden. “If…If Yoongi is marrying Jungkook. If he is taken care of then…,” Jimin began to speak as he set the napkin down again, playing with the hem of his robe nervously. “W-will you…will you come back?”

Namjoon couldn’t help the smile from spreading all over his face. Just like the warm, fuzzy feeling that was spreading inside of him until it filled up his whole chest. “Why? What should I come back for?” He asked, playing dumb. “If Yoongi and Jungkook won’t be here anymore - then what will there be that’s worth coming for me here? I can’t think of anything; honestly.”

Jimin’s eyes widened but his expression soon turned into a smile. “But I am here,” He pursed his lips into a pout, sulking prettily. “But you’re right…watching Yoongi and Jungkook being in love and all…lovey-dovey at work…at home…and everywhere else, when you’re all alone, is probably better anyways.”

“You will be here?” Namjoon feigned surprise, “But why would you? I didn’t think you’d want to come back here after you moved out. But sure, if you want to we can go there together. I actually wanted to ask you for a favors regarding that anyway...” He wiped off his mouth and then placed the napkin aside. Jimin could swear that his heart had jumped right out of his chest in that moment. He blinked the tears away hastily, trying not to show how much it meant to him that Namjoon still thought about getting him out of here. “A favor?” Jimin shifted a little closer, seeking the warmth the other always provided for him, “What is it that you need?”

Namjoon left the joking aside and turned towards Jimin. His eyes were soft but his face serious as he was about to ask something very personal and uncomfortable of Jimin. “I wanted to ask you if you... if you could think that maybe... you could tell the others in the tea house. About what happened to you.” He could see Jimin’s eyes widening and his body tensing up in defense and he took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “Just listen to me please. You don’t have to give me an answer right away just.. I talked to a lawyer, as I said I would. And they told me that even though he is sorry about what happened we can’t... we don’t really have a chance at winning a case. Because we don’t have proof. And I hate that Hobi will just get away like that, but I don’t want you to get through any of this again, not even for getting ‘proof’. So, I wanted you to talk to the boys living here, tell them what Hobi did so that they are warned and then tell them that if he ever tries something with them then they can call me, anytime. And together we will get proof and Hobi in jail.“

“Joon,” Jimin cupped his cheeks, not knowing what to say anymore. He took a few deep breaths before answering, “O-okay…but no word to Jungkook. I need you to promise me that.” Jimin gulped heavily, his hands shaking from the sudden anxiety that overwhelmed him. “J-just give me a bit time, okay?”

Namjoon nodded, squeezing Jimin’s hand again. He hadn’t expected Jimin to agree right away. After all, Jimin had kept it a secret since it had happened, telling no one but him. It must be a scary thought to open up - but it might be what kept the other young boys in the tea house safe. If they knew they had help if they knew that they had to look out maybe none of them got hurt. Hobi might even get wind of it that if he ever tried to touch one of the boys again he would be in jail quicker than he could make up a lie. Maybe an anonymous letter would do…

“You’ve got all the time in the world. We only plan further when Jungkook is out and he never has to know. No one has to know, ever. Except for... a therapist. As I’d really like for you to see one. Though as with everything else we’ll go at your pace. You can settle in, get comfortable, feel like home. I just want you to heal, at your own pace. And if it helps you talking about it, opening up to someone who can help you better with this than I… then I’d like for you to try please. But before that - before everything I’d like you to marry me please.” As Jimin was still sitting it was a little strange to kneel in front of him, but he still did, taking out the ring that he had bought. It was a small and delicate band, no decoration, no inscription, just a silver band to fit on Jimin’s finger.

“I figured as we more or less have a date now for when you come out it would only be appropriate for you to have something to visualize my promise to you. I kept it simple so that you can wear it at work as well. And when you’re out then we can look for our wedding rings together and you can choose whatever you like best. I’m assuming it’s still a yes?”

Jimin was completely frozen, only his eyes blinking gave away that he was still alive. His mouth stood open as he stared at the ring in front of him. “It’s perfect,” His voice sounded so small, almost timid, “Y-you are perfect.” Jimin’s lip began to tremble, tears spilling over. “Of course, I still want you. I always wanted you! Yes!” Jimin didn’t care about any rules anymore, but let himself fall into Namjoon’s embrace, holding on tightly and just when he was sure no one could see he placed a sweet, chaste kiss on his lips. Just one time, before he sunk back into his arms.

…

Everything just felt surreal as if he had spent each day in a dream, one unique stolen moment suspended in time when he was with Namjoon. And every day brought him a bit closer to him – until he would come back and take him home.

But Namjoon didn’t come back. Not the following week, or the one after.

Jimin had waited to see his name on his appointment list, but there was no ‘Kim Namjoon’…just everyone else but the one he wanted to see so desperately. Jungkook passed him on his way up to the tearooms with a smile, practically glowing in his geisha attire and it was enough for Jimin to know that Yoongi was there again.

Jimin smiled back at the younger, separating from him and going into a different direction.

Jungkook didn’t need him anymore and now that the young geisha was almost done paying off his debt it only made Jimin awfully aware of his own state. But Jungkook wasn't to blame, only himself. He was trying to work more than usual, get more tip from the customers and even doing main room services again – even though it stressed him out completely – to pay off more of his own debt with Hoseok. He was the first one to start his shift and the last one to go. One day, Jimin had fallen asleep over the box filled with his laundry, being completely exhausted.

To Hoseok it was a fun game to watch, to see Jimin struggling just to get a glimpse of that hope again. To see him trying to keep the debt as low as possible, but it was a hopeless, tiring fight. But Jimin didn’t want Namjoon to pay more, just because he had decided to stay here and make sure Jungkook was safe until he could go. It was his own fault. And Namjoon had told him he would take care of everything else. He just needed some time to prepare it, right? It was about Jungkook first, anyways. Jimin shouldn’t worry too much about it.

But what if Namjoon wouldn’t come back for him?

What if he decided that waiting for Jimin would take too long, that it would leave him in ruins and the geisha wasn’t worth it. Jimin couldn’t blame Namjoon. He was a dancer, nothing more than that. And even though he had gotten a good education, Jimin never learned any other job than this. The contract between Hoseok and Namjoon only lasted for a month and if the businessman didn’t bring the money or prolong the contract, Jimin would get dropped – just like that.

Jimin looked down at his hand, the ring still on his finger – the only reminder he had of Namjoon’s promise. Wiping over his eyes tiredly, the geisha made his way through the darkness of the garden and into their room again. He was forcing himself to push down every bit of sadness, while the doubts were eating him alive – and still Jimin didn’t want anyone to see him struggling. In some ways he knew it was irrational, but how did one tell their heart that it didn’t need to be scared?

So, he put his mask back on, doing his job with a perfect smile, dancing with the same expression all over again and listening to Jungkook daydream about Yoongi. He smiled through the pain, urging Jungkook on to tell him more, ignoring the aching inside his chest, the jealousy that felt like it was leaving a hollow.

And sometimes, when the younger was sleeping in his arms, his head on Jimin’s chest and arms tightly wrapped around his body, Jimin just cried. Silent tears falling down onto his cheeks. Some were because he knew that he had made it, he had saved Jungkook from this and that the younger would be free from it soon. And he would be taken care of.

And about his own life, then the sadness washed over him like a wave, pulling him under and leaving him to drown. It was making him want to scream out because the pain wasn’t bearable. But then he soothed over Jungkook’s hair just a little softer, trying to stifle anything else to not wake him or started playing with the ring again. There had never been anyone protecting him, so he wouldn’t dare to bring Jungkook the same fate when he was so close to his happy end.

Sometimes Jimin wondered if this story, his life, had never been about him but all about Jungkook. Maybe it was solely about protecting the innocence and keeping him that way. But hadn’t he been innocent himself once? How did he tumble into this life? Namjoon once said it hadn’t been his fault…that nothing of what had happened should have happened in the first place.

The moment he thought about him again, his heart did a painful jump. Jimin wondered where he was right now, if he maybe couldn’t sleep as well and if he was thinking about him. Namjoon had told him, that sometimes he was going out for midnight bike rides – maybe he was doing that? Looking up at the stars? The same one’s he could see now. Jimin had never ridden a bike before. Sighing deeply, Jimin tried to close his eyes again, imagining himself riding a bike but in the end it only made him awfully aware of the things he couldn’t do. What was he even good for? He couldn’t even cook properly, and he wasn’t so sure if Namjoon was a great cook considering how clumsy he was and maybe the other didn’t even want to teach him.

Jimin was a burden. That’s all he had been from the beginning.

When Jungkook stirred in his sleep, Jimin quickly buried his face in his hair and told him to go back to sleep. From where they were lying, Jimin could see the sun slowly rising, but Jungkook needed a bit more sleep. “I’ll wake you up, but now just sleep okay,” Jimin mumbled into the younger’s hair, before closing his own eyes and trying to ignore the way his heart was hammering against his chest.

It had been two weeks since Namjoon had visited him and the more days passed, the more did Jimin lose his hope.

It was wilting away so easily, the fear of getting rejected growing bigger than believing in Namjoon’s promise – no matter how long he stared at the ring.

…

Sitting outside, Jimin was reading – or more likely he tried. He was reading over the same couple of sentences repeatedly for the last couple of minutes. He just couldn’t concentrate, his mind racing, making him feel dizzy. So, instead of reading ahead, he closed it and put the book aside. Leaning his head against the wall, Jimin let the sun shine directly on his face and although he easily got a sunburn, he didn’t mind the heat right now. He almost dozed off, his tired mind slipping when a happy yell made him jerk his head up, his eyes searching for the source of it.

“I got it! Jimin,I finally got it! The paper! This is it! I got it” Jungkook was running towards him, bunching up his silk robe with one hand so that he wouldn’t fall over his own geisha attire. He was waving wildly with a paper, his face beaming so much that Jimin could see it from where he was sitting.

The geisha was up on his feet right away, ignoring the shiny spots that appeared and the dizziness he felt and instead ran ahead to get to Jungkook. His own doubts were far gone, because nothing else mattered right now. “You made it,” Jimin whispered, taking the paper from Jungkook to read over them quickly before he jumped in happiness, hugging the younger. “Yoongi must be on his way now! You should go and sign it now!” Jimin squealed, urging the younger to move, “Go! Go! I’ll go and pack your things…and…and you go and sign this…then…then when he’s here you can leave right away. No one will hold you back.” Jimin took in a sharp breath, when the realization settled in that he would let Jungkook go today. With a smile, he nodded into the direction of Hoseok’s office, “What are you waiting for?”

Jungkook hesitated. “I just... wanted to tell you and now... I don’t really know what to do.” His doe eyes were wide and dark, a little worry mixed into all the happiness. “I don’t feel good leaving you here. I know it won’t be for long and that Namjoon will be here soon, maybe even tomorrow but... I don’t want you to be alone.” He took Jimin’s hand and held it a little too tight. “I’m gonna miss you, so, so much, Jimin. You’re my family. And you always will be.”

They hadn’t talked about any of this yet, fantasizing and dreaming about the happy aspects of their future while leaving out completely that they wouldn’t live together any longer. Of course, they would see each other all the time with Yoongi and Namjoon being friends and owners of the same company and living close to each other. And yet it would be a big change. “Promise me that you will call whenever you want to see me, no matter when and where?” He took Jimin’s other hand as well and squeezed both of them, “And we will have sleepovers when our... our husbands are away on business” He giggled at the word husband because it still got him shy. “And we will have breakfast together, the four of us every Sunday. And I need to see you at least five times a week. Okay?”

“I’m not alone,” Jimin answered with a smile, although inside he was crumbling, ignoring the pain he had felt the past weeks, nodding at everything he said. He stiffened when Jungkook talked about ‘their’ husbands, when Jimin had never told him about Namjoon’s proposal or his promise. Jungkook just believed in the good.

“I-I know I always have you, please don’t worry about me, Jungkook.” He squeezed the younger’s hand lightly, “I’ll be there with you soon but until then please be happy. If you smile, then I smile.” Jimin soothed over Jungkook’s cheeks, his eyes flickering onto the ring on his finger, before he quickly retreated it again. “I promise you…and now go!” Jimin laughed, pushing the younger lightly into the direction.

Jungkook hugged Jimin once again, a sudden, happy hug from all the joy he felt inside before he finally ran off. He had felt awful about leaving Jimin behind so one night Yoongi had told him a secret and had him promising that he wouldn’t ask Hobi or Namjoon anything about it. Apparently Namjoon wanted to marry Jimin as well though for whatever reason they had to wait for a while longer.

Jungkook just hoped Namjoon would keep to his promise and also hurry up a little.

He didn’t want Jimin to be alone. If necessary he would come to the tea house every day at Jimin’s lunch break to make him smile until Namjoon had sorted out whatever was stopping him to take Jimin with him. It was probably the money. Jungkook bit his lip, thinking to himself that the moment he got a job he would start saving his earnings to give to Namjoon so that he could buy Jimin out of there just like Yoongi had with him. The older had refused when Jungkook had offered to pay him back but Jungkook thought about doing it anyway. After Jimin was free of course. But right now, he needed to sign the papers, give them back to Hoseok and then… then he could go with Yoongi to spend his first night outside of the tea house since more than a decade.

Jimin’s heart was aching as he watched Jungkook run off, almost stumbling over the doorstep and shooting him a smile as if to reassure him that he was fine. The geisha smiled back at him, before he turned on his heel, grabbed his book and returned to their room. Taking the bag from their closet, Jimin put it down onto Jungkook’s bed side looking around the room to look for the things he could pack. There wasn’t much: except for their normal day clothes and daily robe and a few personal essentials they barely had anything. When he lifted the bag, it was still light and not like he would move out, but rather just stay overnight somewhere. He plopped down onto the mattress, letting his gaze wander around for a moment until the pain became a little bit too much to endure. He took in a sharp breath, one that hurt his throat. Mindlessly, Jimin had started to play with the ring again, rotating it on his finger until his breathing calmed a little more and it didn’t felt like he was free falling into a pit dark hole.

With his smile perfectly in place and bag in hand, Jimin hurried back out again. He could already see Yoongi with his arm around the youngers waist at the garden gate, the biggest smile on both of their faces. Seeing Jungkook so happy, so close to being free was all he had needed to make joy blossom in his heart again.

Honestly, Jimin wasn’t sure how he was surviving this whiplash of emotions for weeks now. He was a mess that was for sure.

Bowing deeply in front of Yoongi, Jimin spoke up, “Thank you, Mr. Min.” He bowed even deeper, trying to hide that his eyes were tearing up from pure joy and relief that Jungkook would be safe from now on, “For everything that you did, for Kook…and for me as well. You showed yourself to be a great gentleman and best suitor for being Jungkook’s fiancé.” He didn’t plan on speaking so formerly, but Jimin felt safer using his geisha persona or else he feared it would have overwhelmed him completely.

Yoongi reached out for him, gentle touching his arm. “Jimin, there’s no need to talk to me like that. We’re friends. At least from my side. And you aren’t a geisha anymore. You don’t have to be overly polite to people. You can let yourself breathe. I’d say we all meet at my place tonight. Till then Jungkook has had the time to take a look at the apartment and decide which room he wants as his own and then we can order pizza tonight and celebrate him moving in with me. You want to come?”

Jimin only nodded at that, not sure if Yoongi knew what he was talking about. Of course, he was still a geisha. Didn’t Namjoon always say he knew more about the rules of a tea house? It was a nice thought though, so Jimin only smiled at him before turning to Jungkook. Soothing over the younger’s hair, Jimin cupped his face to place a soft kiss on the youngers cheek. “Call me tonight, will you? I bet I can make Hoseok let me use the telephone, and then you can tell me about the room…about the view out of your window and everything else, promise?” Jimin hugged Jungkook close once more, before pulling away, sniffling quietly and mumbling something about allergies. “I’m sorry I can’t come but I’m sure it’s going to be a lovely night.” The geisha turned to Yoongi and bowed in apology, “I do have to work tonight, but it would make me really happy to hear from you soon.” His voice broke a little and his hands began to shake, while Jimin tried to cover it up with an awkward wave.

“I think you’re a little over excited there, sweetheart.”

Jimin jumped a little from the sudden voice behind him and Namjoon chuckled as the younger’s eyes widened in surprise. He had practically begged Yoongi for them to drive to the tea house together as soon as he got the call from Jungkook that the papers were ready: because he didn’t want Jimin to stay there for a minute longer after Jungkook was gone and he was practically allowed to marry Jimin officially now. The last two weeks had been hell without Jimin but he still had a job and then he had cleaned out a room in his house and had tried to make it as comfortable as possible without putting pressure on Jimin because Jimin should decorate the room how he wanted and maybe he also wanted different furniture or other colors or he wanted to turn the room into a dance studio or a hobby room and... Yoongi had laughed at him a couple of times for it, saying that he was thinking too much and that they would have enough time to sort that out when Jimin was there. The rest of their lives to be precise.

“So... Jungkook is officially his own man right now. Or Yoongi’s, however you want to see it. Does that mean you are ready to come home now?”

Jimin just stared at Namjoon, mouth hanging open, his mind and heart trying to catch up. His bottom lip began to tremble, when Namjoon was talking about ‘coming home’ as if it didn’t mean the world to Jimin.

Stumbling a little, he walked up to Namjoon, reaching out for him, still not really believing this was happening.

“I’m not a geisha anymore?” He asked with a quiet voice that only Namjoon could hear, feeling his arm wrap around his waist just right when Jimin felt like the world slipped right from underneath him. “We’re going home? You and me? And we’re going to order pizza? Drink sugary coke? And I will live with you in your apartment? Sleep next to you? In your bed? Will you teach me how to ride a bike?” The questions spilled out of him so quickly, but he needed to know the answers to make sure that for once his dream had become reality, that someone had kept his promise.

Namjoon chuckled at Jimin’s cuteness, kissing him sweet and passionate now that he finally could.

“I told you we would!” Yoongi yelled in the back and then, murmuring to Jungkook “Though no bike riding in the house please. You want to ride a bike too? We can make trips on the weekends then; would you like that?” Jungkook nodded happily and then, as soon as Namjoon and Jimin had stopped kissing ran over to them to hug them from the side, pulling Yoongi along so that he stumbled into them and they were basically all hugging.

Leaning in to Jimin the younger whispered quietly so that only Jimin could hear it: “You were right all along when you told me that this all would be worth it one day. That if we stayed strong and kept going that we would find happiness. I found mine with Yoongi. And I guess Namjoon’s is yours. And even if something changes one day no one can take this moment from us. And we will always have each other. I can’t wait to find out what life will be now outside of the tea house. And I’m so glad that we’re all together.”

Jimin smiled, reaching for Namjoon’s hand to hold it tight as they followed Yoongi and Jungkook who was happily skipping. He let himself get pulled along and to their car and not once did Jimin look back. He didn’t care about his stuff that was never his to begin with. He had everything he needed right here with him. Taking a deep breath, the young man looked up at Namjoon who just opened up the car door for him to step in. His handsome face was turned towards him in smiling welcome; eyes full of love and trust. Love is a road long and hard, which makes it even more important to travel it with the right person. Love was a fight worth fighting and a victory worth having. He found it in Namjoon and found comfort and security in knowing that it would be all okay with him by his side. And no matter what the future still hold, no matter how many times he had to face Hoseok once more, he knew he wasn’t alone anymore. And if love was a choice, he would chose him, over and over again.

A/N: Another story is done :) What did you think??? We hope you enjoyed this story!! Yes, we know we don’t give too much closure on whats going to happen with Hoseok - but we can ensure you that Namjoon will go against him and make him pay but it was most important to him to get Jimin out first. And he will love Jimin forever and ever and hold him tight every night and give him everything he needs. And yes, maybe Jungkook will accidentally bump into Yoongi’s expensive vase because he tried biking in the living room. But he will still love him.

Don’t forget that I posted a new fic trailer for the next upcoming fic. A guardian angel AU with Minjoon and Yoonkook - again. Lmao, yeah. It’s just what we love writing :DD But there will be two Yoonmin stories coming out soon as well as we participated in an event. So look out for those!

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kanene-yaaay · 4 years

Text

Patton has a secret ~

Kanene’s note: *read the speech I decide to write here* Hmm...

Caham.

*Throw away the paper* Is just a lot of fluff. Like... just fluff. No drama, no angst, no action, no adventure, maybe fiction, but a lot of fluff. :v

... I should try to write others genres... xDD

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* Lee!Patton and Ler!Roman/Ler!Virgil (Just a itsy bitsy of Lee!Virgil and Lee!Roman).

* Hmmm… This is a Tickle-Fanfic! If you don’t like this kind of stuff, please look for another blog, there are plenty of amazing art in this site!! ‘u’).

* Something around 3500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* My first Sanders Sides Tickle Fic finally translated!!! Yayyyyyyy!!! \0\ /0/ \0/ *jazz glitter hands*

* Here the fanfic in Portuguese (brazilian’s one!) ! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Watch a fun video and drink hot chocolate water! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

In fact, with how times Patton took care of the other three (and sometimes, five) members of the Mental Palace it could almost be seen as a hobby, a piece of his routine even. But he just could not help or stop himself from doing something when he knows to have in his own hands a world of possibilities for lighten up their, rainy or not, days and paint in their faces a smile, even when it was a light embarrassed one. This was a little something that worked as if he was brighten his own days.

And that reason was what it was so… strange to watch them turning the table.

In the days very after the conversation they had, followed by his room visit (think about that still giving bittersweet shivers down his spine), at least one time and for a few minutes in the day, all the spotlights switched to the quartet’s cat lover.

Just as this morning, when he was woken up by a battalion of cuteness and love consisted by fifteen puppies summoned and carefully deposited in his bed by Roman, who doesn’t waited much to yell an order to “ATAAAAAAAAACK!”. Leading an awake from an extremely confused Patton, which was immediately subdued by licks and small barks doesn’t taking long to rip out happy giggles and squeal from the one who wore cardigan.

Or, even like those random moments in the day when no one is around and Virgil feels absolutely comfortable to wrap him up in a calm, filled with more signification which words could archive, hug. That time when Patton controls himself to not squeak (too much) loud, especially on those others pieces of time when the aspect of Fight or Flight eventually ended up changing to canals with Patton’s favorites cartoons, claiming between (fake) annoyed murmurs that “There isn’t anything better on TV.”

And also, there was Logan. Oh, Lo… Maybe never before, except celebrations, had Patton received so many gifts. They went from interesting books to soothing songs playing in his room’s background, expressing all those feelings that so much confused the duo with the same glasses. Morality liked this approach equally. Most of the songs sang that everything would be okay.

In the end, even if all of it were… different, new, Patton couldn’t deny that loved every second of it.

And maybe it was for all these pampering, however he started to feel a bit freer to demonstrate a little more of him, little by little… For that reason (or maybe feeling?) that some days after all the new occurrences he found himself asking Roman to summon him a tablet. Sure, he summoned one by himself, albeit Roman’s conjurations have always been the ones that spilled the most amount and shiny details, creativity, wonderfully, coloring in the Mind Palace.

This was some weeks ago. Some fast, full of giggles and blush weeks since his very newest discovery on internet. May or may not the only one to blame for his full-sleep nights shrank in order to increase his searching time.

“Tickly Community”

Just thinking on these words already unleashed warm waves through all over his face as involuntary as his began of smile and that soft and cozy sensation intertwining his heart.

Tickles, he squirmed quickly, one of the purest and simplest way to show someone trust and affection. A normal activity to improve bonding, which some disliked and others loved.

And Patton knew very well in which group he was.

It was kind of an addiction, or even a fellow, as he preferred to imagine. Making itself present not only when he turned on the electronic device, but in any and every time of the day. It seemed like a little angel with cat ears and cute voice who liked to appear from absolutely nowhere to say how much every activity in the day would be incredibly better just adding a few pokes, squeezes and sweet, uncontrollable laughter here and there.

And don’t even get him started with the movies, cartoons and series, which, unfairly, insisted in dropping one (sometimes more) tickle scene when he was the least prepared as he could be. Patton swore that in these moments he lost all the control on his body: he always felt being ‘too much smiley’ (even when he brain ordered him to stay serious… Well, he always was more a heart guy than mind one, anyway), ‘too much agitated’, looking at the movie ‘too much’ and always ending up in a mental battle, posteriorly, to choose which one was his favorite (spoiler alert: He always picked all and re-watched them.)

His fingers typed the URL he already knew by heart, snuggling further on the couch as the links appeared in his face. The one in cardigan (since his onisie was washing) loved reading stories gravitated around this subject. The descriptions made imaginary fingers dance in each one of his tickle spots… or at least that ones he suppose that were his spots. It had been few years since activities like that didn’t happened with Thomas or in the Mind Palace, so the freckled side didn’t knew if he stilled susceptible as used to be. Uurg. Think about this made him sad, so, the moral side decided focus on the arts in the art ahead.

Maybe hours or minutes have passed. He couldn’t say, however he could confirm that watched something around three absolutely adorable tickle videos and was in his fifth story whe-

- OH PATTON, MY PATTON – The high pinch scream together with the little jump gave by the called as answer seemed to amuse the prince, his stunning smile increasing. – What are you watchin’? – He let himself fall in the furniture’s arm, close from where Patton’s head rested, leading to the other automatically turn off the tablet in a hurry.

- Oh, nothing, nothing. – The group’s father waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. – Just some new cakes recipes! Thomas overbought Crofter’s and I’m not fire, but I want to help burn the stock! – Both giggled.

- You looked very happy. – Virgil couldn’t stop himself from the grin growing in his face, proud when the representation of morality released his second scream in such a short time, seeing as he truly didn’t notice the second which the purple lover laid in the other corner of the couch. His eyes shined as he saw red spreading across Patton’s cheeks.

“The world goes round.”

- W-when d-did you- for a heartbeat of moment he shuffles in his own words, stumbling in the letters and almost losing himself, taking a second to his face stabilized in a smile and the words stopped falling out his mouth. A bothersome sensation showed in the stomach of the other two sides, realizing how much trained and good at controlling his feelings and expressions he was. Maybe they saw a little of themselves in the act. – You know how much I love appreciate this little things. – Smile.

- Ho ho!! – The resounding laughter from the royal side made itself present as he approached even close to Morality, ignoring any and every signification of ‘Personal Space’. – It sees that nuestro padre is hiding something. ~

Maybe it was the Lee Mood attacking, maybe it was for how that specific phrase had sounded immensely with thousands of the dialogues he had read and which still spinning around his mind; It could even be the playful way they were going. However, Patton could only continue giggling and squirming in attempts to dodge from Roman’s efforts to take the device in his hands, being pretty good at it, something that definitely annoyed the Creativity’s aspect, causing him to let out a exasperated snort.

- Any help, Stormcould?

- I thought princes were ‘self-sufficient’. – He made quotes with his fingers, probably a reference to some fight of them.

- Wha… And we are! Even more when people like you force us to do all the work! Come on, you want to see this too! Another hand here would be nice!

- Tch. Can’t. – Virgil clicked his tongue, irony pouring out his lips as he raised his hands. – I only have mine.

The angry expression from the prince comically mixed up with the euphoric Patton’s squeal, who jumped to a sitting position, moving with more facility closer to the one wearing a hoodie.

- Was that a pun?? – His eyes seemed like could bright the starts by the way they were shining. Virgil’s eyes widened, hiding in the hood while mumbled a ‘no’, half-annoyed, half-awkward and half-happy for be the one who put that smile in the other’s face.

- Ah há!! – The victorious expression quickly took place in Roman’s face as he got the tablet. – Great distraction, my gothic subject!

He clicked the ‘Turn on’ button.

- No! Wait!! – His voice possibly raised a little bit than normal, ora little shakier, or even desperate. Patton stretched quickly, seeking to retrieve the object. He didn’t really know how to explain the suddenly panic. He always dreamed in telling this secret to the others, but… Now this possibility was too… real. He was afraid, afraid that they found it weird, didn’t liked it, felt forced in some way or didn’t really understand his liking and interpret it wrong and… In just that millisecond, Patton feared about all of it and something else at the same time.

The duo looked alarmed, and this made he doubt the reason of his fear. They were his adorable kids, his famILY with eccentric likes just as him. His sons who took care of him. He felt silly, but it didn’t change the glares in his direction.

- Roman… - A light threatening started to take strength in Virgil’s tune.

- Sure! Here you go, padre. – With a big flourish, he handed over the tablet. An apologetic smile in his features, a slightly deeper look in his glare. – I hope you to know that I was just messing with you! There is no greater honor than keep safe our secrets! - Winked, getting up, a hand resting in the chest while the other one gestured in a non-stop rhythm. – And, if is a matter of honor you can count on me to give my life into order to protect and safeguard it! – He bowed, holding Patton’s hand and kissing it, instantly dissolving the fear in the said aspect in an excited smile.

- Oh! Let me give back your kiss, then! – The moral side pulled from his pocket a Kisses’ candy bag, tossing it at Roman, who reflexively grabbed.

- Do you… Do you really have those on the pockets just for the dad joke?? – Virgil asked giving the question up as soon he saw Patton rolling his eyes, biting excitedly his tongue’s tip while shrugging.

- … No?

- They are really good! – The prince exclaimed, his voice muffled by the dozens candies he had put in his mouth and now was trying to chew. Patton felt a hand delicately hold his shoulder.

- You know we never would force you to share something you are not comfortable, right?

- Of course I do, kiddo. – The heart’s representation soothed his smile, deflecting his gaze to his lap, where the tablet calmly rested. The way both acted… so sweet and adorable…

He didn’t even knew of what he was afraid at the first place.

- But…no. – His words come out before anything stopped them. – I want to tell.

This automatically caught their attention, interest sparkling on their expressions. Sure that they were the most comprehensible as possible with the paternal aspect, however this didn’t change the flame of curiosity created by the situation in their minds, which was inflamed even more right now. Patton turned on the device.

- It’s a really silly thing… - Virgil lightly squeeze his shoulders in an encouraging way. Roman moved a little more closely and was gifted with the tablet, now unblock, being deposited on his hands. The words floated from Patton’s lips before his brain or fear could do something to stop them. – But I like tickling!

His speech come out fast and low, he raised up his eyes for a second before lowering them at equal speed and started to play with the cardigan’s tip between his fingers. Patton was a person of a lot of expressions and gestures and hops and joy, albeit this time he was just quiet, slightly embarrassed as the blush on his ears could say.

And happy. A relieved happiness for don’t need to hide anything anymore.

- Patton. – The one with glasses looked up, just to find Virgil struggling with a grin until he gave up on the battle, letting it take over his face. Patton lighted up with expectantly, feeling like he had putted a piece of his soul in the two aspects’ hands and asked ‘So…?’ – This is… - He shook almost imperceptibly his head, his voice took a softer tune, his smile gave away to a serious face. – There is no problem in liking this you know that, right? We will not going to judge you. – Virgil bitted a little his lip, the grin coming back. – To be honest this is…

- ADORABLE!! – Patton was thrown on the couch. Roman having jumped in him, his smile was stunning and his eyes twinkling dangerously. – ABSOLUTELY, INCREDIBLY, ADORABLY ADORABLE!

The cats lover just could giggle, ignoring the heat in his face growing up more and more as he spoke a couple of dad jokes. Virgil’s head appeared besides the prince’s shoulder, almost hided by it. He deposited the tablet on the coffee table, a dishonest smile shining as a sign warning dangerous. Patton felt a mix of anxiety and anticipation transforms to little butterflies in his stomach.

- Yes. Extremely cute.

He felt amazing.

- Oh, kiddos, it’s because of your influence! – Refuted. Half smile, half truth.

The dangerous spark in the pair of eyes seemed to sprawl even more as they stared him. Roman experimented to wriggle his fingers on his direction. Patton squirmed, a new wave of small, bouncing laughs escaping from his lips.

- It seems like our padre is full of giggles. ~ - He pretend to attack a couple of times, delighting himself with the squeaks and bubbling snorts that came as answers from the Morality’s representation.

A different squeal came out from Patton’s mouth, making the prince turn around just to see Virgil lightly tracing a finger in the other’s foot. There was a grin in his features. – I ask myself where they come from…

- V-virgihihihihil, deheheheheheahahar! Nahahahaha!

- I also question the same thing, my nebulous friend, BUT, not to worry! I bet the entire fabric is right here! - Patton followed Roman’s hands, which spin in some flourishes before reach his sides, light scratching they and leading another yelp to pour out from the cat lover, who could swear that he would melt with all the teasing.

- Ro, oh Ro! Pleheheheheheheheheheheasehehehehe! Roho, no teahahahahahasing!

- Don’t worry, padre! I shall help you with this awful case of endless cute laugh! – He squeezed his sides just some more times, increasing Patton’s struggling before lift his dancing fingers. - The cure should somewhere around… - He started to move his fingers, quickly spidering up and down in all his ribs. Patton’s hands shouted to hold him, but he easily dodge them, taking the opportunity to give some special attention to the victim’s armpits. – Here!!

And then, when his laugh, real belly laugh, started to fill the air, it was only then when Patton began to realize that this wasn’t a dream. The joyful filled him almost as quickly as Roman scribble his fingers along his sides, raising to his upper ribs and staying there with softs circular motions, appreciating the snorts that interconnected the laughter from the other. Before he got tired and goes down, squeezing and poking every piece of ticklish skin he could research with the shirt raising a few inches from Patton’s fight.

- RO-ROHOHOH! NAHAhahaHAHA! P-pleAHAHAHAHAhahahaseHEHEHEheeee!!

-Oh, my my! It seems like someone can’t even form phrases without being an adorable mess of giggles and squeals!

Meanwhile, Virgil calmly danced his fingertips through the foot of the one in cardigan, tracing illogic standards, scratching his arc, suddenly increasing the speed (and, consequently, the laugh, yelps and snort stream from the moral side) as found the toes. It looks that don’t be visible to Patton’s eyes just made him incredible more ticklish.

- VIR-HIHIHIHIHIGIL!! nahahaHAHAHAHAHA THEre!! Virhihihihihgil – The purple one thought he couldn’t like even more of his name until hear that variation. His heart was melting with all the adorableness. Why didn’t they discovered that before?

- Yes, Patton? Can you repeat? I couldn’t understand with all your laugh!

- Who is the cutest and ticklish side in the Mind Palace? – Roman switched to his tummy, poking and scrabbling, fingers paying attention in every minimum inch achievable and analyzing which one gave the best reactions. Patton struggled, the belly laughter shaking his entire body as getting out. His arms hugged his sides in an attempt to not to stop the tickles. His face burned and the happiness were assuming shape of tears as they accumulated in his eyes’ corner, his smile seemed truly goes to an ear from another, lighting up the entire room. – You know who are, huh, my dear and adorable Patton? – Each world was a scribble in his navel.

- YOHOHOHOHOHOHOU TWOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! NHAHAHAHA!

- Wrong answer. ~ - Virgil refuted, and almost synchronized both attackers started to blow raspberries in his foot and belly. His laughter went silent for a moment.

- RO! VI! NAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA! ITHIHIHIHIHIHIHIS ME! MEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE! PleAHAHAHAHASEHEHE! NAHAHAhahhahahaha!

- I feel like he want to tell us something. – The representation of fear calmly commented as his fingers taking turns between squeeze knees and tights wasn’t leading the Morality to squeal, crackle, yelp and giggle almost at the same time, in a madness which the three loved. – But I just can’t get it, you know?

Patton thought he really, really know, the mean of ‘unbearable’, until Roman went, this time for real, to his armpits and Virgil reallocated himself to rest his thumbs on his waist.

And they attacked.

- NononononoNO! WahahahAHAHAHAHAHAIT!

He didn’t remembered if he screamed, or talked or even had some coherence. Suddenly all his muscles began to struggle and his laughter were faster, real and stronger than ever, among them also came shrieks, snorts and squeals until completely disappear. His thoughts were a mess. His eyes opened from time to time to take glimpses of Roman and Virgil’s affectionate smiles towards him. Tears flowed down his cheeks as joy materialized, a stunning joy, that one which made his head go side to side, up and down and a smile bigger than the Sun open in his face.

- STO-STOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOOHOHOHOHO-

They got the message, since in any moment before the father aspect got even closer to ask them to cease the attack, and quickly moved away. However, the duo could not stop themselves to appreciate the puddle of reminiscent giggles who was Patton, who now melted in the couch, letting the last laughter end. Wiped the tears and stared Roman and Virgil with the gratitude and happiness so easily to read in his face that made both aspects blush with the intensity, leading the purple lover hide in his hood and the prince smile more.

The moral side jumped, crushing them in a tight, sincere, and kind of clumsy hug due all them be sitting and with many words between the lines.

- Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!!– His words comes out as fast as a machine gun, how he had breath for it even after all the tickling, no one really knew.

- You’re welcome, Padre! – Creativity’s representation lightly poked his sides, making him jump. – But be aware that your actions awaked up two insatiable tickle monsters!

Virgil just rolled his eyes. Patton released a fast giggle as answer, and for some reason, the purple felt all his ‘Fight or Flight’ instincts be activated. He squirmed a little in the hug, but the grip didn’t ease. The Morality’s voice came out a bit lower than the normal, but equally comprehensible.

- Oh, no, Roman… - It was like a purr from a feline before the attack. – You were the ones who did.

Logan left his room, having had a very satisfactory reading morning. Automatically screams and laughter entered in his ear field, his eyes lightly widened and he followed the sound, going to the Living Room just to find Roman and Virgil on the floor, Patton between them, his hands tickling both without mercy, leading the melodious sound (he had to admit) which were flying from their lips.

- Who are the two sides with shining and wonderful laughter who the tickle monster love to tickle tickle tickle tickle? – His tune was as a father talking with two babies. – They are you! Yesh yesh! Are you you you!

Logan pondered the situation. Patton was a reasonable person who loved everyone, so he more than possible would stop when realize they have had enough. Not to mention that he didn’t wanted take the risk to being pulled into the game or embarrassing the participants. Especially the one with hoodie, who still gradually getting used with the affection of the famILY and the prince, who sometimes let himself think that he needed to show himself the stronger and flawless figure that the ‘royalty must be’.

Realizing no real danger in the activity that his eyes analyzed, the logic aspect just stay long enough to decorate Virgil and Roman’s ticklish spots, since these could be a really future useful data, before backing to his room, suddenly remembering that there was another book on his shelf waiting for him.

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lockdownuk · 4 years

Text

Lockdown Diary Part 3

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.

Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online.

Day 61: Writing this in the afternoon on day 62. An exercise driven day. Two walks and stair climb as usual plus I popped round Jeff’s early evening. First time I’ve been to his house, 1 Garden Row, Elmington. It’s further than I thought so, with walking there an back, I managed a daily total of 14km. It was good to see him and have a social (but social-distanced) beer. When I got home, @9:45pm, I made thai green chicken curry, watch The Report (a great, if worrying film) and then TikTok-ed until gone 5am!

Day 62: Typing this on day 64! Beer round Karen’s. Missed Sam’s quiz.

Day 63: Typing this on day 64! Beer round Karen’s. Again! Well, it is bank holiday Monday! Had dirty pizza for tea and watched The Heat. Again! It is the most piss funny film.

Day 64: Well, I have been feeling guilty about treatung the bank holiday w/e l;ike a bank holiday w/e. It’s dawned on me that that guilt is way too self-disiciplned. I got up about midday, usual two walks and stair climb but that’s it. I need to clean the house from top to bottom, get on top of my online courses, get the garden done, get the car fixed, go shopping…fucking hell - if only I had the time…

Day 65: Today I swapped Amazon prime free trial for about the 5th time in my life. Same card and address - will they get wind of my skullduggery. This is all so I can finish watching Hunters and catch Homecoming S2. I went shopping at Asda near Raunds. I wish I hadn’t, it’s no good for a comprehensive shop. Received an email from RCI inviting me to a Zoom meeting with Pal Mulcahy for a business update. I fear the worst. And it’s at 10:00am, FFS!

Day 66: Logged in an attended zoom forum with Paul Mulcahy and over 250 RCI staff this morning. The message was that there is going to be redundancies. I expected this and expected to fall victim. All staff that are going to be put through cionsultation would be contacted today. I however wasn’t! Very, very surpised. meanwhile, Nick Reilly asked to connect via LinkedIn (including become a LinkedIn staff team member - that’s new to me so I’ll see what it is but I accepted the invitation) Later, I WhatsApp-ed him and asked who has been affected from IT. All he could tell me was no one on Jon Rodger’s team is under threat. Also, Mark C emailed - I’ll respond tomorrow. I got up at 09:00ish and had my mornming walk before the 10:00am meeting. I am now, at 09:30pm, fucking knackered. Dinner and then bed, methinks but not before one more episdoe of Hunters!

Day 67: Typing on Day 68. Got pretty drunk last night. I’ve got blisters from walking (new boots) so I don’t think I’ll walk tomorrow (well, today!).

Day 68: I did fuck all today. Got up after 1pm, no walking. I did manage to clean the bathroom (and smash my little mirror) and do my 26 stair climb. I am typing at 9pm and I feel whacked!

Day 69: I have an abscess. It’s not too painful (today) but I am going to call the dentist tomorrow (Monday). I think antibiotics are in order. I watched a film, which I actually started yesterday, called The Voices starring Ryan Reynolds, Gemma Arteton and Anna Kendrick. Fuuuuuuuuuuuucking weird. The closing credits are the most bizarre, in context, I’ve ever seen. But, in general, a very good film. Back to normal exercise regime today plus hovered the hall and stairs. Get me. It’ll be interetingh to see my Google Fit figures for May tomorrow.

Day 70: Contacted the dentist who advised salt water rinsing and ibuprofen. But, tbf, it’s a lot better today and the swelling has gone right down. The dentist I called was the Oundle House (Rodericks) one. I was not hopeful since last time I saw them they referred me to their Northampton clinic for root canal work which was quoted at over £600. However, the dentist was very nice, had my x-ray to hand from that last visit and seemed more interested in making sure I’m OK than gaining a paying customer. He still wants to see me when possible though! I must mention the weather. It has been glorious weather nearly every day throughout May (it’s June 1st today). Seriously sunny and like a holiday every day. The news mentioned it today - the level of sunshine throughout the transition from spring to summer is unprecedented, apparently. My T shirt tan is, quite frankly, ridiculous!

Day 71: Today’s ‘must mention’ is what’s going on in the US and it’s not particularly related to Trump. There was a black man killed while under arrest. George Floyd died Monday 25th May (8 days ago) A policeman, who knelt on his neck for minutes while he complained of not being able to breathe, has been charged with murder. Now there are riots and curfews and military intervention all over the country. It’s similar to the English riots of 2011. It’s worrying, sad, scary and not what the fight against the pandemic needs. Most of all, it’s racism rearing its ugly head yet again. I’ve had a normal-ish day. received an email from Jim checking in, talked to a recruiter about a promising job lead (although the hours are 8-5 which I am not happy about), talked to Barry across the road and sent Barzzy a WhatsApp. And I logged in Shaw Academy and started lesson one of module 2 of web Design. It’s been a while, so long overdue, but I only did about 15 minutes. Must try harder / do better! As I type, late (10:10pm) I have dinner cooking and a strange pain in my left side and am in the middle of No Country for Old Men. Don’t think I’ve seen it since the cinema (13 years!)

Day 72: As soon as (well, within a couple of days) I mention the weather, it turns. It’s rained a little and is a lot cooler (15° rather than mid-20s). Much better for walking, I have to say. I finished Hunters today (Amazon Prime series). While I enjoyed it, it got too surreal at the end. It is loosely based on the real story of Nazi hunters in the US in 1977 but the straying from loosely based to down-right ridiculous fiction annoyed me. If it goes to S2, I will watch it, however. Received some of my rental deposit back today (the law changed so that only 5 weeks rent can be demanded as deposit). Over £600. Nice.

Day 73: I made a short video for Marc and Clare’s 26th wedding anniversary. I ‘dressed up’ for it. I enjoyed doing it and I think it was appreciated.

Day 74: Typing on Day 75 for no other reason than I couldn’t be bothered on day 74! I received a letter either today or the day before (well, yesterday or the previous day!) from Mr Minos at the eye clinic informing me that, while there is some stuff going on in both eyes (garnered from the photo scans done at the last hospital appointment), he wants to see me in three months. Always a refief when that happens. Been getting into two series on Amazon: Alex Rider and Modern Love. One is a male Hanna, the other is soppy affairs of the heart based on real life stories (from essays written in the NY Times). Both enjoyable for totally different reasons.

Day 75: Lazyish day. Well, not really, just that I only went for one walk, alebit 6km andI got pissed on. Wehn the rain hit, it was also fucking freezing! Some of the clouds were stunning today, made for great photos. As I type, it’s 21:12, I’m listening the wonderful Phoebe Bridgiers. Now, I’m gonna make some tea and sup a few ales, I reckon.

Day 76: Done lots of walking today (over 13,000 steps) I made sausage casserole with too much chilli (scotch bonnet and birdeye). I had an online (fb) debate with Sam over whether the George Floyd murder was a racial.

Day 77: Received a new (used) wing mirror for the car. £18 with delivery, I reckon that’s a bargain. I cashed in £20 from Prolific as well, so I’m satisfied at the financial full-circle. Dropped the car off at Barnwell (Nene Valley Body Shop) and walked back - 7km. Just about to dive into tea - finishing the blazing hot sausage casserole from yesterday. Then I’m going to do some more Rubik’s cube practice with my recently acquired GoCube.

Day 78: Lots of daily walking, 26 stair climb, press-up and late nights watching TikTok (gone 3am this morning) are making for a constantly knackered Tim Stubbs. Today I made veg soup and cooked up some meatballs. Both are delish. How did I ever to learn how to conjure up such stuff? The Rubik’s cube learning is coming along except that I need good daylight to distinguish between the yellow and white faces on the flipping thing!

Day 79: Listening to Radio 6 most the day and the news is making for dire listening. Forecast of severe recession, especially if there is a second peak of the virus, which I think there will be. Plus, an offshoot of the George Floyd murder and the #BlackLivesMatter movement, institutions and town councils are being lobbied by campaigners to remove statues of anyone associated with things like slavery (one was toppled in Bristol at the w/e) and rename buildings etc. that were named after historical characters with any links to something that now is deemed wrong or offensive. I agree with it but it’s not pleasant to hear amongst other bleak news. Walked to Barnwell to collect my car - front trim reseated and new wing mirror fitted, £20 - bargain (I source the replacement wing mirror). But, also, forked out £165 on car tax! Cleaned the lounge from top to bottom. Knackering!

Day 80: Chatted with Dad and Rita - he’s pissed off with the slavery backlash but otherwise they are both OK. I saw Baz in the Tesco queue where I mentioned my disgust at the Thursday market being allowed (I found I could not maintain 2m at all times just walking to Tesco’s!) and that I really don’t want to catch Covid19 as I will probably die. Maybe a bit dramatic but he messaged me later today to say he’d been thinking on what I said and offered to shop for me. I replied that I am OK to shop but am scared at how people are taking things so much less seriously than when lockdown started yet the virus is still out there just as it was then! I am very touched at his massage. I thoroughly cleaned the bedroom and changed the bedclothes today. House work really knackers me out!

Day 81: Spare room cleaned today. Not much else to type about. It’s Friday, I making curried mince and I don’t feel like a beer. How I’ve changed!

Day 82: I did have beers last night. Ended up going to bed with daylight and dawn chorus for company. Today, when I woke, gone 1pm, I have been greeted by what can only be described as thoroughly depressing news from every quarter. This includes violence in the capital, further virus outbreak in Beijing. Fog’s political posts on FB make for depressing (but vaild) reading. I’m feeling thoroughly fed up today. Not even music can lift my mood…

…but, I am currently listening to Craig Charles on BBCR6 and, I have to say, he’s putting in quite an exceptional effort - there may be hope that my mood might lift, even at gone 8pm! I might have a beer or two and grab something postivity and enjoyment from the day after all.

Day 83: Another late one last night but up before noon today. Started watching something called Condor on Sky One. It’s OK - there’s stuff I wanna waytch on Amazon Prime but, more often than not, it keeps telling me there’s ‘a problem’ when I try to play anything. Pissing me off. I just checked and I have two weeks of the initial 12 of furlough to go. I shall started asking the questions about what might happen on the Connections website.

Day 84: Typing this on Day 85. On the way back from dropping off some shoes for Sean Davies at his brother’s (martin) I met Karen and she said why not pop round for a beer so I did. Certainly not used to a drink on a Monday so that, and the genral upheaval to my evening, while good fun and a nice change, put pay to my usual diary entry! I sorted Amazon Prime out by leaving the TV turned off for over an hour. Day 85: Tim did the garden today and it looks great. The pipes in the bathroom have been knocking loudly, on and off, for a couple of weeks now. Last night, they were so loud that today I took it upon myself to resolve it or ring Woodfords. So, having turned off the water, run the taps dry to get rid of any trapped air and then turned the water back on slowly, I discoved it’s the cistern and its pipes. Woodfords are arranging Corvee to visit. Meanwhile, leaving the water turned off at least stops the noise which is, otherwise, costant and unbearable! I emailed HR a couple of days ago about what’s happening in a couple of weeks time in terms of furlough when the 12 weeks will be up. Sue Cockimngs got back to me attaching an email Deryn sent on 15th May which I never received. Basically, they’ll extend furlough if need be and an update should be forthcoming late May/early June. Well, that time has passed, so who knows what is going to happen. The furlough scheme (CJRS) has been changed by the govenment, I’ve read, and it looks like any new people would have to have been furloughed by June 10th (it’s the 16th today) so no furlough rotation, which is annoying. The CJRS ends 1st October with employer contributions required from 1st August - that’s D-Day as far as I am concerned….so job hunting will have to step up a notch! Day 86: Pete’s birthday and he bought himself the same speaker as me. When I asked if it lived up to his expectations he mentioned it’s better through WiFi than Bluetooth. That confused me as I haven’t got WiFi available on mine…..long story short, I bought the wrong fucking speaker. I got a AudioPro AddOn T10 instead of C10. To say I am fucked off is an understatement. To think I was so pleased at the cheap price I paid. Now I feel like I have wasted €200. Bollocks.

Day 87: Finished Alex Rider last night. Another series that started off so well and ended a litte weak but, overall, not bad. I’ve started keeping strange meal times…lunch very late (4pm) and dinner really late (11pm). I need to sort it ‘cos it’s playing havoc with my sugar levels. I had a huge hypo while having my second walk today, second day on the trot that’s happened. My late dinner was Chinese chicked curry with a quarter of a scotch bonnet and two birdeye chillies. Delish.

Day 88: I have managed to be bitten yesterday or the day before on one of my walks. There are strange, itchy lumps on my right inner forearm. And I do mean itchy. I trimmed my sideburns today, I was very pissed off with them. My hair looks just a little less shit. I did a shop at Tesco in Corby today. Mainly booze as follows: 20 cans Sam Miguel £18 18 cans Stella £15 20 bottles Bud £10 8 cans Tyskie £9 3 lrg bottles Warsteiner £5 £57 Bargain.

Day 89: Lazy day. One short walk and usual stair climb. Howard and Sue popped round to give me a pressie - bottle of Monkey Shoulder. I’m building up quite a collection of whisky!

Day 90: Dad called and we chatted for an hour or so. I had to apologise for not sending a father’s day card! Dan messaged me and offered to pay for a pizza delivery which I declined.

Football has started again this past week…Prem and Championship only. L1 and L2 season was cut short and Posh missed out on the play-offs by one place. As I type, Everton v Liverpool is on Sky Sports on a Sunday evening - it’s very strange with no crowd. There’s crowd noise being played thorugh the tannoy.

#Diary #Tumblr diary #lockdown #covid19 #lockdownuk

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seekmywayout · 4 years

Text

read you like a book

Koi wo Shiranai Bokutachi wa Ikezawa Mizuho/Aihara Eiji

Word Count: 1,579

He’s late again, she thinks to herself as her gaze unconsciously moves towards the library door. She’s lost count of how many times her eyes have flitted away from her responsibilities and towards the entrance instead; half expecting, half hoping to see a familiar face.

She doesn’t want to say, but she wants to see him.

Even if it’s for only a short while, she wants to see him.

As if on cue, the door slides open.

She tries to look nonchalant.

“You’re late,” she says matter-of-factly as he strides across the room, his backpack casually slung over his shoulder. He sets it on the ground in the corner of the room before approaching her. She continues, “And I was thinking you were getting better at being more punctual.”

“Oh, but I am getting better,” he replies. “I hate to admit it, but ‘library duty’ is getting ingrained in my mind now.”

She raises a single brow. “Yet you were still late.”

“Okay, I was already on my way home but something felt a little off, like I was forgetting something,” he explains to her. He stops himself for a second.

“Thought I left something behind for a moment, but then I remembered the library committee. And then I remembered you were also glaring at me earlier today.” He fakes a shudder. “So it must’ve been library duty.”

She feels her cheeks flush. “I was not glaring.”

But she can’t deny that maybe she did steal a glance or two at him during class.

“Well, even if I’m a little late, at least I’m here now,” he proclaims. “So, what’re we doing today?”

“I’ve been working on putting away the shipment of new books,” she states, pointing at her cart of books. She gestures towards another cart next to hers. “This is the ‘Return’ pile. Would you?”

He rolls up his sleeves and starts thumbing over book spines. “Sure, sure.”

They fall into a surprisingly comfortable silence as they begin their work. She puts away several non-fiction books, making a mental note in her mind of the ones that seemed useful. A first peek into new arrivals was the primary benefit of library duty, really. She suspects he may feel similarly.

It’s a comfortable silence, yet she unabashedly wants more.

“I was reading Duma Key the other day,” she brings herself to say, gaze moving towards him.

He looks up at her, prompted by the sound of her voice, and she sees his eyes light up. “For real? You? The one by Stephen King?”

She lets out a quiet huff in response. “Yes, the one by Stephen King. I thought I would give it a try. It is… different from a lot of the other novels I’ve read, but it’s good. Terrifying, yet gripping.”

“Right? He really is the king of suspense,” he concurs. “So hard to put one of his books down once you start.”

She finds herself nodding in agreement. “I stayed up longer than I was planning to last night because of it.”

He laughs then, and she tries not to let the sound distract her too much from their conversation. “His writing does that to you. Ah, yeah, Ikezawa—kind of related, I mentioned to you before that I read A Tale of Two Cities recently, right?”

Suddenly, she feels warm. “Yes, you did.”

“Uh, since classic literature is more your thing, I was wondering if you had any recommendations for something similar?” he asks. His right hand moves to scratch the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s usually not what I read but A Tale of Two Cities was actually pretty good. Maybe there’s more out there that I’m missing.”

She doesn’t disagree with that sentiment—it’s part of the reason why she chose to read Duma Key herself. She doesn’t necessarily want to say the other part.

With his request in mind, she brings a hand to her chin and takes a moment to ponder.

“Maybe Great Expectations or Bleak House. They are both also written by Charles Dickens. Crime and Punishment might be another one you’ll like. The author is…” She pauses. “I’ve forgotten his name; it was something Russian.”

“Oh,” he hums. “Crime and Punishment sounds interesting.”

“Ah, it’s a really fascinating character study that pulls you deep into the mind of the main character. I actually saw it earlier in the ‘Return’ pile if you’re interested in it.” She points towards his trolley of books.

“Yeah, it sounds like it’d be a good read,” he readily agrees, his attention turning to the stack of books.

As he says those words, she reaches forwards, trying to help him find the novel. She notices his own hands moving through the pile, so close to hers.

What if, she thinks, our hands touched?

It will be something straight out of a shoujo manga, she supposes. Not that she’s read many, but the few she’s flipped through at the recommendation of her classmates had similar such scenes.

Fingers touching, cheeks flushed, stolen glances…

Then they would sneak a whispered kiss, hidden away behind bookshelves, away from the prying eyes of fellow library committee members.

It would be their secret—soft and sweet and heart-wrenching.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks suddenly, face turned towards her.

His voice breaks her out of her thoughts and she’s nothing short of scandalized at how overactive her imagination has become.

She clears her throat and attempts to sound unperturbed as she answers, “Yes, I’m fine.”

I’m not fine.

He cocks an eyebrow at her and she tries not to think too much about the genuine concern that crosses his features, or how their fingers never actually touched. She quietly wishes they had. “You sure? You just kinda froze for a bit; had a funny look on your face, to be honest.”

“That’s just my face,” she instinctively snaps. He startles slightly and she bites her tongue. He has no ill intent, she knows.

“Yes, I’m sure; I’m fine,” she says again, consciously changing her tone. “But thank you for your concern, Aihara.”

I’m not fine, not normal. Not when he looks at her like that. Not when her heart beats so fast there’s no way that it’s natural. Not when her mind drifts so easily towards thoughts of him, of him and her.

“Well, anyway, I found the book.” He holds it up to show her and starts leafing through the pages. “Thanks for the recommendation!”

She watches as he flips to the beginning of the novel and skims through the text. He mouths the words to himself silently as he reads; she especially likes the way his teeth catch on his lower lip as he does so.

“Solid start,” he says eventually, before closing the book and setting it aside. “Thanks a ton, Ikezawa.”

He looks up then, and their eyes meet. She abruptly turns her head away.

I was staring at him again, she realizes. But it’s hard not to.

“... I hope you’ll enjoy it,” she responds, her voice softer than she intended it to be. He gives her a crooked smile in return and looks back towards the mountain of books that still need to be sorted. Quietly, she follows suit.

It’s hard not to stare when he gives her those smiles.

It’s hard not to stare when she doesn’t know what to do with the rapid beating of her heart.

It’s hard not to stare when she wants him to look at her too.

And maybe he’s not suited for love after all, as he says, but she’ll wait. She’ll wait because not too long ago, she wasn’t either. Now, she lets the feeling slowly bloom in her chest, cherishes the warmth that spreads throughout her body at the sight of him, and the bursts of happiness that erupt whenever he smiles in her direction.

But, she doesn’t know what to do or how to act around him.

She hasn’t felt this confused about something since she first read Ulysses and found herself grappling against the literary behemoth.

If only she could read him like a book, she thinks. Sometimes, she feels like she still hasn’t got past the cover.

She wonders instead if she is easy to read—if her face betrays every emotion, spoils every hidden plot twist within her heart.

She wonders how her story will unfold.

“You know, Aihara,” she speaks up, “there’s another story that I’m interested in.”

They both look up at each other while their hands continue to fumble through their book sorting duty.

“Oh yeah? What is it?” he asks, sincerely.

It’s cute. She finds herself inwardly cursing her small crush on Hugh Jackman.

“Is it another Charles Dickens?” he guesses.

She shakes her head. “No, this story hasn’t started yet.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” he questions with a slight tilt of his head.

She feels an uncharacteristically soft, girlish giggle bubble to her lips. “I’ll tell you, but not today. Some other day.”

He crosses his arms to his chest and a contemplative frown forms on his lips. It’s quiet for a moment as she watches him, wondering what he’ll say to her, then he flashes her a lopsided grin. “Okay. I’ll hold you to that, Ikezawa.”

“And I’ll let you,” she says without missing a beat.

He blinks.

Then, he beams, “I’m looking forward to it!”

She finds herself smiling back naturally, because—

It will be the beginning of their story.

a/n:

set in an AU where I can be happy. I didn’t think too much about timelines but it’d probably fit somewhere before her confession ig

this fic is for all the Ikezawa fans out there, all 5 of us. Also I wish I could’ve written them in like… an actual relationship but that’s legitimately not my writing style for the most part lol. Maybe I could try again another time.

...I actually have not read a single book I mentioned in this story LOL

also I may end up posting this to ao3 later and de-anon myself but w/e, it’s nothing i haven’t done before tbh.

#fanfic #koi wo shiranai bokutachi wa #we don't know love yet #y'all can't stop me from making book allusions!!!!#word vomit #oof my blog layout on desktop is not good for chunks of text #i don't often write stuff because i wish canon was different #but here i am #doing that now #cope writing is a real thing lol

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eliniei · 4 years

Text

Not As It Seems Part XIII - Emet-Selch x Warrior of Light

Summary: A few nights after fixing the Warrior of Light's injured wrist, Emet-Selch inquires about the other wounds and scars on her body, leading to a story she wasn't expecting to divulge.

A/N: This was suggested by Aoirohi <3 I always jump at stories like this, as I am a burn survivor, I always try to incorporate myself into my characters and this was the perfect chance.

Word Count: 1929

Masterlist: here Ao3: here

TW: Burns, depictions of violence, blood

----

I laid on my stomach in bed, flipping through a book, legs kicked up behind me and crossed. I leaned my chin in my palm as I turned the pages, eyes scanning the words as I turned them.

The door opened and closed, and I looked up in time to see Emet-Selch walk around the partition, covering his mouth with a gloved hand as he yawned. We watched each other for a few moments before he broke eye contact and he started slipping out of his heavy coat.

“Tired?” I asked, although I’m not sure why I bothered. He was always tired.

“No extra training tonight?” he asked, ignoring my question, hanging the coat over the back of a chair. I looked back down at my book, hair sliding over my shoulder.

“Mm,” I hummed. “I decided to rest tonight, especially since my wrist isn’t fully healed yet.”

His eyes went to my injured hand, still bound by his magic. “Is it bothering you?”

“No, no,” I said, waving in dismissal. “But I didn’t want to push it.”

The Ascian dropped into the bed with with me, the mattress making me bounce with the new weight. He took hold of my hand, holding it, palm up, to examine it as I pretended to read. Instead, I watched him out of the corner of my eye, remember the last time he held my hand like that.

When he was finished, he looked back down at me. Quickly, I looked back down at the book and he huffed a laugh.

“What?” I asked him, lifting the next page, feigning ignorance.

“Were you hoping for something?” I could hear the hubris dripping from his voice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I saw him shake his head in my peripherals and my arm was lifted higher. I looked up again to see him press a light kiss to the inside of my wrist. I froze, a shiver running down my spine at the touch. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was doing it on purpose to elicit a reaction out of me.

He grinned, smugly, at the bumps that rose on my skin and continued leaving a trail up my arm. He stopped, laying a final press of his lips on the straight, white scar on my shoulder. When he moved his head away, he ran a thumb over its length, the arrogance fading.

“Where did this one come from?”

I looked at it and smiled.

“That is my oldest scar,” I informed him. “My first day of training with the sword.” I breathed a giggle. “They were to give us practice swords. Imagine mine and my opponent’s surprise when there was a tear in my sleeve and blood dripping down my arm.”

Emet-Selch smiled, softly, then pointed to the one across my cheekbone. “And this?”

I sat up. “Are you trying to distract me? I have some very important reading-”

He lifted a brow, then looked down at the book, eyes scanning the words for a moment before I snapped the cover shut.

“Yes, a fictional romance sounds incredibly pressing, my dear hero.”

My face grew hot under his haughty, amused gaze and I looked away from him, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Fine then,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “My first true battle.”

“Oh?”

“I was helping top-side on a ship once, fending off a horde of Aurelia during a nasty storm. One of them struck me on the cheek.”

“A jellyfish?” he asked, incredulously.

“The tips of those tentacles are quite sharp with enough speed and force.” I put a finger to my lips, thinking back to that night. “That was the first time I met Y’shtola, actually.”

He continued on, inquiring about the various injuries and marks I’d received over the years. I explained each of them and the story behind them.

The one on my knee from when I fell out of a tree trying to scout, clipping the skin on a thick, broken branch with a jagged end.

The circular ones on the back of my other arm where a wild boar had sunk its teeth. Gods, did that one hurt.

He was inching closer and closer to the large scar that took up the majority of my back. My stomach twisted and my mood shifted when I realized he was almost out of other wounds to ask about. My answers turned sharp and to-the-point without any dramatic flourishing my first stories had.

Finally, he placed a hand gently on my back. “And this?” His voice was quiet and soft, as if he knew the anxiety building up inside me. My skin prickled at the sensation, even through my shirt.

I knew he’d seen it before, but he had never asked. He always avoided touching it and I had vaguely wondered in the past if it was because he was unsure if it would cause me pain.

I hadn’t expected our night to go like this, though I knew he’d be curious about it at some point. I should have figured when he started asking...

My smile faded. Most of my scars, I remembered fondly, for some reason or another, but this…

I looked down at my lap, folding my hands together tightly.

“You don’t have to tell me. I won’t be offended if you aren’t ready,” the Ascian assured me, removing his hand to push my hair over my shoulder.

“No, it’s…” I paused, inhaling deeply. “It’s alright. I guess I’ve just never really had a reason to talk about it before.”

“You don’t have to,” he reiterated. “I was merely curious.” I shook my head, giving him a sad smile. I exhaled my breath, the memory building in my mind.

“It was when the Amalj’aa summoned Ifrit,” I started. I lifted my shirt over my head and turned my back to him so he could see it closer. He removed his gloves and set them to the side. I closed my eyes as he traced the claw marks, the burned and disfigured skin around them, his fingers a whisper of a touch on my back.

“Retreat! You have to get out of there!”

“While my companions and I were fighting him back, one of my spells hit him harder than expected. He turned on me.”

Screaming, shouting. A man in heavy armour waving his axe at the Lord of the Inferno, trying to steal his attention away from me.

“Hey, you big, stupid oaf! Over here!”

“But he wouldn’t turn. He narrowed in on me, that burst of magic angering him beyond reason.”

“Run!” the lancer yelled at me as the demon’s shadow swallowed me whole. I stared up at him, wide eyed, mouth hanging open.

“My party implored me to run, but I’d never faced anything so large before. I must have been frozen in shock.”

I paused my story, chin starting to tremble as I fought against my fear. Emet-Selch ran his hands up and down both arms, a small comfort.

“But it-”

My voice cracked and I halted my words, then took a few short breaths, trying to calm the panic welling in my chest. He leaned forward, laying a small kiss on my tense shoulder, then pressed his forehead against the blade, as if the sadness of my story was causing him pain.

“Run, Gods damn you!” the conjurer shouted at me, jarring me out of my shock. He cursed, readying his healing spell.

Everything seemed to happen in slow-motion.

I turned, taking off towards the fiery end of the circular arena we were in. I saw his shadow on the ground. He raised his claw above his head.

“But,” I tried again, battling to keep my voice even. “By the time I turned it was too late.”

Ifrit brought his hand down upon me, claws swiping down the length of my back, ripping my shirt and searing my skin, leaving me a bloody, gruesome mess, strips of flesh barely hanging from my body.

I screamed, the pain unlike anything I’d ever felt before. If I knew this was what being a hero entailed…

I stumbled forward a few steps before falling face-first into the dirt, the world going dark.

“They cleaned me up and healed me to the best of their ability, but the marks remained. It took everything they had to just keep me alive after the battle had ended.”

When I opened my eyes, the memory fading, my hands were shaking, still clasped together in my lap. The Ascian was quiet, behind me, processing my story.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked, finally, voice barely above a whisper, as he lifted his head from my shoulder.

“Sometimes,” I said. “More my mind than my body.”

“I could…,” he started, his words unsure. “I could fix it, you know.”

He ran a finger down one of the claw slashes. A chill ran through me.

“I could make the scars go away, if you so wished.”

I bit my lip, conflicted. In truth, I had thought about having it removed before, but it had been a part of me for long. Sure, it plagued me at times but… It reminded me of where I came from and how hard I’ve worked to get to where I was. How strong I’d become since that day.

“No,” I said, looking down at my lap. “No, leave them.”

“Are you sure? They seem to trouble you a great deal.”

I nodded, then looked at him over my shoulder. “Getting rid of the scar won’t get rid of the experience. You, of all people, should be well aware of that.”

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

“Besides,” I began again. “It serves as a reminder.”

“Of?” I looked away again, a small smile playing on my lips.

“Of everything that led me here.”

I heard his breath hitch, slightly, then a huff of a laugh. He shifted and I felt the reverent press of his lips against the middle of my back, on the disfigured, gnarled skin I bore with me each and every day.

My back arched as he dragged his lips up, over the deep slashes Ifrit’s claws left behind, the sensation tingling.

No one had ever…

He stopped at the base of my neck and gripped my waist, tugging me back into his lap. My bare back pressed against his chest and he wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin in the crook of my neck.

I placed my hands over his and relaxed into him, the apprehension I’d felt while the memory played through my mind calming itself as we sat in silence, his presence and warmth like a soothing balm on my very soul.

“Are you alright?” he asked me when he sensed that my mind had stopped turning. He ran his nose along the back of my ear and I leaned into it.

“Mm,” I hummed. “Fine. It’s about time I told someone, anyway.”

He was quiet, again, but after a few long moments, he craned his neck to press a kiss to my jaw.

“Thank you for sharing this with me, hero.” I sighed, relief flooding me. “For trusting me with your trauma.”

“You seemed like the one person who would understand,” I admitted, then smiled. “Just don’t use it against me, Ascian.”

I laid my head back against his shoulder and looked up at him. His chest shook with a small chuckle and he tightened his arms around me.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

#emetselch #Emet-Selch #emet selch #emet selch x warrior of light #emet-selch x warrior of light #warrior of darkness #warrior of light #Final Fantasy XIV #Final Fantasy 14 #final fantasy 14 fanfiction #final fantasy xiv fanfiction #ffxiv #ffxiv fanfiction

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