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lushinart · 2 months ago

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Misplaced Loyalty

a choi beomgyu oneshot

₊⊹ summary: navigating a crush on your sweet new coworker Soobin proves harder than you thought when all of your thoughts are still stubbornly stuck on Choi Beomgyu. [ao3 link]

₊⊹tags: strangers to friends, best friends to lovers, light angst, no extremely heavy topics, happy ending, sfw but with suggestive themes

⊹words: ~11,5k

masterlist

Soobin has stuck around for about two full months now. Generally speaking, that is barely any time at all, but the sudden realization is enough to give me pause as I wipe down a table, small frown etched on my face as I try my best to recall his first day here. No, I’m not mixing the dates up in my head, it has definitely been at least two months since our superstar barista found his way into our shop and turned our entire dynamic on its head.

He showed up out of nowhere on a slow day, inquiring if we happened to be looking for any help at the moment. At first, we were convinced he wouldn’t even make it through his entire first month. Not that he’s bad at the job; on the contrary, actually — he’s patient, polite, and any occasional mistake is easily overlooked once he flashes you his sweet apologetic smile and scrambles to fix it before you get the chance to call him out on it. For a couple of days, our groupchat is set alight with extravagant theories to explain his sudden appearance. We wonder if he’s just a broke small-town boy moving into the city in pursuit of his modeling dreams, silently scrutinize his outfits to try to make out his real wealth, theorize that maybe his super-rich family is threatening to cut his credit card access until he is deemed worthy. On one thing we all begrudgingly seem to agree: he’s too good for the mediocrity of this place. He’s perfect, almost too perfect, and we’re bound to not be the only ones to notice.

The first time a customer crosses a line with him, my manager eyes me nervously, worry evident in the way her breath seems to catch in her throat, and I simply nod in understanding before grabbing the mop and intervening. The girl had made a big show of spilling the iced coffee all over herself, making a huge mess on the floor and garnering a few irritated looks from other tables. Her plans were obvious, no trace of subtlety in her tone as she offers to swap numbers with the stunned boy. Whether or not he picks up on it is unclear, but he seems to have no intention of giving into her wishes, quickly bowing in a profuse apology and muttering politely about a refund before fleeing back to the safety of the counter. Her friends avoid my eyes when I ask for some more room to clean, stifling their laughter as they scoot over closer to each other and shoot her some playful remarks.

There is a tacit understanding between the staff that we now hang on a very fragile balance. Soobin is our golden boy, driving in decent traffic with all his non-coffee related charms, and we can’t bear the thought of losing him now. We experiment with his schedule, assign him to our slower shifts and watch in amazement as the small adjustment actually brings change about in no time. Once the borderline harassment starts to get too hard to ignore, we encourage him to stick to the work behind the counter, minimizing his interactions with the public, hoping the short chats at the register satiates them just enough to keep coming back.

A few awkward conversations later and it becomes apparent that we were too quick to make big assumptions about this guy. As it turns out, he’s been in the city for a while, moving in a couple years prior to study at the nearby university, the main source of our customers. He had been working at another café but decided to leave due to some disagreements. Pinned under our curious gaze, he chooses not to elaborate, and we agree not to push out of sympathy for the poor guy. He’s also not as oblivious as we were willing to believe from his innocent demeanor, often joking about his dashingly good looks with a smirk once he’s comfortable joining in our closing hours banter. He’s more than used to handling all the attention he gets, and we collectively let out a breath of relief once the elephant in the room is finally addressed.

Two weeks was all it took for him to be promptly adopted by Yeonjun. That’s sort of how it works in our friend group, a pretty random group of people brought together by his magnetizing personality. It’s hard not to want his approval, and winning it means you get to wander in his orbit and meet all his other ducklings, slowly mingling among ourselves until we all feel like family. He strutted into my workplace one day and the two of them just seemed to effortlessly click. A fan of Soobin myself, I ignored the annoying nerves building in my chest and encouraged Yeonjun to ask him to join us for an outing, which would inevitably turn into a permanent invite as he adjusted seamlessly with everybody.

I was freaking nervous. Of course Soobin would be fine, he’s Soobin. What’s not to like? That’s the problem, I liked him a little too much. Now, that wouldn’t be a big deal when it comes to most of my friends; even if they weren’t simply oblivious to it, I could survive their knowing smirks and an occasional playful interrogation. It was Beomgyu I worried about.

The first official group hangout happened about a month after I first met Soobin. Everyone knew about him by now, maybe even exchanged some words with him at the shop in passing, but Yeonjun was still strategic with it, arranging for us to meet at a mall to go see a movie. We could chat for a bit while waiting in line, get a feel for everyone’s comfort level while sharing snacks back and forth, and any silence would feel natural rather than awkward. There was still enough time for interactions, and if Soobin somehow managed to say anything outrageously stupid in the meantime, we could always politely part right after the movie and go hang out at someone’s place without him. It went quite well. A few of us desperately had to pee after demolishing all of our sodas during the session, and soon everyone was comfortably laughing and sharing their opinions while waiting for each other in the dimly lit corridor outside the bathroom. Barely any intentional stalling was needed to catch a vibe from Soobin before he was dragged along with us for a long night spent sprawled across someone’s living room.

Beomgyu took a liking to him just like everyone else. I had watched out for his subtle reactions, flittering glances thrown his way throughout the night going mostly unnoticed, but it seems that I had nothing to worry about. As we sat on the floor with our backs against the old couch later that night, I searched his face one more time for any indication of annoyance, only to find him snorting to another one of Soobin’s stories from work. His eyebrow quirked up slightly under my scrutinizing gaze, responding to my silent ‘So what do you think?’ with his reassuring smile, his hand rubbing my back a few times for good measure, a clear message being sent through his relaxed fingertips: ‘I like him’. I felt like a nervous teen after succeeding in introducing my boyfriend to my mom in high school, but the hard part was far from over. A harmless new friend is a far cry from your best friend’s crush, but a win is still a win, so I relaxed for the night and leaned into his side as I joined in on the banter.

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Beomgyu and I were pretty good at non-verbal communication, a much-needed adjustment after we had gone from mostly hanging out one-on-one to mainly seeing each other in group settings. I’m kind of grateful for it now, although I’m sure the build-up of more complicated matters (matters that require actual words and explanations) relegated for a later date will end in a very uncomfortable conversation. He’s starting to catch up on my feelings towards Soobin, squinting between us subtly the first time he notices how I’m only glancing at him second after a joke. The second time, as soon as my gaze drifts from Soobin, adorably hunched over in laughter, and lands on him next, he’s tilting his head in puppy-like curiosity, a question dancing on his eyes. The look he shoots me isn’t accusatory yet, but I know what he wants to know, and eventually one of us is gonna have to bring it up. My stomach flips and I make a mental note to avoid getting caught again.

I can’t quite put into words what I’m worried about. Deep down, I know Beomgyu both likes Soobin and genuinely wants the very best for me. The problem is that with the best friend title comes the belief that you know what qualifies as ‘best’, and Beomgyu does not, in fact, know shit about that. The current predicament can only be truly understood by those familiar with the fragility of the male ego. Soobin needs to be good, not better. He can’t be perceived as a threat, whatever the hell that might mean to Beomgyu.

To be clear, Beomgyu and I aren’t the typical friends who spent their entire friendship in a game of sad mutual pining. I can confidently say we aren’t that clueless, although I can’t say whatever we actually are is any better. Sobbing in the backseat of Yeonjun’s car after one of our first hangouts, I pitifully confessed that I thought Beomgyu might be my right person, wrong time. Cliché, I know, and so did Yeonjun, but he just politely patted my arm in silence and allowed me to rant about how fucked up it is to fall for a close friend for almost an entire hour. Looking back, I can’t tell if it was all just the kind of run-of-the-mill sympathy I expected from him or a particular kind of pity, the one that comes from knowing something I don’t. In that moment, Yeonjun might have thought he was about to watch his friends be a real car-wreck in slow-motion, and he was preparing to be the very unenthusiastic airbag. Luckily, it worked out.

At the time, my feelings had been boiling inside me for a while, and soon they began bubbling up to the surface in ways that were obvious to anyone who cared to notice. He could pretend not to see the blushing and awkward looks for a while, but not forever if he wanted to at least allow me to save some face. Once it finally got too awkward to avoid addressing, Beomgyu told me he was still recovering from when his ex had done a number on his heart. So I had my answer. I just needed a good cry in someone’s car and we were all good to go again.

I can’t pinpoint when, but eventually I realized wrong time was just a really pitiful excuse to hold on to it. Actually, if I had to make an educated guess, it was probably after I watched him fall for someone else only a couple months after our conversation, but whatever. I was now sure there was no right time, which in turn made me accept he had to be the wrong person. The new perspective actually helped a lot, and soon after, when I was the one holding him as his sobs wrecked through his sore throat because they didn’t work out, I felt no twinge of satisfaction. I knew as soon as I opened my mouth to tell him I was sorry that I really meant it.

Becoming interested in other people myself wasn’t as hard as I imagined either, but I learned very quickly to keep those things to myself. Beomgyu could be a real asshole, even when he masked all his judgement and criticism behind poorly thought-out jokes. After one too many amused told-you-sos, I made sure to warn him that his comments got on my nerves, so my following crush announcements were now met with lukewarm encouragement at best, which I appreciated. Sometimes, this kind of effort contributed much more to maintain our dynamic than sincerity.

I know Beomgyu will hesitate to directly ask me about Soobin, even though everything about his demeanor screams that he’s dying to know. This time things are different. They know each other and we all hang out together, so he can’t exactly be a bitch about Soobin and pick him apart without consequence. When I lay in my bed twisting and turning as sleep insists on evading me, this is the thought that comforts me the most: this is different. Even if he let his childish thoughts take over, poisoning his mind with bitterness towards Soobin, he would never do anything about it. He knows how jealousy could come across, and he has grown far too careful and protective of our friendship to give me any false hope anymore. Beomgyu may have some trouble rationalizing his emotions sometimes, but he’s not cruel.

Even so, I was fully willing to let Soobin be just another one of my crushes, existing on a theoretical plane that never reaches its arms far enough to touch our delicate friendship. It’s there, and I do all the dumb embarrassing things you do when you’re dealing with those pesky feelings, acknowledge it as a thing much like you may acknowledge the weather, and that’s it. But this time, there is one little factor that I forgot to take into account (mostly because I didn’t even think it would get this far): I might actually get the boy. Now what?

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Soobin and I have been spending a lot of time together. What started as a pretty average relationship between coworkers soon yielded a comfortable routine comprised of frequent casual texts and lunches together. I was surprised at Soobin’s availability to form an actual bond with me. He is, after all, a big beacon for attention, so I half expected a sort of polite resistance to my efforts for closeness at first. Being met with none, I prayed to the coffee gods, grateful for having such a convenient, unsuspecting place in the popular boy’s life.

His good looks certainly helped, but what aroused the most curiosity about Soobin for me was his relaxed willingness to listen. I figured someone like him must deal with a fair share of boring conversations already — I imagine him graciously nodding along, always humming precisely at the right times as people try their best to impress him. I didn't want to burden him with my useless rants right away, encouraging him instead to lead the conversation and lending a listening ear. Unexpectedly, I found myself blabbering back just as much because, as it turns out, Soobin asks a LOT of questions.

That is how, after the ice was definitively broken, we found ourselves bickering like an old couple at the shop, shooting hushed quips back and forth between the necessary customer service pauses.

'That is the most braindead take I've ever heard.' I tease, an amused smile adorning my face as I lazily mop the floor, sticky with the spills from the overly sweet beverages.

'Why?' He rounds the table to properly face me, arm still engaged as he viciously rubs at a particularly stubborn stain. 'He's supposed to be a good guy, that's why I like him.'.

'What makes you say that?' I shoot back 'Just because he had a good moment? That doesn't erase the other crazy stuff!'

He looks genuinely flabbergasted at my request for an explanation, probably secure in his belief that his opinion is simply the most obvious one. ‘Well why else would that scene be there?’

‘Well bad people are still people, they aren’t walking around being awful 24/7, that would just make the character have no depth if he was cartoonishly evil like that, right?’

He mulls it over for a second, settling on a simple shrug. ‘I just think we’re supposed to forgive him or something.’

I scoff, but we quickly move on to a different subject, occasionally bickering here and there. Before he goes to finally put down the wet rag, he playfully hits my shoulder with it, scurrying to the back before I can retaliate. I threaten to shove the mop somewhere very unpleasant and he responds with delightful laughter from behind the counter, where he’s ducking like a little kid in trouble.

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Soobin’s not working today, and that’s how I find myself contemplating his time here. This is usually when his influence on me and the café hits the most, in the quiet moments when the lack of him is so obvious. Two months is simultaneously surprisingly long for us to have been able to keep him around and way too short for me to feel this strongly about him. It’s crazy to think a few weeks was all it took for his absence to be so felt, so bothersome. But that’s just how it is: there is no life I can imagine anymore that doesn’t include Soobin in it.

Still, I know I’m probably getting ahead of myself, especially because his newness might be a big contributing factor to his attractiveness. Well, that and the fact that he measures up really well against a certain past infatuation. I keep finding myself unwittingly comparing their traits in my head — Soobin is taller, always gives me a lot of space to expand on my thoughts, and he takes special care with his appearance, a nugget of knowledge I had the pleasure of acquiring when I caught a glimpse of his impressively toned stomach as he casually stretched once, t-shirt riding up just enough to allow for a decent view. Every time I catch myself doing it, I scold myself mentally. I’m aware that Soobin does not deserve to be compared to anyone else, and guilt always creeps into my musings, but I simply cannot avoid these thoughts. Besides, isn’t that normal? Don’t we all compare our current circumstances to our past experiences, perpetually seeking out the bright side? Surely, I must also have a few boxes to tick and expectations to live up to in Soobin’s mind.

Then I think of Beomgyu, wonder if he thinks of it too, if it bothers him even a little bit to think I might see Soobin as an upgrade, and my conscience is back to nag me. Should this thought bother me that much, though? Isn’t it fair to move on, preferably to someone who makes me happier? But I’m just fooling myself, waiting for my rationality to finally soothe the doubts I know I’m still fighting. The truth is, I don’t want him to feel that way. I want to keep his mind from its darkest corners, to protect him like he never thought to protect me when I was the one watching him hand in hand with someone else. My awareness of all of this, of my misplaced loyalty, keeps getting harder and harder to ignore.

Worst of all, all these so-called ‘improvements’ might just be the world’s biggest cope. Soobin is a wonderful guy, charming in ways I can’t properly put into words, but I do my best to anyway because I need to pinpoint them. I need him to be better because I couldn’t have what I really wanted, and that’s the very best comfort I could find in this situation.

In reality, his attractive height might make us look cute, but it bothers me once I realize my head would sit all wrong in the middle of his chest, too far from his neck to properly breathe in his scent or place a chaste kiss on his bare skin. He looks amazing, but it makes me feel weird to assign any value to that sort of superficiality. Lastly, and perhaps what annoys me the most to not be able to appreciate in full, Soobin is a freaking sweetheart, a really considerate one, always perfectly matching my heated energy in every stupid conversation without ever really crossing any lines. He’s really cute when his face is twisted into his signature confused frown, mouth open in a pout as if he’s waiting for the right words to speak themselves before eagerly launching himself into an argument, hands enthusiastically waved about as if crucial to his explanation. I appreciate his demeanor, a perfectly acceptable balance between being a gentleman and deranged, but my thoughts often trail to Beomgyu, the way his stubbornness was always perfectly orchestrated to get on my nerves and how he so graciously presented me with the chance to escalate our fight to a messy wrestling match on the couch. It’s fucked up, I know, but he always left the sweetest bruises.

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‘What are you talking about?’ Kai barely glances up from his phone, the sound of potentially juicy gossip the only thing that has managed to make him acknowledge our presence for the past hour.

‘Oh, now you care.’ I tease, faking some annoyance ‘Yeonjun, you’re up’ I instruct him to recall the highlights of our conversation for me, sinking deeper into my chair.

‘Someone’s got a date with Soobin.’ He raises his eyebrow suggestively, establishing eye contact with Kai.

‘And what’s the problem with that?’ He adjusts his position on the couch, as if to signal we finally got his attention ‘Don’t you like each other?’

‘Well yeah, I guess, b-’

Rudely interrupting my sad excuse for an answer, Yeonjun quips ‘But you are scared shitless.’

‘Am not! I see the guy all the time, that’s the problem. I’m not actually sure if this qualifies as a date.’ My voice trails off pitifully as I voice my thoughts, receiving an incredulous look from the blond boy. ‘What!?’ I squeak out defensively.

‘How do you not know?’

‘W-’ I take a deep breath ‘You would have known by now if your loser ass wasn’t more interested on that screen you’ve got there’ I huff.

He’s not impressed, judgement seeping from his half-lidded stare.

‘He suggested we go to his favorite restaurant together the next time we get off the afternoon shift together’ I explain, nervously bouncing my leg to a frenetic rhythm. ‘We eat together all the time, so this could literally mean nothing. There was something in his tone, though’ I quickly add.

‘So it was flirty?’

‘I think so, yeah.’ I mutter awkwardly.

Yeonjun takes pity on my poor confused self and jumps back into the conversation, trying his best to reassure me ‘He likes you. He’s just playing it safe for now, getting a feeling for the vibes before he gets a little bolder with it.’

‘I would too’ Kai deadpans. ‘Imagine it doesn’t work out and then you have to keep seeing each other at work.’

Yeonjun and I share a stunned look of disbelief before they start a bickering match about what not to say to a friend in their time of need.

‘Shut up, both of you.’ I let out an annoyed sigh ‘I get what you mean. But he’s Soobin, he can literally walk into any open shop and be welcomed with open arms. I’m telling you, if this all goes to shit, he better step up and quit.’

‘Fair.’ Yeonjun nods.

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As it turns out, it was a date. Sort of, anyway. Since a couple months had been enough to cover the kind of stuff you usually expect to bring up on a first date, we ended up just talking like we always do, which didn’t help with my doubts. I couldn’t quite tell if he really was being more charming and inviting than usual, or if it just seemed that way because I had finally allowed myself to believe Yeonjun and consider he might actually be interested in me. After a nice meal during which we exchanged funny stories for a while and he told me all about this group project he was having trouble with lately, I managed to summon some courage from God knows where and shyly mumbled out some of the things that had been on my mind.

He had looked completely disarmed in the moment, the warm dimmed lighting of the restaurant doing very little to hide the heat spreading through his face as he tried to carefully choose his next few words. I wasn’t faring too well myself, awkwardly chuckling as he stumbles mid-sentence here and there. He definitely didn’t expect this, probably hoping for our chemistry to naturally dictate the direction of the outing and speak for itself, my direct question catching him off guard and throwing him off his game. I reach out my hand to pat his arm reassuringly, letting him know it’s alright, he can breathe, there is no right or wrong answer to this. He explains as best as he can that he was indeed hoping to get closer to me, but he didn’t know how to do so without putting pressure on me, worried a miscalculated step might have a terrible effect in our work relationship and new friend group dynamic.

‘I get it’ I lean back on the wooden chair and allow for some silence to settle between us, a moment to calm our restless heartbeats. I briefly admire the restaurant’s intricate wall details, sighing just before the silence stretches long enough to grow a palpable tension between us ‘It might be too early to act rashly, right? I’m kinda scared, too.’

I see him scramble for the right words again, wanting to reassure me he’s not really expecting the worst, not trying to cower from anything before we can actually have the chance to explore our potential, and I’m chuckling again, endeared by his flustered hand movements.

‘No, no, it’s okay. I feel the same way.’

He finally releases some tension from his body, bunching up his jeans in his sweaty palms, chuckling back in relief. We agree to let things flow naturally, to not make a big deal out of it and let chips fall where they may in time. By the time we get our dessert, we are back to our relaxed conversation.

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This is the day. More out of some sense of obligation than anything resembling real disposition, I decide it’s time to have a proper conversation with Beomgyu. Our workplaces are close by, two of the many businesses that owe their steady traffic to the student body of the nearby university. We were once just like them, running through these streets, dripping overpriced artisanal gelato on the burning pavement in the suffocating summers and brushing shoulders under improvised jacket tents in the rainy days.

His shift starts half an hour before mine, so sometimes I walk him to work and kill some time with him before walking down the street to the café, just like today. We walk into the building and I can immediately feel the familiar scent of this place enveloping me. There is something incredibly comforting about the fact that it never changes.

Beomgyu has been working at this printing center for a while, practically getting adopted by the owner. She had taken a liking to him when he came over to print some song lyrics he planned to submit to one of his professors for feedback; apparently, the sweet lady had found him so endearing that this job position was his to take up before he even had to ask.

I wandered into this very printing center one day, heavy shoulder bag pressing down on my tense muscles to the point of giving me a slightly funny walk, and dropped the bag on the front counter with a relieved sigh. The sound of the door alerted him to my presence, but I didn’t notice him approach me from the back of the shop, face practically shoved inside my bag as I frantically searched for my microscopic pen drive. I let out a frustrated grunt, pulling out my laptop and carefully setting it down to the side before shoving my arm back into the bag and rolling my eyes as my fingers come into contact with the rough edges of my keys for the thousandth time, the stupid little thing still nowhere to be found.

‘You can empty it on the counter, if you want. I will be easier that way.’

My head shoots up in surprise, blinking my poor tired eyes a couple times in order to bring the source of the voice into full focus, and suddenly I want the ground to swallow me whole. Right in front of me, in a moment that could have only been handpicked by Satan himself, is Choi Beomgyu, in all his glory. He’s tilting his head at me in amusement, taking in all the details of my disheveled appearance as he does a poor job of holding back his laughter. This is just what I needed to add onto this already shitty day. I had spent a restless night going over two tough assignments, dedicated to pushing through my annoying headache and a rumbling stomach until every last word was written down and properly formatted before I allowed myself to step back into the world of the living. This was the last thing I had to get done before having to hand them in the next morning, and I hadn’t bothered to shower or cover up my blooming dark circles before dragging my ass here to get the job done.

‘Uh, that’s okay...’ I mumble out, drained of any life force.

I curse myself mentally for not knowing how to be a functional human being. Why the hell didn’t I put the pen drive in a convenient spot to reach into if I knew I was going to need it as soon as I got here? I mean I know I’m fucking tired, but- Wait. No, I did. I reach into the back pocket of my jeans, and I simply close my eyes in disbelief, too tired to even properly emote at this point. I pull out the little blue device and hand it to Beomgyu.

‘Just the two files in the Assignments folder, please.’ I weakly call out.

‘Got it.’ He calmly sets about the task, his back turned to me as I put away my laptop and hurriedly comb through my hair in a manner I hope is not too desperate.

I don’t think you’re supposed to comment on your customer’s stuff, but I watch as Beomgyu pulls out the freshly printed papers from the printer and reads the header of the first assignment, a smile on his face as he hands them to me.

‘I’m pretty sure I’ve had that professor too!’ He cheerfully comments as his slender fingers dance over the register’s keys.

‘I know’ I let out, before realizing how insane that may sound without added context ‘I mean- I remember you from a different writing class with him. Last semester.’ I quickly add.

He shapes his mouth into a satisfied little ‘ah’, and I expect a polite smile, maybe followed by some excuse as to why he didn’t really recognize me, something like how he probably sat at the front of the class or just wasn’t good at remembering faces, but instead he offers me a beaming look of recognition, giddily nodding ‘I thought so. I wasn’t 100% sure though.’

I walk out through the door with a brand new pep in my step, smiling at the thought of Beomgyu trying to pinpoint my features in his recollections of the past, sure that I looked familiar but not wanting to risk making an ass out of himself in case he was wrong. That was over two years ago.

Now, I absentmindedly hand him some paper to stash away somewhere as if I’m part of the staff myself. We’re really good at dancing around a topic when we want to, so I know I’m going to have to be more direct if I want this to happen. He already casually asked me earlier if Soobin is also working a shift today and I chickened out of talking about it, simply shaking my head in response, but I need to get this over with eventually.

‘I wanted to talk to you about something.’

He turns his head, searching my face for any indication of a sudden change in my mood, only to be met with my best attempt at a serene expression.

‘Go on,’ He half-assedly motions with his hand for me to continue ‘I’m listening, just tidying this up over here.’

‘I’m only bringing it up because some of the guys already know, and I figured it would be weird to not let my best friend in on it’ I preface, voice wavering slightly. I clear my throat, evening my tone as best as I can before ripping off the band aid in one go ‘Soobin and I have been getting along really well’ I start, regretting that he is currently with his back to me, which means I can’t fully dissect his reaction ‘So we like... have this thing going on right now. We’re not putting a name to it or anything. I guess you could call it like a talking stage, though.’

There is no immediate reaction. While he’s working his way through digesting this information, I’m unintentionally holding my breath, a million outcomes running through my mind in mere seconds.

And then ‘Oh, okay.’ He replies, not bothering to stop his movements or glance in my direction. ‘He’s cool.’

I know that regardless of any question he might be itching to ask right now, he’s hesitant to. I had presented the crux of the situation in a straightforward way, so it wasn’t necessarily an invitation for any sort of opinion or advice. In a way, I was effectively leaving him with very little choice but to respond this way. Still, even after that fateful day when we established that Beomgyu was not to pester me anymore when it came to matters of the heart, it was never this simple. In fact, this was so uncharacteristic of him that it stirred something in me. Had I finally found someone good enough not even his overprotective critical eye could pick apart?

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There is a persistent breeze burrowing its way into our tousled hair as we walk aimlessly after a successful grocery run. Every one of our steps is accompanied by the crunchy sounds of our bags filled with all kinds of junk food and the skin of our arms keeps being bitten by the early fall chill, but none of us seems to mind as the wind echoes out our carefree laughter through the streets.

We plan on finding some place to sit down and eat at some point, but for now we are just turning corners at random and catching up with each other. Kai and Taehyun are a few steps ahead, seemingly deeply engaged in a private conversation, and me, Yeonjun, Soobin and Beomgyu trail behind them at a leisurely pace.

Yeonjun had been telling us about a ridiculous drama that ended up with his instagram account being temporarily suspended even though he had taken no part in any of the bullshit leading up to it when we come across an eye-catching billboard for a temporary art exhibition.

‘Oh, isn’t that the thing you were talking about the other day?’ Soobin peaks his head from behind Yeonjun’s frame, trying to establish eye contact with me, and points excitedly.

I turn to look in the general direction of his outstretched arm, perking up as I recognize the lively colors of the advertisement I had gotten a flier for just a few days ago. We’ve naturally halted to a stop to examine it together; to my left, Beomgyu squints to make out the text on the billboard.

‘Yeah! That’s the one.’ I confirm with a pleased nod.

‘We should check it out someday.’ Soobin offers nonchalantly.

There was no big explosion, no crying babies or even sounds of sirens erupting in the background, but something in the air had shifted so violently in that moment that there may as well have been. This is, of course, only my dramatic recollection of what that single second felt like.

‘Yeah.’ I mutter back.

Surely picking up on how shaky my response had been, Soobin immediately turned to Yeonjun to ask for his availability, suggesting he should pick us up in his car if possible. I should feel guilty for making it awkward, forcing him to include our friends in our plans in an effort to cover it up, but I’m just thankful and relieved.

His diversion had been quite smooth, and it probably would have been imperceptible if all the people present weren’t so aware of our current relationship. Yeonjun shoots him a funny look at first but is also quick to be on board, claiming he’ll find the time for it if need be. The moment was over quickly, but the look in Beomgyu’s eyes is something I’ll never be able to forget.

The very millisecond Soobin had finished speaking, before I could even think to formulate a response, my eyes had landed on Beomgyu. It’s a very hard habit to break, that instinctive need to know what’s on his mind, and a quick scan of his face was enough, making my blood instantly freeze over. It’s hard to put into words the way he manages to channel so many feelings through just the slight downturn of his pressed lips, especially because he wasn’t trying to. In fact, he was probably trying his hardest to offer no reaction, but I know Beomgyu’s features in ways he couldn’t even know them himself, and I have no trouble recognizing the unique blend of emotions: sadness, fear, acceptance.

He is distant for the rest of the day. He doesn’t go overboard with it, physically still as close as any one of my other friends would be, and I’m sure no one else even notices the difference, but I know it’s there. I sense his nervous glances and miss the usual spark in his eyes when he commands our attention with his jokes, now dimmed by something I wish I could reach out to and crush between my fingers. I know what it is, or at least my mind comes up with the only explanation it can for it. Even though he knew about Soobin and me, that moment was decisive. It was now being brought up so openly, so casually; he never would have admitted it, but maybe he was still hoping that all that time that had gone by, those weeks with no new developments, were a sign that nothing was going to happen at all — a hope that was completely shattered by this public admission. Now that it was out there, he had no choice but to accept it, taking it as his definitive sign that he no longer had the right to selfishly linger in our special dynamic, that vague space in which our closeness is not too much, but never enough.

He might have still been around, sitting nearby, engaging with the group as if nothing had happened. Still, the distance between us could fit entire oceans; once you’d felt Beomgyu’s calm warmth, anything different from his usual closeness would feel like the coldest depths. All I can think about is how I can’t talk to him right now, the urgency sitting on my chest like an unbearable weight.

Clarity is forced onto me without me even needing to rationalize anything. Of course I’ll have to come up with some sort of plan, act tactfully, but the path itself is obvious. There is nothing I wouldn’t give up to fix what was broken tonight.

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The next day, I text Soobin. I know he’s going to be as understanding as anyone could in these circumstances, and I make a promise to myself that I’ll try my very best to make it up to him for his relentlessly sweet disposition we don’t always deserve.

Soobin is not completely ignorant of my bond with Beomgyu, so I’m sure this will not come as a huge surprise. Knowing how strongly Yeonjun cares about maintaining an open and laid-back atmosphere between all of us, I can imagine how he must have approached Soobin before, explaining our convoluted history in an effort to look out for him, just in case. I’m a little embarrassed it even had to be done, addressed in hushed tones as if it were some sort of dirty secret, but I’m really grateful I didn’t have to be the one to admit how weak my control over my own tender heart is. Soobin has never attempted to bring it up in an accusatory manner, either out of sheer compassion or because he didn’t really see it as a threat at all. Perhaps he even shared the same pity for me as I had once seen reflected in Yeonjun’s eyes, watching me as if I were a fool trying to capture the wind with a net.

I promise I’m not completely delusional; of course I didn’t expect to get a boyfriend and still maintain the same exact dynamic with Beomgyu as before. Allowing myself to imagine my life with someone new, I conceived a future where a new love filled me to the brim and forced my most stubborn feelings to overflow, spilling away into harmless territory. The thing is that I didn’t expect this , the distance, to feel this way; and if the breath stuck on his throat that day is anything to go by, neither did he. Is it toxic to hold this so close that I end up sabotaging any chance at an actual relationship with someone else in order to protect it? Maybe so. It has, however, become very apparent now that the delusion was in believing I even had a choice, that I’d ever willingly loosen my hold on it. I’m not giving up an inch of Choi Beomgyu.

Soobin responds as expected, assuring me that he’s not upset at my choice to step back and continue on as just friends. He might even be a little relieved, glad to finally establish a clear course for our relationship after a few weeks of this limbo. I cry a little into my pillow after writing out a long message of appreciation for his patience, telling him what an honor it is that he even gave me his time of day in the first place. He jokes that I’m being dramatic, lightening the mood, but follows up with a likewise genuine text.

‘[10:38] I don’t regret getting to know you. You guys were the best thing about this summer.’ I clean up my tear-stained face, putting an end to my pity party as I allow his tranquilizing words to soothe me. Soobin has surely secured his place in heaven.

I’m still a bit restless for the remainder of that morning, trying to gather enough courage to reach out to my distant ghost. I could just see him in two days, walk him to work as if nothing had changed, but that would not be the right time and place, and I can’t even trust myself to act normally until the end of our shifts, when I could finally get him alone.

Eventually, I text him — it’s a small mercy, this warning sign of what’s to come, giving him time to prepare accordingly. For all I know, if I had simply brought up yesterday’s events out of nowhere, virtually ambushing him, he might have denied all of my assumptions, unsure of what I was asking of him. Instead, I take a terrifying leap and decide to let myself be vulnerable, to admit all of it for him. I tell him I need to see him, that I had broken things off with Soobin and want to talk about us. I don’t quite say the quiet part out loud ( I love you I love you I love you and fuck you for making me do this ) but I hope he can pick up on my urgency and read it all between the lines.

‘ [17:53] ok. meet me here?’

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Beomgyu lives in a quaint one-bedroom apartment on a very lively street, the sound of everyone and their bustling lifestyle floating to the third floor like an eccentric, never-ending melody. I knock on his door and nervously shove my hand back into my pocket, rocking back and forth on the soles of my feet in anticipation.

As he opens the door in silence, unsure of what to say, I take in the familiar living room one more time. He used to have a roommate who slept on a sofa bed in the corner, but Jeongin moved out right after we all finished our degree and now Beomgyu’s got the whole place to himself, the sofa all folded up now with some random pillows haphazardly thrown over it. The corner of my lip automatically tilts up as I feel nostalgic for the chaotic aftermath of our nights full of gossip and irresponsible drinking games, when we all ended up curled up on top of each other right there, the perfectly fine bedroom forgotten.

I recall how one time, after one of our wild nights, Beomgyu had begged me to listen to him as he stated Jeongin was completely off limits, claiming he’d rather die than have to put up with both of us in the house.

His tone had been deceitfully playful, and I matched it in full as I tapped my pouty lip in fake deliberation ‘Hmm, what if we just take it to my dorm instead, then?’

In an instant, his smile had dropped and he stared back at me with an icy gaze. ‘That’s not funny.’ And that was the end of it.

Beomgyu softly closes the front door behind me and awkwardly shuffles towards the kitchen to grab me a glass of water as I stand there looking around for a few seconds. He hands it to me with an expectant look on his face, not yet daring to ask the question that’s threatening to crawl out from his throat.

I look into the cup, press my dry lips together, filled with indecisiveness, and mutter out ‘I’m not ready yet’, bringing the glass up to my lips and taking a small sip. He nods. Then, he grabs two cold drinks from the fridge, sets them down on the coffee table along with a bag of Cheetos, and fiddles with the blinds for a bit in order to dim the room’s lighting. We sit side by side on the couch and he hands me the TV remote.

I pick out a random movie from our shared list and we settle into a comfortable silence only occasionally interrupted by the sounds of our sips and his slow chewing. A few minutes in, he pitches up his voice to make a lighthearted comment about someone’s ugly outfit, mocking my usual commentary. My nose scrunches up in exaggerated annoyance and I elbow his side playfully, shooting him a side glance before I begrudgingly admit it’s definitely something I would say. I’m grateful to him for setting the mood. Sighing softly, I lay my head on his shoulder; Beomgyu responds by snaking his arm around my figure, scooting slightly closer to lean into my touch.

After a while, I feel him carefully trying to adjust his position against me to relieve his now numb muscles without disturbing me, and I flick his head impatiently, mumbling that he is an idiot for daring to act so hesitantly around me. I circle his torso with my arms, encouraging him to properly prop himself against me, and his body almost instinctively reacts by pushing one of my arms out of the way to rest his head on my lap. He lets out a little content sigh when I bury my hand in his shaggy hair and I tease him by comparing him to a well-behaved dog.

Only a few seconds later, taking advantage of an unimportant transition in the movie, I croak out ‘Are we back to us?’

From this angle, I can see him blink nervously and I almost regret asking before he’s right back to himself, responding with a nod, back snuggling into me even closer. The next few minutes are spent in silence as we both return our gaze back to the screen, but soon enough a small sniff coming from his still figure betrays the warm tears streaming down his cheeks. I know for a fact this is not an effect of the movie, but I don’t ask, not daring to interrupt my hand’s motion against his scalp.

Another couple minutes go by and then, so low it would be easy to miss if every cell of my body wasn’t attuned to his, he whispers ‘I’m sorry.’

He doesn’t know how to put his guilt into any other words. He wants to say he never meant for this to happen, express how he wishes he could have controlled himself better so that I would have never noticed his hurt. When he had read the texts, his throat had almost closed up with the suffocating feelings of regret that came crashing down on him. He had one job, how could he be so selfish as to be anything but happy for me as I had opened my heart to someone? And now, hearing my fragile voice, how eager I was to confirm we would make it through this too, those emotions were stirring within him once again, manifesting as that painful burning in the back of his eyes.

I wonder how he expects me to acknowledge his quiet white flag, if he even wants me to reply at all or if that was just supposed to be his revised response to my previous question, feeling that a nod had not a been satisfactory enough admission that he, too, was aware of yesterday’s implications.

‘Nothing to apologize for’ I reply softly.

He rolls over carefully in my lap, movie now completely forgotten, and shakes his head. ‘I’m sorry’ he affirms — he’s not pleading, he’s not trying to request anything for me, my forgiveness or otherwise. He’s just trying to tell me as best as he can that he’s feeling shitty for his actions, confessing. I understand now.

I shoot him a weak smile, trying my best not to let my own unshed tears fill my eyes to the brim. As amazing as he is at transcribing an impressive range of human emotion onto his songs, he’s not always great at expressing his feelings to me, but he’s trying his best. Taking advantage of this moment, both of us so willing to be vulnerable for once, I start telling him about some of the things that have been on my mind: how I know I’ve alienated him out of a part of my life before by avoiding telling him about my so-called romantic ventures, how I wish I could have gone about the Soobin thing more maturely and lastly, now with similarly tear-stained cheeks, how I never expected to feel so awful about yesterday’s outcome.

He’s crying harder again, and I wipe a few of his tears away, begging him to tell me what’s on his mind.

‘I’m sorry, I’m not good at this.’

‘Try. Please.’ I plead.

‘Sometimes...’ he starts ‘Sometimes I feel so dumb around you. It’s not your fault, but you always know exactly what to say and you have all these arguments for everything and, and-’ He takes a deep breath. ‘I feel stupid and scared that I can’t keep up with you, can’t make anything come across well. That’s why I’m like that...’ he avoids my eyes, lowering his tone almost down to a mere whimper ‘Why I just fight you. And you never get mad, so...’

It makes me sad to hear he feels this way, but everything he’s saying makes sense, and deep down I think I’ve always known his reasons. Words are sometimes out of reach for him, but this thing we have, our physical proclamations, what he calls our fights, this is a language we both speak.

‘I know. Our bodies have limitations though, you know...’ I let out softly, one last attempt at asking him to speak to me.

He turns his back to me again, resigned to try but still a little bit uncomfortable at the idea. And then, at his own pace, he crafts his response to my speech. He assures me it’s not my fault for putting a stop to his past meddling in my private life, that I was right to set those boundaries since he was way out of line. I softly nod in appreciation for his understanding.

‘If you want...’ he starts ‘You and Soobin...’ he sniffs once more, quickly wiping his stuffy nose as he searches for better words, ‘I’ll do my best to act right, I promise. I was just cold before because I- I just didn’t... I just couldn’t control my reaction. It’s childish, I had no right to be jealous, but I wasn’t expecting how things were between you two and it hurt.’

‘Yeah, no’ I nod quickly, signaling I see where he’s coming from but eager to put a stop to this particular thought process ‘It’s not your fault. I chose to end it. I just realized it’s not what I wanted. I mean... sure, you might have had a role in making me realize it, but I didn’t do it just to avoid making you sad.’

‘Promise?’ he looks up at me expectantly.

‘Yes. I hated how ridiculously scary the thought of losing us was.’

‘You’re not gonna lose me.’

‘But you pulled back from me.’ I point out, hurt evident in my hushed tone.

‘I just didn’t think it was right- you know- like, in front of Soobin’ he stumbles on his words.

I interrupt before he can go back to his attempts at defending his behavior ‘Don’t do it again. Ever. I don’t care even if it means there can be no one else.’

He doesn’t expect that sort of crazy statement to flow from my lips so casually, frowning in bewilderment ‘That’s so fucked up, though. I can’t do that to you.’

‘Beomgyu, don’t act like you don’t know how I feel about you. You’re not, like, forcing me into a sad life of celibacy. I’m just not at the point I thought I was and I didn’t want to end up hurting Soobin because of it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Hmm?’

‘How do you feel about me?’ He presses.

‘Is this you trying to get me to beat your ass again right now?’ I joke, but he’s looking up at me with his big confused eyes and I don’t think he’s just choosing to act willfully ignorant right now. I blink three times in confusion, gathering my thoughts ‘What do you mean? I like you, I told you. We don’t need to tiptoe around it, even if our friendship has kinda only survived this long by ignoring it.’

I feel something shift in the air as he takes in his next shaky breath, eyes flittering about as if he’s finding this information hard to compute. ‘...Still?’

‘Wh-’ I search for the right words, any words, confronted by the embarrassment of having to dwell on this, like a ruthless finger pressing down on a fresh bruise ‘Well, yeah.’

‘Oh.’ he mutters.

I try my very best not to start shaking his shoulders in frustration, keeping in mind that Beomgyu needs his time to process things before he can offer a proper, thoughtful reaction. Still, I hate the direction this conversation has taken, insecurity creeping into the surface of my every pore. ‘Did I just fuck us up again?’

Before I can panic from the fear building up in my body, he interjects ‘N-no!’ and then, much softer, ‘No. I like you, too.’

I beg your everloving pardon?

‘What the fuck are you saying to me right now, Choi Beomgyu?’ I force the words right out of my throat. ‘Measure your next words carefully, please.’

He looks up at me like a scolded puppy and sets himself back upright, facing me on the couch, although his gaze is now cast downward. He’s got a lot to explain.

I patiently reposition myself on the couch as well, tucking a leg under my weight in order to turn fully in his direction. He shyly reaches out both his hands across the space between us to fiddle awkwardly with the fingers of my right hand, his own way of apologizing for not being able to look at me right now. Both of our hands are kind of unusually warm from our nervousness, but I can barely register anything due to the pressure of my own frantic heartbeat drumming in my ears.

He slowly beings to explain that he wasn’t trying to be an inconsiderate asshole and had in all honesty been under the impression that I had moved on from him by now. That was the one and only reason why he couldn’t have brought up his feelings earlier, back when he had first started developing them.

You see, once you love someone all the way up to that point when the only thing that matters anymore is their happiness, when you can’t imagine being selfish with your desire for them, that is when you’re pretty much fucked, rendered powerless and bound to sit by and watch as they let their heart wander; sometimes closer, if you’re lucky, sometimes somewhere you can’t follow. You can’t even resent them for keeping you hostage in a cage with no walls. When he was distracted dating his ex, Beomgyu had not yet been at this point, but the breakup had led him right there.

The short-lived relationship hadn’t been all that dramatic. It hadn’t been a battleground for many arguments; in fact, there were barely even any remarkable words exchanged, and none that he could bother to recall now. At first, it was the nothingness of it all that had attracted Beomgyu, happy to indulge in the superficiality of such an empty shell of a relationship for a while on account of its simplicity, but it was also its downfall in the end. Much to his dismay, he had found himself gradually becoming more and more annoyed by all the ways this sad excuse for a romance fell short in comparison to his connection with his best friend. He wasn’t necessarily ready to do a 180 and confess, still coming to terms with his feelings and all, but he had at the very least settled on the breakup.

According to Beomgyu, he had quickly started going through some scenarios in his head, planning on doing something about us when it felt right, but things didn’t really go how he anticipated. Being held up in my arms, crying through his shameful recounting of the breakup, he had expected me to guide him right back to me, assure him he was better off by my side and plead with him to finally see me — but I hadn’t. What he saw in my eyes in that moment was nothing but sheer sympathy, a genuine effort from my part to comfort him with no second intentions. He wondered if this was the karmic payback he deserved for turning down his best friend so carelessly before.

I shake my head in disbelief as he describes his way through his thought process, how he came to believe he was too late to chase after me. Of course he could have done so anyway, charmed his way right back into my heart, but guilt had twisted his insides into a cruel conviction that he was not worthy, not after what he had done. He had messed up our timing, so in turn he was to watch me choose a better man. Acknowledging this didn’t make watching me do it any easier, though. And boy, did his ill-timed flame have a talent for picking people who got on his nerves: smarter, funnier, impossibly handsome. All so unbearably different from him. And so, he had developed a talent for picking them apart, hope’s wretched arms shoving their way through his throat with venom at any chance, moved by the sick need to try to poison my mind with their flaws.

‘I gave up hope when you told me how mad that stuff made you’ He continues. ‘I was just hurting you more. It’s all I do.’

‘Its not, though. I stuck around anyway, didn’t I?’

‘I guess... You are way too loyal. You should have told me to fuck off way earlier.’

I chuckle softly despite the seriousness of the matter ‘Did you really think what made me mad was your temper? No. I just couldn’t understand why you suddenly knew how great I was when it came to other men but for some reason it never occurred to you to just step up and be the better option yourself.’ I start, weirdly thrilled at the chance to finally unload it off my chest ‘I mean, I knew you didn’t feel the same, you had made it clear for me before, so I had no reason to assume you were just feeling jealous. All of it just came across as pettiness.’

He looks away in shame again but still makes an effort to provide his point of view. ‘I was wrong to do it, but I wasn’t coping well with the heartbreak. I literally just thought confessing would be even worse.’

Silly boy. ‘Hurt me a little so you don’t hurt me a lot, uh?’ I tease ‘Well, you were actually just robbing me of the chance to love you.’ No, he wasn’t. I had never even stopped. Just because you choose the comforting dark of your closed eyelids, doesn’t make your bleeding heart any less red.

He’s awkwardly rubbing his neck at my choice of words, not wanting to continue on this back and forth of conflicting points of view much longer but not quite knowing how to move this along from here. He just wants to know what’s supposed to come next.

‘Is it okay if I kiss you now?’ I ask softly, resisting the urge to tease him even further by lifting his chin up with my hand. The direct question is a glaring violation of our habit of letting our bodies do the talking in moments like these, but the urge to be responsible for the pink hue spreading over his ears is so hard to resist and so, so worth it. Still, he knows he’s always welcome to switch back to our private language at will, so he does.

The first contact is rougher than he intended so he quickly covers my lips with a million small, soft apologies. After a few seconds of adjusting to it, I wonder how I could have possibly lived so many years without the feeling of Beomgyu’s lips on mine.

We are briefly startled by the sound of the end credits’ intense music in the background. His hand blindly searches the couch for the remote for a few seconds before he has to lift himself up to look for it properly. My amused laughter at his grumpy impatience makes him roll his eyes at me, and he retaliates by deciding this (terrible, by the way) song is not the worst soundtrack in the world after all, not bad enough that he can’t climb back over me and resume our make-out, a very effective method of drowning out my laughter.

We turn into a real mess of tangled limbs, our hands reveling in the discovery of all the expanse we hadn’t uncovered in each other before. Beomgyu’s fingertips had been made quite rough by tiny scars from pressing so hard on his guitar strings, but they feel so light as he tentatively squeezes my sides in his embrace. Still, once he ghosts them over my thigh, I shoot him a disapproving look, motioning with my head to the bag of Cheetos on the table.

‘I’m not letting you touch me with your nasty cheese-infected fingers’ I swat his hand away and watch as he shoots me a look of mock offense, as if I had just doubted his gentlemanly ways. Before he can retort that he would never think to do such a thing, I propose ‘I have a better idea.’

As I drag him by the hand to the bathroom, turning on the shower, any traces of that gentleman are long gone.

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Two days later, we’re walking arm in arm down the street to his work. The sky seems to have unlocked a range of brand new hues just for us, making everything seem like a dream we don’t have to wake up from as long as we don’t let go of each other.

He turns to me to ask if I think it’s going to be awkward with Soobin today.

‘I don’t know,’ I answer in earnest, ‘but it doesn’t matter, I’m expecting it. We’re probably gonna need some time.’

We walk into the printing center and warmly greet the owner. She responds with the usual pleasantries, asks if we ate well and apologetically asks Beomgyu for his help with some boxes as her back had been bothering her that day. He immediately moves in her direction, gently pushing her down into a chair to rest before we both get to moving the stock into its proper place, tidying up in no time.

They had a big order to get through today, but it was monotonous work. After a while, I lazily slip down from the desk I had been sitting on, looking up from my phone at his working figure occasionally. It’s about time to get going for me.

Before I can slip away for the day, he asks me to pick up something for him from one of the printers in the front row. I don’t think much of it as I stroll over, but a loud snort makes its way out of my mouth as soon as my eyes land on the single piece of paper sitting on the tray. In big obnoxious letters in the Comic Sans font are two simple words: ‘Be mine?’.

I walk back over to him with it in hand, pointing at it in amazement.

‘Oh my god, I totally think we might have had the same writing professor. Hmm, yes.’ I pretend to analyze it carefully one more time ‘I definitely recognize this beautiful cadence.’ I joke.

He laughs along with me but stands awkwardly with his hands shoved into the back pockets of his jeans, waiting for my actual answer.

‘Yeah, sure, I think this is a great proposal.’ He slides closer in response, wrapping an arm around my waist. ‘But you’re gonna have to upgrade the amount of paper you spend on me if you wanna keep me around. I’m only dating you for the unlimited copies, you know?’

He hits my arm in disapproval but joins in on the playful teasing in the same beat. ‘Just know I’m expecting free coffee in return.’

I scoff. ‘Yeah, no. But I’ll see what I can do about adding a few unauthorized stamps to your loyalty card, how’s that?’

He shakes his head in disappointment. ‘Damn, I guess I’ll have to try a Starbucks barista next, then.’

I let out an incredulous laugh and tousle his hair. We quickly press our lips together as a farewell for now.

I walk a little briskly to work, probably already a couple minutes behind schedule by now. As a result, I look a little flustered as I walk in. Soobin is already putting on his apron behind the counter, and he looks up at me with a knowing smile, as if he can see right through the soft blush on my cheeks, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Yeonjun must have already told him about the recent developments. Oh, my sweet little snitch. I make a mental note to ask him later if he plans on comforting Soobin for me, too, if he thinks he’s all that subtle with his moves in the dark. I’m once again grateful to him for sparing me from another awkward conversation, though.

If there’s any trace of bad blood between us, he doesn’t let it slip even once through his usual cheerful tone, and the whole shift goes by without a hitch. Soobin and I don’t share a telepathic ability to speak our minds through brief glances, though. Thats why, when closing time eventually rolls around, I thank him for being my friend with actual words.

taglist: @jellyyjn

a/n: I apologize for any possible formatting mishaps! I didn't write directly on the tumblr app and I did my best to correct the ones I found but I might have missed a couple ^^

masterlist

#choi beomgyu #tomorrow x together fanfic #txt x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu x you #beomgyu fanfiction #kpop oneshot #beomgyu oneshot #friends to lovers oneshot #tomorrow by together #txt x you

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egogogirl · 8 months ago

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intro

name: Ego

age: 19 years old

gender n pronouns: ftm girlyboy. i use he/her and he/him pronouns seriously and privately, but i am okay with she/her for kink/roleplay purposes 👍

i'm bisexual 🥰

this is an 18+ blog for me to express my kinky side. i'm a very sexual person and it's a very important part of my life/identity ❤️

(i'm alt/emo, so that may pop up, too, on occasion ^_^)

i'm not looking for any long-term partners on here; this is just for funsies. i love getting asks n dms n chatting/roleplaying, but i'm not looking to commit seriously to anything. feel free to send me messages n pics <3333

i'm a switch. i can be your baby or your mistress <33

dms / asks always open 4 chatting ❤️

(i'm not always super active but i'll try to get back to you as soon as i can <3333)

BEFORE YOU FOLLOW: i tag basically everything for blocking purposes, so if there's a topic you want to avoid, i can always give you a tag to help you filter my blog.

my original post tag is #gogo og !

some common themes/topics/kinks you'll find here: (large) age gaps, power imbalances, daddy kink, fauxcest, ageplay, petplay, cnc, non-con roleplay, breeding, pregnancy, cum, corruption, (relatively light) detrans, (relatively light) violence/blood/sado-masochism, piss/omorashi

maybe/ask before bringing up with me in asks and dms: extreme gore/violence/pain (including hardcore spanking/impact play).

HARD NOS/MY LIMITS/THINGS YOU WON'T SEE HERE: scat, racism/white supremacy kinks, irl snuff, irl pedo/philia, irl zoo.

i do not plan on posting my face, either, so it's probably best not to ask me for face pics!

MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT! I BLOCK ALL MINORS. i'll block anyone i suspect of being a minor. it is for everyone's safety and comfort that i do this.

PEOPLE I BLOCK ON SIGHT: irl pedos, irl zoo, racists/'all lives matter'/antisemites, zionists, irl homophobes, irl transphobes (like if outside of a kink space you do not respect trans/lgbtq+ rights), lgbtq+ exclusionists, pronoun policers. and basically anyone i damn well please! if you piss me off, i will just block you.

if you don't like this blog or are upset by its contents, please just block me. if you see me genuinely step out of line, i am fine with talking it over civilly, but if my mere existence bothers you, just block me.

my uncensored pics / OF (18+)

ALL MY LINKS (18+ UNCENSORED CONTENT)

i do custom lewd requests! dm me to talk it over!

dm me for my $app.

#bd/sm blog #bd/sm community

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radical-sainthood · 7 months ago

Note

Hello hello! Here we go again. First of all, don't worry about taking a long time to respond to these, I understand it can be hard to talk about these things, and writing long messages also takes energy. I get it. First of all, and as always, don't take this the wrong way, I'm very fascinated by terrible creatures that are manifestation of trauma and stress. (Like its not cool that they have to exist. But the concept itself is one of my favorites, ever since I binged reading about the biology of Silent Hill monsters.) Though you've got me thinking about our inner world structure now. Which is hhhmmm.

So basically there's a few areas in our particular... area? (I haven't discounted us being one of other systems). There's the cave, the field, and the house. All pretty self explanatory, but both the cave and field have their oddities. The field is the endless, well, field of either wheat or tall grass that surrounds the tree and clearing area we hang out in. All fine until that one time one of the others told me "somethings watching from the field". Which is... ominous as all hell. Thanks for that one, buddy. Then again, we're no stranger to entities coming and going, so I won't discount that as being all it was.

The cave is where it gets interesting. It's a cave, with furnishings and other rooms hidden behind like. Zelda ass puzzles. But that's not what I'm focused on. If you go deep enough into the cave, you'll find a room full of the remains of some sort of shattered orb. These are like. Crystal fragments suspended in air. This is guarded by some sort of spectral wolf like entity. Its not hostile, but it won't let you touch it either. The orb used to be whole when the previous host was still here. The room also has shards of sorts encased in bubbles. (Think bubbled gems in Steven Universe). I can only assume that those may be other unformed alters. But I'll leave it alone for the most part because I know better than to activate something without knowing what it does.

The previous host is an interesting topic, but I won't delve into that now due to potentially triggering subject matter such as in-sys abuse.

Thank you for the work around tips by the way! I'll be sure to try them when we're able too. That's all I have on this for now, but thank you for listening!

Ps: I'm flattered you'd pick me to be the H.E. :3

-🦌👁

(I think you would make a wonderful H.E.)

As for the cave, that's very interesting! We have our own share of weird places and areas in inner, theirs Nikolai's home, an area in between the walls of front and innerworld that is full of artifacts of grief and childhood. Each one is a unique item that represents a specific memory or reason for grief, touching them automtically triggers that memory and grief and can be very overwhelming.

There's the unmarked graves, which sits on its own level and seems to be an unregulated dormancy or death area. (No one's sure and the guardians of it are. . . not very kind.) Our inner is heavily influenced by the media we take in, which means that naturally we have several entire recreations of places in fiction.

The wheat field is interesting to say the least. . . I wonder what's in there watching, that is deeply ominous. As for discussions of in-sys abuse, you are welcome to talk about them if you would like, I understand completely that they may be triggering for you and yours but you are welcome to talk about it anyway. We will appropriately tag our own response for everyone's safety, but if you want to talk about it publicly we are more than happy to facilitate the space to do so!

I wish I could explore your inner, it sounds FASCINATING!! As for the responses, we do really try to be punctual, even if we get sort of tired. I'm still apologetic for just how long it took for us to get back to you.

#scrapped rabbit #faith anon #unholy faith anon #ask box

0 notes

xue-kasura · 1 year ago

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GHOST~Me

Fandom: Boku no hero academia

Characters: Different Ocs and anime related characters mentioned

Relationship: maybe female Oc x Dabi

Rating: Mature

Overall tags: slice of life, survival, anti-heros, vigilantes, deep thoughts, possible trigger warnings in certain chapters (no explicit written scenes but various abusive triggers will be mentioned)

Fanfic summary:

Gina Hoshikuzu and Kemuri Kakusu (Ocs), a once-a-normal-human and a quirk human, two orphans on the run, trying to survive on their own in this cruel world. The perfect duo talks about their tragic past and how they deal with it, giving you insight into their lives. No detail is left out, no matter how much they want to suppress it.

*Trigger topics will be slightly addressed. Please read at your own risk, I don't want to hurt anyone here. Trigger warnings will be provided for specific chapters at the beginning of the text.

Chapter 1

.......

.....wake..... up......

.......

Wake.Up....

.......

WAKE UP!!

≫⊱────────────⊰≫○≪⊱──────────────⊰≪

.....

*door bell ring sound *

"Hello? It's the pizza delivery! Someone home? No? Ok, then it's all mine."

"....shut up....."

The door opened and someone entered the apartment. The sound of distant footsteps approaches the person who was woken up with an uneasy expression.

"I was joking....you look like you had a bad dream again....sorry"

"....I'm sorry.....I didn't intend to be rude....its just -..."

"Did you take your medicine already?.."

"....no.."

He sighed, returned to the kitchen while undressing his jacket and shoes, fetched two glasses of water and the mentioned medicine and returned to the weakly female. She had her weakly states now and then but she was a powerful woman he looked up to a lot. A silent thanking emerged from her as she took the glass of water with the medicine and gulped it in one go, not really feeling better after this. Until she ate a slice of her favorite pizza. Food was something that made her easily happy. There were a lot of tough times but food always made her happy after a tiring day. The young man, he was 1 year younger than her, sat beside the woman, eating his slice of pizza with satisfaction, glad to see the female happy. There aren't a lot of happy times in the previous months so every little time of her happiness makes him happy too. An odd couple silently eating there slices of pizza in a happy state. Nothing more was needed.

"....how was work today?"

"Oh actually pretty good today. Had a lot of really cool customers, also I got tipped a lot and I got a promotion. Now I get paid more money."

"Congratulations. Even tho I don't understand why you work there beca-...."

"Because you shouldn't be the only one doing hard work. And I love to see you happy eating my selfmade food. The money doesn't matter for me and you know that. And you shouldn't do that much work, relax already. Your body will thank you for that."

"....sorry....I just.....nevermind"

"....You always feel regret because of the orphanage....you aren't the only one, you know? But risking your own life for that? I need you here alive and nothing else matters. And I dare you not to say sorry again."

It was silent for a short time until a quiet giggle erupts from the woman's mouth. He felt at ease again, she was happy and so is he. Even tho she feels sorry for worrying him too much, she felt at ease herself. She's save with him, she should stop being scared for life. Scared of nothingness....

"And how was your day?"

"...Ok I guess. Except the bad dream but everything's fine....I think. I repaired the projectors on my safety clothes, everything's working again. I fixed your clothes and mask, researched about the latest villain and hero activities, transfered the money to the orphanage, -..."

"How much did you sleep??"

"Ahm....I think 6 hours...I swear I did sleep more today."

"Did you pass out again?"

".....yeah...."

He sighed again, but didn't scold her. It won't work on her anyway. He just petted her head and ate his last pizza slice in silence. She again on the other hand felt sorry again for him and stayed silent while eating her also last pizza slice. After dinner the young man puts everything away, got dressed for the night, sat again beside the woman, tucked her and himself in soft blankets so they both can make themselves comfortable while watching TV. Then again silence.

The daily late night News told about a bank robbery, confused villains were captured but with no money, the money but still lost. The woman slightly smirking in satisfaction, already awaiting the curious questions of her roommate.

"Don't worry. I split the money in three parts, two bigger ones, the third smaller part already staying with us. One big amount already transfered to the orphanage, the second big amount transfered to the police department itself. The money transaction won't be traceable. Also our money part wasn't from the bank robbery. They had a lot of fake money with them, I brought it to a friend to trade it for real money. "

"You sure have some unique friends....next time you take me with you."

"You have to work at pizza delivery."

"Yeah I know.....but it's unsafe for you. I trust you but you never really tell me about your friends. Although I know you won't speak to any shabby people with dark intentions."

"Don't worry. He supports us. He isn't a bad guy. Actually someone with a good job system. He also works together with the orphanage. But he won't expose us. He delivers my letters to the orphanage mother. But thats just one of his many jobs. And his also a worthy informant about villain and hero activities. And our landlord is his first son. His second son is the owner of your pizza job."

"Wait what? Hold on a minute. How long do you know this? Why didn't you tell me earlier??"

"....Let me think. This is our third Apartment, my forth apartment sooo.....since our first time sharing an apartment? Since 2 and a half years, I guess. And I didn't tell you because you were busy with reorganizing our lifes and you're happy with your pizza job and I was scared you would quit everything and I won't get any good pizza from you....sorry..."

He was shocked of this load of information. But it made sense to him. So much sense that she amazes him even more with her powerful appearance. She did all this and even more only for him. No wonder she's always that tired every day. He silently smiled to her. That's everything she needed. A smile from him is enough for her. It's their way of showing gratitude to each other. She cared as much for him as he cared about her. A small spark of sadness still overcomes him. But he quickly shakes his head. He doesn't want her to worry about something small.

At the end of the news program pictures of two missing people were shown, missing posters with clearly outdated profiles of a boy and a girl, the girl missing for 5 years, the boy for 4 years. No sightings or new informations in the las years, like they disappeared into thin air. Gone forever. At least that's what the public should believe.

Both of them sighed quietly, switching through the TV channels.

"Also I put new packages with new cigarette flavors in your closet. Just be careful with the red package. Only 1 cigarette a day to test the effect. The effect should nullify a quirk. Just please don't consume more than 1 a day or it will backfire. Then I would envy you."

"Oh like quirk eraser cigarettes. Don't worry I will test them carefully. Would they even work on you?"

"I don't know. Probably not. Some quirks won't work on me. Unless I'm in a stable condition. And that's rare if I think about that."

"We will get you there one day, not all hope's lost. But eraser cigarettes are rare to get. I should use them only at necessary times."

.....

"Gina??"

.....*zzz*

"....Sleep well, Gina...."

The television was no longer necessary, so the light in the room went out and darkness filled the room. The young man heard a quiet murmur that made him smile. Tiredness also forced him to sleep and so silence returned to the room.

"....thank you.....Kemuri"

0 notes

ca-cupid · 3 years ago

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a little review of the Haunt Couture Draculaura bag because there’s some stuff I want to say!!

First off bonus points to the cashier at Hot Topic who cashed me and and talked to me about dolls <3

So the bag is $64.90 CAD (about $48.09 USD, €45.64, and £39.10) plus tax, but I also used rewards/coupons that I had so it was a bit cheaper for me, usually I’m not the type of person to buy bags like these because I know they are more on the expensive side but I think that the price matches the quality of this bag!!

The black heart is puffed out a bit which I think is a super cute detail! I also took a picture of the price tag incase anyone wants the barcode or the price

It comes with a little embellishment on the side on the bag (I hadn’t taken the plastic off it yet here) and a little keychain of a heart with bat wings and a safety pin with studs and a heart on top (also no you can’t steal the keychain because it is tagged on)

The straps have adjusters on them which is nice because I don’t want the bag down to my bum 🥲

Also kinda hard to see because the bag is very structured, but there is a little pocket in the back, although it doesn’t open too much so you can’t fit a lot in there

Back to the very structured point, the bag is very stiff and it is something that won’t lose its shape,because it is stiff it is a but hard to open (hence the awkward picture I tried to get of the inside) but that’s not too bad because to me this bag is fashion over function and I expect it to look nice rather than be an intimate storage backpack that I can take to school,, it also had a shit ton of paper inside so keep its shape 🥲👍

#monster high #draculaura #hot topic #dolls #dollblr

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big-city-times · 2 years ago

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due to popular demand (two people in the replies of this post) i will now complain about how agitating the penny the pony and the pirate is to me (coming out as a hater) [under the cut][not going to put a whole essay in the main tag without a cut]

prepare yourself [i am so sorry]

before diving deep into my "he would not fucking say that" syndrome, there are ?? a lot of things i like about this episode ??

positives

the biggest, and the one that makes me the most sad, is how much i love the b plot. partially because it feels ironic watching becky and violet try to rewatch the mid-summer special of pretty princess and trying to convince themselves that its not as bad as they had thought originally, as i desperately try to convince myself that this episode isn't as bad as i had thought, but also because its just so ??? funny ??

like. fucking watch this

that's ?? hilarious ??? and it's used in this episode ???

not to mention that violet is just so adorable and funny in this episode and i love myself some good violet characterization AND theres really goofy botsford moments !! like them bullying tangent for not being able to tell a good story. father daughter bonding /j

also, about tim specifically, i find myself saying "can you believe this guy!! hey buddy !! the doubloons exhibit was last week !!!" a lot strangely enough

there's also some really silly bits about tangent himself !! like i've really stuck with the idea of him LOVING hearing other people's stories, stealing only when he's low on cash, or having a mom who's an artist

like !!! those are super cute and fun !!!!!!!! hearing about villains daily live's is one of my favorite parts of this show !! they're just presented in a way that doesn't sit right in my head !!

nice and goofy animations as well :]

negatives

yk. this is a rant. it's not really intended to be about the positive stuff so

cutting straight to the chase, i know exactly what the main reason is. it's the voice actor change im not gonna lie

for a minute, imagine, a character with a higher-pitched voice that you like, say, spongebob

then imagine them with a voice that is an octave deeper than their usual voice

isn't that weird and disorienting ??? like it just doesn't feel like them anymore ??

as violet says in this episode itself, that's. not their real voice, not to you at least

in this case, not only is his voice deeper, but its brash and gruff rather than his usual young, kind sounding voice, with a obvious (and often broken) fake accent. he sounds more like an adult and it BOTHERS me

its giving the minor change in chuck's voice in a world without wordgirl. while still the same person, a minor shift in his speech patterns makes him far less likeable

obviously this is no hate to brian stack (his va for this episode), he did a very good job on the actual acting, the voice just doesn't feel right for the character :]

there's also something that feels off about the way a lot of his lines are presented, not in voice, but more in the style of writing

in the previous two episodes, despite being absent minded and annoying to those around him, he's very selfless and kind, (caring about the safety of scoops and the dogs, leaving people alone if they reject him, noticing that scoops is upset [though he does interpret it wrong], ext.) but, here, it feels more like he's less distracted by his thoughts, and more self-focused. for example, regardless that he did enjoy tim's history lesson on the bumblebee penny, he immediately turns and begins to tell his own story, which just feels ??? way out of character ??

less negative, but he feels wayyy less focused here, and begins and ends stories very often, feeling less like they're tangents, and more like really brief, mildly annoying tidbits about himself ?? lmfao

it feels almost like they tried too hard on the tangents and ended up staying way too close to the topic. we are no longer going from pirates favorite wood to ballet slippers and that makes me very sad :[

i guess theres just something very offputting about how pirate-y he feels. he doesn't feel like some dork in a costume, and that's what i feel his character is supposed to be like !! he's not really a pirate !! he doesn't have a ship !! he rides around in a wagon !!! a flying wagon !!

conclusion :

as i said earlier, i keep coming back to this episode hoping that i'll like it better, but i never do.

who are you !!!!!! idk what villain that is !!! this episode has so much potential !! the crime is so goofy !! he's just written in a very strange way !!!

bonus bit - why is it so funny to me that his arm literally makes a clanking noise when he touches it. look at this stupid little twig arm. there is no way youve ever been to the gym youre lying

#sorry this ep just really bugs me cause its one of the three episodes he gets in the whole series and i am just never able to enjoy it :[#wordgirl #i will get back to normal posting soon #captain tangent #the penny the pony and the pirate

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l-antre-des-merveilles · 3 years ago

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An introduction to your author (aka yours truly) (yes, again)

Hello everyone !

Nothing new under the sun- I just decided, after much thoughts, that switching my main and secondary blog would be easier moving forward. The writeblog is now the main one, retitled L’antre des Merveilles for the occasion, and all the reblogs will be done on @swift-perseides !

I won’t be deleting all the reblogs that were already done here (24k posts, I’m not crazy-), but I will be deleting the posts already done on the sideblog to repost them here, no panic- and everything writeblr-related will continue here ! (People will finaly be able to send asks, yeheeee)

I will be handling all the modifications tonight, but in the meantime, enjoy the repost of my writer intro~!

XxX

Hello everyone!

About me:

I’m Maz, a trans man writer, who decided to finally jump the shark and share with other fellow writers and people in general the world I’ve created and wish to publish one day!

I mainly write fantasy stories filled with drama and angst before the happy ending (the joy of being a big softie who always NEEDS a happy ending AND a lover of whump), with magic oddly terrifying, focus on relationships (romance yes, but platonic, friendship, family, and more !) court intrigues, adventures, and families found in the most unlikely of places- all of that queer (in general, so long as I haven’t say it EXPLICITELY, just assume all my characters are queer :”D)

I have been on Tumblr for a while, but I’d love to meet new friends and people to discuss with here! ^u^

I’ll be posting wips, drabbles, maybe some longer texts, and probably lots of worldbuilding stuff (bc I love those too much lmao).

My ask box is ALWAYS open for asks of any kinds (questions on characters, in general, worldbuilding or other advice, etc- as long as everybody is respectful), tag games, ask-games, and any events that might happen in the writeblr community any day of the week ! Coming to talk about your OCs or work is okay as well too!

Probably important to note- English isn’t my main language, and with school kicking in I might not be active 24h/24 or everyday, but I’ll do my best!

My reblog blog: https://www.tumblr.com/swift-perseides

About my work :

- Breaking the Wheel- The Chronicles of Havren (coming-of-age series, queer main characters and representation, magic is a dangerous thing, found family, deals with hard topics such as abusive familes and abusive dynamics, cycle of abuse, torture, grief)

Did anybody ever wondered, in our beloved stories of worlds ravaged by epic wars between monstruous, terrifying beings against mighty and glorious heroes, what might be taking place away from the battlefield ?

On the continent of Havren, it’s what the latest generation of the 10 royal families of the realm are about to find out: their parents bound by the ancestral Serment of Ashaara to defeat the apocalyptic threat of the Veil, it’s to the faraway queendom of Litespes, reputed as the most secure land on the continent by its sovereign, that children and teens are send to grow up in complete safety- whether they want it or not, not a matter for them to decide.

King Consort, Princess, Knight and Healer respectively, Kazan, Aboaleyne, Becca and Llyr might have never set a foot on the battlefield, Life is far from having been kind to them either- to be honest, at the rate things are going, life isn’t going to last that long for them anyway before they let their souls destroyed by their own demons.

But what to make of it, when Fate throw the whole game upside down, and put those 4 adults, with nothing in common than parenthood, to meet...alongside the royal heirs, as lost, wounded and abandonned than them? Can adults and children let the past keep on carrying on their life, or will these years away from their realms give a far more greater solace to such uncanny group than any of them would have ever anticipated?

The end of an era is near for Havren- but the massive changes that will bring this new dawn might not come from the glorious deeds of our warriors monarchs like we’re all anticipating...

I suppose that’s it! I hope you all have a good day ! ouo/

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing intro #writtingcommunity

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brainmaniaman · 4 years ago

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WE'LL TALK ABOUT IT LATER (Bertolt Hoover/Reader)

TITLE: WE'LL TALK ABOUT IT LATER PAIRING: bertolt hoover/reader, light choking(?) TAGS: semi-public sex, female-bodied reader TRIGGER WARNINGS?: kind of mean and unhealthy y/n interactions (very light) w baby bertolt but on god it's part of the plot, very slight dubcon? idk if it can be interpreted that way but it's tagged for safety AU: idk modern au b/c i fuck hard with those DECSRIPTION: yes i believe in bottom bertolt supremacy but one of my friends gave me this idea like okay hear me out, y/n has been straight up blue-balling her boyfriend for quite some time, and it's getting frustrating, so he swallows his nervousness and, per suggestion of his good friend eren, decides to make even in the middle of the movie theater. by the way i am TIRED of everyone having eren hating on bertolt they would be GOOD FRIENDS in a modern au. WORD COUNT: 2,233

"Hey, Eren . . . I have a question" Bertolt looked like he was going to crawl out of his skin as he sat on the opposite end of the couch in the basement, his hands resting on his knees as he fiddled with his fingers.

"Shoot" Said Eren Yeager, pulling his hair back into a messy bun - his fingers expertly tying a small scrunchie into his hair. Jean had teased him about using scrunchies relentlessly - but Eren would die on the hill that using them was better for your hair; the last thing he wanted was for his hair to fall out.

"I, uh . . ." Bertolt's face was turning red, his nose scrunched as he stared at his knees, trying to figure out how to breach the subject. "So you know that y/n and I have been . . . you know, dating for quite some time . . ."

"Yeah . . .?" Eren drawled lazily, leaning his elbows on his knees as he played lazily on his phone, his thumbs typing away. For the most part, he seemed uninterested. "Where are you going with this?"

"Well, you know with dating comes . . . s-" Bertolt paused, now pressing his knuckles together tightly.

"Sex?"

"Yeah, that"

"Well, we've been having it a lot lately . . ."

"Are you just sitting me down to brag about your sex life . . .?" Eren inquired, raising an eyebrow - not that Eren was one to judge as he was often guilty of spilling his guts about his sexual escapades. But with Bertolt? . . . Well, it felt weird and out of place.

"N-No!" was Bertolt's immediately response. "It's not that. It's just lately, well . . ."

"Lately what? Spit it out. I don't have all day." Eren responded, looking down at his phone that was currently blowing up. He had a date coming up soon and he was relatively excited for it.

"Well . . . usually, y/n is, you know, on top . . . you know, more assertive -"

"I mean you didn't have to tell me that" Eren interrupted, "We all knew that -"

"- anyways" Bertolt's face was turning hot at the comment. He didn't have the time to really address Eren's comment. "I like it! I do! But lately, I've been thinking well, I'd like to take control . . ."

"Oh?" Eren's ears perked up and he was wriggling his way closer to Bertolt. "So you took control and they didn't like it, and now you're asking me for help?"

"No . . . not exactly."

"Then what happened?"

"Well, I asked them if they'd be willing to you know . . . switch it up and -"

"Jesus fuck, Bert. You can't just ask you have to just do -"

". . . and well, they laughed in my face, pat my cheek, and said no. I asked Reiner what to do and Reiner said to tell them I wasn't going to have sex until they gave me what I want. I thought it was a bad idea, but I went with it anyways and . . . well, they told me that two could play at that game and it's been . . ."

"How long has it been?"

"Uh . . ." Bertolt squirmed a bit in his place, "Two weeks. . ."

"Two weeks!" Eren exclaimed incredulously, in sheer disbelief. "That's insane! And you've just let them get away with it for this long?"

"Uh . . ." Bertolt scratched the back of his neck nervously, "What do you mean by get away with it? I mean . . . yeah . . .? What else am I supposed to do?"

"Well firstly," Eren said, picking up his phone, "Never ask Reiner for advice again. That was your first mistake. Secondly, let me cancel my date tonight -"

"Oh, no - you don't have to do that!" Bertolt responded quickly, "Just a few pieces of advice would be sufficient . . ."

Eren tapped away tirelessly at his phone before turning it face-down on the coffee table, now turning towards Bertolt - a rather determined look in his eyes.

"No -" Eren held up a hand, "I want to help. Besides, I'm going to tell you exactly what to do and we're going to run over it a few times, then - I'm going to make sure you don't pussy out. Knowing you, this is going to take a while. Consider it my early birthday present to you"

"My birthday was a month ago . . ."

"That's not the point. Anyways," Eren placed a very serious hand on his friend's shoulder, pulling Bertolt closer, "You're going to want to take her to the most popular movie in theaters on a Saturday night -"

"Where are you going with this?"

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

Seeing how packed the movie theater was, Bertolt was definitely thinking about backing out of it. While his partner was in the restroom, presumably washing their hands, he fiddled with his phone in his hands.

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

To: Eren Yeager

From: Bertolt Hoover

- I don't know if this is a good idea . . .

Read: 9:45 pm

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

From: Eren Yeager

To: Bertolt Hoover

- If you don't go through with this I'll never forgive you. I canceled a date to prep you on this. Don't make me have canceled my date in vain. I dedicated my heart to this cause.

Read: 9:47 pm

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

To: Eren Yeager

From: Bertolt Hoover

- I guess . . .

Read: 9:48 pm

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To: Bertolt Hoover

From: Eren Yeager

- I'm putting my upmost faith and trust in you. Don't fuck this up.

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"Here -" Bertolt extended his arms out to you as you came back from the restroom and concessions, a bag of candy in your hands, "I brought this for you."

His smile was innocent enough and the gesture was kind.

"Thank you." Was your tart response as you leaned over to pat the side of his face and press a kiss to his forehead before sitting down. "So have you changed your mind about what you asked for?" You inquired, taking his hand in your own as you opened your bag of candy and set it between the two of you as you linked your fingers in his own. Perhaps you shouldn't have brought up that topic of conversation here, on a movie date, but you couldn't help it - the way his big eyes looked up at you when he handed you the blanket drove you crazy. It made you want to lower yourself on him right then and there. It was just a damn shame that he had to be so persistent. The first week was easy enough but as you rounded out the second week of this no-sex stalemate . . . well, it was getting more difficult.

He openly frowned.

"Is that a no?"

"Do we have to have this conversation here? Let's just try to have a good night . . ."

You felt a bit guilty but were never the type who was keen on saying sorry.

"We'll talk about it later, then . . ." You responded dryly, clearly unhappy with the response.

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To be honest, when Bertolt had suggested watching one of the like, seven hundred Quentin Tarentino movies produced, you were slightly surprised. He was never one for big action movies - especially loud ones; loud noises were often too intense for him. As well as that, neither of you were into mindless action movies. However, this - whatever the hell this was - was actually quite enjoyable.

Halfway through the movie, you found yourself sucked into a particularly loud action scene.

You hadn't really noticed, or particularly cared, when Bertolt had slipped his hand underneath the blanket - resting his palm on your knee. It was kind of comforting.

You hadn't really noticed when he slipped his hand from the top of your knee to the inside of your knee, either.

Or when he inched it up halfway up your thigh.

However, you had noticed when his hand was slipping up your skirt, resting on the upmost part of your thigh where the muscle met the pelvis. For a second, you wondered if he was really trying to pull moves right here, in a movie theater, underneath this blanket - but when you looked over, noticing how tense and uncomfortable he was, you figured if he was, he wasn't going to go through with it - but settled on the notion that he probably wasn't even thinking about it.

A few moments passed by before you felt the tip of his finger press against your panties. There was a moment of tense surprise as your head snapped to look at your boyfriend, your expression narrowing - almost as though you were daring him to push further. You couldn't tell if he was embarrassed or not, but by the way he looked directly at the screen - you could tell he was at the very least a bit flustered.

If that was this case, this pathetic excuse for a mutiny would be over soon.

He drug the pad of his finger around your clothed clitoris gently, teasing it. You felt your abdomen jerk and dropped your hands onto his over the blanket, trying to hold them in place.

Bertolt's thin finger continued to tease around your clit before sliding downwards, continuing to rub over the fabric of your panties before pushing them slightly to the side. His face was hot with nervousness but the adrenaline of the entire situation was rushing to his head.

He continued to train his eyes on the screen in front of him, pretending to be invested in seeing the seventh car crash of the night. While his eyes were on the screen, his finger was sliding up and down your slit, slick from how wet you were. Bertolt wondered - what expression were you making right now? Was your face twisting up in confusion and frustration? Was your mouth forming into a little O?

You pressed your thighs together, your hands now squeezing at the armrests of the chair, squirming. Your heart raced and you pressed your head back into the chair, biting down on your lip as his finger slid its way back up to your clit, gently rubbing at it. Bertolt couldn't hear anything over the sound of cars crashing into each other, but he could certainly imagine how lewd you sounded - it only made sense, considering the fact that you were simply dripping.

Without much warning, Bertolt slipped his finger into you.

Head swimming, you let out a very small moan.

Finally, he turned his head to you.

"Are you okay?" He whispered. The question seemed innocent enough, but given that he was currently one knuckle deep into your cunt, his finger sliding in and out of you and curling, thumb pressing against your clit, you couldn't help but feel irritated with the question.

"Ber-" You let your head loll over to face him, face flushed red and and mouth slightly agape, though found yourself incapable of finishing the sentence as he slipped in a second finger.

The sight of your eyes half-lidded and your tongue poking out between your lips, which were parted gently, and the overall look of pathetic helplessness you gave him was almost too much. If the two of you weren't in a packed theater, he would have rolled you underneath him, torn off your panties, and fucked you underneath your skirt then and there. But for now, he'd have to settle for sliding his fingers back and forth against the inside of your gummy walls, which were tightening against him.

"Shh." He placed a finger to your lips. "The movie is still going. Try to keep quiet." His finger muffled the small gasps and groans you were breathing out. "Here - try this" He slipped a piece of candy in your mouth. "Good, no?"

He refrained from sliding his fingers into your mouth then and there.

As his fingers rocked in and out of you, you bit down on the candy to stifle the moans and gasps. For a second, you thought you were going to choke - but managed to swallow just fine.

Bertolt looked away, once more training his eyes on the movie. Pleasure pooled at the bottom of your stomach and very gently and discreetly, you began to grind your hips into his fingers.

"That's different." He mumbled to himself.

The second time he turned to look over at you, he could see tears forming at the corner of your eyes as you struggled to discreetly grind your hips against his fingers, seeking out an orgasm, but couldn't quite find the pace your body needed without being blatantly obvious.

The only thing you could do was close your eyes and tilted your head back as Bertolt curled his fingers in you - the pace quickening.

Your heartrate grew faster and you could feel his lips press at the shell of your ear.

What was it that Eren said to add? he thought, that's right -

Breath hot on your ear, he rasped out a simple question.

"Tell me, do you deserve it?" Truthfully, he felt awkward saying it - as though the words didn't quite come out of his mouth. You must have disagreed though, because the only thing you could mutter out in response was -

"Y-Yes"

You were starting to reach the edge of your orgasm, your head pressed against his own, back arching gently, as he pressed his face into your neck. Legs shaking, you sucked in a deep breath and -

His fingers slipped out of you and he took a moment to wipe them off on the insides of the blanket before linking his fingers in your own, leaving you a rattled, shaking, frustrated mess - completely unraveled before him as you tried to catch your breath.

"I don't think you do. We'll talk about it later."

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imaginethathaikyuu · 4 years ago

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even apart

oikawa tooru x reader

tags: so much fluff its gross, established relationship, slight angst to comfort, a lot of i love yous, lots of tears, a little surprise at the end :D, slightly inspired by lover by miss taylor swift fem reader

hope u like !

word count: 1578

You’d been preparing yourself for this night for the better half of the year.

It’s never something you talked about with your boyfriend, though. Any time he brought it up, you didn’t dare converse about the difficult topic for too long. It was hard. It was scary. It would be a big change. And you didn’t want to think about it until you absolutely had to, but all that pushing away had finally caught up to you.

And right now, sitting on your balcony alone, it was all you could think about. You had left all of these feelings for right now, and you were absolutely regretting it.

Tomorrow, your boyfriend of four years would be moving to another country. Oikawa would be living in the place of his dreams, Argentina, and he’d be playing volleyball for a team he had grown to love, and he’d be leaving you behind.

For the first time in four years, you’d be without him.

His familiar, soft voice interrupted your thoughts. “I can hear your thoughts from all the way inside.”

You opened your eyes to see him walking through the sliding glass door, on his way to sit next to you on the bench.

“Sorry, I was, uh… telling Iwa bye,” he mumbled.

When he sat down, you could see his eyes were red, despite how dark it was outside. The light from inside lit his face well enough to see.

“How did that go?”

He shook his head. “It went.”

You knew he didn’t want to talk about having to leave Iwaizumi - the same way you didn’t want to talk about him leaving you - so you didn’t press on. You had to remember this was hard for him and everyone else, too - not just for you.

“Can’t I just go with you?” you asked. “I just want to be where you are.”

You heard him release a deep breath as he said, “I wanna be where you are, too.”

And you couldn’t muster a response, so you didn’t even try. Instead, you sat up and grabbed his hand, which was much larger and worn than yours. You got a good look at it, because you knew this would be your last chance for a while.

He squeezed your hand tight. “I won’t be that gone long.”

“It’ll feel like forever,” you said, knowing you were being over dramatic.

Tooru gave you a sad smile. “It’ll go by quick… and I’ll be thinking about you the whole time I’m gone. Will still be playing for you even if you won’t be at every game.”

You nodded and wiped your tears. Tooru giggled, “you’re a mess, babe.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re my mess,” he replied. “Long distance will be a piece of cake.”

You rolled your eyes but played along, “yeah, for sure.”

“I’ll be home for Christmas, and for your birthday, and every other holiday. And you’ll come to so many of my games - you get to brag about dating a pro athlete, now, isn’t that worth the time apart?”

You laughed, and thought about it. What he said was a joke, but it was true - getting to brag that your Oikawa Tooru was finally the athlete he’d always wanted to be made all of this worthwhile.

“That does make it worth it,” you replied, and he draped an arm over your shoulder to pull you against him. “As long as you don’t find anyone else. I’m sure you’ll have a fan club after the first week.”

You were kidding, and Tooru laughed, low and breathy, but there was an edge to the joke that cut through the chill in the air. It was the lump in your throat and the insecurity in your tone and the shaking of your hands giving away the fear you’d been holding onto, and Tooru caught it.

“There could never be anyone else.”

He wasn’t sure if you knew that he was scared, too. He was telling you the truth he’d known for years, and there was nothing scarier than that fact.

You were his only one.

There would never be anyone else, even if you found a better match than him - he would never love anyone, or anything, the way he loves you.

And he knows you love him, which quells the fear. You’re the most stable part of his life, really, and there’s nothing he can’t do if he’s got you on his side. He’s always known that. And he tries his best to give you the same support; to hold you up when you need him to and watch you shine in the blinding way you do. He’s going to do that even when he’s living in another country, even when it gets hard, even when neither of you are shining at all.

“You don’t even know how much I love you,�� he said, and it was hard to be so honest, to say something so sickeningly sweet, but the smile his words put on your face made it worth it.

There was a choice Oikawa had to make, right there on that balcony at half past midnight, a choice he’d been facing since he caught you scrolling through pictures of dresses and rings on Pinterest - was this it? Was this the moment he’d been looking for?

It wasn’t, he thought, until you looked up at him and caught him in a shaky kiss and mumbled an, “I love you,” against trembling lips. It wasn’t, because he had a flight to catch in just a few hours, and he had suitcases lining the foyer, and he’d be gone before you could even celebrate. It wasn’t the right time, it wasn’t the right place, it wasn’t perfect enough for you and everything he’d dreamed of giving you - it wasn’t, but he was pulling that ring out of the safety of his pocket, anyway, and every perfect line was slipping his mind, and he wasn’t even convinced you’d say yes, but he was moving on impulse.

“You’re the only one,” he said, and his entire body was shaking, “I want you to be the only one forever.”

“I will be,” you replied. And then you looked down, and you saw the ring he held between two fingers, shaking like a leaf, in danger of dropping the damn thing, and he actually laughed as you sat there frozen.

“I wanna be yours forever,” he said. “Will - will you marry me? Do you think you can stand to have me around for that long?”

“Tooru,” and you were shocked, crying more than you were minutes before, and you stood up and looked down at him with wide eyes.

He’d made his choice, bit the bullet and let himself ask even though he should’ve waited. Popping the question in the middle of a sad night at your apartment was never his ideal - he always thought it’d be funny to make a show of it somewhere public - but there was something about doing this right before he left that he liked. Leaving you with this memory, giving you this dramatic evidence that he only wanted you, was the one thing he wanted to do before your lives changed.

And now, he was waiting for you to make your choice and give him your answer. Maybe he should have been more afraid, more nervous, but there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that you would say -

“Yes, Tooru, oh my god, I can’t believe this, oh my god, yes!”

You fell into his lap, arms around his neck with your knees on either side of his legs - and Tooru was rushed with relief, even though the biggest part of himself knew that your answer would be yes.

“Iwa told me you’d do this,” you mumbled, laughing.

“What?! I didn’t even tell him!”

“I think he just knew,” and you pulled back from the tight hug to look at him, wiping your cheeks only to make room for more tears.

“I didn’t even know I was going to do this,” he said. “I just - I happened to have the ring with me - I don’t know why -”

“I love you - you could have done it sooner, you know - I love you so much.”

“I love you,” he said, and he took your hand and slid the ring onto your finger, and he was in love with the sight of your pretty hand wearing such a lovely ring. “I want to get an engagement ring, too. It might be nice to have one since we’ll be apart for awhile. You should pick it out.”

“That would be cute,” and your voice was thick with tears and your eyes were swimming in their sockets as you inspected the gift he’d given you.

He wanted to tell you not to cry, but his own eyes were starting to well up, and there was no point in either of you hiding those emotions from each other. He didn’t need to be too embarrassed to cry in front of you, and he didn’t need to coddle you until your tears stopped.

It was okay to cry, and it was okay to be happy and sad, and it was okay to show it.

Because this was hard. And it probably wouldn’t get any easier. But it was worth it, you both knew that, and your love for each other wasn’t changing - that moment proved it. The ring he’d given you was a symbol for it.

“We’ll still be together forever,” he told you, holding your face and pulling you in close, “even when we’re apart.”

#yo u ever just wanna be loved or smthn #thatd be crazy. anyway #am i nervous posting this yes #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #fluff

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ethanesimp · 4 years ago

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THE OAK TREE // ZERO E.T.

Pairing: Ethan Torchio x GN! Reader

Summary: Everyone at the Oakes Academy is aware of the rivalry that exists between two of the school’s best students, Ethan Torchio and Y/N L/N. What nobody knows is what a brilliant team they are when they’re at risk of their reputations being damaged and a killer’s on the loose.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Just Ethan and Y/N behaving like children, mentions of killing someone (as a joke), swearing.

Masterlist // Taglist link in bio

TEASER

A/N: This is the first chapter of The Oak Tree! I hope you guys enjoy :) Huge thanks to @night-girl-301 for proofreading this and cheering me on! I was like... scared as shit to post it so yeah.

Taglist (strike means it won’t let me tag you): @oro-e-diamanti @gretavanfleetlove @victoriadeangeliswifey @cheese-toastie-11 @selenophiliaxx @superchrystaldrug @petit-poussin @bidet-and-legolas @fallingforyou123 @ethaneskin @soft-boy-ethan @teenyweenynightghost @reputationdamiano @cantaraiilmionome @tabi-toast @queen-of-brokenhearts @geklutst-ei @juststalking @cruz-ata @ohtorchio @ethan-torchio-angelo @unitermoonshine @everythingisdefinitelynotfine

It was only a few minutes past two-thirty when you managed to open the door that led to the greenhouse. The key, more often than not, would get stuck in the lock, and you’d have to spend a few minutes trying to yank it free, but this time around luck seemed to be on your side.

You placed your large black backpack on the stool that was always by the door before closing the entrance again. Mr. Murphy was still watering the plants, completely oblivious to your presence thanks to the loud music coming from the small stereo he kept near the gardening tools. You tapped his shoulder gently not to startle him; it wouldn’t be the first time you’d come into the place unannounced and you didn’t want to be the reason why he had to walk around with a cast on his arm again.

He smiled fondly at you and adjusted his large glasses that were starting to slide down his nose. Mr. Murphy was an old man with long white hair and kind blue eyes, he’d been in charge of the greenhouse at the Oakes Academy for almost twenty years and had been the first person to show you kindness after you first arrived at the place years back.

“I thought I told you to take the afternoon free, Y/N,” He shook his head disapprovingly and you could only shrug. You had to work at the greenhouse at least three hours a week to maintain your scholarship per the Academy’s rules and it’d been long since it stopped being a task and instead became your favorite part of each day.

“We were let out of Philosophy earlier so I thought I’d come by before I go study. Can I help with anything?” The older man sighed but nodded. He adjusted his glasses once again and wiped the dirt from his jeans.

He pointed at the corner where all the pink anthuriums were kept, shielded from direct sunlight, “Please water those, put a bit of fertilizer on the ones that arrived on Wednesday, and if you’ve got time, can you please feed the worms?”

“Sure thing, anything else?”

“Just those three things. I’ve got to go help unload the groceries so please lock up both doors once you’re done,” He asked with a smile on his face as he buttoned his coat and grabbed his walking cane from where he’d dumped it on the floor right next to him. Back when you’d only known him for a few days, you’d always rushed to his side to pick up his cane and help him, but quickly realized it was a thing that annoyed him because of how independent and stubborn he was. “Oh and, before I forget, the kid’s outside. I don't want to come back and see you two trying to tear each other's heads off."

A laugh escaped past your lips and you shook your head as you tilted your head to the side so you could look through the hole in one of the windows. Just like he’d said, the boy with the long hair was sitting outside by the oak tree reading a book. You looked back at Mr. Murphy and shrugged, "No promises."

"I'm serious. You're smart Y/N, and I'm pretty sure you could easily find something you've got in common. That much hatred isn't good for either of you." Those were Mr. Murphy's last words before he walked out of the room.

You stood by the plants for a few minutes as you played around with the headphones that hung around your neck. You’d already sort of been startled by the topic you’d seen during Philosophy that day and you hoped that being at the greenhouse would serve as a little distraction but Mr. Murphy’s words hadn’t helped much.

You huffed and looked around for the hose to water the pretty anthuriums to get your mind off of everything that had gone down that day.

Hours later, you were still unable to shake Mr. Murphy’s words off. It wasn’t the first time he’d insisted on voicing his thoughts against that rivalry you had going on with the person standing between you and your biggest dream coming true. The thing that pissed you off though, was that his words had reminded you of what your best friend, Rory, had told you just the previous night while you did your usual hate rant. According to them, it was a good way to destress yourself.

You scoffed at the thought alone and let your chin rest on your palm as a frown appeared on your forehead. There was not a thing you could name that made you even remotely similar to the person sitting only a few feet away from you at the quiet school library. Ethan Torchio, a.k.a. Your archnemesis, the person you disliked the most in the face of the earth, was biting on the tip of his pencil as he concentrated hard on the thin black book he was holding up. Those dark eyes that shone honey whenever light hit them just right and those long strands of hair that graciously fell down his back accompanied by his signature turtlenecks and pretty smile were enough to make someone’s knees weak, but they only made you gag.

You were sure he felt your eyes bore holes into the dark depths of his soul because it didn’t take long for him to look over his shoulder and meet your stare. Ethan smirked and his eyebrows shot up as he sent you a wink and a small wave. You knew that expression of his, he was teasing you, riling you up, hell, maybe he was trying to intimidate you. As crazy —and maybe a bit pathetic— as it made you sound, a simple smirk wasn’t just that when it came to him, never had been. Those dark eyes of his communicated his devilish intentions to you while he looked like an innocent child who’d never break a plate to anyone else.

You held his stare and mirrored his expression, which made him chuckle softly. It was nothing more than a silly game you’d play with one another to see who’d get tired of it first. The stare-off didn’t last too long that time around because his attention was stolen by one of his friends, Thomas. You simply shrugged and went back annotating on your copy of the black book. It was nothing more than one of those books written for the sole purpose of boring people to death. You loved reading, but when it came to those school-issued books that took around three pages to describe the sky-blue sofas in the main character’s living room, you couldn’t read more than a few pages before wanting to aggressively chuck it out the window.

In a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the book that did nothing other than make you feel miserable, you stood up. You walked over to the large window that went from floor to ceiling. To your delight, the curtains were drawn back, which allowed sunlight to illuminate the otherwise dark library with its beautiful hues of orange and yellow. The librarian was a grumpy woman that loved when the curtains covered all the windows and blocked any source of light that wasn’t the soft glow of the lamps placed all over the dark room. You were almost convinced this woman had never felt the warmth of the sun against her pale and ashy skin, sometimes you even thought of her as a vampire that’d burn to death if she dared to stand outside for a few minutes.

You looked out the window and admired the green gardens that adorned the front yard of the Academy’s largest building. The Oakes Academy was old and had been around since 1057. However, unlike most ancient schools like this one, the school board hadn’t been too interested in renovating the place outside of simply reinforcing the structure enough to fulfill the basic safety guidelines and the installation of optical fiber wires for a better internet connection. Even then, it was still considered to be one of the most prestigious schools to study at, and if it hadn’t been for the generous scholarship you were offered, you wouldn’t have been able to afford it anyway.

“Still plotting that little plan of yours to end the human race?” You bit down on your bottom lip to stop the colorful curse words from spilling as you turned sideways to look at Ethan. He’d decided to wear one of those annoyingly tight black turtlenecks of his and a pair of plaid trousers that made him look taller than he already was.

“Yes, and I’ll start with you first,” You smiled sarcastically at him, “In fact, I’ll swing by your dorm and murder you in your sleep,” You added while you choked the air for dramatic effect.

Ethan laughed and rolled his eyes. He had that spark of hate in his eyes that was always present when he was talking to you. That look alone told you that all that hatred and disgust you felt towards him was returned in the same magnitude. This rivalry of yours that consisted of dirty looks and constant arguments had been going on since eighth grade and it just seemed to get progressively worse as graduation approached.

Everyone at Oakes knew how much Ethan and you despised each other, it wasn’t a secret. Even the Head Professor had been a witness of plenty of your many petty fights and you didn’t doubt that the people in charge of the Student Welfare department were sick of the many reports you’d filed against each other for breaking the ‘student rules of politeness’. No one remotely important cared much about your reports anyways because they were far from serious and, more often than not, childish.

“How cute. Although I don’t think that’d work too well for you, would it amore? If something were to happen to me they’d know it was you,” He commented. You shrugged and bit your lip in anger at the nickname he knew very well you detested.

You casually leaned against the window, “Meh, it’d be worth it if I knew I wouldn’t have to see your face again. Now please get away before someone starts getting the sick idea that we’re friends.”

Ethan rolled his eyes but backed up a few steps either way, “God forbid someone would think such a horrific thing," He scoffed and raised his hand only to show you his middle finger when he knew the librarian wasn’t looking.

Before either of you could utter out another word, Damiano, one of Ethan’s closest friends, walked up to where you two were standing, effectively ending the conversation between you.

He waved at you and offered you a kind smile, which you immediately returned. Unlike his best friend, Damiano was a delight to be around. He was one of the kindest and nicest people you had ever met. You were quite close thanks to the fact that he’d been dating Rory for a while and you got used to spending long nights with the two of them doing silly things like playing board games or watching films. You were basically their third wheel, but neither of you minded much, if at all.

“Hey, what’s up?” Damiano smacked Ethan on the shoulder as he started a conversation with him. You took it as your chance to leave and just awkwardly walked away after mumbling something about having to find Rory. They had told you something about eating dinner together, and while you’d initially refused because you were supposed to finish the book and start on your report, you were tempted to accept their offer and forget about the stupid book for a little bit more.

Just as you were about to leave the library, your phone vibrated inside the pocket of your warm cardigan. You took it out and chuckled when you read Rory’s message about their new phone but groaned when you realized they wanted to see you after curfew. You sighed and left the library as you tried to think of a great excuse to tell your roommate Emilia so she’d cover for you while you snuck out.

Ethan had his eyes focused on your figure as you left the library but turned back to look at Damiano when he spoke up, “If you’d only talk to them Ethan, I-” He sighed and interrupted his best friend, already irritated by the conversation he’d had with you.

“No, I will not talk to them, okay? Not like we can even talk because we start arguing like two toddlers,” Ethan mumbled out the last part and took a deep breath in. Truth be told, no part of him wanted to talk to you. You were annoying, rude, and didn’t seem to have more than one brain cell in his eyes, so why lose his time talking to you? Not like there’d be anything to talk about.

“They’re just so exasperating!” He spoke up and Damiano rolled his eyes as he saw his hate rant start approaching. They were both aware that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop, “I just- They try so hard and it’s annoying. Like I swear they’re also a huge hypocrite. I know you don’t see it but I do, I’ve never met anyone mo-”

Before he could end his last sentence, he felt a body slam into his and arms snake around his waist. Ethan huffed at the impact but wrapped his arms around her frame once he noticed it was Adeline Rossi, or Addie as everyone liked to call her.

She pulled back and looked at both Damiano and Ethan excitedly, “You will never believe this but the craziest thing just happened… Hey, where’s Vic?” She trailed off as she started looking around for her friend.

Ethan chuckled lightly when he saw Thomas quietly approach Addie while she was distracted. They all knew she was the easiest person to scare, so it didn’t take more than a slight push and a soft boo for her green eyes to go wide and for her to jump. She was quick to turn to where Thomas was standing and didn’t think twice before smacking his shoulder with the heavy book she was carrying.

Thomas put his hands up in defeat as he took a step back and rubbed his shoulder, “Okay, okay shit. Stop, that actually hurts,” He whined and Addie only shrugged as Damiano and Ethan watched the whole interaction with amusement.

“Right, so, ignoring all that,” Addie spoke up once again and shifted her attention back to Ethan, “Since she is nowhere to be seen, could you please help me with some stuff? It’s just this little interview for one class of mine and I’ve already interviewed Damià and Thomas but I need just one more.”

He nodded and said a quick goodbye to his two best friends before following the shorter girl out of the library. However, while he was walking, he felt his phone vibrate inside the pocket of his jeans. He fished it out and frowned as he read the text that had just been sent to him but laughed once he noticed it was only his girlfriend Emilia from her new phone.

Then he sighed and rolled his eyes once he realized she wanted to see him past curfew again and he knew Will would ask him for money in exchange for not ratting him out. He quickly texted her back and slipped his phone back into his pocket as he followed Addie to her dorm.

GOOGLE DRIVE

#ethan torchio x reader #ethan torchio fanfiction #ethan torchio x you #ethan torchio x y/n #maneskin x reader #maneskin fanfiction

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podcastsaremyjam · 4 years ago

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Podcast Recs!

Sometimes it can be difficult to find new fiction podcasts through the jungle of nonfiction ones. I LOVE finding new podcasts through other people’s recommendation’s, so I figured I’d take advantage of tumblr’s “pin a post” feature to pin a list of my favorite podcasts to the top of my page! Be sure to check out the tags on this post too—I try to be pretty consistent with tagging on this account. I’ll keep updating as I find new podcasts!

Fantasy

The Adventure Zone

If you’re into D&D, you’ve probably at least heard of this one, but it’s definitely worth the hype! TAZ was created by the McElroy brothers who, along with their dad Clint, play D&D together. The whole thing is INCREDIBLY hilarious, but each story really gets more complex and interesting as it goes along. The first “season,” TAZ: Balance is my favorite—classic D&D setting following Magnus, Taako, and Merle as they adventure and a larger mystery slowly unfolds. #adventure #dnd #found family

Unseen

A collection of stories set in the same magical universe by the team who created Wolf359. Each episode has been really interesting, and the worldbuilding is really great! #magic #lgbtq+ rep #mental health

The Two Princes

Rupert and Amir are princes of two kindgoms at war who decide to take destiny into their own hands by pursuing the cause of the curse plaguing their kingdoms. To do so, they will have to create an uneasy truce as they forge deeper into the enchanted forest. This podcast is so lovely. The characters growth is just *chef’s kiss* I just found out that seasons 2 & 3 were released exclusively on Spotify, so guess who’s “to listen” list just got longer? #princes #lgbtq+ rep #prophecy #enemies to lovers

Sci-Fi

Girl in Space

Our narrator (who’s name has not been revealed as of the end of season 1) is a young scientist who’s parents have died, leaving her as the sole living inhabitant of the research station Cavatica. Space seems so vast when you only have yourself to talk to...until it isn’t. One of my all time favs—there is so much depth in the story and characters! #space #research #mental health #grief #space station

Directive

Y’all, this one made me cry the first time I listened to it! The story (in season 1) follows Frank as he works as a caretaker watching over the cryogeniclly stored bodies of people on their way to a space colony. It’s such a poginant exploration of the social bonds we take for granted. #space #mental health

Wolf 359

Told through the audio logs of Communications Officer Doug Eiffel , Wolf 359 follows the crew of the Hephaestus as they monitor the star Wolf 359. If I could only recommend 5 podcasts to someone, this one would definitely make the cut. Each of the characters is so well flashed out as the podcast progresses, and the conversations it has about mental illness are handled so well! #space #mental health #space station

Moonbase Theta Out

Ugh, this podcast is so good! The first season follows the researchers and workers on Moonbase Theta as they prepare for base shutdown. However, with political issues threatening the safety of family planetside and those in charge being suspiciously unwilling to provide information on certain topics, our narrator pushes for answers before he goes into cryogenic stasis. Note—the narrator of season one and his husband are sappy and adorable. I love them so muchhhh. #space #politics #lgbtq+ rep #space station

The Orphans

If you love sci-fi, this is the podcast for you! The Orphans tells the story of a universe full of future technologies and humanity continuing to push forward into unknowns. Each season tells a different story arc set in the same universe, interconnecting and building on past seasons. #technology #space #survival

Burst

An adorable anti-capitalist comedy set in space! #space #aliens #lgbtq+ rep #space station

EOS 10

OMG This podcast always makes me laugh so hard! It follows two doctors, a nurse, and a hypochondriac alien patient as they navigate medical appoinments and daily life on the station EOS 10. Shenagains ensue. #space #medical #lgbtq+ rep #aliens #space station

The Strange Case of the Starship Iris

Hooooo boy! Bring on the found family adventures in space we all deserve! Something here about the Each character is just beautifully written, layered in complexities that start to peel away as we get to know them. #aliens #space #found family #lgbtq+ rep

The Bright Sessions

Therapy session recordings of Dr. Bright’s patients. Only, her patients aren’t there for help with anxiety or depression. They’re there because they’re “atypicals,” people with incredible abilities. I love each of the characters in this podcast, and learning more and more as the plot unfolds!

Horror/Supernatural

The Magnus Archives

I don’t normally listen to horror, but I started listening in the middle of the pandemic and HOO BOY. It did not disappoint! The story follows Jonathan Sims working in the archives at the Magnus Institute, an institute dedicated to gathering information about strange and unusual occurances. Each episode is Jon recording himself reading statements people have given in order to better organize the Archives. Starts off a little slow in terms of Jon’s interaction with other characters, but that aspect starts picking up halfway through season 1. #horror #supernatural #lgbtq+ rep

King Falls AM

Though not as terrifying as the other shows in this section, King Falls AM can definitely be unsettling. The show follows Sammy Stevens and Ben Arnold as they host a late night radio show in the not-so-sleepy town of King Falls. Though newcomer Sammy is skeptical of the town’s reputation for supernatural events, there is definitely more to the town and its inhabitants than meets the eye. #supernatural #mental health #lgbtq+ rep

Welcome to Nightvale

My first ever podcast! You’ve probably already decided if Nightvale is your cup of tea if you’re on my blog, but basically WtNV is a radio show covering events that happen in a town where glowing clouds rain dead animals, a country of tiny people exosts under a bowling lane, and librarians will must not escape the library. Vaguely creepy and definitely weird! #supernatural #lgbtq+ rep

Other

Levar Burton Reads

If you love short stories, definitely check this one out! As the title suggests, the immensely talented Levar Burton selects a different short story for each episode and reads it. His selections span lots of genres, and he’s read stories from some of my favorite authors like Neil Gaiman and Nnedi Okorafor!

Me & AU

This podcast is sooooo cute! It follows Kate as she hyperfocuses on a new show called Selkirk and becomes friends with a fellow Selkirk fan named Ella.

Under Pressure

Follows a doctor of literature aboard a deep sea research station three miles underwater.

36 Questions

A musical three part mini-series about the relationship fallout between a husband and wife after the husband discovers that his wife isn’t who she says she is.

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comfortmarvelimagines · 5 years ago

Text

You are Home, and Home is Safe

heyhey ! deciding to just get it over with and post this tonight (for those of you who don’t know what i’m talking about, a post explaining can be found here. side note, please be nice in my inbox, its been rough getting some of those comments). i am, however, going to continue to tag autistic!reader fics with #whenyoucantfindthequiet and #wycftq, so they’re easier to find. hope it’s what you’re after, nonnie, and i’m so so sorry it took so long !!

features : autistic!reader x mama!nat, lowkey asshole Tony Stark (it’s okay i didn’t make him really mean, just kinda well-meaning but misplaced/ mistimed)

warnings : uhhh i guess meltdowns, some self-injurious behaviour

Words are hard. Always have been, always will be.

You haven't always had a family. For years you were passed from foster home to foster home, with a consistent message: you were too much. Your needs were too high, your behaviour too confusing, your struggles too much to deal with. It got to a point where you began to question yourself, your diagnoses and trauma, wondering if it was all in your head or for attention like you were told over and over.

That changed when you met Nat.

It wasn’t immediate of course. There was the initial period of complete and total distrust, of another stranger whose life you were thrust into the middle of, floundering and drowning with no support. There was shutdown after shutdown. The trauma of being ignored and punished for meltdowns meant that you’d learned to internalise. You barely ate, and didn’t speak. But Nat met you where you were, unwaveringly. Was always calm, composed, voice level. Kept food out on the kitchen bench at all times, figuring out your safe foods and keeping them stocked. Realised you liked small enclosed spaces and stocked your bedroom with beanbags, pillows, stuffies and blankets, a permanent blanket fort taking up residence in the living space. Perhaps the most wonderful was her commitment to listening to you, with or without words. The superspy was quick to recognise your shutdown states from body language alone and responded quickly, with two option questions and the request to tap the hand of the answer you wanted.

You almost wanted to feel embarrassed, humiliated, of the accommodations she made so immediately. But she always spoke to you conversationally and never in an infantilizing tone, like so many before her, and the trust you held for her grew. It didn’t always grow in a way that you felt was positive, though. As weeks passed you felt your shutdowns turn into meltdowns and silence into frustrated screams. You didn’t want to hurt her. You didn’t want to feel ungrateful or angry or like any of this was on purpose but somehow she knew. As she held you close after each one she reminded you that your body was unlearning trauma, that you were safe, that you were loved so fully and unconditionally and nothing, including meltdowns, would change that. The way she held you felt like home.

But no one else was like Nat. Social workers were condescending, school was overwhelming, nowhere was safe. So you stuck to Nat. It wasn’t long after you were placed with her that she pulled you out of school, realising that they were doing more harm than good, and she was always there for homeschool. Not looking over your shoulder, but present. You could hear her humming through the walls, or swearing as she dropped a spoon into a pot of soup on the stove again, and it was comforting. It wasn’t the apartment that was home, per say, but having a parent made it feel like one. If she went to the grocery store or a walk in the park you came with, ear defenders on, clinging to her sleeve for safety. She told you that she loved you a million times a day, until one day you said it back.

Words came easier after that. Simple things, like asking what’s for breakfast, became routine. It wasn’t just Nat softly illuminating the cramped space with hummed melodies and occasionally vulgar language but you as well, asking for help with homework or explaining a meme. It felt normal, comfortable, okay. The outside world was too much, but inside your home, the anxiety all but melted from your throat.

You never wanted to leave safety. You wanted to feel it all the time. It was warm and sweet and heavy but in a calm way, like a weighted blanket sinking into your joints. It started as a one-time-thing, after a particularly rough meltdown, but you started sleeping in Nat’s bed. It just felt… right. The panic that set in when Nat left the room and you didn’t know where she was going or what she was doing or if she was ever going to come back was so all-consuming and nauseating that going to sleep alone, in another room, unable to hear her was torturous. What if she abandoned you, gone in the night, social worker beckoning you on to the next uncaring couple, crowded foster family or group home? This way, when you woke at 2am from a nightmare, the first thing you heard was her even breathing. Home. Safe.

***

Tony Stark was something else. Nat eventually started to transition back to work, and, as being homeschooled permitted, brought you with her. Even in classified meetings where you weren’t allowed in you sat in corridors and made sure you could see her red braid through the frosted glass, glancing up from your laptop every few seconds to make sure she didn’t disappear while you wrote your English critique. The rest of Nat’s colleagues (it felt too weird to just casually refer to them as the Avengers and co) didn’t mention your presence, at least in front of you; it was as if they didn’t know what to say or how to say it. Not that you’d say anything back. Outside of the safety of home it was like the anxiety disconnected your brain from your throat, anything you wanted to say cut off before it reached your tongue. It was frustrating. The first few days ended in meltdowns when you reached the apartment and it felt weird and strange and almost like you were two different people but an all-round embarrassment of a child. It was weeks before things settled into a routine and a pattern of acknowledged non-acknowledgement. A pattern Stark ignored.

You were sitting at the island bench in the communal kitchen, drinking chocolate milk and typing out an assignment, when you heard both Nat and Tony heading down the hall towards you. They’d just come out of a meeting, you sitting watch outside the whole time, and Nat had sent you to the kitchen to wait for her while she headed upstairs with Tony to drop off some paperwork to an intern. You hadn’t thought much of it. Sure, you didn’t like being away from Nat at all, but if she was clear in where she was going and how long she was going for (provided it was only a short period), you did okay. It was okay, until you heard the discussion from down the hall.

“Damn, Nat, is that the longest you’ve been away from the kid?”

“No.”

“C’mon, Nat. I know the kid’s been through some shit, but this isn’t healthy. For either of you. What happens if you can’t get out of the mission next time? They’re gonna have to be away from you at some point. You can’t be in this line of work with a barnacle of a kid.”

You’d heard enough. As the topic changed and they entered the kitchen, you didn’t look up from your laptop in greeting.

***

Too much. Too clingy. Too anxious, too needy, too autistic, too much. You needed separation. Give Nat space. Of course she needed to work. The world needed her, and they didn’t need you tagging along. When you got home that night, you headed straight to your room. Buried yourself in the mountain of blankets and stuffies and waited until Nat came to check on you, facing the wall, feigning sleep. You doubt you fooled the former spy but nonetheless, she left you be, a whispered “I love you” hanging in the air as she creaked the door close behind her.

It was seconds before you broke. It felt like choking. All of the fear that was slowly reduced to an ebbing tide through months of living in a caring environment crashed on you like the mother of all tsunamis, saltwater running down your cheeks and into your mouth as if smothering all the words you wished you could scream. It lasted for hours and hours and it was relentless, painful, as if your heart was being ripped out and an empty throbbing numbness was expanding in its place. You were too much. Too much. Too much.

Nat stood outside your door at the time when she’d usually be gently waking you up, watching you unfurl and stretch yourself out of the cocoon of blankets you slept in every night. She knew something was wrong from lunch yesterday, and your isolation from her was concerning. She figured you needed space, but the sleep she knew was an act sat at the back of her mind and bugged her all night long. Even with that nagging suspicion that something was up, nothing prepared her for the way her heart sank when she came in and saw your body curled up, eyes red and barely open from exhaustion, pillow and face damp from tears.

She was at your side in seconds. Your resolve to cut yourself off melted at the sight of her open arms, safe, warm, home. And immediately your body melted. Hands running through your hair, the promise that you were safe, loved, worthy of support, the request to “tell me next time, please, you don’t need to deal with this on your own.”

For some reason, those were the words that broke out the first sounding sob in the 12 hours of silent crying. It was so loud and gut-wrenching and it almost didn’t feel like it came from you at all and it was such a weird feeling, and all of a sudden you were scratching at your arms to try and re-embody yourself and Nat was breathing calmly and deeply and gently rubbing your shoulders until you found yourself easing back into your physicality.

“Did you hear what Stark said yesterday?”

And just like that she figured it out, of course she did, because she’s a trained spy and that’s her job, to put the pieces together and slot the narrative into place. And god, were you grateful, because you couldn’t see yourself stringing sentences together to accuse none other than Iron Man himself of triggering waves of hurt just by stating what you’d convinced yourself was the truth. She was quick to reassure. You are loved, you are wanted, you are always welcome and will always be her child and what you need will always come first. The warm safety settled itself in your belly and you let the tiredness wash over you, drifting on a life raft of whispered Russian lullabies and Nat’s hand rubbing circles on your back. At peace.

Of course, you’d never tell Nat, but hearing her whisper-yell at Tony over the phone for being an insensitive dick was possibly one of the best moments of your life.

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rurifangirl · 4 years ago

Note

oc asks💅💅

kayn🌸

If you had to choose a single object to act as a symbol for your oc, what would it be? Why?

kida🌸

How much has your oc traveled? Why is this? Would they like to travel more? Or are they perfectly fine with staying home?

rui🌸

How competitive is your oc? Is every little task something that they can win, or are they just in competitions for the fun of it? Is there anyone they’re most competitive with?

lyva🌸

What is your oc’s immune system like? Are they invincible to illness, or are they compromised completely from the slightest of dirt?

shou🌸

Does your oc do anything “just for the aesthetic”? Or are they completely practical in everything?

qiran🌸

How would you describe your oc’s voice? Do they have an accent? Do you have any voice claims for them?

naexi🌸

What topics does your oc know the most about? Are these obvious or would these be surprising to others?

evelyn🌸

How easy to annoy is your oc? Do they have common pet-peeves or are they stoic in response to everything? What is their reaction if the source doesn’t stop?

myst🌸

How would you describe your oc’s voice? Do they have an accent? Do you have any voice claims for them?

kerei🌸

What topics does your oc know the most about? Are these obvious or would these be surprising to others?

eris🌸

What is your oc’s vocabulary like? Does it match the way they talk? How would you describe their speech?

syndra🌸

What time of day is your oc most awake? What about most tired? Do they get up at the same time every morning without need of an alarm, or is their sleep schedule all over the place?

Ty for asking em my fave Scp 🤍/j

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Kayn💜-

Many things would work for his symbol tbh, Id say either a dog or a schyte?

There's many things he had great connections w, and for someone like him that cares bout litteraly anything and everything that is around him, It would be hard to settle down onto a specifical one.

Writing this, I feel like he'd choose a schyte, cus even though that's probably the least pratical thing he's good in, it's still a part of his character that Is sorta overlooked and probably gotta work on so-

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

Kida💮-

She went into far more missions than Kayn ever did, and she did visit many places, other than sometimes resting in South Italy that Is.

She's mainly been used for abroad missions too, until the whole Japan thing started and she had to return back, and even if she stayed lil time there, she has a pin collection of every place, and occasionally shows it to close friends, and did It w Kayn after they got time to get along.

She also got the first pin, which her husband bought for her since she spent almost everything, and that does bring her some nostalgia bout It, in the good and in the bad.

Sometimes when she gets drunk, she'll start ramble bout every single embarassing moment she had there like it's nothin. And even when she'll wake up, Kida wouldn't do anythin to deny It.

Just, proudly stating that she did It.

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Rui💎-

They're mostly chill, kinda in everything, until it gets onto their interests.

They don't really care about being the best in a random task, like if that would change the world of something, but if that meant the safety/getting more gems, then oh boy, ya got the perfect contestant for ya.

But if they could be competitive w anyone, It would be with Naexi.

They just can't even pin point way, it just, is.

And also if you'd tell them that they had to kill someone for gettin a diamond, they'll do It. That's how far and competitive they'd get for It. So in that case, absolutely.

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

Lyva📙-

She suffers normally of a morning sickness, and has to take some medication to treat some sounds she had even before getting into the gang, but other than that, she's pretty healthy.

I mean, both compared to the rest of the cast and ignoring some eating problems she had to get through of, but currently, she's doing just fine.

But she does have an allergy for some flowers, so during spring she has kinda an hard time alone.

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

Shou🍵-

Like, yeah he does have many traditional outfits, but that's mainly because he's more tied up to his family traditions that, even if they hurt him in the past, he can't let go of.

But, those do look good and he likes wearing these kinds of outfits, so it's fifty fifty.

Though it's safe to say that, the outfit he wears normally isn't really practical, considering in which events he gets into, but for him It doesn't really matter.

Basically just the "be depressed but well dressed".

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

Qiran🗡️-

They do have an accent, and probably the most prominent one out of the cast.

Considering they've also been travelling through many different places, learning their coltures and sometimes having to learn their language, Qiran doesn't have a specifical accent, just, a mixture of almost anythin.

Though, if ya could hear them, you'd also get they're Southern, in a way or another.

They also tend to shorten words whenever they can, just to go straight up to the answer.

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

Naexi⚛️-

Absolutely almost any folk tail in human's history. They just have been so interested in that for even hundreds of years, she's just deeply sucked into them.

One thing they also really like to do Is revisiting them to their gang, and even clearing up some details in the meanwhile. Or even giving more fun facts, or how she personally interpretetated it.

She doesn't do It often to people, even to those they're close to, and mainly ramble about It to their dolls.

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

Evelyn⚙️-

He's mainly the one to bully rather than the bullied, but it's safe to say that if ya could really annoy them, It would be poking their making, or weapons per say.

In the sense that, she's really proud of them, and having those being unrighfully judged onto their eyes is really, REALLY frustrating to see.

Plus, since they're thecnically the least powerful member of the gang, it's normal that they Hide that feeling pretty well, under some teasings to subdoly vent bout It.

So even teasing him about that makes them really annoyed, since you'd 'invade" the space they created for herself.

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Myst🎸-

Honestly, I can't blame myself enough for this, but, just Imagine Rainbow Dash's voice on him.

Yes I'm serious.

Just that energy that voice has onto her, the cracks and just, everything. Naturally It would be toned down by a LOT, considering she hasnt got a voice as childish.

Im not good w describing voices and should work on that tbh, but i hope this voice claim counts 😭😭

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

Kerei🔮-

Magic/Spell related topic, since that's what he's most interested. He's got many interests, that can go to many different topics, but he doesn't have as much interest as that.

He knows especially many counter attacks and even some potions to defend himself during a real fight.

In his time w Myst, she helped him learning even more facts and through that, setting free Eris, so that would be It.

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

Eris🌑-

It's a normal vocabulary? Like, a polite One for sure, since it's not used to the human world and didn't get enough habits to speak like a normal person would.

They just have that solemn touch to it, y'know?

It does match with how they speak though, even if sometimes they have an hard time understanding Myst's words, since he also likes to throw popular wordings n a little of dialect here and there.

Moon's trying its best.😭

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Syndra⛩️-

She's most awake during the evening, or night that Is, since it doesn't have that much of a good concept of time and will go with anything that goes for her.

Though surprisingly, she's hardly tired, because she doesn't want to seem that weak even to itself, so even if she's gonna be a lil dizzy, she's almost always gonna be there.

Especially to kick some asses >:D

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

Tags undercut:

@a-chaotic-dumbass @spoopy-fish-writes @dopesaladlady @nadi-117 @damnfoxx @audre-falrose

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coveredinsweetpea · 5 years ago

Text

me and you [ross butler imagine]

A/n: This is cheesy don't mind me. I finally have time to write again and I'll probably be here A LOT so hmu! Let's talk, tell me what you thought!

Summary: Ross comforts you after you receive online hate due to the age gap in your relationship (requested)

"What're you doing over there?" Ross asked, mindlessly walking through the living room. He didn't get you a chance to answer before he walked into the kitchen, only to pop his head back into the room and call for you again, "Babe?" "Hm?" you mumbled, tilting your head in his direction, even if your eyes never actually left the screen of your laptop. "What are you reading?" he questioned, now leaning against the wall, eyes trained on you. "I wanna cook something" you said softly, your attention divided between your boyfriend and the recipes displayed in front of you. "Why?" Ross laughed. "Stop" you scoffed, amused, "Our cheat day turned into a cheat month, and I'm really in the mood for something home cooked and healthy." Still unconvinced about your motives, he reluctantly accepted to help you choose a dish. Eventually, you settled for some fancy stake with brown rice. About half an hour later you were both in the kitchen, laughing your asses off. It all started with Ross trying to fake an Italian accent as he read the instructions for the sauce, and it ended with him posting three different videos of you two to his Instagram story. In the first one, he wasn't completely prepared, and his shyness came to light. His cheeks bright red and the room filled with his nervous laughter - it was definitely your favorite of the three. In the second one, he had gotten a little bit more in character, and he may or may not have done an adorably sweet impression of The Godfather. "He's Italian, right?" Ross laughed over your shoulder, as you watched the videos on his story.

"Yes, he is, babe" you laughed, leaning your head back, "Or was" "Did he die?" he asked, genuine curiosity visible in his eyes. "Haven't you seen the movie?" "Nope" "Well, then I'm not gonna tell you!" you exclaimed, turning around. You discarded his phone, carefully placing it on the counter. Your hands met behind his neck, your fingers intertwining. Ross looked down at you with a smile that was hard to read, but it warmed you up nonetheless. "Tell me" he begged, grabbing your waist and pulling your body flush against his, "I wanna know" "What kind of an asshole girlfriend would I be if I spoiled one of the best movies ever made for you?" Ross cocked his head to the side, and pursed his lips, "Pretty sure you'd still be the best girlfriend...." "Sweet talking won't get you anywhere, babe" you giggled, pulling yourself up on your tip toes. He met you halfway, leaning down to press his lips to yours. It was really sweet at the beginning, even though he tasted like the garlic he swore he didn't steal from your plate. But you didn't really care. The taste faded away quite rapidly, and soon, you were already clinging to his chest, your body asking for more. His tongue pushed past your lips and you welcomed him with no intention to hold back. Much to your dismay, things didn't go any further. At least not until you feasted on the food you worked so hard to make. This was probably one of the most relaxing nights you've had in ages, and were beyond thankful for it. For the past few months, your schedules had been hectic, but you just enjoyed a night in, and in the morning you were ready to head out for breakfast. You and Ross were supposed to meet your parents at a café nearby. Despite the short distance, you two were again running late. You ended up brushing your teeth at the same time, bumping shoulders and playfully bickering until you were actually too late for your own good. Ross had to physically drag you away from your make up table, "Babe, it's just our parents, they won't care when color your eyelids are" "Oh my god" you laughed, and hurried to apply the last touches of mascara, before he wrapped an arm around your middle and pulled you to your feet. "Ok! I'm done, I'm done, let's go!" Giggling, your sprinted to the hallway, hurrying to slip your shoes on. "Where the fuck is my wallet!?" you heard Ross's muffled voice echo through the apartment. "Jeans?" "Which ones?" he yelled back. "Jesus-" you laughed, rolling your eyes, "I have mine, leave it" "What if I need my ID?" Ross asked, finally coming back into your line of sight, eyes all mopey and shoulders all slumped. "What are they gonna do?" you taunted, "Assume you're not old enough to have alcohol for breakfast" "Good, point" he shook his head, and started putting his shoes on. To be fair, this was what most of your days were like, and you loved it. There was a specific air of comfort and acceptance between the two of you that you never had with anyone else. The safety he provided and the love he had for you, were the only things you needed to keep going. About 30 minutes later, you and Ross were seated on a small terrace, across from your parents. It was their idea for all of you to go out today, considering the last season of 13 Reasons Why just dropped, and even if was just a croissant and a cup of tea, it called for celebration. "I've only ever been once to the set" his mother shook her head, sipping on her smoothie, "And I feel like I'm gonna miss everything about it" "I know what you mean!" you smiled, "I've gotten the chance to meet most of the cast and they're all such amazing people!" "They love you, you know?" Ross grinned, elbowing you in the side. "Oh god" you giggled, feeling your cheeks catch a new shade of pink. "It's true" he shook his head, looking at everyone around the table in turn. A devilish smirk popped up on his lips, "Apparently we're perfect together, or something?" Everyone at the table ended up shaking their heads and chuckling at Ross's attempt to make a joke, and it only warmed your heart. Unconsciously, you leaned into him, and cuddled against his side, ignoring the looks yours and his mother gave you as he turned and kissed the top of your head. "We get it" your dad playfully scoffed, "You're young and happy and all that crap. But where are my grandkids?" Although he didn't really have a very exquisite sense of humor, you all laughed, some out of amusement, some out of nervousness. You're sure the parents didn't take it seriously, but the thought of a little Ross running around your apartment brought a ridiculous smile to your lips. The breakfast date didn't last much longer after that. About 30 minutes later, you were in the passenger seat of your car, as Ross drove the two of you home. Out of habit, you pulled out your phone, your thumb mindlessly tapping the Instagram icon. That was when you saw the amount of tags and mentions you had. Thousands of them. Your stomach filled with dread in an instant. This was never good. And even so, you still always checked what people had to say. You were not a celebrity, having people talk about you still made your skin crawl. When the comments were good, you'd just get a rush of anxiety that you started to manage better and better over the last few months, but when the comments are bad, it feels like your lungs are on the edge of collapse. And that was the case now. You only got a chance to read a few comments, all of them, without exception, picking at the age gap between the two of you. Your eyes watered instantly, forcing you to lock your phone and turn your head towards the window. "Hey, baby girl" Ross called lovingly, placing his hand of your thigh, "You good?" You just nodded. "Tell me, love" he pushed, squeezing your leg, "Come on" "I'm fine" "Obviously you're not, angel" "I'm good" you repeated yourself, and forced a fake smile. You did your best but it wasn't enough to fool him. However, he did drop the topic. The rest of the car ride was spent in perfect silence. But once you got inside, you felt him eager to pick the topic back up. So, you did the only thing that you felt was able to help you dodge the situation, and excused yourself, claiming you needed a shower after spending so much time in the sun. It would have been a great lie, but it was 11am on a cloudy July morning, you all had breakfast under a big umbrella that kept you cool in its shadow, and the AC in the car kept the unwanted high temperatures away from you. As you jumped into the shower, you hoped Ross wouldn't look too much into it. As the water poured down your body, you let your mind wonder. It was not a wise choice. If his fans managed to only find flaws about you and bring them forward, you had the upper hand - you knew yourself, and knew all the other flaws you had, the ones they couldn't pick apart. But you could. And that was what you did. For at least an hour, you soaked yourself in hot water, feeding all the negative thoughts that consumed you. When you finally decided to get out of the shower, you were by no means in a better mental state, but you didn't want to let Ross see that. Even though you had some specific opinions about yourself, you felt like opening up about them only made you a victim. So you decided against it. You got dressed up, put on one of your own shirts instead of his', something you never did inside the house, and then walked in the living room. Although you felt like ignoring him, you knew that would only raise suspicions. "What're you up to?" you asked, as you stopped right before you headed into the kitchen. Ross hadn't heard you come in, and only looked up when your voice reached his ears. "I was productive" he grinned, standing up from the couch. "Oh, what did you do?" He laughed, and walked over, "Literally nothing" Quite impossible for you to understand how his little dumb lines like these, could always make you loosen up. Of course, he noticed your faint smile hid a lot, so he leaned down to kiss your forehead and placed his fingers under your chin to get you to look up at him, "I'm not gonna ask what you were mad about earlier, because I know" "Ross-" you tried to excuse yourself, and pull away from his hold, but he was by no means having it. "You know you're my whole fucking world, ok?" he said softly, his breath fanning over your skin, "I'm the only one that gets to decide who's good for me. Falling in love with you is only up to me. Not them, ok?" "I know..." you sighed, your insecurities overwhelming you again. "But?" he nudged you, obviously aware of how much you were holding back. "But what if you're wrong?" "What do you mean, wrong?" Ross questioned, his eyebrows furrowed. "What if you only think I'm good for you? What if they're right, and you just can't see it?" He sighed, obviously deeply hurt by the lack of trust and confidence you showed, "They're not right, I'm 100% sure. But even if they were, I'd have to see for myself, wouldn't I?" "Even if what they're saying is more rational?" you asked, voice all choked up by the lump in your throat. "I'm not gonna listen to anyone talk shit about the woman I love" he explained, "I really do see myself living the rest of my life by your side, what's a stranger gonna do? Convince me otherwise? Right now, in my life, you come first. Anyone could come and tell me anything they wanted, and still, it wouldn't change the way I feel about you. My opinion on you is based on what I know, on who you are, and you're the only one that could ever change it" His words managed to get to you, and although your knees were weak, you were still not quite there yet. "What if that's what's gonna happen? More time will pass and you'll see I'm not right for you" "That's how relationships work, love" Ross shook his head, "And it certainly does not have anything to do with you being younger than me." Too many things were coming at you at once. He made a good point, but your mind was already drunk on all the possibilities, and on all the things that could go wrong. Accepting that he might actually be right, and acknowledging the fact that in your current state, you couldn't possibly think straight, you hoped he'd understand you when you ask to continue this conversation later in the day. "We can talk about this whenever you want, baby girl" he said, and unlike before, now he sounded defeated. As if he realized he did not manage to et his point across, and that you were still down. If you had your eyes open, you would've probably noticed hurt in his expression when he failed to lift your spirits, but your vision was clouded and all you did was leave the room without a single word. What was hard now, was the fact that deep down, a part of you knew he was right, and that he made a legitimately fair point, and that of all things, breaking up was the last thing you wanted. But you backed out of situation like these before, and all you did in the end was regret your choices. Regret the fact you didn't fight and didn't believe the person next to you, who spent their days proving just how much you mean to them. Exhausted and in need of a break, you opened up your phone to call your best friend. When the screen lit up, your Instagram feed popped up, refreshing as it hasn't been used in hours. Out of habit, you allowed the posts to load, and thank god you did.

Words could not describe the storm of emotions taking place inside your belly. You knew Ross, knew he would never lie, deceive or manipulate, and the fact that he posted that for his 8.5M followers to see, had to mean something. And when you checked the time, you saw that the picture was posted while you were still in the shower, before that little conversation you tow had. As cliché as it sounds, it really did it for you. Him standing up for you in front of his own fans, meant everything in that moment. You only realized you stormed into the living room when you were already slumping down into the couch, grabbing Ross's hand into your own. "Thank you" was all that came out of your mouth, despite the monstrous battle of thoughts that was going on inside your head. "For what, baby?" he asked, voice all soft and loving as he leaned his head to the side. "I saw the post and I wanted to th-" "Don't thank me for that, ok?" he cut you off, his free hand coming up to guide your chin. He searched for you with his stare, and only continued to talk after your eyes met his, "I didn't do it because I thought that was what you wanted. I felt like doing it. I did it for you, because you're my girl, and I hate seeing you down. And I did it for me too, because there is no chance in hell I'm ever allowing anyone to poke into our private business like that" As stray tears roamed down your cheeks, a small giggle came out too, "I feel kinda stupid, you know?" you snorted, "I don't know why I needed to hear you say this to everyone. It should have been enough that you said it to me. I'm sorry" His eyes softened even more as he opened his arms. You crawled over, and rested against his chest. In this position, where we felt the safest in the world, you started to wonder how on earth you even doubted him. "Listen to me-" Ross said sweetly but with an affirming tone. "Fears and insecurities? We're working through them. Together. Whatever it is, I got you. You're my world, Y/n, the love of my life, I really want the best for you. I have a lot to learn, but I really wanna make you the happiest. I am always here for you, and always will be, ok? I really need to know you know that" "You're an angel" you nodded, cuddling deeper into his chest, "I love you" "You're the angel" Ross laughed, playing with your hair, "And no more hiding, ok? It's me and you, that's it" "Me and you"

#ross butler #ross butler imagine #13 rw imagine #13 reasons why imagine #riverdale imagine #riverdale imagines #zach dempsey #zach dempsey imagine #zach dempsey angst #zach dempsey fanfic #ross butler fanfiction #ross butler writing

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justanother-unluckysoul · 4 years ago

Text

Working My Way Back To You 7/10

Killian gets captured. When Emma finally rescues him, he’s traumatized and nearly broken from the torture he endured. Angst and h/c galore as Emma helps him through it.

I tried to go easy on the whumpy side of it since it’s supposed to be for Comfortember, but it’s me so I probably failed lol

Happy new year! And good riddance to the absolute mess that was 2020. Here we are back into the angst and the hurt, for the prompts “flashbacks,” and “hot cocoa.”

Warnings for this chapter: referenced rape. (it's super vague though)

Unbetad as always so mistakes are all mine.

Tagging @cocohook38 as requested.

Read this chapter on AO3

Working My Way Back To You

Flashbacks + Hot Cocoa

Christmas wasn’t as bad as Killian had worried. He was careful to ensure his back was never left unguarded, because he was still too easily startled by anyone touching him from behind, and David and Snow White hadn’t brought up any difficult topics, and Killian had only caught Snow staring at his splinted hand once. He’d had a good day, everything considered. They laughed, and talked, and ate good food and exchanged gifts. Though between imbibing a bit too much alcohol and the strain of being so hyper-vigilant for that length of time, by the time their guests had left Killian was barely still on his feet. But it was okay because Emma was there to brace him when he wobbled precariously on his way upstairs. And he thought that was a good metaphor for their relationship, really. Heh. It seemed he was a little drunker than he first believed if he’s getting this maudlin.

----

Early in the new year, the doctor declares Killian’s fingers healed enough to have the splints off, and shortly after, Killian concludes that physical therapy is not far removed from torture. His fingers have become too used to remaining straight and flexing them hurts. And his therapist, Stacy, is completely indifferent to his suffering. Her hands on his own are sure and relentless as she coaxes his fingers into different positions and he just barely stops himself from yanking his hand from her grip.

“Bloody hell,” he hisses instead, and at least she has the decency to apologize.

But she doesn’t let his hand go.

“I’m sorry, Captain. I did warn you this wouldn’t be pleasant to start with.”

She had warned him, he’ll give her that. But he wasn’t prepared for how much it would pain him. Or how soon his dark memories would begin to creep out of the cage he’d locked them in. Blood and bone and see how well you can escape now, pirate. He grits his teeth and tries to focus on what Stacy’s telling him.

“See if you can make a fist.”

His fingers don’t want to. He flexes them barely enough to hold a cup instead and Killian’s chewing on his lower lip hard enough to hurt.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just relax a bit, huh? Captain?”

He’s not trembling. There’s definitely not a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. His heart is not beating loudly in his ears. Take some deep breaths, Jones, before you bloody lose it.

“Are you okay? We can take a break if you need to.”

“I’m fine,” he lies.

Stacy sees right through him. Of course. It’s not like he’s making a very convincing effort here. She hands him a squishy ball and tells him to try squeezing it. Thankfully Killian has a little more success with that, although it still hurts and his grasp is weak. But Stacy lets him end the session on that “high note,” and Killian silently fumes all the way back home, his boots hitting the pavement with a little more force than required. The doctor had promised his hand would heal, and when he’d been told it would be “almost as good” as before, Killian had assumed he’d actually be able to make a damn fist.

----

Emma had offered to take the day off work to attend Killian’s first physical therapy session with him, but he’d declined. He didn’t need her to play nursemaid anymore, and he definitely didn’t want her to see what a mess he was emotionally afterwards. And he’s immensely grateful they’d had the foresight to get Henry out of the house for a while, just in case of this exact outcome. Killian had scoffed at Emma’s suggestion, at her insinuation he wouldn’t be able to handle a bit of therapy, but now he’s reluctantly admitting that she was right. Because even once he’s back home, his heartrate still hasn’t calmed down and he can almost feel his captor’s touch on him again, the sensation making him want to claw off his own skin. He takes a long, hot shower and debates whether he should take the pills for his aching hand or drink some rum – rum wins in the end because he hopes it’ll also calm his thoughts. Archie won’t be happy if he finds out Killian hasn’t been using the “proper coping techniques,” but bugger that, Killian thinks he’s earned this. So that’s where Emma finds him when she gets home from work, sprawled out on the couch in dark jeans and a shirt buttoned even less than usual, with a bit too much rum in his blood, bleary eyes watching his fish swim back and forth.

“How’d it go?” Emma asks, before she really takes in the sight of him, “Oh. That bad, huh?”

“S’fine. Just got a little tense afterwards, needed to calm down.”

His voice slurs just a little. He must look a mess, because Emma plucks the bottle from his loose fingers and sets it out of reach before sitting next to him. He doesn’t protest. The pain has settled deep into his knuckles where the rum couldn’t reach it anyway. Perhaps he should have taken Stacy’s advice and put some ice on it. Too late now.

“Does it hurt?” Emma asks, and Killian probably should have done a better job at concealing that fact from her.

But the way his fingers are twitching, and he’s tucked his hand gently into the crook of his left elbow, bracing his right arm against his chest now she’s taken the bottle away leaves no room to deny that it hurts.

“Aye, but not too much.”

Not too much. It’s the truth because he’s felt far worse pain. He can handle a few spasms, a few shooting pains through his fingers. At least he still has any fingers to feel pain in. When his captors had maimed it, and then continued to target it throughout the following days, he’d honestly thought that would be the end of his hand. He can feel his heartbeat quicken again and he tries to distance himself from that memory quickly, and thankfully Emma provides the distraction. She conjures something from somewhere without leaving his side, a bottle of liquid that smells heavenly as she tips some onto her hand and rubs them together. Killian watches her with weary curiosity.

“Let me help?” Emma reaches for his hand and he gives it to her without hesitation.

She’s always so gentle, her hands so soft and careful with his wounds. And now, as she works her warm hand across his in soothing patterns Killian wonders what he did to deserve this beautiful woman. Emma watches his face for any signs that she’s hurting him, and he gives her an encouraging smile. Her ministrations, even without her magic, are pulling the tension from his muscles in a way neither the rum nor the medicine could ever do. He lets out a quiet sigh and rests his head on the couch, closing his eyes, surrendering completely to the pleasant sensations and the feeling of total safety he has with Emma. The scent of the oil washes over his senses, calming and balancing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Emma asks, her quiet voice a balm over his tired soul.

“Not really.”

He knows she won’t push him. He doesn’t want to think about therapy or trauma or any of that right now and she lets him get away with it, pressing her lips lightly against his temple. He hums a faint sound of satisfaction.

“I wish I could take away your pain,” Emma murmurs, “I hate seeing you suffer and not being able to do a damn thing about it.”

“Believe me, Emma, you’re doing plenty. This is wonderful.”

His voice is barely audible. He feels blissful and content. He’s not sure how much of the feeling is the rum finally taking effect and how much is Emma’s gentle touch and how much is the scent of the oil. Her fingers are still moving steadily over his own, tracing lightly over the still-healing scars.

“Do you want to move this upstairs? And I can do the rest of you.”

As loathe as Killian is to move on from this delightfully tranquil moment, the thought of Emma doing the rest of him is too tempting and he hauls himself off the couch. Though logically, he knew that Emma wouldn’t get to do much more massaging once they relocated to the bedroom. But he didn’t mind that at all. Their kisses are heated and passionate and he knows he’s setting her every nerve ablaze, even though they’ve barely started. He knows all her sensitive spots; where to stroke and to squeeze, where to press his lips, his tongue, where to bite and where to suck, how to roll his hips against her in a way that makes Emma grow wild with desire. She’s losing herself in the sensations, he can see in the darkening of her green eyes, her hands shaking as she frantically unfastens his belt and tugs at his trousers and- Panic claws its way up his throat. Killian’s movement stutters, then stops completely. He closes his eyes tightly, trying to calm himself down, trying to breathe. It’s okay, you’re safe, it’s just Emma the rational part of his mind says, but he could be still in the cellar right now, bent over and they’re about to-

“Killian?”

No. Those are Emma’s hands touching him. Holding his hips to steady him because he’s trembling. But suddenly he can’t, he can’t, his stomach is twisting into a nauseating knot and he pulls away from her touch.

“S-sorry, love, I don’t think I can…”

Killian gestures vaguely, and he can’t even look at her as he scrambles off the bed, his hand shaking as he awkwardly holds up his jeans. His arousal is fading, all his intentions of a moment ago swept away by his fears. By his memories. Just look at yourself, Hook. Can’t even please a woman. You’re broken. You’re a coward. The thoughts don’t feel quite like his own, more like a memory of words spat at him by others, though he whole-heartedly agrees with them. Emma stops him with a gentle hand on his arm before he can move out of reach. It’s altogether too much and he wants to tell her to stop, but the words he wants to say are choking him, because Killian Jones doesn’t beg.

“Killian, look at me,” Emma says, and waits for him to reluctantly lift his gaze to her own, “It’s okay. We don’t have to do this.”

He swallows hard and he’s still shaking, but he doesn’t run. No matter how bad he wants to.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t… I just…” Killian struggles to explain.

She stands and reaches up slowly to stroke his cheek, but he can’t help flinching away from her touch. Emma drops her hands to her sides again immediately and Killian’s heart cracks in half at the look of guilt on her face.

“Sorry,” he whispers.

“It’s okay,” Emma repeats softly, “Just stay with me.”

Killian had never spoken of it to her, but it was no secret what he’d been through during his capture. Emma had probably seen the blood, and the bruises on his hips from where they’d held him still. She knew. Killian swallows hard as he watches the emotions play out across her face. He loves her so much it hurts. But gods, he can’t do this right now, as desperately as he wants to. Because they’ve ruined him, sullied his mind and his body and broke him so thoroughly that now he’s utterly dependant on Emma, and tonight he can’t even give her the one thing she wants in return.

“What do you need me to do, Killian?” she asks softly.

Words fail him. And he’s not sure what he would even say if he was capable of speech. What does he need? He needs to forget, just for a while. To drink until he blacks out. To lose himself in Emma’s scent and her touch. But he can’t. He can’t do anything. He’s helpless. Emma lets her hands drift to his belt again, buckling it again in slow, deliberate movements because his hand is shaking too badly now to do it himself. Killian chews on his lower lip hard enough to hurt, wants it to hurt, anything to feel something that isn’t the blinding terror of someone else’s hands on his body. It’s just Emma, being so careful and gentle like she always is now so why can’t he move past this? Why is he shaking so badly?

“It’s okay,” she assures him, “Don’t worry about this. Do you want some hot chocolate?”

“Yeah,” he says, and takes a sharp breath like he’s been holding it too long, and maybe he has, “But add some rum to mine, will you?”

He laughs on his exhale, a weak and breathless thing. She smiles back, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes – eyes that are full of something akin to sorrow, and far too much sympathy. He hates knowing those emotions are directed at him, he’s not worthy of her compassion and he can’t bear to look at her anymore, his eyes darting away to some point across the room. Emma doesn’t bother putting back on the clothes he pulled off her, just pulls a robe around herself to ward off the evening chill, and Killian trails behind her down to the kitchen, tries to breathe as she fills the jug and sets it to boil. He can’t stand still. Everything feels wrong. His whole body is a tightly coiled spring, aching with a need that his traitorous mind won’t allow him to fulfil. It’s going to drive him mad. And worse than his own need is the thought that he’s leaving Emma unsatisfied as well. Then Emma turns to him, reaches for him slowly, and when he turns his face away and his pursed lips out of reach but doesn’t step back, she changes her strategy, presses a tender kiss to the smooth line of his throat. He’s still trembling, but her touch draws a desperate almost-whine from him. Bloody hell, he needs her like he needs to breathe.

“Stay with me, Killian,” she murmurs, “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. But I need you with me, right here.”

Her hand settles over his heart, and even through his shirt he’s certain she can feel how quickly it’s beating. But she waits for him, looks into his eyes and waits for him to move. When Killian does move, it’s with a rush as he takes her mouth with his, eyes closed, his hand cradling the back of her head. Emma’s hands are light, her touch soothing, letting him take what he needs. And she’s as intoxicating as ever, just the taste of her mouth sending a delicious heat through his body and he never wants this to end. But this is as far as he can go tonight. Killian can still feel the memories in the back of his mind, like a dark chasm he could easily tumble into if he takes the wrong step. He’s been trying to keep them contained in a box, an imaginary cage he can throw all the trauma into, but it seems the strain of physical therapy had loosened his mental lock on it.

“I’m sorry, love.” His voice is rough when he releases her lips and turns his face away again in humiliation. “I want to, but… I’m- I’m sorry.”

He tries to step away, his shame overwhelming, but Emma isn’t going to let him go so easily. Her hand presses lightly against the small of his back, coaxing him back to her, feeling the tremors still skittering down his spine. She lifts her other hand on his face, fingers caressing his tightly clenched jaw as she draws his attention back to her.

“It’s okay,” she tells him again, and he knows she’ll tell him as many times as she has to before he believes her, “We don’t have to do anything tonight. Just breathe, Killian. Just… Just stay.”

“I’m here, Swan,” he says, cursing the way his voice shakes.

His thumb brushes her cheek, before he lowers his forehead gently against hers and breathes deeply, breathing her in, the curve of his hook resting against her hip. Emma gives a soft sigh as he does so. He can feel himself calming, settling into her embrace, soothed by her caresses. The moment is broken by the bubbling sound and subsequent click of the jug as it finishes boiling the water, but although Killian’s hand still trembles a little when he takes the cup of cocoa, he gifts her with a smile of gratitude. She’s too good for him, far more kind than he could ever deserve. And yet here she still is, smiling back at him over her cup, her lips almost hidden behind the pile of whipped cream she’s scooped into her drink.

----

(Later, he uses his mouth to satisfy her needs, and at least he can still do that, but for himself? He’s reduced to finishing off in the shower alone, like the coward he is.)

To be continued

#comfortember 2020 #cs ff #cs fic #killian whump #angst #flashbacks #ptsd #hurt/comfort #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan #my fanfics

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