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promitto-amor · 11 months

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Should Something Happen

Pairing: Mark Hoffman x You

Summary: While working as Jigsaw Apprentices, Amanda spoils some quality bonding time between yourself and Hoffman.

Warnings: Cursing!

Might this actually be a little bit of fluff? I wanted to do something involving the main Jigsaw crew and a protective Hoffman. 👀

Perhaps the only aspect of being an apprentice Mark enjoyed was the opportunity to work alongside you. Every trap crafted, every game played and every eventual death led Mark one step closer to his freedom. A life no longer in servitude for an impulsive act of vengeance. Mark had always struggled to quell his impulsiveness. It made him good in the field, Mark had earned a fair share of promotions for his quick actions, but his greatest mistake had cost him almost a year of servitude to Jigsaw himself. Until his sentence was up, until mark could be certain both John Kramer and his helper monkey were dead, he would carry out his part in the games with minimal complaint. In the meantime, he could find a steady contentment in watching the slackened, dream-like expression on your face as you fiddled with some shards of broken glass.

“Careful,” Mark finds himself saying, “It’s not intended to spill your blood.”

You drop the shards back into the glass coffin and wander back to the workbench you’ve commandeered as a desk, “There’s so many traps,” You whine and if it were anyone else Mark would be grinding his teeth together. You flip your notebook onto a fresh page, “Who is this one for again?”

“I try not to make a habit of remembering names.” Mark answers, “Once you name something you get attached.”

You nod, “You’re right.” You pick up your pencil and hover it over the page. “Sadly I don’t have that luxury.” Mark keeps one eye on you as he cleans up his workbench, placing a set of screwdriver heads back in their assigned places. You think for a couple more minutes, your expression growing more pained till you drop the pencil again. “How can I write the tape for someone I know barely anything about?”

“Don’t ask me,” Mark says. “I’ve never been one for words.”

You give him a shrewd look, as if confirming his words. “You have special uses.” You say, jumping off your stool and heading over to a stack of boxes, freshly delivered.

“Oh yeah, like what?”

You send him a small smile, “Brawn, muscle, inside info…”

“Is that all I am?” Mark can’t help the flicker of irritation he feels, “A meathead?”

“No,” You return to him, catching on you may have offended him. “You…” A couple teeth sink into your lip, “You’re the only one whose behaving.”

Mark glances towards the open door, connecting the room to the rest of the Nerve Gas House, “Go on.”

You turn cagey, “Ever since Mexico…”

“Ah,” Mark nods, “Say no more.”

“I don’t like what I’ve been hearing.” You admit, “The aim of all this was never revenge.”

“Was it not?” Mark enjoys how your head lifts up to meet his gaze, “Was that not why you got mixed up in all this?”

You fix him with eyes of steel, “Maybe…” You admit, “But not anymore. Seems we’re cut from the same cloth, Detective.”

Mark likes how you say his title, pronouncing every syllable distinctly, “You don’t know me. Not really.”

“Maybe we should work on that?”

Something gives a leap inside Mark. Before he can answer you’re back at the delivery boxes and Amanda is thudding through the door. Her steel toe capped boots echo on the wood, little patches of dust springing up where she steps. She pauses on catching Mark stood in the centre of the room, “Admiring my work?” She asks, tilting her head.

“I thought John made this one?” You pipe up, before Mark can.

“He did.” Mark confirms, “That’s why this one has some refinement.”

“But it was my idea to add the…” Amanda’s points to the walls and then places her hands a couple inches apart. She presses them together slowly, applying pressure. The visual is enough for Mark to look away.

You busy yourself with the boxes again, “There’s nothing but syringes.” You take out one to show the two apprentices.

Mark tosses you a pair of gloves, “Put them on, they probably aren’t clean.”

You make a face and drop the syringe you’re holding, “Great. I’m going to need a check-up after this.”

“Be thankful you’re not the poor bastard diving in there.” Amanda smirks, heading over to inspect the coffin trap. “Is this one done yet?”

“Just needs a couple tests,” Mark says. “Any volunteers?”

“You first.” Amanda holds her arms up as if she’s a presenter, “Get in there, Detective.”

“What about you, babe?” Amanda slinks over to you and throws an arm around your shoulders, “The glass isn’t in yet, it’ll be like taking a good nap.”

“Stop trying to scare her.” Mark’s voice comes out with more bite than he expected.

Amanda’s eyes flash, “Why you protective all of a sudden, Hoffman?”

Mark would never confess to the bitch before him, but he’s made a mistake and Amanda knows it. “We’re not testing anything without John here.”

Amanda makes a noncommittal noise.

“If John approves it, I’ll test it.” You offer, “I trust him.” Amanda jumps back into performance mode, “Aren’t they precious?”

“If you put this on.” You gingerly remove from another box a very familiar contraption and hold it out for Amanda to see. Mark grins behind Amanda’s back. He can just picture the colour draining from her face. Amanda doesn’t move as you walk past her with the Reverse Bear Trap in hand, “Very funny.” She calls, trying to reclaim some of her bravado.

“I thought so.” You counter, placing the device on the workbench.

Amanda’s scowl only becomes more prominent the longer she stares at her old trap, “Why is that here?” “Inventory.” You supply, “Or so I’m guessing.”

“Something old can always be re-used.” John wheels himself into the room. Wheelchair bound, he surveys the glass coffin standing pride of place in the middle of the room. “Is Laura’s test finished?”

“Almost,” Mark busies himself with checking over the gears situated behind the coffin.

“Laura,” You repeat, scribbling something on your pad. “I couldn’t for the life of me remember.”

John appears amused at your choice of words, “Writer’s block?” You look up as John wheels himself over to you. The Reverse Bear Trap is sat just a few feet away, Mark doesn’t like how close you are to something so barbaric. With you showing John your tape speeches and Mark still preoccupied with the gears, Amanda sulks in the middle. She makes her way over to Mark’s toolbox and grabs a wrench, right in John’s line of sight. Mark thinks it’s pathetic behaviour, how co-dependent she’s become since Mexico. He can see that your worries were justified. She makes her way over to the trap, but Mark has left her with nothing to do.

“There’s one glaring issue I see with this entire game,” You say in a low voice. You glance over to Amanda, “Won’t they all get suspicious if every one of them has a trap but her?”

“What did you say?”

“Amanda,” John cautions as his apprentice as she wheels round on the spot.

“I just worry that something will happen.” You say, closing your notebook and leaning against the workbench. “Are you really betting on all them failing and Daniel just being the last one left alive?”

“He doesn’t have a trap either.” Amanda points out, “I’m not the only one.”

“He isn’t being tested.” John states simply, “That is why you are there, Amanda. To protect him.” He turns back to you, “Nor is Amanda being tested.”

‘I still think we should put something in there.” You hold up your hands, “I think it’s foolish to leave it to chance.”

“Not if you can predict the outcome.”

Mark has heard it all before from John Kramer. He knows your attempts are futile, so he finishes up his work on the coffin and with nothing else to do, makes his way to the door. “I’m done for the night.”

“Thank you, Mark.” John says, “The game begins tomorrow. I presume you’ll be in position?”

“On the monitors.” He nods.

He’s been excused. Mark should go home and rest up for a long day ahead tomorrow. But he can’t quite bring himself to leave. John has resumed helping you with writing out the tape for the trap, but Mark doesn’t like how Amanda won’t leave the two of you alone. Her new behaviour has made him protective. Mark would have liked you to finish up at the same time as him. Perhaps he could offer to drop you home and they could work on getting to know each other.

“You want to put me in that.”

You, John and Mark all turn to Amanda, “What?” You ask.

Amanda nods, “That.” She points to the Reverse Bear Trap, “You want that to be my test. You want me to do it again?”

John glances imperceptibly to Mark. He swallows, so John shares their concern about his favourite apprentice. “Do you know how stupid you sound?” Mark cuts in, taking up what he hopes is a casual position beside you. “Everyone knows you already escaped it. 24/7 news coverage.” You’re still leaning against the workbench as Amanda walks around it, her eyes fixed on you as if you were prey.

“It’s not a bad idea,” You taunt, “Some poetic justice”, but Amanda doesn’t find it clever.

She shoves the Reverse Bear Trap toward you, “You don’t deserve to be here.” She hisses. Mark swears he can hear a ticking sound as you brace your arms on the table, “Of all the people to win, it had to be you didn’t it?” “Fair and square.” You return and Mark finds himself wondering for the umpteenth time just what your own game was. Before Amanda, before Mark himself joined Jigsaw, you were tested and won. His eyes fall on the scar on your neck, all that remains of your own brush with death.

“Use your brain,” You counter and your face is far too close to the trap as you glare back at Amanda Young. “You’d have to wake up in it, or someone would have to put you in it. I don’t think either of those are going to work in this game.”

“How about you wake up in it, you bitch?”

Mark’s hands snake around your middle and yank you back just as the trap rips open with a loud bang. The ferocity makes both you and Amanda jump. You would have fallen off your stool if not for Mark’s chest breaking your fall. He can feel the sharp breaths you take as the Reverse Bear Trap cools down and lies dormant once more.

“Amanda, take the trap and put it in my office.” John says. His apprentice turns wide, teary eyes on him, but John’s face is expressionless. “Now.”

She obeys instantly, taking the trap and striding out of the room.

Mark slides you back onto your stool, “Thank you.” You murmur, hand jumping instinctively to your neck.

“Are you alright?” John asks and you nod. Mark can see right through you, he could feel the tremors of your body against his. That was a close call.

“She’s out of line, John.” Mark says, “I don’t know what the fuck happened over there, but it’s messed with her.”

“Amanda will be fine.” John insists, “She will play her part, so long as she isn’t provoked.” You nod, understanding your own fault but Mark refuses to admit to his own. “Now Detective, I believe we’re finished here. I will see you both tomorrow for the final preparations.”

Mark watches John wheel himself out. The moment he’s gone you rest your forearms on the workbench and place your head on them. You let out a deep sigh. Mark’s never been good at consoling anyone. It’s just not what he does. Not since Angelina…

He spots your fallen notebook and places it beside you, “Need a ride home?” “I don’t think I want to go home.” You say, your voice weak.

“You don’t want to stay here.” Mark says, “You can’t anyway. They all…arrive tomorrow.”

“How can you do that?” You lift up your head, “How can you willingly put people in here knowing they will probably die?” Mark meets your eyes, “I convince myself they deserve to suffer.”

“You don’t lie awake thinking about it?”

“No,” He’s being honest. “I think it’s one less shitty person out there.”

“Then you must think that about me.” You push some hair out of your eyes and wrap your arms around yourself. “I’m not…you know what I did-“

“And you know what I did.” Mark takes you by your forearms, “Do you think I’m a monster?”

Your eyes dart around the room and then land on the glass coffin, “Sometimes.” Mark allows himself time to digest that, it isn’t what he wanted to hear. But your hands come to rest on his own forearms and then you’re pressing your forehead into his chest, “But you make me feel safe. You help me.”

He didn’t expect to earn such close proximity again, this time deliberately. Mark pulls you closer, your hands slide up to rest on his chest and Mark curses his choice to remain in a jacket. Your warmth is tantalising as it seeps into him. Mark tucks you into his large frame and winds his arms back around you.

It feels good to be wanted.

With your face smushed into him, Mark rests his head atop yours. He doesn’t know what else he can do, so he lets his eyes close. “We can look out for each other.” He proposes, “Should something happen.”

“I’d like that.”

#mark hoffman #Mark Hoffman saw #Mark Hoffman x you #Mark Hoffman x reader #amanda young #john kramer #reverse bear trap #protective!hoffman #saw franchise

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amethystfairy1 · 2 months

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Hi Amethyst! It's been a hot minute since I sent an ask in, but I have been reading both fics every day (still obsessed lmao) (also I name changed btw, used to be ElenaLoo)

Anyways, I had written a whole ask waxing eloquent on all the wonderful things going on in ttsbc, but I accidentally shut off my computer partway through and frankly I can't be bothered to write it all out again lmao. Just. It's beautiful (wow isnt that so meaningful and deep? im sure you're feeling very complimented rn)

The REAL thing I wanted to talk about was Traveling thieves (which is by far my favorite fanfic of ALL TIME), and all the amazingness in ttsbc made me forget it even existed for the past few weeks. But the other day I was just like "oh yeah. Traveling thieves." and then i reread the whole thing. whoopsies.

Ummm anywyas there's so many thoughts in my head about all the little guys, but recently I've been on an Imp and Skizz obsession (just scroll on my page for .2 seconds and you'll see) and YOU. You left them on a CLIFFHANGER. >:((( (not actually mad btw). I just. so excited for them. They're out alone in the woods right now and Skizz is going to have the perfect opportunity to kill Impulse and get away and I just am falling apart thinking about them. (I drew them to cope lol, posted on my blog but also later here so that I can talk about it more). I can see this playing out a few ways. Obviously Skizz isn't actually going to kill Impulse, so he's either going to 1) make up some excuse as to why he can't do it right then, but still plans to do it eventually, or 2) he does it. but he doesn't. Skizz attacks Impulse when he's not expecting it, there's a scuffle, and Skizz comes out on top---BUT THEN HE CAN"T FINISH IT!!! and it's a whole thing where even tho skizz tried to kill him, imp is still so understanding and skizz cries and impulse just freaking gives him a hug and

sigh

Whatever you do will be beautiful, I'm sure. I think you mentioned you're switching to tt after this fic, so crossing my fingers it's imp and skizz. (Though, would also be very happy with Martyn and Ren :P) (or anything really i just love tt)

Anyways, I had the art on my blog but I'm also putting it here so i can say things about it to you

Mostly I'm just very proud of their expressions, with Impulse being all concerned glancing over at Skizz, meanwhile Skizz is completely deadpan staring forwards, also looking very tired bc he needs a break from this universe. Also I switched up my Impulse design a lil bit from last time (if u even remember that lol it was months ago now). you would think, just looking at them, that Impulse took way longer to design, but nope, I was messing around with Skizz for at least double the time, trying to figure out how to have him facing forward whilst still showing some of the scars on his back. I gave up eventually xD (all that means is that im gonna have to draw him again later, from different angles)

actually that made me remember a question I had: are you planning to ship Imp and Skizz? Ik you said Zed and Tango are going to be a thing far in the future, but... skizzpulse? plzzzz plz pretty please haha im not obsessed

aaaaaand that reminds me of another question, is skizz going to be in ttsbc? (pretty please also same question as tt, if he was in ttsbc, are him and impulse together? Im addicted to them all i care about these days is some good imp and skizz shipfics, and you're such a fantastic writer, both with plot and the vibes of the words themselves. u could write such good imp and skizz. just imagine the possibilites! (am i selling it?))

aaaaaanyways. im gonna go reread the old tt skizz fics because theyre delicious and painful, like eating knives. u have a good day :))

HIIIIIII

I ADORE THIS ART SO MUCH! I gave you all my rambles on the reblog but it's SOOOOO COOL!

I'm sad the waxing eloquent about TTSBC is gone 😭 but that's ok!

I'm so glad you're enjoying TT and all the drama going on in there! Imp and Skizz are definitely having a time and a half with all of this nonsense going on...I love all your theories! I won't confirm or deny anything of course, but I'm so happy you're excited for them!

I will not be shipping Imp and Skizz, sorry! I just personally don't ship them, so they're gonna remain platonic...I mean, in TT who knows what the hell they're doing to be fair 😆 but yeah, Zedango is going to be a thing in the distant future, but no Skizzpulse! Sorry!

Skizz is not in TTSBC at the moment, that doesn't mean he never will be! Just haven't found a spot for him yet...and no, he also would not be with Impulse, I'm so sorry I just don't ship them personally! I think it's a very cute ship tho!

Enjoy rereading the TT Skizz fics!!! Thank you again for the gorgeous art!!!! I love it!!! 💖

#fanfic #ao3 fanfic #through the sky blue cracks #ttsbc au #ttsbc

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districtxii · 3 months

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it's not hard to fall when you float like a cannonball (everlark fic from 2012)

Posting this here on the new dedicated Hunger Games blog. It's the only complete fic I ever posted for this fandom, for a fic exchange back in 2012, even though I spent many hours in private RP.

Link to AO3.

Rating: T Warnings: none Word Count: 6,019 Post-Trilogy hurt/comfort everlark

it's not hard to fall when you float like a cannonball

🌿

My eyes follow the marks Peeta makes on the page, opposite a long burst of painstakingly neat handwriting that belongs to me. I can see where the pressure of my writing darkened and thickened the lines, corresponding with the moments when I clenched my teeth in anger or struggled for deep breaths that wouldn't turn into easy, overwhelming sobs. Some days it's harder than others, to write down those things that I refuse to forget.

Peeta had reached out and squeezed my shoulder, his thumb running up a cord of tension in my neck, his hand as steady as it is now while he draws on the paper. He asked me if I wanted to stop and I snapped at him, but his hand stayed in place for a while anyway. Finally, I wiped roughly at my face, drying beneath my eyes and against my cheeks and kept writing, causing yet another of the dark marks on a line.

I can't stop writing, even when it's harder to write down the things that had felt like hope, that had made me smile at the time. The things that I might say made me happy are the ones that bring me most dangerously close to stopping. They're all gone now, those moments, taken away or simply over, but I can't forget them. Peeta has forgotten too much, lost too much in his mind, for the both of us.

The sketch begins to take shape from the initial, seemingly random soft lines that look a little chaotic to me. I rub beneath my strained eyes and lean forward across the kitchen table against my elbows to watch more closely as the page becomes something almost living, the ghost of a moment I recalled on the page beside it. When I glance up at him, there is a faint smile on Peeta's lips and I know I'm not returning it. Instead, my mouth is a little agape and I reach for the book impulsively. The edge of the cover brushes against my fingertips as Peeta slides it over to me so I can see the image in the direction it's meant to be seen. I can't help but marvel at how deep the piece of paper has become, as if I could step into it. He captures the past as easily as any photograph, more easily. The drawing looks, feels real, and it's not even finished yet.

“It's good,” I say, remembering that I should probably give Peeta some kind of positive feedback for simply being here with me, for holding onto what he knows. It's more than that, though. It's so easy to forget. For such a long time I was without him. First he was left behind, taken by the Capitol, while I spent all that time in District 13, wishing for a person to be safe, to be there with me—a person who would never really come home. Then Peeta did come back, different, and then gone forever. The boy with the bread, the boy on the beach, not mine anymore and unreachable. Even with the pieces of him that seem to come back and to become a bit more real, natural each day, it's easy to lose just how much of it he was there for. I spent so much time trying and failing to steel myself against the raw, painful truth that the steady, naively adoring, real Peeta was gone, dead, killed in some cold sterile room in the Capitol, that I still don't dare let myself believe that he'll really come back, stay with me. But he was there for so much of what has happened to me, since that first reaping, and what he has drawn matches what's in my head, but he hasn't drawn it just from my writing. It's in his head, too. It belongs to him and he's sorted it free from the shiny, false memories the Capitol gave him.

“Thanks,” he replies in a leading tone that I'm sure is trying to draw a returned smile from me, like he doesn't believe I mean the compliment, but only in jest.

“... I'm going to get some air,” I announce abruptly, pushing the book back firmly into Peeta's possession and getting up from my chair.

“I'll come with you,” Peeta asserts, getting up with an urgency that almost startles me and still makes me worry about his leg. We just stare at each other for a moment and he reaches out to carefully close the book and set it out of harm's way. It's just a reminder that there's no one ever there besides us to spill anything on it or to damage it at all. The world is so still now.

“I'm going out into the woods,” I tell him, almost hoping that it will deter him from following me, but I guess it might be a bit of a test, too. I'm just not sure what I'm testing for.

“... And I'll make too much noise,” Peeta supplies, not quite a question. He looks down, away from me, apparently disappointed.

“No,” I say quickly and then wonder why I did. Now I've trapped myself, though, and have to keep going with the train of thought. “... No, I'm not going to hunt. If anything it might... keep anything from wanting to sneak up on me.”

Peeta's expression brightens a little and he pushes up the chair I had been sitting in, too and moves to follow me out the door. There's a little spark of satisfaction that runs through me when I see some kind of life go back into him at the promise of coming into the woods with me, but I don't trust it. I take a few backward steps and then turn around, tensely leading the way out the door, my thumbs sliding down into my trouser pockets for a moment until I pull them back out, compelled to fidget.

I'm meandering toward town and eventually on to the fence, so Peeta easily catches pace with me and we walk along in silence for a while. It only occurs to me after several minutes to glance over at him to see whether he seems to be enjoying it. I remember the last time he and I walked into town together. I'd asked him if he would run away with me—not just with me, though. My family, his, Haymitch—all gone now except for Haymitch who has enough liquor to last him at least another week or two. For a moment I want to hide my eyes from what remains of the 12 I knew, from what they're building back on top of it, but I keep my feet moving, going through the motions.

“Are you alright?” Peeta asks.

“Great,” I reply, a little breathlessly. I'm a little surprised at my attempt at sarcasm, but then I'm too busy worrying about seeing the raw earth above the mass grave that the Meadow has become. It still isn't much easier and Peeta being with me makes me even more aware. Soon we're passing by where the bakery once was and I notice the momentary falter and subsequent quickening of his step. All the things I know about his family with the exception of his father are somehow negative and fill me with resentment. His bruised face, the way the one brother who could have didn't step up to take his place, but if he had then I'd never have known Peeta at all. The thought gives me pause and I wonder if I should ask him if he misses them, but I know he must and I don't want to talk about all the things I miss anymore today. Instead, I reach out and brush my fingertips along the edge of Peeta's hand, not quite taking it in mine but drawing his attention down to my fingers and then up to my face. I expect some conversation to follow but instead Peeta takes my hand, apparently perceiving some invitation, and I don't revoke it.

When we finally reach the edge of 12, Peeta finally lets go and reaches down to hold up a section of the fencing for me as if I hadn't been crawling under on my own for years. This earns him a strange look from me for a moment, but I'm about to just accept it and squirm my way beneath to show him how at the very least when he speaks up.

“Finally getting out of the district with you... Running away,” he muses lowly, offering a sad smile in place of the hopeful, searching one I've gotten almost used to getting sometimes. The thought that his thoughts run along the same tracks that mine do, that the moments that make up my memory of the past are so entwined with his, makes something catch in my throat and I try to swallow it. I search his eyes for a moment and then look abruptly down at the ground at the looser section of the fence down at the bottom that's familiar.

“We can't run away anymore, Peeta,” I say simply, not sure why his name rolls from my tongue. There's nothing left worth running from and what's left of 12 is all that's left of home. Then I take a deep breath and get down closer to the ground to step through and roll my body beneath the fence to the other side. “Like this,” I say, settling my balance once I've gotten through to the other side. Peeta listlessly lets go of what he'd been trying to hold up for me and instead reaches out for the loose one and tries mimicking my movements with as much grace as he's ever managed. He makes it through, but when he's trying to get his balance again, I hear a metallic snapping that makes me terrified that the electrical current in the fence has gone live again even though I know better. Instead of being electrocuted, Peeta just stumbles back a little and I instinctively reach up to stop his progress backward. My hand against his back seems to give him the stability he needs to stop. He's holding the fencing still when he's much too far out from it because it has snapped away from one of its posts. I stare at it and at the slacked gap that it's now left just above the ground, a window between two places, the woods and the district, that I still can't imagine ever really touching.

The breaths that follow from me are a little halted and I find myself looking back at Peeta and wondering just how it was that he survived two arenas, even with my help—and then without it. I swallow hard and try forcing the kind of tentative, hopeful smile he gives me.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

Peeta nods and looks down at the fencing he's holding and lets it down gently, as if it might minimize the damage. While he does this, I look out beyond him and try to decide where to take him. The idea of taking him to the place where Gale and I looked out for such a long time seems wrong, off, so I set off to guide him deeper into the woods toward the only other landmark I can really think of.

- - -

“I didn't know this was here,” Peeta comments with some measure of awe when we're at the edge of the lake, surveying around it, focusing for a moment on the ancient, untouched building hidden away by time.

“You didn't know any of this was out here,” I remind him. Peeta exhales in the same halted way I had at the fence and hearing it from someone else, I realize it's some attempt at a laugh that something broken within each of us blocks from escaping. “... My father brought me here. That's... how I knew how to swim,” I tell him with the most careful confidence I can, as if someone else might be around to hear us and I don't want them to. There's no one else, but I still feel some kind of vulnerability as I admit it.

“I still don't really know how to swim,” Peeta replies after a moment I realize was filled with some acknowledging reverence.

“I know,” I say quietly, giving him that same attempt at a smile and this time we both manage it at the same time. I walk a few paces around the lake's shore and find a gap in the trees were unobstructed sunlight touches down, warming the earth. Then I sit down, leaning back a little against the heels of my hands and nodding for Peeta to do the same if he wants.

He joins me after a moment and I notice that he's looking at me in the light with startling clarity, his gaze moving down until it falls against my stomach. I straighten a little and draw up my knees, tugging down at my shirt but finding that an extra fold of fabric bunches against my thin body. I'm not actually emaciated the way I got dangerously close to being at one point since we got home, but I'm not wearing the clothes that still hang in my closet that were from Cinna, tailored for the girl I used to be.

“I could teach you,” I decide quickly, looking up to Peeta's face and hoping to catch his eyes, to steal them away from my body.

“What?” he asks, startled.

“I could teach you how to swim,” I say more idly, hugging my knees and then leaning my chin against one of them.

“Are you sure--” Peeta starts to ask dubiously, looking out at the water contemplatively.

“I taught Gale,” I say quickly, cutting off any argument and staring out at the water, my face flushed with something I tell myself isn't shame. There's no reason for it to be, but I can't deny that there's a tightness in my stomach that no longer feels like confusion, really. Gale's gone, too, and I don't need him. When silence is what follows, I finally furtively glance over at Peeta and am relieved when I realize he hasn't become angry. Instead, I see him nod if only to himself and then shift to get back up to his feet.

“Okay,” he agrees as he offers me a hand I don't need to help me up. I get up on my own anyway, dusting my hands off on my pants and glancing at the water as I consider what I need to do. Again I've volunteered for something without thinking it through, without letting myself think it through because I can't stand the alternative. Now I've put Peeta's life in my hands again without any hesitation. For a moment all I can see in the water is the potential for him to sink beneath into the shadows provided by the trees. Even if I could get him back to shore, I don't know how to do the pressing on his chest, the kissing him that Finnick had known how to do to breathe air and life back into him. I simply can't let that happen. I can't let Peeta drown, can't let him die.

“You've got to do everything I tell you,” I insist when I face back to him, cementing my demand with a stern expression.

“Yeah,” Peeta agrees with some kind of dismissive reassurance, widening his eyes at me a little. “I know... I've got no idea what to do in water much deeper than a bathtub.”

I catch my breath and nod, first at him and then toward the water.

“Take off your clothes,” I tell him, not making eye contact as my hands go down to the bottom hem of my shirt. I realize too late that I hadn't really thought through the idea of distracting Peeta from looking at me. The only way I can get myself to proceed with taking off my shirt is steeling myself with as many layers of defiance as I can to remind myself why it shouldn't matter. As the fabric catches on my fingers and drags up across my stomach, I remember how I'd once tried everything to insist that I not take off Peeta's pants to examine and clean an almost certainly fatal wound. Now my body is scarred, lines running across it where surgeons have left marks where once different doctors had removed all traces of everything I'd ever touched, but Peeta has scars, too.

“What?” Peeta asks, breaking my resolve with a single syllable and causing me to quickly lower my shirt back down just as it had made its way midway up my abdomen. I look at him, nearly glaring but then realize that it's pointless. He hasn't suddenly grown shy or reprimanding or squeamish I gradually realize. He's just surprised, confused.

“... So the water won't drag. You're less likely to get hurt if you're not all weighed down.”

Peeta considers and smiles wryly.

“Just never thought I'd hear you say that to anyone.”

“You can leave your underwear on if you want,” I say calmly, having resolutely decided to keep mine on. There had been no secrets about my body between my stylists and me, but Peeta is different. He's seen me nearly naked quite a number of times and I think of the way my last arena outfit had torn. Only then does it occur to me that I've brought Peeta back to another shore, another beach, but even as I narrow my eyes at him I cannot imagine being the girl, him being the boy that had lost themselves to something I still can't name in one another's kisses. It just makes my skin flush and a lump of regret weigh on my chest and then my throat.

“Deal,” Peeta agrees and then he's pulling off his shirt and I decide to let mine join his at the same time. I get mine over my head just seconds after he's dropped his to the ground and then I'm glad I am wearing a real bra rather than simply wrapping my chest the way I had done before I'd ever gone to the Capitol. I'd owned one bra before then. When I hear my shirt fall down against his I look up for a second and catch him doing the same. I'm not sure if it makes it easier or harder, to have our knowledge of the state of one another's bodies become experience and reality. We don't approach each other and there's nothing said about it, but scarred we are but he's remarkably the same. I just momentarily let myself wonder if he thinks the same about me. Then under some silent agreement we look away from each other again, not quite making full turns toward the water as we both remove our shoes—it takes Peeta a little longer with his artificial left leg but not much anymore—and then our trousers join our shirts on the ground in a mingled pile.

The next time our eyes meet, I hurry over to the edge of the water, feeling the more coarse soil beneath my bare feet. I kneel down and brace myself for the feeling of water completely surrounding my body for the first time since the last arena and am helplessly reminded of Annie for a second. It won't be abrupt, though, or terrifying, to wade out into the water until it's deep enough to lose my footing. I look up when Peeta joins me and my eyes run along the complex artificial limb that he hardly seems to notice at all now.

“What do we do first?” he asks.

“Are you afraid of the water?” I ask, getting back up as I feel less compelled to curl my body in against itself.

“I'm afraid of drowning,” Peeta quips but he doesn't seem very nervous. He trusts me now. He's always trusted me, even when he shouldn't have, as long as he could remember that he wanted to.

“Don't be,” I demand, then let my expression soften, looking over at him less intensely as I swallow down the anger I feel at the suggestion. “I'm not going to let you,” I say more quietly. I reach for his hand again, a little less reluctantly than back in town, taking it gradually with my fingers. “First we need to get you used to the water. We can wade out for a little while, but let me keep a step ahead so I can feel for where it drops off,” I explain, taking the first two steps out into the water. I take a deeper breath, surprised at how cool it is on the warm day. Peeta follows me and I glance back and see his jaw tighten a little once we're deep enough for him to feel the water up to his right knee.

“Colder than you'd think,” he comments.

I look up at the canopy of trees that almost completely surrounds us and nod in that direction as I look back down to meet his eyes.

“Lots of shade and it's not really into the summer yet. We can go in a little faster,” I suggest with a bit more of a smile that I feel tightening my cheeks, almost instantly making them ache. “If you think it'll help.”

“You're the mentor,” he replies easily and for a second I wonder if I should give into the stinging the word causes. Haymitch isn't a mentor anymore and the word doesn't hold the same meaning it did in the world before. I guide Peeta a little further into the water, focusing on its rippling surface to keep him from noticing how my brow has furrowed. I catch our reflections anyway in the part of the water that's illuminated by our gap in the trees and I remember the way Finnick would joke about dying so easily with a rope, how it made us laugh. Laughing then might be one reason I'm alive, we're alive, today even though Finnick is gone. I frown a little more tightly and then all at once I'm letting myself smile again and nodding as I look back up. “Don't let yourself tense up. Your muscles cramping is one of the easiest ways to drown if you can't stand up,” I warn patiently.

Peeta nods and looks apprehensively further out into the lake, but he just tightens his grip on my hand. He trusts me.

He trusts me, so I take his other hand and feel my feet backward along into the lake, letting myself trust him a little, too. Sometimes I feel a tiny plant snap beneath my feet but my feet are tough enough for it to not cause me any real pain and when I'm confident about how far we can go back I try and get a little momentum to draw us both into the water about chest deep. The sound that's drawn abruptly from my mouth is a shrill gasp as the sensation of unexpected cold overwhelms me for a moment. I know I'm breaking the rule I just gave Peeta, my body tense as I try not to shiver, but we're both still firmly on foot. I open my eyes, letting them refocus on Peeta's face and he's grinning but his breath has quickened, too, and I think one of the reasons his teeth show with his smile if that he's trying not to chatter them.

“Try kneeling down,” I get out, leaning a little until I've bent at my knees and feel them knock his, the water rising higher against my body. Peeta follows my instruction and I can feel his body heat and then a faint indication of his heartbeat as I move my cautious grip up from his hand along his arm until I feel the firm muscles just beneath his shoulders. We search each other's eyes and then Peeta's teeth do chatter once and I'm breathing fast, but this time it's that same thing I had recognized earlier as an attempt to laugh. This time I try letting myself and a faint sound comes out and it's unfamiliar, foreign even, but it catches Peeta's attention as much as mine and he smiles in return. “It gets easier after a few minutes,” I try telling him, reminding myself as I find myself wishing that the rest of the water were as warm as I feel where my skin almost touches Peeta's.

He moves abruptly in the water and I flinch, but then he's just reaching for my hair, catching some of it that has come loose on the side opposite my braid that falls along the side of my face. He draws it out a little and examines it quietly before tucking it behind my ear, his hands a little less steady than they usually are. He's still trying not to shiver and so am I. I feel my eyelids closing when his damp fingertips brush against the dry skin of my ear, but I quickly try to just move past it and swallow down what I'm afraid might be sadness coming back again.

“The next thing you need to do is get out where your toes barely touch, and--”

“Katniss,” Peeta interjects, a soft plea. It catches me off guard so I stop and purse my lips to listen. “It's too cold,” he explains without delay, laughing softly without that broken hesitation.

“No, it's--” I try to persuade him gently but then my words catch because I'm breathing deeply again against the cool water. It's not warm enough to just get used to comfortably. Then I'm laughing too and run my hand up to his shoulder on his right only to lightly push. I don't push hard enough to let him go, though. Even though there's no danger, I'm not about to let him think there's any either. I don't want to frighten him and that's also when it's the worst for him, more likely that he'll forget for a while again and have to find some focus, some kind of pain to hang onto what's real. “Okay. We'll try again in June.”

Then I let go of him and wait long enough to make sure he's headed out of the water too and make my way back to the shore. At the edge, we both sit down and I still stubbornly try letting my toes dip into the water. I know that I could swim in it if I needed to, but the season hasn't warmed enough yet to teach Peeta. Peeta must read my expression as disappointment or something because he immediately tries to reassure me.

“I don't think I really need to know how to swim anyway,” he says.

“You should know if you ever--” I start to snap in reply but then I stop arguing and won't even let myself follow that thought through to conclusion. Peeta looks over at me expectantly but doesn't demand completion. Suddenly weary, I look behind us and move a little closer to the pile of our clothes and decide to let my skin dry a little before I put mine back on. I lie back against the ground, feeling grass against my back and the sun warming my skin. Peeta's eyes follow my movements and this time I don't try covering the network of scars on my skin or anything else, deciding that it really doesn't matter.

“Thanks for letting me come with you,” he says, taking a deep breath that isn't quite a sigh before he follows suit and lies down on his back. I wonder if he's disappointed somehow and about what before I realize that I am. There's an emptiness that settles into my chest again and I'm thinking of being back on shore, back on the edge of something I can't have anymore. I look across the space between us, the full width of the pile of our clothes. I've lain beside Peeta so many times now, shielded from nightmares and darkness by his arms, but the light of day somehow chases away his regained freedom to hold me and all at once I hate it.

“Peeta--” I start, not quite sure what I want to say. I'm not very good at saying something, not even when I need to desperately. His name gets his attention, though, and I lock eye contact with him and try and let it invite me in the way I'm certain he'd been trying too so many times before we lost so much, back when I couldn't see. I crawl the short space over to him and inch by inch settle into my place at his side, easing into the feeling of his skin's warmth the way I'd tried to ease into the water's cold.

“Katniss,” I'm answered when I feel him tensing again.

“Shh,” I try to insist, but then I realize that I'm in his space as much as I'm drawing him into mine. I lean against my arm and look down into his eyes and glance down his chest for a moment before I manage to ask. “Is this okay?”

Peeta nods and shifts to tentatively put out his arm for me and I lower myself down, even more drawn to lying beside him now that I have started to feel some sense of relief now that I've begun the slow, arduous process of working through countless seemingly impossible questions so painlessly. For the first time in a while, I'm too tired to resist a feeling so good as relief and I try tucking my head down against Peeta's damp chest, my ear pressed to the place were I can hear his heartbeat. He moves, though and grabs his shirt from the pile of clothes.

“Wait a second,” he instructs quietly, placing the soft fabric over his shoulder and one side of his chest. “It's dry,” he explains when I look at him with a slight frown. Agreeing to what I feel deeply, almost viscerally is a compromise, I nod and finally find the place against him where the old Katniss would have fit with the old Peeta, more than she ever knew. I can't get comfortable against the shirt, though. I let my arm extend over him, feeling his body heat move through me at each place where I can find contact. A breeze blows across the lake and I roll over slightly toward Peeta and he wraps his arm protectively around me. The real Peeta still wants to protect me. I look down at the color of his shirt and take a deep breath, smelling Peeta's skin on it and deciding that I'd rather see it, too, scars and all.

“Peeta, it's okay,” I tell him. Then I look up at his face and catch him looking quizzically at me. “It's okay,” I repeat. “We can still--” But then I stop talking, face flushing as I realize at least in part what I'm asking for and feel ashamed.

“... Katniss, what's wrong?” Peeta prompts, reaching up and touching the bottom of my damp braid, the way he had touched me before. “What are you talking about?”

I don't want to talk about it because I don't know what to say, so I pull back and think about moving away from him again but then remember something that had worked a long time ago. My lips press to his and I can't quite remember what to do. I'm not the girl who simply, clumsily did back on the beach. Instead, it's so unnaturally still for a moment that I'm not sure it counts as a kiss and that it might even be worse than the first time I'd tried for the cameras.

Then Peeta's hand moves from where he'd pinched the very bottom of my braid to the side of my neck where he steadies me gently and his lips move against mine in turn. His movements are tight, halting as my own, unfamiliar and learning how to do it again, even though it'd always come more naturally to him. After just a moment he tilts his chin down and breaks the contact. I can feel my breath mingling warm and damp with his but he doesn't try for my lips again and I don't know if I should start feeling an even deeper ache of regret. I don't know if we've lost everything as much as I thought he had.

“It's okay,” I plead this time. I'm answered with a light peck of a kiss against my lips that doesn't last at all and a nod that I can feel brushing against my own forehead.

“Yeah, Katniss. Of course it's... okay,” he says, once again taking for granted something that terrifies me a little. I nod and pull back enough to meet his eyes and he smiles at me and I do too. “... I just... don't know what you want, sometimes,” he apologizes, glancing down.

“Neither do I,” I say quickly, a little bitterly but then I realize this isn't the place, the moment for that. There actually is a time now for something else, something a little better. “... Stay with me,” I supply after a moment's searching my mind, the threatening hollow in my chest for the words. I grip at the fabric of his shirt with my fingertips but then realize that he can't feel the tugging and instead pull it back down to the ground beneath us. “Not just... when I have nightmares. When we walk through town or... anytime you need to, it's okay. Stay with me.”

Peeta examines my face so intensely that for a moment I wonder if he recognizes me at all and I have to look away.

“... Always,” he says, an echo and a reminder that he does remember. Then I can't look at him because I know my eyes are wet again but this time not because I'm sad or angry. Instead I press a kiss to his bared shoulder and another a little lower, water from the lake touching my lips. Another breeze blows across the water and over us and I hide from the cold against his body's warmth and feel his hand against the skin between my shoulder blades. When my eyes have stopped stinging, I press my cheek down against his chest, my ear down over his heart again, this time without the shirt between us.

“I'll teach you how to swim when it's warmer,” I insist.

“Yeah?” he prompts, sounding almost amused.

“Well I can't teach you to hunt,” I reply and realize I'm teasing. He laughs again, though I know it's not very funny.

“I'll teach you how to bake when we get back,” he offers, bartering.

“I know how to bake,” I argue, rolling toward him a little firmly and then back since I can't push him but he's undeterred.

“Knowing how to make bread isn't the same,” he teases and I can hear the smile in his voice.

“Fine,” I agree. “I'll let you teach me how to bake, or try. Later,” I try to appease him because I want him to be quiet. I hear him start to reply but I quickly hush him and turn my lips down to kiss lightly against his chest again. He starts to speak again and I sigh wearily and press another slightly more sure kiss to his mouth which he returns and I can feel him smiling against my lips. I wonder if he'd lured me into the kiss on purpose, but I decide I don't care as I break it again and feel my nose brush against the side of his. After a few more tentative, shared kisses I finally lie back down against his chest and he's content to be quiet so I close my eyes and let his heartbeat lull me half to sleep, not hidden away, cold in a cave but warm against his skin in the sunlight.

#everlark #thg fic #the hunger games #the hunger games fic #the hunger games book fic #prix op #prix writing

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phobia-sweets · 2 years

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Can I ask for any version of John (of your choice, which is more interesting for you to write about or which seems to you suitable for this request) and the Reader who has a habit of strongly panicking because of their health?

It seems that, for example, if this person has felt pain in the lower back (which they fell on unsuccessfully in the past), then it begins to seem to them that the consequences of the old fall are making themselves felt and soon they will have problems with walking, or even the body will stop conducting nerve impulses normally, and they will not they will be able to walk.

Oh, or, let's say, if they get sick for a particularly long time as a result of a cold, then it seems to them that their immunity has catastrophically weakened, and now they will get sick much more often and longer than before.

Being just such a person, I sympathize in advance with your John, about whom you will write XD, Although I think he is… adapts both to these bouts of anxiety on the part of the Reader, and learns to calm them down.

I'M GENUINELY SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG IT'S BEEN IN MY INBOX SINCE DECEMBER BUT I FINALLY FINISHED IT

I had like 2 different drafts for this, deleted the other one, didn't like the one i chose, deleted it, started over... YEAH

Arkham knight! Scarecrow x reader

Warnings & Notes: I don't know what i'm doing and it's not proofread

Getting sick was a nightmare – not because of the fever, stuffy nose or how nauseous you were. No, no, you could handle those – What you couldn’t handle was the thoughts that came with it. Doubt filled your head, convincing you that what you were experiencing wasn’t just a headache– filling you with even more anxiety and fear, which only made you feel worse. Sure, you could seek out your boyfriend’s comfort, but would it help? Despite the doctors trying to convince you it was no worry, you couldn’t just believe them. What would make this any more different from that?

“What’s the matter?” Jonathan’s gravelly voice took you by surprise, seeing as you hadn’t noticed him enter the room. He was standing next to the door, his expression hard to read, like always.

“It’s nothing, really- I…” You started, looking away from him. He tilted his head at that, doubtful. “I’m just anxious. I have a headache and, well-” You sighed. “I can’t stop thinking that it might be more than just a headache.” Jonathan hummed in response, seemingly deep in thought.

- Jonathan is a (ex) psychiatrist. This means he’ll probably listen to you talk about this problem, whether it was because you’re a hypochondriac or not.

- ANYWAY, I’ve probably said this earlier, but Jonathan may seem very emotionless, but that’s not true – He still has the ability to feel emotions, sympathy included, even if he doesn’t show it or feel it as much as others.

- His strategy on calming you down? Reading. Even if he’s not willing to read to you, be it because he just refuses to do so, or because of his bad eyesight sometimes preventing him from reading, He’s willing to lend you some of his books to read.

“Frankenstein?” You questioned, turning the book in your hands.

“Something to keep your mind occupied.”

“...Thank you.” You smiled up at him, Opening the first page. Even if you couldn’t focuse on the book, you’d try your best.

- Now, if reading doesn’t help… He might have some horror movies laying around…? Or he could just sit and listen to you.

- Now, I don’t know how to console people, but he probably does. He might give you some comforting words. Might. We don’t really know if he has it in him, considering he made his patients rub salt in their eyes when he was working.

#scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane x reader #arkhamverse scarecrow x reader

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alyjojo · 18 days

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September 🏋🏽‍♂️ 2024 Monthly - Cancer

Preshuffle: You’ve been released from some sort of family situation that had you feeling trapped, blocked, burdened and stuck. Now you’re waiting for the apology you deserve.

Meditation: In a backyard, you slipped off your shoes and walked into the grass to “ground your energy” under a tree 🌳 which you then sat under, then laid under, and said “I can die right here and grow roots into the ground…” before you drifted off to sleep in the shade.

Main energy: Knight of Wands rev

What’s going on in September:

Page of Swords, Knight of Cups rev, 8 Cups rev, Page of Cups rev, Ace of Cups

You’re forgiving the fkboy/girl, that’s the whole reading. If they’re not that, then they’re immature & do impulsive or thoughtless things that get them into trouble and they’re manipulative af - which I’m getting is both positive and negative. They’re the kind of person that could sell ice in Alaska 🧊 very charming, probably gorgeous, likely also very funny. They can bring you out of your shell in positive ways and also do stupid shit to send you right back in there, not speaking to them. They manipulate to get out of trouble and maybe also to get you IN to some trouble, but I don’t see you minding that so much. It’s fun.

This person is going to lovebomb the fk out of you and I don’t see you minding. I also don’t see them as toxic, you may even romanticize this dynamic a bit. They mess up and now they’re outside your window with roses being all dramatic and stuff…I heard “don’t forget the poetry.” So they may like to write with this Page of Swords, long texts or poems even? Very romantic. I WILL DIE IF YOU DONT FORGIVE ME CANCER IM SORRY BABY PLEASEEE DONT GO 😫 And you eat it up, which they’re aware of, that’s why they do it. You could have an intuitive link with this person where things don’t need to be said out loud, they can read your face or vice versa.

I see you running right back into their arms and healing this connection, I think you’re already over it and just like the show in some cases 😆

Further advice: 3 Swords rev, again I don’t see this person being toxic, just immature. You two will heal this and be just fine moving forward. Well, within this dynamic anyway, they still are who they are, and will continue to be 🫨 but are they genuine in their lovebombing declarations of whatever this is: yes they are.

Signs you may be dealing with:

Heavy Pisces, Cancer, Libra & Taurus

Oracle: ✨

39 Creativity 🖼

This is a profoundly creative time period for you - whether it is in the traditional arts, music, or writing - or it could be a new curiosity about exploring a way to funnel your creative urges. To be creative, you need to access your right brain - your emotional, sensing, feeling center. Do this by trying things you’ve never done before - get physical, dance, doodle.

When we acknowledge and act upon our impulse to create, we are aligning our will with Spirit. In this we can experience the flow of being on your highest path. Start creating and notice his time has no meaning anymore. Hours fly by before you realize it. It is not a struggle. It is pure inspiration. This card can also signify the birth of a child, or of a whole new way of being!

Hidden Keys 🔐

Put things together piece by piece to reveal the bigger picture.

Sorrow Heals 🤕

In heartache’s shadow, growth awaits. Let pain refine, not define you, as brighter days are promised.

Behind the Veil 😶‍🌫️

Welcome uncertainty as an opportunity for growth and be OK with not knowing.

We enter into September as:

Emaciated Periwinkle ⚖️:

“I must create before the opportunity disappears.”

This card is a good indication that something is out of balance in your life. You may be too focused in one area and therefore neglecting another. Change takes place in proper time. Slow down. With balance we gain the love and support we need to take risks. Periwinkle is also an indication you need to look at your eating habits. This could be a plea from your body to take better care of yourself. This can also point out workaholism or any compulsive behavior that has you feeling out of whack. Is there a part of your life that needs serious attention from you? This card wishes to remind you that...you take you wherever you go.

What is to be learned in September:

Cool Lemonade 🍋

“My dreams got answered.”

There are times when chasing dreams leaves us winded and unhappy. If this gift has been given, it’s to remind you there is always a plan. If you fear you’ve been sidetracked from your right path, have faith you’ll be guided back to it. There is not always a complicated reason why things didn’t work out how you wanted them to, it may be simpler than you think. Are you sure your prayers weren’t answered? Or was it a reply you refused to hear? You will find total peace when you appreciate the gifts you have, rather than pining for what you lack. Sometimes, we all need to be reminded that the point of prayer isn’t to get what we want, but to ask to be of service. Cool Lemonade reminds us to only seek to be of service in our lives, closeness with Spirit must always be put before what we’d like to have.

Yellow may be a lucky color 💛

#cancer #monthly tarot reading #september 2024 #astrology #monthly #tarot reading #tarot

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embossross · 2 years

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oooo air + metal. bonus: psionics (pls share the sorcery)

coming right up! ➡️➡️➡️

air - easiest part of writing?

dialogue & smut come easily imo. maybe because i'm less worried about the sentences being beautiful or deep. feels like the part where i can just relax and let the characters play all on their own without too much supervision i always think smut is going to be a pain, and then it just spills out. i go into a trance lmao

metal - hardest part of writing?

i'm very self-critical about prose. i feel like i'm very uneven across my wips with the quality of writing or i sometimes change my whole style based on what i'm currently reading i also just feel like such a scenes writer. like i really set a scene and put the characters there, which is great, but when i want to convey a lot over a progression of time, i really struggle to write fluidly. it's why my chapters get too long 😞

psionics - getting into the heads of characters?

long answer because it depends. i think the first thing before writing is always figuring out why these two characters are together. what makes them work (or not work) as a couple. and that helps me understand them, especially the reader upfront. for from his mind to hers, i didn't do a lot of character work, but i had a very strict outline of both characters' arcs. and because it's a therapy story, a lot of the outline detailed the kinds of conversations they'd be having, how they would be feeling, etc. so i kind of built them up alongside the plot. but i make up stuff on the fly all the time as needed. that story is just vibes 🕶️ for the belly of the beast universe, i have a 70 page document of every character & their relationships. it's like questionnaire style and was a ton of fun to put together. it's really helpful for the readers as i don't want them to all be the same across the story and i have habits that i default to when not careful. it was also fun for the bonten guys because a lot of them we barely know or they've changed a lot, so i detailed out things like who is their favorite & least favorite members of bonten, what's their daily routine by the hour, best gift they could get, etc. to really get in their heads. it's a lot of work for not a lot of payoff, but it is super fun and does help me stay on track. it's far from perfect, but i also try to lay out a prose style for each character ahead of time. do their thoughts meander in long sentences? how observant are they of their surroundings? what about other people? are they more concrete or metaphorical thinkers? it's not perfect because i have impulses, but i try to make it different character to character.

#thank you i love to blabber about writing 💕💕#asks

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secretlywritingstories · 2 years

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I think one of my favourite things about writing and reading fanfiction is the instant connection and the ability for a reader to write directly to the author. Anything from a simple sentence saying you liked it to delving into several hundreds, and maybe even thousands, of words to recount your experience reading.

It’s so freaking fantastic and it’s a special kind of high to post a one shot or a chapter update and go to bed, only to wake up to comments on what you posted. People read it and care. They want to tell you so. And you might get to hear their favourite bits of your story, and that’s what inspired me to pen this post.

I love getting praise for specific scenes. It’s so cool to know what parts of a longer narrative stood out to a reader, so much that it’s the one at the forefront of their mind when they want to give feedback. And to get to hear details about what and why they love it often too. I hope it never stops, it’s delightful.

And it’s funny because it’s never the same moments that readers love. Sometimes, a part or a scene will be more impactful but generally it can be pretty divided. And just like the readers have their favourites, I do too.

There is often overlap. The scenes that felt like they just flowed out of me, the ones that spilled out onto the page as easy as breathing can often get comments. It’s usually those scenes that I find myself rereading and loving the most because it almost feels like I didn’t write them, the characters and the fictional universe just spoke through me.

However, I am never more affected than when someone mentions loving a part that was troublesome to write. The scenes or sections where I felt like it dragged on, or I had to go back and edit, or I couldn’t touch the fic for days on end because it was too daunting to touch that part. When someone compliments something that was hard to write, I had to take a moment to get my brain on right.

Because there’s an instinctive twitch to speak back with disbelief. Like surely that wasn’t your favourite part? It was like pulling teeth out to write it. Can you not see the blood spatter? The agony of creation? And I know I should never say that out loud, no matter the impulse.

Because no, they can’t see that. Only I can. And what a blessing they can’t because most of the time, when I push past the urge to kick and cringe, I am thankful. How lovely that you love a part I had a hard time creating. I am glad I powered through and put it in.

Especially writing longer pieces, as I am fond of, you’ll find part that just don’t speak to you personally as much as other parts but they are still important so you grid your teeth and create them. And now whenever my flow stagnates and writing becomes tough, I try to think of comments that praised scenes or sections I thought sub-par. They might be my least favourite to write but they could be someone’s favourite! And that’s incredible.

I still generally write the stories that I want to read but some parts come easy while some come harder. I am trying to remember that both are very important and valid. And - when I reread a fic years down the line - I don’t see the blood spatter either. I forget that it included pain of creation and just enjoy it.

#Fandoms #fanfiction #spilled thoughts #my tumblr dabbles

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holden-caulfield · 3 years

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Mere Acquaintances

main masterlist

SUMMARY: “Our siblings are in an arranged marriage and so we see each other at awkward social gatherings between our two kingdoms” AU

WARNINGS: there might be a swearword?

WORD COUNT: 1439

A/N: uhmmm this is my entry for @ladyvesuvia 's writing challenge... hope you like it (i suck at writing royal aus because i can't make it 'royal' lmao)

How exciting, you thought to yourself the first time your brother announced his betrothal to the daughter of the adjacent kingdom's king. You knew he was completely enthralled by her and you heard stories from your very own brother about how the two of them got along just perfectly.

You had never been favorable to arranged marriages, but, once you saw that sparkle in your brother's eyes, you couldn't have been happier for him.

How exciting, that was until you had to actually meet the princess. She was lovely, exactly what you wished for your brother, but her brother was a completely different story.

You had met him few times actually, just a few awkward encounters with the young man whenever you were both forced to attend your parents' gatherings.

To get along, they said. You tried your best to appear friendly and open, that much could not be said about Draco Malfoy, the royal pain in the ass.

He never once looked at you unless it was with an air of superiority. You exchanged three words in total since you met him and those three, brief words were "So, how-"

"No."

You decided not to conversate with him anymore, not that you cared; the man was so full of himself he probably did not need you to entertain him since he had his own company.

Royal parties were spent in silence: you made polite conversation whenever required, but didn't despise the quietness that created once you were left alone for it did help you ponder.

In those moments, your favoured object of interest was him. You were not watching him because you liked him, that be clear. You were analyzing him: he was arrogant, yes, but there must have been something more; no one can be that shallow.

He looked just like any prince should have looked like; regal. But with a touch of stiff excellence that made him always stand out. He looked displaced among his peers, almost as if deeply inside he wished not to be a part of it.

He looked just the same that day, blank expression on his elegant features, carried around with such poise you wondered why everyone's eyes weren't directed towards him.

He caught your eye, an action that made heat rise to your cheeks and that made your gaze quickly settle on something else. That something turned out to be the ballroom, full of couples dancing and cheerily talking with one another.

You noticed your brother, waltzing with her betrothed. He looked happy, genuinely happy; that smile was one you had not seen on his face since you were children and-

"Lady y/n." the sudden voice reaching your ears made you jump slightly, you were not expecting such a deep baritone to greet you.

You turned around to find him in front of you. You narrowed your eyes, unsure of the situation you had just witnessed, unsure of the reason why he had approached you.

"Would you join me for a dance?" you couldn't believe your ears, they must have been deceiving you.

His expression was the same as always, you couldn't decipher whether the proposal he had just made was truthful or just pure amusement for him to see the disheveled state his simple question had put you in.

He offered you his hand and your first instinct was obviously to refuse it, what kind of gentleman ignores someone all the time and then asks said them to dance out of the blue?

But there was something inside of you that wanted to dance with him, that wanted to take his sophisticated hand and let it guide you towards the ballroom.

"We shouldn't." you uttered and his hand fell promptly, an emotion unknown to you crossed his face but he quickly shrugged it off. "It's our siblings' ball, we shouldn't steal their spotlight."

"By dancing?" he asked, slightly chuckling.

"Yes, by dancing." you tried to sound convincing, but you could sense he had seen right through you.

You returned your gaze to the ballroom, a feeling of regret harbouring in your mind.

You felt him come closer, his body heat slowly engulfing you, but you refused to turn towards him.

"They won't mind, princess." his voice was low and enchanting as if he was performing some kind of magic spell upon you. And it was working.

"They will."

"They won't." he said offering his hand again, his lips breaths away from the shell of your ear and you felt chills running down your spine at the words spoken so closely in such a public space, under everyone's eyes. "They are too busy contemplating the happy couple to care about anything else."

You gave him a sideways glance; a terrible mistake because his eyes were now piercing yours, making it impossible to refuse the proposal.

You took his hand, entwining your fingers with his, and it felt so natural, so instinctive, as if it were an everyday procedure.

He led you among the other couples, the stares the two of you received were of no importance as he held your hand tightly in his, as if he was scared you could have regretted the action.

"Wait, wait! What are you doing?" you suddenly stopped, common sense finding its way back in your brain but it was not enough for you to leave his hand.

He furrowed his brows, creasing his ethereal face in question.

"Why now? Why are you suddenly so interested in me?" your face earnest, your eyes pleaded for any excuse.

But he remained silent, his icy stare penetrating your orbs with such intensity you felt your legs trembling slightly. His grip threatened to loosen but you held him, refusing to let him leave you alone like he had done countless times before.

"What are you doing?" you asked again.

He opened his mouth to reply, his hard look fell along with his feigned arrogance, letting a new face emerge: it was him but he was so different you could have easily mistaken him for someone else.

"I'm trying to be nice, we are supposed to get along... I didn't think it was this much of a deal, princess." he replied, the insolence rapidly coming back. He tried to let go of your hand but you were adamant; he would have given you a reason whether he wanted to or not.

"That's not it."

"Do you think you know everything, princess?" he kept on adding that last word with such spite, as if it was you who randomly decided to save him from the boredom of the royal ball with the excuse of a dance between mere acquaintances.

"I do think there is something you are not telling me, prince." he visibly stiffened but the corners of his mouth gave you the opposite impression, as if he finally felt at ease for the first time ever with you.

"You are wrong."

"Am i, prince?"

With speed similar to that of light, he took your waist in his grasp, still holding your hand with his own, your faces now embarrassingly close as you swayed on the dance floor.

You felt his chest rise up and down against yours but he refused to fully meet your eyes, instead searching for something in your face that he already deemed impossible to find.

"Am i?" you repeated, tentatively.

"No, no you're not." he spoke slowly but somehow hurriedly, as if he didn't want to let the words escape his mouth because once they were out it meant they would have been real, thus meaning his feelings couldn't be denied any longer.

"Then tell me. What are you doing?" your tone was soft and careful, but a touch of impulsiveness was still audible.

"We're dancing, aren't we?" he said smugly, his gaze focusing on the guests that were now watching the two of you very intently. "Maybe we shouldn't have, we are attracting a lot of attention."

You frantically turned your head to look at all the people watching but his firm grip returned you to his eyes. "Don't look at them, princess, look at me."

You couldn't describe it but all the days he had spent ignoring you vanished as he spoke to you so softly. But you needed an answer.

"Why are you doing this?" sincerity lacing your tone, he couldn't help but smile and sigh.

"I fancied you since the first moment, y/n, but i thought it would have been seen as inappropriate to get closer to my sister's fiancé's sister." you giggled lightly, rolling your eyes.

"It might be, but i'm glad you changed your mind, then."

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#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #fanfiction #harry potter #fanfic #draco lucius malfoy #draco x reader #draco imagine #draco x y/n #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #vesuvia400wc

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sketching-shark · 3 years

Note

I think it's the ironic fact that JTTW fans already know how DBK and Sun Wukong's friendship broke apart but are more curious on LMK versions of Sun Wukong and the Six Eared Macaque were friends alongside falling out.

HA! Well, while it often does seem that way, I'm going to go ahead and be a complete snob in a Journey to the West purist kind of way by wondering how many Six Eared Macaque fans would consider themselves more JTTW fans or more Monkie Kid fans, or if they feel they're a mix of both...

I've seen a lot of people argue that these two works of fiction are their own thing and that as such Monkie Kid (and associated fanworks) shouldn't be expected to follow the canon of JTTW, and fair enough for some parts. I've also, however, seen people who argue for this complete separation seeming to use it as an excuse to not acknowledge or learn about ANY original aspects of characters such as Sun Wukong and the Demon Bull King, or even very important deities such as Guanyin and the Jade Emperor, and who as such end up making some pretty gross generalizations/assumptions about them even though they are of great religious and cultural importance.

For example (and while I know a lot of the fun people get from fan works is in exaggerating certain traits), Sun Wukong seems to often be presented with an "inherently" evil/thoughtless/chaotic character, while his intelligence, deep love of his family, genuine efforts to become a better person, & many acts of saving lives, as presented in JTTW, aren't even mentioned. I feel like a lot of this is due to the way he acts in Monkie Kid (while I maintain that this version of Sun Wukong seems to be Bad End Monkey King, he does do a lot of deflecting his issues with a show of humor/a carefree attitude & does seem really bad at communicating due to a fear of making things worse). Even so, the popularity of Thoughtless/Evil/Selfish Sun Wukong that doesn’t really allow for any of the nuance or a display of his beneficial traits as shown in JTTW does make me wonder how many people have been exposed to a good translation of og classic Sun Wukong...As I've said before, I've noted that a number of Chinese people on this site have expressed frustration with the fact that a good chunk of the monkey king’s Western audience seems to be getting their impressions about Sun Wukong, the Demon Bull King, the Six Eared Macaque, etc. from some mix of Overly Sarcastic Productions, Monkie Kid, and social media instead of from at least a translation of the original text, and it is true that a LOT of the nuance of these work and these characters can be very easily lost, especially if your drawing your information of them primarily from a cartoony version of the original source.

That would be an interesting poll though...out of curiosity, how many of you fine folk have read the break-up & fight between Sun Wukong and the Demon Bull King either in the original text or in a translation, or is your exposure to them primarily through Monkie Kid?

Again, I need to make it clear that I'm not Chinese & didn't grow up with the story, but I will admit for my own part that reading the DBK/SWK break-up in the Yu translation actually made me more curious about how their dynamic is going to play out in Monkie Kid than I am curious about what's going to happen with Mr. Macaque.

This is primarily because besides SWK’s fight with Princess Iron Fan and DBK being given a LOT of page space in JTTW, there seems to have been some serious stuff that went down between the three of them in the events post-JTTW and pre-the main plot of Monkie Kid...the last we see of DBK in JTTW (if memory serves correctly) was him being hauled off by a host of heavenly warriors to be judged for his crimes of not giving SWK the palm leaf fan & also eating humans. When Monkie Kid starts, however, we are told that DBK had emerged “from the Netherworld” & immediately starts wrecking everything around him. What this suggests--if Monkie Kid is something of a fan continuation of JTTW--is that DBK ended up being executed by the heavenly forces, but managed to fight his way out of the underworld in a manner somewhat similar to SWK, who we are told he is equal in strength to in JTTW. In that beginning fight of Monkie Kid DBK is also shown as so enraged that he won’t stop his path of destruction until SWK buries him under a mountain for 500 years. It’s never said in the show, but--and this is important--this is basically exactly what Buddha did to SWK to start him on the path of atonement. So there seems to be some very intentional parallels between SWK’s havoc in heaven & DBK’s havoc on earth, which may suggest that one of the things Monkie Kid SWK really wants is for his former dear friend, his sworn brother, to find a way like him to be less violent and thus ultimately less vulnerable to destructive and self-destructive behavior, and that the way he tried to start this was by giving DBK the same treatment he got when he was a raging warlord.

We are furthermore told that it was right after DBK was sealed that SWK disappeared for all those centuries, and while the impulse may be to write it off as him just wanting to enjoy himself (given a lot of his behavior in the show’s timeline), given the indications that this SWK may be deeply depressed, I feel like the answer could be something a lot more tragic...there seem to be a number of clues in Monkie Kid that while the journey of JTTW happened, something made it end disastrously, with SWK either assuming or knowing that Zhu Bajie, Sha Wujing, Tang Sanzang, and Bai Longma are dead. And per JTTW, this wouldn’t be the first time that he’s experienced a horrific loss, given the war with heaven and the burning of Flower-Fruit Mountain. And then right after THAT, it seems DBK emerged from the underworld, and so Sun Wukong was put into a horrific position: either murder his sworn brother, or let him continue to rampage & harm and/or kill who knows how many humans. SWK ultimately gives up his staff to do the repeat of “500 years under a mountain in solitary confinement route,” which as per JTTW he considers better than the alternative, but he immediately follows that by exiling himself. In JTTW SWK is a really sociable person who makes friends wherever he goes, but man, for this SWK...his life must at that point just feel like one failure after another, that in spite of all his best efforts he wasn’t able to save anyone he really cared about, and now he just trapped someone who was so important to him under a mountain & fated him to suffer the same things he had when he was in that position. How much more does he have to hurt his fellow yaoguai? How many more times does he have to choose between yaoguai and humans, feeling like no matter what he decides it’s just going to result in pain for him and/or his loved ones? I can easily imagine super sociable & easily upset (he cries a LOT in JTTW) SWK feeling like after sealing DBK, he just can’t do this any more. He just...can’t.

This is all just speculation, but knowing the JTTW backstory between SWK and DBK does, at least for me, make their Monkie Kid relationship a lot more intriguing than it might be otherwise. Especially now that DBK seems to actually be making some small steps to quell his constant rage & lust for power. He even saves SWK and Qi Xiaotian from an explosion/nasty fall in the season 2 special! The Bull family weren’t really present in season 2, but I really hope they make a comeback in season 3 (if/when we get it) precisely because Red Son, Princess Iron Fan, and especially DBK have such an involved history with SWK. Plus it would be really fun to see two old warlords trying to awkwardly make amends with each other & struggle to be good teachers & positive role models to their student & son.

In any case I feel this potential is more interesting than whatever fanfic The Six Eared “I’mma Plagiarize The Demon Bull King’s Backstory Of Being Best Friends with Sun Wukong” Macaque is creating lol.

#monkie kid #journey to the west #lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk sun wukong #lmk dbk #lmk six eared macaque #anon answered

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redrobbingabank · 3 years

Text

Prison Break

Tw: lots of violence, blood

The white pastry box in her hands was heavy with the weight of the pie. Niki walked down the prime path the way she always did, smiling softly, sweater sleeves covering her hands. It had been a long time since she truly felt the way. She wasn’t sure when it had become a disguise, but it had, and everyone believed it without batting an eye. Beneath it, rage burned, hot but controlled. Always controlled. Her best weapon, she knew, was how she was perceived. Patience would pay off. Nothing but pain was coming for the people who’d locked her friend away.

She found Sam outside the museum. He leaned against the pillar, turning an unlit cigarette over and over in his fingers. He glanced up at her footsteps, then pushed himself off the pillar and pocketed the cigarette.

Niki smiled brightly. “Sam! I was just looking for you.” She hurried up the steps and under the awning outside the museum. The light rain a few feet away droned on.

“Hey, Niki.” Sam sounded tired. He looked it, too. Purple bags under his eyes were made starker by the unhealthy pallor of his face. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Are you okay?” she asked, arranging her features into a concerned look. “You look exhausted.”

Sam blinked a few times. “Yeah, I’m good. Just all the stuff that’s happened around the prison. Tommy, you know?”

No mention of Techno. Nothing about the lies, about how he and Quackity had pulled him away from his damn birthday party to lure him in. Niki nodded understandingly. “I’m sure it’ll all work out in the end,” she said. Then she held out the box. “I made you a pie. Felt like you might need a pick me up on guard duty so often.”

A small smile appeared on Sam’s face. “Thanks, Niki. I really appreciate that.” He took the box, opening it to find a pumpkin pie and cutlery taped to the side. “Pumpkin! My favorite.”

“I was hoping I remembered right.” Niki smiled again. There was a chance it wouldn’t work, she knew. That Sam would set it aside for later. But he had a parentlike streak. Niki had seen it in his interactions with Tommy. So she tweaked her gaze, made it subtly more hopeful and excited. Sam noticed, and freed the fork from the side of the box. He relaxed a little at the first bite of the comfort food and immediately ate more. “It’s good?” Niki asked sweetly.

Sam nodded. “It’s amazing. Thank you, Niki, really. I needed this.” He swallowed another bite, and two things that would oppose each other happened. First, his eyes widened with panic. Then they began turning glassy. “What…” his knees buckled, and he slowly slid down the pillar before falling sideways.

It had worked. Niki and Jack had been playing around for a while. Mixing potions together, testing the effects. They’d found a combination Jack had named Aurora’s Poison. Weakness, slowness, the scantest drop of harming, and a ground up petal from a wither rose. Death without stillness.

Sam’s face had taken on a bluish tinge, but his chest still moved up and down. His eyes were half open. “Niki… ” he mumbled, “help.”

Finally, the facade could fall. Niki’s smile turned into a cold smirk. She squatted beside him, strands of pink hair falling into her face. “Oh, Sam.” His lighter had fallen from his pocket. She picked it up and sparked it, studying the flame before looking back at him. “You don’t deserve my help.”

There was the faintest glimmer of realization in his eyes before they closed for good. “Sweet dreams, Warden. The Syndicate sends its regards,” Niki murmured. She stood. Let Quackity try to wake him. He was a living corpse.

She stepped back into the rain, her boots the only sound on the prime path as she returned to the underground bunker Techno had left in his instructions. Phil and Ranboo were already inside and suited up. There were two more pairs of netherite armor on stands against the back wall. One was for her. The second was for Techno.

“How’d it go?” Phil asked.

“Perfectly,” she replied, tying the straps of the chestplate. Phil’s armor had two bumps on the back, designed specifically to accommodate his wings. He had his sword in hand, shield leaning against his wall. A crossbow and quiver were slung across his back, and Techno’s sword hung from his belt. “Didn’t know what hit him.”

Ranboo looked the calmest Niki had ever seen him. Normally, he fidgeted constantly. Now, his hands were still, aside from the way they drifted to his axe handle. His face was set determinedly, and his crown hung from his armor stand, swapped out for a helmet. He’d been the one to get them the armor. It shone with the best enchantment the server could offer. Niki had known he was rich, but she hadn’t realized exactly how much he’d been sitting on. Her jaw had nearly dropped when, before they set out, he passed a totem to each of them.

“Need help?” he asked, taking half a step towards her when she started struggling with her gauntlets.

“I’ve got it.” Ranboo returned to the wall. He began tracing the blade of his axe lightly with his finger.

When she’d finally gotten all her armor in place, Niki crossed to the rack of weapons. She seized her bow and a quiver of harming arrows, slinging them across her back. She and Phil were the contingency plans if they were somehow pursued. Finally, she picked up her own axe. Its enchantments hummed, sending thrills up her arm. “Ready.”

“Ranboo?” Phil asked. The teenager nodded. “Alright, then.” He flicked the lever by the door. The sound of breaking glass filled the air as potion bottles broke. Niki felt the difference immediately, her bones strengthening with the magic. “Let’s go.”

Phil had known anger before. His life had been too long not to. There had been a time, before Techno, before Wilbur, that he let it consume him. Then Techno had arrived, and it was like impulse control had been installed. They were still formidable, of course, but Phil didn’t seek war anymore.

He knew grief, too. He knew the way it moved, the way it played with you until you wanted to sink beneath its waves and drown. It had consumed him after Wil’s death. He could hardly bring himself to clean his sword before he fell into a stupor in front of the fireplace. It had been Techno, again, who pulled him out of it. Who’d given him a new sword and convinced him to play war games until the sight of blood didn’t send him vomiting to the bathroom. There would be no Techno to pull him out if this went wrong. Phil might as well be dead too.

Ranboo and Niki followed him out of the bunker. The streets were empty as they silently made their way to the prison.

They didn’t bother to ring the bell. The three of them stood in the portal until reality straightened itself out. Phil had Techno’s will clutched in his hand. The bundle of papers had been empty, at first, until a few days ago. Writing had begun appearing, in Dream’s messy, spiked scrawl. Sam was a fool, Phil thought. He couldn’t take away Techno’s knowledge of spells.

He strode to the corner of the little room they were in. A loose tile was there, easily unnoticeable if you weren’t looking for it. Phil lifted it and threw it to the side. There was a loud crack when it hit the wall. He flipped the lever beneath it. “Thirty seconds before it resets,” he said, returning to the portal. Niki and Ranboo followed suit, and the prison constructed itself around them.

It was all so darkly decorated. Alright, edgelord, Phil thought sarcastically. They bypassed the waver on its lectern and the lockers to the side. Phil flicked the levers according to the code Techno had written. A door opened, and they took the tunnel Sam used into the next room.

Their way through the prison was marked by similar proceedings, and Phil’s mind was left to go on autopilot.

Techno knew it was a trap. He’d told him so a week ago, standing in the snow outside their houses. The moment he was out of sight, Phil had opened the will. He’d thought the message of the empty papers was clear: do what you want, lol.

So he’d gone to the stasis chambers and waited by the levers. Three days, he gave himself. Then he’d hit the lever, and Techno would be home safe.

Then it was four days, and Phil wasn’t sure why he’d waited longer. The pearls were a safety blanket. Using them would make things better. Unless what they revealed made it worse.

Then, on the fifth day, he’d woken up to a scratchy, crinkly noise from the will. Scrambling out of bed, he’d turned the pages over, and found the ink still wet. And what had Techno written, first thing?

PHIL, DON’T USE THE PEARLS. I NEED THE VIEWS FROM A COOL ESCAPE.

The dramatic little shit. But Techno had lain out his plan, and like always, it was smart. Phil had gathered the Syndicate, and they’d been ready.

A hint of nerves appeared in Ranboo’s eyes when they passed the iron door into the main cell area. Phil understood it. When they’d hung out, Ranboo told him how it was the point of no return, in a way. They all remembered what happened to Tommy. But Ranboo had three lives, Phil assured himself, and hoped the teen remembered too. He’d be fine. So would Niki. And Techno.

They travelled through the respawn checkpoints and extra rooms until they were in front of the lava wall. Ranboo glanced at the bed. “Should we set our spawn here?”

Phil shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to be spawn-trapped in here, but if you want to, go ahead.” Ranboo looked at the ground. Remorse tugged at Phil. “Sorry. Just a joke,” he said. Ranboo nodded.

Waiting for the lava to come down would take too long. Phil threw a few potions of fire resistance down on them and flipped the lever so the bridge would be safe when they returned. Then, with Ranboo and Niki standing on the bridge, he flipped the lever. He ran and leapt onto the bridge with the help of the jump boost pots from earlier.

The flames surrounded them in orange light. They couldn’t see each other. The lava tickled, almost, drying them off from the rain outside.

They came out the other side with a few blocks between them and the cell. Phil blinked a few times, readjusting to the low light, and froze. He hadn’t expected to be greeted by what was there.

Ranboo worried. It was in his nature. So of course, when he’d heard the plan, he took precautions for failure.

Tubbo was back in Snowchester with Jack by his request. They were in the control room, with a nuke armed and ready to hit the prison. Michael would be there too. Ranboo had made Tubbo promise not to let him out of his sight. Ranboo had never been more grateful for his husband’s habit of not asking questions.

His comms had been burning a hole in his pocket the whole way here. One message and it would all go up.

Now, though, he forgot all about the nukes as the bridge came to a stop at the cell block. Anger took its place. “Quackity,” he said in a near growl, “what are you doing.”

The scene before them looked like a horror movie. Blood, dry and fresh, coated the floor of the cell. Dream –– Dream –– was curled in the corner, shaking. Quackity stood in the middle of the room with a sword in his hand, grinning. And Techno.

Ranboo’s friend was standing by the back wall. His cape was torn. He was bleeding, too, but Ranboo couldn’t tell from where. He did, however, see the way Techno was just barely leaning against the wall behind him. His heart clenched.

“Oh, hey guys,” Techno said. Despite everything, his voice still came out strong and unbothered. “Nice timing.”

“Hey, guys.” Quackity flipped the sword in his grip so the point was against the ground, then leaned on the hilt. “Surprise seeing you here.” His easy grin didn’t reach his eye.

Ranboo vaguely remembered a day in old L’Manburg. He and Quackity had shared a pot of coffee and talked about Ranboo’s thoughts on people versus sides. He’d felt like Quackity understood. He’d thought he’d befriended someone who wouldn’t betray him. “Quackity,” he repeated, lifting his axe, “what are you doing.”

Behind him, Niki and Phil were moving. He didn’t pay attention to their movements, just trusting them to be ready.

“Ranboo,” Quackity said. “I get you’re probably mad. I saw you at Techno’s party, you two are friends. So first, I’m sorry you had to see this.” I bet you are, Ranboo thought. “Second, I’m only doing it because Techno’s a threat. I can’t let him be out in the world, causing problems.”

“You. Are. Torturing. Him,” Ranboo said. “Both of them!”

“Eh, Dream’s had it worse,” Techno shrugged.

“Shut up,” Quackity snapped. Ranboo’s temper snapped.

Of all the people in the room, Quackity probably hadn’t expected Ranboo to make the first move. It took him two steps to reach him, three more to shove him back against the wall. He held his axe to Quackity’s throat. “Who’s next on your list, huh?” he snarled. “Who’s the next ‘threat’ you’re gonna take out?”

Quackity’s eyes flashed. “Well, I hadn’t been thinking on it much,” he grinned, “but Tubbo and that outpost aren’t exactly making me feel comfortable.”

A furious scream built in Ranboo’s throat. He drew back his axe, to do what he didn’t know ––

“Ranboo?” It was Dream, looking up at him. For a moment, Ranboo was thrown into chaos. He couldn’t tell if it was really Dream, or all in his head. A small blade pierced the chink in his armor. He stumbled back, blinking, and the time it took for him to rip the cork from a Regen pot and pour it over the spot was all Quackity needed to ruin his advantage.

He launched himself at Ranboo. Phil intercepted him, netherite screaming as their swords collided. Niki was by Techno, offering him Healing and Regen while he leaned more heavily on the wall.

The moment the prickling in his gut subsided, Ranboo threw himself into the fight. Phil was quickly left out, which he seemed alright with. From the corner of his eye Ranboo saw him kneeling by Techno as well.

He hadn’t expected the fight to be so short, for his part. Anger fueled him, and something else. The Enderwalk, rising up in his unsteady mental state and giving him strength he didn’t know he had.

Cuts opened on Quackity’s limbs. His laughter turned to panting in the confined space. “This all you’ve got?” he yelled, out of breath. He tripped, stumbled, and fell against the wall near the lava.

Ranboo stood over him, axe in hand and red with blood. The natural course from here was to end it, right? Kill Quackity, kick him into lava? But the day in L’Manberg wouldn’t leave his head.

“You can’t do it, can you?” Quackity said. Somehow he managed to look relaxed, leaning against the obsidian as blood soaked his clothes. “I remember being that weak. It was awful. Really, Ranboo, don’t mess with me. The house always wins. You don’t want to start this.”

“Oh, shut up.” Ranboo swung his axe, and the handle collided with Quackity’s head. He slumped against the wall, eyes closed. Blood trickled from beneath his hair, but his chest still rose and fell. Ranboo left him there and returned to his friends.

Niki and Phil had taken care of most of Techno’s injuries, though he had his arms around their shoulders. “I can walk by myself, guys, seriously,” he said, but was immediately cut off by the two of them saying “bullshit” in unison. “Well, one of you needs to get Dream,” he said.

They paused. “Dream?” Niki asked incredulously.

“Yeah. Look at him, Quackity’s been giving him hell.” He glanced at Ranboo. “But hey, Syndicate rules, remember? You guys don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna. You can go ahead on the bridge and send it back to us.”

Ranboo and Niki shared a glance. They had both been citizens of L’Manberg. They had both been victims of Dream in some way. Ranboo knew Phil had helped destroy L’Manberg like it was a business deal, but he would agree with Techno. They wouldn’t follow Dream, but they’d help him. And as pathetic as the man looked in the corner of the cell, Ranboo couldn’t bring himself to do the same.

He looked Techno in the eye. “This doesn’t change my loyalty to the Syndicate. I just can’t justify helping Dream. I’ll still stand with you in other matters.”

“Got it.” Techno grinned. “Just don’t trap us in here again.”

Ranboo returned the smile, stepping onto the bridge. Niki followed him. “Sorry, Techno,” she said. “But I agree with Ranboo. He’s done too much to hurt me.”

Techno nodded. Niki knocked an arrow and shot it across the now empty pit. It hit the button on the other side, and the bridge began moving. When they reached the other side, Niki removed it from the button before hitting it once more.

“You can go ahead,” Ranboo said. “I’ll bring them back.”

Niki smiled at him. “Thanks. You fought well, Ranboo. See you at the next meeting.” She disappeared back into Sam’s tunnels, which Phil had left open.

Ranboo waited until Phil and Techno were safely on the bridge, Dream draped between them, to press the button one final time. Before it had reached full speed, he was traversing the tunnels himself, moving back towards Snowchester and his family. Quackity would find a way out of the prison, he knew. Tubbo and he would need to be ready.

#dream smp #dreamsmp #dsmp #dsmp fanfic #dsmp fic #dream smp fanfiction #dream smp fic #nihachu #philza minecraft #philza #ranboo #technoblade #dream #pandoras vault #awesamdude #quackity

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dragonblobz · 3 years

Text

I'm on my bullshit again. No lemons. Just Shinigami goodness. Wrote this to In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth 3 by Coheed and Cambria.

Ryuk has been around for such a long time. Ever since she had found that notebook sitting on that tree stump years ago. Cover soft looking and beaded with dew. It had looked as if it had been there some time. And, although the pages looked weathered and yellow, there was no mold or outward damage.

Surprising given its location in the middle of the woods. She’d only even seen it because she’d stopped and knelt to retie her shoe. Just an alien black square looking sharp and unreal sitting on that stump just off the jogging trail.

She can remember how the thing had felt when she’d picked it up. Soft in texture. Like careworn leather.

The words “Death Note" emblazoned on the cover had made her feel a little unsettled. Eerie out here in the predawn misty quiet.

A silent voice inside her mind had whispered that maybe she should put it right back down on that stump and keep running. As far and as fast as she could.

Another voice, vapid and cunning, had laughed at the absurdity of such a book, with such a title, being left out here in the middle of nowhere.

She hadn’t left it there. Without opening it, she’d tucked it under her arm and continued on her morning run.

She performed all the menial tasks of her daily life, forgetting all about that Death Note leaving dew marks on her dining room table.

Breakfast was bland. Work was tedious. No different than any other day. Even when she’d reentered her home and plopped her work bag next to the thing, her eyes really didn’t focus on it.

It was the tall bony Shinigami standing in her kitchen that finally arrested her fuzzy mind from the blandness of living.

He hadn’t even been looking at her. Instead, the spinous processes of his vertebrae pressed onto the dark material upon his long back as he leaned over her counter. Observing a bowl of fruit as if it were a still life masterpiece.

She hadn’t moved. Was utterly frozen. Just watching this creature as it looked at her food.

“What’s all this junk? Taking up room that could be used for perfectly good apples.” It’s voice, low and yet raspy, grated on her eardrums as it lifted a hand and poked a claw into the ripe flesh of an orange. The movement causing several pieces of fruit to fall out of the over filled bowl entirely.

With a deft movement, the creature caught the only apple which had exited the bowl. Rubbed it with the pad of it’s thumb as it finally lifted it’s face to look at her.

It’s face………

Cadaverous. Eyes beady and large and yellow. Nose squashed. Like a mummy who’d decided to affix it’s hair for a punk rock concert. It was even sporting a dangling silver earring on one of it’s little ears.

At her gawping expression, it had smiled. Wide thin dark mouth sporting a row of razor teeth appearing aged and yellow.

“No screaming, eh? Hiya, Y/N.”

She hadn’t bothered to question how this thing knew her name.

“Um…….. hi?” Her own voice sounded dry and distant in her ears. “And you are?”

It bit into that apple, it’s eyes closing. As if savoring the fruit. A stray drop of the juice dribbled down onto it’s chin.

It said a word. But muffled thru a mouthful of apple, it nearly sounded like a retch.

“Ex….Excuse me? I didn’t…… I didn’t quite understand that.”

“Not a good listener tho. Ah well. Nobody is perfect.” It’s long tongue snaked out to swipe at that bead of juice as the creature had studied her.

Raising it’s free hand, it extended a long bony finger. She noticed now the rings glinting on his hands.

“I. Am. Ryuk.” He said it very slowly. As if she might have been a child who might not understand. But there wasn’t a trace of sarcasm or ill temper in it’s behavior.

“So….. Ryuk…… why…… um…. What……. What do you want?”

At this, it’s smile had widened.

“I’m just here Y/N. YOU are the one that picked up the Death Note.”

Imagery of that notebook popped up in her head.

“I….. I did……”

“Yes. You did. And I’ll be with you until you die now. Or I do.” It was leering now. “Whichever comes first.”

“I see….” She didn’t really see. Turned from him and went into the dining room to pick up that notebook. Opening it. Reading the first thing written on the inside of the cover out loud.

“The human whose name is written in this note shall die.”

It had been frightening in retrospect. Not those words. Not that Death Note. Not even the monster standing in the doorway happily crunching it’s way thru a second apple and watching her.

What had been utterly terrifying was that she had not blanched. Had not set this note down and backed away. Had not told that creature to take it and go.

Instead, she’d stood there. Continuing to read. A name and face already coming to mind.

A face belonging to a monster who’d put that apple eating shark mouthed monster to utter shame. The man who’d killed someone she had loved.

Without looking away from the Death Note, she’d reached over and started rummaging thru her work bag. Fingers shaking and fumbling at keys and change.

“Never can find what you’re looking for if your bag is too full, Y/N.” Ryuk looked vastly amused. “You’re not even going to question the validity of the Note? That’s what you humans usually do.”

She hadn’t answered. Simply gasped as her fingers had clutched onto a great fistful of bullshit in her bag. Lifting the whole mess out to drop carelessly on the table. Chapstick and a tampon scattering across the surface.

And there, rolling and coming to rest against an old broken key chain, had been a blue ink pen.

She’d looked up at Ryuk. Eyes wide, almost manic.

“Any person?”

He smiled again. Repeated her words.

“Any living person.”

There had been no eloquence. No artfulness nor ritualistic care taken in that first death. She had scratched the name onto the paper. And a way to die. Almost stabbing it in. Breathing coming out in ragged desperate gasping.

After the deed had been done, the pen clattered to the floor as she’d wept. Fingers numb.

It hadn’t occurred to her that there would be no way to instantly verify this death. Not until that moment. And so, with a frustrated cry, she’d slapped the Death Note onto the table and fled into her bedroom. Right over to the dark corner to collapse, wrap her arms around her knees, stuff her face into her knees, and cry as a child. Ryuk following her, tilting his head quizzically at this suffering.

“Why are you crying? You couldn’t have liked that human if you wanted them to die.”

“Please…… please go.”

But he didn’t. Simply had sank down. Knobby knees on either side of his ghastly face as he sat across from her.

“I told you. I’m here till you die, Y/N.” There was no camaraderie or sympathy in his voice. It had been matter of fact. “But this surely will get boring very soon, won’t it?”

“When will I know if he died?”

Ryuk smiled again. Leering.

“My my. Impatient aren’t you. Actually that’s a quality I like about you humans. As for your question, I guess you’ll just have to find out for yourself.” His eyes glint as his smile turns wicked. “You could always write a name belonging to someone closer. If you’re seeking validation, of course.”

“There isn’t anyone else I wanna kill.”

“Then this is going to get very boring very quickly, Y/N.”

She hadn’t had to wait long. Two days later, she’d received correspondence that her presence would no longer be required at a hearing. The defendant was dead.

A quick Google search verified that the person had died just as she’d written.

Setting the phone down, fingers numb, she'd simply looked up at her Shinigami.

She knew that’s what he was now. She’d been peppering him with questions about himself and his kind. And about the Death Note. He hadn’t answered many of them. At least, not until she’d given him an angelic grin and revealed a bag of bright green apples.

“Your apples can be green???” He'd looked absolutely delighted. And had been far more forthcoming.

“He’s dead. He’s really……. Gone…….”

Ryuk merely grunted in visceral enjoyment as he popped the core of that Granny Smith into his maw.

Without warning, she’d reached forward, patting at another errant drop of juice on his chin with a Kleenex she’d just snatched from the box. The action was mainly impulsive. And she’d laughed.

“You’re so messy.”

The Shinigami had frozen. Utterly motionless. He didn’t breathe himself. Statue still. Simply looking at her.

The years passed by like this. The shock and relief provided by this first killing soon giving way to an almost comfortable routine. She didn’t go on a wholesale slaughter. And often targeted those who hurt children. The pain of such cases resonating with the events of her own life.

And there were so. Many. Apples. Loads of them. Ryuk loved all kinds. Although he did seem preferential to Honey Crisp. She never once could get him to try another fruit. And she DID try. Not even a damn orange.

“It’s yummy. Ya know, for somebody that says he gets bored easily, you sure are picky.” She waggled the bright fruit.

“I’ve watched you peel one of those things. What sort of food makes you work so hard? Now THIS……” He'd held up his half eaten apple. “THIS is the pinnacle of crisp and juicy. Now leave that orange wherever you found it, if you please.”

Time was littered with conversations as simple as these, intermingled with serious discussions in which he was as non informative as ever.

It was one of these more serious conversations which followed an observation on her part.

She’d noticed changes in him. Very slight. But she was simply around him so much that she could see them. His movements had become slower. More careful. His speech slowed as well. As if he might be thinking more carefully. Or even forgetting things. She never once pointed this out.

Not until, one day, after clearing 6 entire apples, he’d actually groaned as he’d flopped upon her couch. Long booted feet hanging over one of the arms.

She plops next to him. Poking at one of the skulls on his belt. He’d long since stopped being surprised by her impulsive touches and nearness. Her humanness. Simply tolerating it.

“Are you hurting, Ryuk?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Oh. No reason.”

“I’m dying, Y/N.”

For once, it is she who freezes.

“I thought Shinigami lived a long time.”

“We do. My time is simply running out.” He’s just watching her.

“You’d said….. you’d said that you guys get more years by taking ours.”

“We do.”

She stops toying with that skull entirely. Turns her body so that she’s facing him directly.

“Is it time, then?” She’s oddly unafraid.

“Time for what?”

“For you to….. ya know…… write my name in YOUR Death Note?”

At this, he chuckles.

“I’m not going to write your name.”

She looks confused.

“But….. why not?”

Now he’s actually laughing.

“Do you WANT me to write your name in my Death Note?”

She chews on her bottom lip. Reaching out to pat his chest. Once again, he doesn’t react.

“I don’t want you to die.”

He laughs again. But there is no more true mirth in the sound.

“Why?”

She counters.

“Why won’t you write my name?”

“I am not entirely sure, Y/N.” The slight confusion in his voice gives credence to this answer.

“Well. I am sure.” She’s staring intently at him. “Everything ends, Ryuk. Nobody ever stays. Nothing is constant. I’ve never had a single person ever remain in my life. Except….. except you.”

He sighs. Patiently repeating himself.

“I will be with you until you die.”

“I don’t care if it’s because you have to be here. You’re still HERE……. Will it be soon?”

That same, toothy leer.

“You know I won’t tell you your lifespan, Y/N.”

“I don’t mean me.”

He just looks at her. She’s never seen his face so expressionless. Then repeats yet again.

“I will be with you until you die. Or until I do.”

“I will write my own name then. Will that do it?”

“Stop being foolish. Be a dear and get me another apple won’t you?”

“Yeah….. I will. But I’m not done.”

“I’m sure you’re not.” He chuckles.

It is as if this conversation opens a chasm in this inevitable process. Everything about Ryuk is changing. And so quickly.

Already emaciated and pale, even his dark lips turn papery and light grey. His hair grays too. Yellow eyes growing filmy where they had been so keen before. As if, when the aging process actually begins in a Shinigami, it is accelerated.

It is barely 2 weeks after this conversation that he gives a defeated grunt, sprawled on her bed as she’s on her laptop.

“I can’t get up.” He barks out a laugh. As if this is genuinely funny to him.

She closes her laptop and rises from her chair. Turning and walking over to the bed to flop next to him. Staring at the ceiling just as he is.

“You want another apple?”

“Thank you, Y/N. But I do not.”

“That close, huh.”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Will the Death Note still work? When you’re gone I mean.”

“Yes.”

Her voice is oddly cold.

“Do death gods go to hell? I cant go to heaven or hell. What about you?”

He doesn’t answer for several minutes. She doesn’t speak either. Finally…

“I suppose we will end up in the same place, Y/N.”

“I'm glad.” She turns her face to look at him. “I’ll need something before you go.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

“The Shinigami eyes.”

At this, Ryuk turns his face as well. And they just stare at each other.

“Clever greedy impatient girl.” The insult is almost affectionate. “Are you truly that afraid to die alone?”

“Nobody should die alone. And this way, neither of us will half to. Half my lifespan for the Shinigami eyes. We’ll die at the same time.” She looks back up at the ceiling. He does too.

When he feels her fingers intertwining with his, as always, he doesn’t react.

“I never actually made that offer to you. Merely spoke of it.”

“I don’t care. I want the Shinigami eyes.”

He turns his face to her.

“Who am I to turn down such a lucrative deal?”

She sees his hand coming towards her face. Closes her eyes.

When she opens them again, the picture of her and some old friends on the wall is noticeably different. One face, the face of the friend who’d committed suicide years before, is clear and unblemished. The other faces each have a name and numbers above them.

And when she looks back at Ryuk, she sees that his hair is once again jet black. Eyes just as clear and sharp as she remembers. He leers at her. Squeezes her hand as she’s squeezing his.

“I’ll take that apple as well. If the offer is still there.”

She grins.

“You got a new lease on life and you STILL won’t try an orange?”

He scoffs.

#death note #ryuk #fem reader #ryuk x reader #tw suicide reference #my writing

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mrspanky · 4 years

Note

I'm not really sure how long these are meant to be. "Right, I'm pretty sure that's called trauma".

Trauma Bonding, (a Jason Todd x Reader)

Warnings: Language.

Genre: Fluff/angst/comedy/romance

Authors note: This prompt is perfect, thank you @aethers-stuff ! Sorry it took me so long to write! I hope you like it. ♡(: _______________________________________________

Dick watched you two from the kitchen.

Jason was seated on one end of his livingroom couch and you on the other. You were talking loudly, gesturing with your hands so much that you looked like Italians at a family gathering. You were both exceptionally expressive and extroverted people on your own, so when you got together, the room's volume was always raised a noticeable few notches.

It was endearing, but a real headache when it went on for too long.

Dick massaged his temple. An extrovert himself, he felt the need to jump into the conversation, but he knew better. You and Jason would simply not shut up long enough for him to get a word in when you were both really on a roll, and Dick didn't feel like expelling that much energy. Plus, he was curious to see where this would end.

“...That’s ridiculous Jason”.

You crossed your arms.

“There is no way in hell you're dying your white streak black.”

He raised his hand from the couch armrest in exasperation.

“I wasn't even asking you.”

You arched an eyebrow.

“You should've been. The white streak stays. It's your trademark. If you're concerned about me being right, I dare you to ask everyone to vote.”

“Hon, I am not in the practice of asking people if I can or can't do things.”

“Luckily, you never ask me my opinion so you don't have to worry about breaking your pattern just yet.”

“...You never keep it to yourself, so why would I even bother”.

Dick shook his head. You were like an old, emotionally constipated couple and it was amusing to observe.

“Just kiss already”, he said under his breath.

You turned your head towards the kitchen, hearing him faintly, but almost unintelligibly.

“Dick, did you say something? Sorry, we're arguing here, I hope we're not too obnoxious”.

“Hey don’t throw me under the bus with you, I was just trying to have a moment of quiet meaningless thought when you started playing hair cop,” Jason quipped.

“Hush.”

“Right back at you”.

“-Both of you shut up for a minute. I didn't say anything”.

Dick rolled his eyes.

“However, we do have patrol in an hour, and Bruce sent me some weird instructions.”

“Weird how?”

You tilted your head in curiosity.

Jason glanced at you, and huffed a little. He couldn't help himself. Despite himself, he found you really endearing. Especially in moments like this when your lips were pouted in confusion and....”.

Dick snapped Jason out of his brain fog.

“Jay. Buddy. Try to pay attention.”

“Wasn't not doing that,” he grumbled.

“Then what did I just say.”

The two brothers shared a childish battle of glares.

“...fine, you made your point. I was dreaming about this whisky I saw in the manor the other day”, he lied.

“Ok. Very in character, Jason. Now, the mission is-”

“...looked decadent. It was really old and had this fancy label on it that-”

“...Guys. I can hear you from the other room”, Tim walked in looking miffed.

There was a pause as all three of the human boom-boxes stared blankly at the intruder.

“...you’re a detective, Tim”, Jason deadpanned.

“Ugh, Jason...that’s not the... just shut up.”

Tim pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“Did you all get the mission briefing?”

“Somehow, Jason didn't”, Dick fumed.

“Alright, fine. Basically, Jason, you, and Y/n are staying back tonight because you're the only ones who haven't been seen yet in the city, and Bruce wants to save you guys for an undercover mission next week”.

“What?!”

You both looked at each other in disgust.

“I'm not working for the bat anymore!”

“Yeah, and I've never even started to work for him! He can't just expect us to be at his disposal and then bench us!”

“Guys, relax. He's just doing this so you can have a better element of surprise later. You're both really valuable, ” Dick reasoned.

You and Jason paused, your egos begrudgingly satisfied.

“...fine”.

“Fine”.

“Good. Ok. So everyone suit up”, the oldest brother concluded.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jason was irritated.

He found you interesting. Really interesting. Usually, he dealt with his fear of vulnerability by acting too unbothered to care, but you intrigued him so much that he struggled to keep his mouth shut around you. He was afraid to get too close to you; he would lose you eventually like everyone else.

But, he knew so little about you, despite all of the banter. A talent you both possessed, was chattering without disclosing any actual information. You had only met each other two months ago, and usually it would take both of you longer to warm up to a new person, but there was just a feeling. You were kindred spirits. He wanted to learn more about you, despite himself.

“So what brought you here”.

“Here as in what brought me to dress up and punch criminals as a nightly routine, or as in what brought me to be in an alliance with Bruce Wayne that I'm now regretting?”

There it was. Those were the kind of responses that made Jason feel just enough on his toes to be uncharacteristically comfortable with you.

“Take your pick I guess.”

“Bruce Wayne it is then. I'm not really a fan of my life story”.

“Ttt, ” Jason laughed, taking a page from his youngest brother’s book.

“I'm kind of an accidental friend of Dick’s. We met first at the Bludhaven police station, I was there for...pfft...I was just there, ” You paused with a laugh.

“He helped me out, and we didn't see each other again until he ended up working with me anonymously for info on a case as Nightwing years later. We both just figured out each other's identities and he brought me on a mission once where I met Bruce. And Bruce is a convincing prick so now here I am, somehow under his command”.

“Sounds about right. So when do we kiss?”

Great. Now he sounded like an asshole.

Jason looked at you, gauging to see what your reaction would be. He’d half said that last part by accident, but now that he’d acted out of impulse he knew he couldn’t take it back.

“-What?”

“When do we kiss? You heard Dick”.

He was really committing to his blunder now.

“Yes, and I ignored him and smoothly got him to change the subject. Besides. You're not my type”, you lied.

Jason was in fact, exactly your type.

“What is your type?”

“Shit”, you thought.

“Hmm. I like people who I can chase that don't actually like me, and then I eventually get to give up. It makes it easier”.

You admitted this in a tongue-in-cheek manner, but you weren't really kidding. Something about Jason’s persistence made you want to open up, despite your usual habitual wall-building.

“You're like a fucking mirror; you know that?” Jason laughed.

He knew you weren’t kidding because he’d said things along those lines millions of times.

“Your point, Mr. Therapist? People hurt people. I kind of prefer to enjoy relationships from a distance at best”.

“Right, I'm pretty sure that's called trauma”.

“Call it what you will, but it's a good way of not getting even more mentally busted up than an already fucked vigilante”, you grinned.

“Nice.” he smirked.

“You sound as dumb as me”.

“That’s a little low don’t you think? I’m only half as dumb as you at most, but yeah. Fine. We share some things”.

“What’s that supposed to mean Princess,” he smiled.

He felt himself get exited a little. What you had just said made it sound like you felt you two were similar just as he did.

“That I think we’re both stupid people that have really stubborn hearts that get us into trouble”.

Your heart was beating so fast. You hadn’t meant to say that much.

“Now who’s the therapist”, he said in a low voice.

He leaned in closer to you a little, testing the waters to see if you were just being a little cautious, or if you actually weren’t comfortable. He felt like you were just being scared like he always was deep down, but he didn’t want to push you if it was only going to cause you both more pain.

He was a little scared too. You scared him. Not just because you were powerful and beautiful, but because he actually liked you. He wasn’t used to that. But he knew himself, and when Jason Todd does something, he can’t do it half way. If you were in this too, he knew he’d do anything for you, and that was terrifyingly vulnerable.

As he leaned in, your breath caught.

“Fuck”, you thought.

His eyes were stunning.

You hadn’t let yourself notice how much until now.

“Jason…”

“...Todd why are you about to taint Y/n”.

Jason spun around.

“Damian!” you yelled.

The small Wayne was standing in the doorway.

“Shortstack, you are too young to be using a fancy word like taint”, Jason recovered.

Tim and Dick emerged behind Damian in the doorway.

“What’s going on?” Tim asked.

“Todd was just about to be disgusting with Y/n in front of all of us”, Damian smirked, crossing his arms.

He knew he just set up Dick to take a fit.

The oldest brother was not pleased.

“Jason, really? Damian is right here and you didn’t think to chill?”

Jason rolled his eyes.

“We didn’t do anything Dicky. The kid here is being a drama queen. The only thing he walked in on us doing was some good old fashioned arguing”.

Jason knew he was making himself look like a major...well...dick, but he knew you wouldn’t want to commit to the family knowing about anything that might be going on between you two, however small just yet.

Dick rolled his eyes, and the three brothers walked in the doorway and into the kitchen to get water. You and Jason were always an entertaining spectacle for sure, but patrol was tiring, and they all needed to cool down.

Jason looked back to you. You were looking at your feet with your arms crossed and a barely contained smile on your face.

“The kid has good timing,” he huffed with a laugh.

“Oh fantastic”, you gazed at him, laughing back quietly.

“So, you want to talk some more about trauma?” He asked in a playful, but matter of fact tone.

“Maybe sometime, Red,” you smiled.

You turned and walked away.

“She’s gonna make me work for this”, he thought.

It had been so long since either of you had met your match, and you both were going to thoroughly enjoy this.

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simpsiren · 4 years

Text

lee taeyong x reader

description. I liked Lee Taeyong. A lot. And with every book I gave him, whatever purposes, I hid a love letter in between its pages. After all this time, I still wonder if Taeyong has yet to read even one of them.

Tsundoku— buying books and not reading them; letting books pile up unread on shelves, floors, or nightstands.

genre. fluff, angst, love letters!au, friends to lovers!au, one-sided love! au, bartender!taeyong, university student!reader

word count. 12.4k~

warnings. none!

a/n. was randomly scrolling through printerest when i found this word and suddenly this idea popped up in my headd. i had to change the meaning of the word so tha itll fit the story line better but the overall meaning is the same sooo. anyways that’s all i got for you now please enjoyy!

Books. An interest both Taeyong and I shared since college. Though our interest laid in the same object, our uses for it were far from the same. For me, it’s for reading. Like how it should be used, its main purpose. Like any other bookworm, constantly having my head shoved in romance or fantasy novels. Taeyong on the other hand, he... he uses it as decoration. Something that to him, should be kept on shelves, unread for display purposes.

I got to find out quite quickly that it was a habit for him to collect books that had nice spines just so he could place them on his shelves. I’ve been to his home once. One entire wall was just shelves filled with books. It was aesthetically pleasing indeed, but it disappointed me that he didn’t even bother to read a single one. So we made an agreement that I’d read his books. If he were to buy a new one, he’d let me read it first before tucking it away to never be pulled out again. I guess that’s why my friendship with him worked so well.

Taeyong decided to work as a bartender after college while I, went to pursue my studies with university. Should say that I regretted that on-impulse decision of mine nowadays.

It’s Friday. I just got out of university, at one in the morning. What an ungodly hour, considering that my classes started at nine this morning. I agreed to meet Taeyong at his bar. Luckily for me, the distance between school and the bar wasn’t far. Taeyong took me as a factor into consideration while trying out jobs around the school’s area, just so he’d get to meet me more often. That, was one of the million reasons why I fell for him.

I dragged my feet across the side walk, the screeching of my boots scraping against the rough surface. As much as I tried to hold up my posture during my long trip there (it felt like I’ve been walking forever when really, it has only been ten minutes), my back slowly slouched with each step till I was fully slouching. The extremely poor and back paining kind. Can’t blame me. University is mentally draining, but physically as well, having to walk to different classes constantly that’s being situated on opposite ends of the facility. It’s a workout.

I looked up to take a breather, seeing the glowing sign above the bar. I gazed down, to the glass windows, noticing how there was a lot of people in there. Well, it’s a Friday night afterall. I placed my free hand onto the door’s handle, pushing it open and entering.

Classical music played in the background. People’s murmurs could be heard as they had their own conversations. The place was dimly lit with an orange hue; a calming atmosphere. I went right up to the bar, getting on an empty cushioned stool and adjusting my butt onto it. I looked around the area. Taeyong wasn’t to be seen. I only assumed that he was making drinks.

I took out my book from my tote bag, flipping to the page where I folded it’s edge to continue where I left off. I was already two third done with it. And I was determined to finish it by Monday just so that I could get a new book to read.

My head was faced down, eyes scanning each sentence as I blocked out the entire world, putting myself in my own little bubble as I imagined myself in the story’s plot, too immersed to give a single care for my surroundings.

Suddenly, a hand appeared beside me, tapping its knuckles against the wood to get my attention. I lifted my eyes up, seeing Taeyong standing in front of me. White button up shirt, three buttons unhooked, revealing the slightest bit of his collarbones in a way to tease you and having the urge to see them fully. Black dress pants with a belt that cinched on his waist, framing his lower body beautifully.

“Literally called you from two steps away and you didn’t hear any of it.” Taeyong leaned against the counter, elbows supporting him as his face got close to mine. “I was busy.” I said, lifting up my book slightly. “You done with that? I need to put a new book on the shelve soon. It bugs me that there’s an empty spot.” Taeyong shivered as he mentioned that, making me chuckle softly.

“By Monday, I promise.”

“Need anything to drink? You look worn out.” Taeyong eyed me up and down. I probably looked terrible since Taeyong scrunched up his nose and shook his head. “You know I don’t drink. I mean I can, but it’s still the school term. I can’t afford getting off track by anything.”

Taeyong breathed a short laugh in response. “Ah of course. Didn’t you say you wanted to dropout just yesterday?” Taeyong looked up for a moment before bringing his eyes back down on me with a teasing gaze. My mind went back to yesterday when I texted Taeyong a long ranting paragraph about how stressed I was this week. I frowned. “Should I?”

Taeyong bobbed his shoulder. “It’s up to you. But I sincerely think you should. I mean look at you.” He added a light scoff at the end, his hand going up and down in front of me. “I’m just worried.” He proceeded to shift his weight form one leg to the other, sliding his fingers into the pocket of his pants. I felt his sense of sincerity, invariably imbued. Another reason why I fell for him. He’s always caring, too caring for his own good, especially towards me.

“Will think about it.” I mumbled, taking note of my book’s page number since I was too lazy to fold it before closing and shoving it back into my tote bag. “Anyways, when are you getting off work?”

Taeyong turned around to grab something. I realised it was his wallet and phone as he shoved the wallet into his back pocket and kept his phone in his hand. “Right now.” He flashed his smile. The signature smile. One he has on ninety percent of the time, at least around me. It was unique. A smile that only suited him and not anyone else. He owned it . Like he should. Yet another reason why I fell for him.

I got off the stool as he went around the counter that had the space in between for staffs to pass through. “Want me to drive?” He asked as we made our way to the door. I shook my head. “You had a long day. Just go home.” I kindly rejected. I bowed my head as he opened the door for me. A gentleman; adding onto the long list.

“You had an even longer one. I don’t care. It’s late too. I can’t let you walk home alone.” I laughed weakly, waiting for him outside as he closed the door. As we make our way to Taeyong’s car, he whispered, “Sleep straight when you get home, okay?” He opened the car door for me. I nodded, “Yes father.” I dragged on.

The car ride home was silent. Completely silent. There wasn’t even music playing in the background. I had my eyes fixed on the view out of the window, too scared to look at Taeyong as I can’t bare to look at him long enough before I melt on sight.

My apartment came to view after the many trees and street lights we drove past. The car pulled to a halt and I turned to Taeyong, who was suddenly up close to me, one hand looming over my chest as he reached for the seatbelt. I possibly stopped breathing. His eyes looked into mine, expressionless. I couldn’t even blink I was that shocked. “Sorry. I thought you were sleeping.”

Taeyong pulled back to his seat. I exhaled sharply. I looked to the seatbelt. He didn’t unbuckle it. I huffed quietly and did it myself, sliding my tote bag onto my shoulder. “Remember. Sleep right away.” He advised a second time as I make my way out of the car, slamming the car door shut.

Before I turned around, he rolled down the window, leaning forward slightly. “And my book!” He shouted. I placed two fingers up my head and pointed it back at it as a way to say, “Yes sir.” Before swirling around and walking away, his car’s engine starting up and driving away. The noise was quick to get muffled and go away as he drove further out of the neighborhood.

The hours of studying I had to do at home went by quick. Before I even knew it, I didn’t sleep that night at all. Unfortunately, I didn’t listen to Taeyong. I had assignments to complete by Monday for God’s sake. I’ve come to terms with the fact that the number of times I’ve pulled all-nighters are now inhumane.

I checked the time on my clock. 5:05AM. I sighed, looking across my study table that’s pilled with worksheets and my opened laptop. I nodded my head as I made the mental decision of finally cleaning up as I rechecked to see if I’ve left any work undone before beginning to stack the papers and shoving them into my tote bag. The only thing left on the table was a stack of decorative papers, with beautiful outlines of red roses around the edges.

I slid one paper off the stack, placing it in front of me. I grabbed a random pen from my organiser, clicking it as I swirled it around, trying to figure out what to write.

Hey taeyong. This is my 127th love letter, confession letter, whatever you would call it. I’m not sure if you’ve read any of them. My last note was in ‘It Ends with Us’. I find that you aren’t giving any reaction or anything. I know you don’t read the books but do you even bother flipping through its pages for the letter to fall out? I’m still hoping you’d at least open this one. Please. I’ve been waiting for ages. For you. I like you, Lee Taeyong, for the 127th time.

I placed my pen back to where it belonged before holding the note in my hand, lifting it up to my face. I bit my bottom lip before opening my book, randomly opening a page and placing the note in, making sure it’s secured before putting that into my tote bag as well. Too lazy to even get into my bed, I fell asleep uncomfortably at the table.

It was now Sunday. I almost forgot the fact that I’m meeting Taeyong today to pass him the book, which to be honest, I didn’t finish. The book was boring. It was like those books that you force yourself through so you wouldn’t feel the regret of buying it. Though I used Taeyong’s money, I still felt bad for leaving it unread. I wasn’t like Taeyong at least.

While thumbing through my closet to find something to wear after showering, my eyes stopped at the sweater that Taeyong borrowed me not too long ago because I was dumb enough to meet him at two in the morning without a jacket. I was frozen stiff due to the cold.

Absentmindedly, I took it off its hanger and brought it close to my chest, dipping my head down as I deeply inhaled, Taeyong’s scent was still on there. I put it on and continued getting ready.

Just when I was done placing my valuables in my sling bag, the doorbell rang. Thinking it was the mailman, I rushed to the door with immense speed. I opened the door forcefully. But instead of the mailman, I was met with Taeyong standing in front of me. We locked eyes for a split second, which made my heart leap. I then eyed him up and down. He was wearing his usual all black outfit. Shirt, jeans, and boots. I liked how the plain and simple outfit was able to cup his body well, accentuate all his body features. It always made me swoon for him.

“What are you doing here?” I noticed how Taeyong kept eyeing his sweater that’s on me despite his attempts at trying to remain eye contact with me. “I thought of just letting you give me the book now and spend the day here. Can I?” No wonder he wore a regular outfit.

“So I dressed up for nothing?” I feigned my exasperation, folding my arms as I cocked an eyebrow, huffing ever so softly. Taeyong followed my poster one on one. “And wearing my sweater is called dressing up? How lovely.” It was now his turn to fire back, which made me frown. “Whatever.” I gave in, turning around to head back to my room.

I heard the door closing as Taeyong’s footsteps were quick to follow closely behind, maybe due to the large steps he took with his long legs. As I entered my room, Taeyong lets out a hum of satisfaction. “Your shelve’s looking good. More full than last time.” He complimented. I took a seat at the study table as he made his way to seat at the edge of my bed. “Mhm.” I softly answered.

With the remembrance of what he came here for, I grabbed my tote bag and fished out for the book. I then toss it onto the bed beside Taeyong, not speaking a word as I jerked my head to it. “Thanks. You read fast.” Taeyong held the book in his hand. Open it, open it. Oh God why can’t he just find the damn note I placed there?

“No I don’t. It’s just that the book was extremely boring for my liking.” I stated, matter-of-factly. Taeyong examined the book, quickly turning it over to read the synopsis. “Ew.” He mumbled.

“It was only good at first. The ending sucked.” I added on to my complains. “By the way...” Taeyong trailed on. I wonder what he wanted to ask. Was it something about the book? About the notes?

“I’ve been thinking I should read one of the books.” I folded my arms with arrogance, slouching into the chair as I tilted my head, the side of my lip lifted up slightly. “So after more than four years I was able to reel you in to read your first book?” I questioned, sounding smug.

Taeyong let out an annoyed ‘tsk’. “I find ‘If I never met you’ interesting, okay? Let me be.” Taeyong pouted and folded his arms, turning his head away from my direction. I stood up, walking to the bed and plopping myself down which made the two of us bounce up and down of a moment. “It’s cute how you’re a newbie to reading.” I made up an excuse when really what I found cute was how Taeyong acted. It made me blush a bright pink. It was probably extremely noticeable when Taeyong suddenly mentioned, “Did I make you so proud that you’re now blushing?” Taeyong teased, a giggle following after.

“Oh shut up.”

Lee Taeyong. This is the 128th letter. I still remember the first one I wrote. Feeling so hopeful and acting like a little girl that’s too shy to confess up front. I’m still like that. Yet to physically hint at you about my feelings. I can only express them like this, through notes that could all end up being meaningless if you’ve never looked at them. I’ll come by your house today. I’ll probably slide it in between books instead of pages. I long for your love, the kind that’s much more than that of a friend. I’ve been holding on for so long. Perhaps too long. But it’s okay, you’re Lee Taeyong. I won’t let the feelings I’ve bottled up for years go to waste. I’ll do something... soon. Yes, soon.

Later that day, I made my way to Taeyong’s house. I asked him to stay at home so that I could surprise him by coming over. But the reaction that I expected from him was way too predictable.

“You could’ve just told me to pick you up!” Taeyong whined. There he goes again being way too caring. Stop it. It’s hurting me.

“It’s not that troubling to travel, Yong. Calm the heck down! It’s really nothing.” I shouted back, reassurance being imbued into each word. He made way for me to enter. And as I did, I walked slowly, long strides to the living room where the large bookshelf was placed. The one that covered the entire wall. Well, almost, since he made space for the television. Other than that, it was just books surrounding it.

“Wait.” I turned around sharply. I realised that my sudden action made Taeyong stop in his tracks instantly. But he was close to me. Way too close for my own good. We stayed there for a moment, exchanging blank stares while I took the time to remember this moment; my heart stopping, his tall figure looming over me, his eyes looking into mine as if he’s trapping me in his gaze. Moments like these happen often. And I’d often take the time to remember them, shoving them into a mental folder called ‘Head over heels for TY’.

“Sit down. I’ll... get the cheesecake.” Taeyong was the first to back out, taking a step away from me and chuckling awkwardly. He quickly turned away after avoiding my eyes and rubbing the back of his neck. He looked nervous. But why? If I have seen it correctly, it looked like his cheeks were ever so slightly red as well. What even...

I shook my head vigorously, throwing those thoughts out of my mind. I sat down on the brown leather couch, leaning back and allowing my body to sink into it. Somehow, the thoughts crept back in. I thought about how what I observed just now could not have been real. It’s Lee Taeyong. Hundreds of girls are always hitting on him at the bar during his shift. He might even be seeing someone. Wait why am I even saying that to myself? I’d end up feeling jealous with no real reason. Great, you’re a dumb one indeed.

I felt Taeyong’s weight beside me. I looked up from the table, realising now that I was in a trance of my own thoughts, and to the cheesecake that he placed down. He leaned forward to cut a slice, placing it on a small plate as he placed the fork down beside it and handed it to me. “Here. Bought it especially for your brain recovery, and cravings. You’re period came, right?”

My eyes widened. My brows furrowed and got closer to each other as I backed my head away in surprise. “How’d you even know?” I asked shockingly. Taeyong lets out a chuckle, bringing his plate up and taking a bite. “I know you long enough to know that your period’s consistent and is usual around this time. But I was just taking my chances. I know you’d still eat the cheesecake either way.” Taeyong flashed a cheeky smile.

I knew he was extremely considerate towards me. He’d always advise me to take breaks, giving me a shoulder to lean on when I need rest, coming over to comfort me till sunrise whenever I texted him a ‘feel depressed lmao.’ He’s always on standby, ready to assist me when I need him, for whatever reason. Even if he wasn’t there, he was somehow able to choreograph his silent dance of support. But I never knew he was this meticulous to take note of my habits, my favourite food and even my period. He knew everything about me at the back of his hand. He really does make me feel some type of way. Perhaps a feeling far beyond love. An unknown feeling that only I could experience since it’s Taeyong. It’s always him. Always have been, and always will be.

I grabbed a big bite, scooping it in my mouth and moaning out dreamily, letting myself sink into the cheesecake and its flavours like a bath. “Fuck this is good. Where’d you get it?” I questioned with immense curiosity. I was genuinely curious. Because I’d love to get more.

Taeyong raised both his brows, his lips forming a thin line as he gave a slightly awkward or nervous cheeky smile. I couldn’t quite tell. “I made it.” He whispered. “No way!” I instantly take another bite, this time with Taeyong in mind. I mean, he already was from the moment he gave me the plate, but with now knowing that he was the one that made it? It suddenly tasted a thousand times better.

“Fucking bake more! Why haven’t I known that you can bake?!” I screamed with excitement. I finished the first slice, now on my way to tackle a second. Taeyong laughed hilariously at my reaction. “Is it that good? It’s my first time trying the recipe.”

“I know you cook like you’ve cooked for me many times but what the heck you should to do this more often. I’d eat it whole.” I squealed as I savoured the cheesecake’s flavours.

“If it’s for you then I’d gladly do it.”

Once again I felt the kindness and love through his voice and tone that’s ever so sweet and gentle. I’d imagine that this was how angels sounded like. Taeyong has always been able to put me at instant peace with just his words alone. Be it through the phone or in person. I always felt calm and protected.

It amazed me just what love could do to you. Everything they do now seemed perfect and beautiful, you blind yourself with their beauty and everything that’s good in them. In Taeyong’s case, I’ve never seen the bad side of him, shockingly enough. I’ve been friends with him for more than five years yet there wasn’t any argument between us that made a major impact on our relationship, if you don’t count those when I wouldn’t talk to him for only one day but we’d be able to act normal after.

We ended up spending the evening watching Netflix. We’ve been through two movies now. The cheesecake was now fully finished as well, down to its crumbs. “Want me to cook dinner?”

“I’m fine with anything.” I blinked my eyes once and a soft smile appeared on my lips. Taeyong hummed softly and nodded his head as he made his way to the kitchen, the sound of his slippers can be heard as he shuffled away.

I laid down on the couch, using my phone. A thought suddenly popped in my mind. I instantly peeked my head above the back rest, seeing Taeyong’s back in view as his body swayed slowly by the stove. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He ran a hand through his hair. How can a man look this... amazing. I can’t think of any other ways to describe Taeyong at that moment. Boyfriend material? Stunning? Breathtaking? All of the above.

As much as I wanted to stare at his figure, I had another agenda I had to accomplish before getting back to it. I rose from the couch, slowly and quietly, taking the note out of my sling bag. I walked up to the overwhelmingly large bookshelf. I scanned it carefully, trying to figure out where to place it.

“What are you doing?” I turned instantly at Taeyong’s voice. He was a few steps away from me, two plates of pasta in his hands. He turned around to place them on the table.

I took this chance to quickly slide the note into the shelve. One edge of the note was sticking out. Shit. It wasn’t obvious but it’s still there. I didn’t have any time to adjust it when Taeyong faced his body back to me.

“Just looking. The fact that I’ve read all these books... I’m such a bookworm for reading this much.”

“That’s what I like about you.” I was eyeing the pasta when Taeyong blurted that out. It was quick and soft, I couldn’t make out the words. I could only infer. “What?” I asked purposely, just to see if he’ll answer.

“It’s nothing.” Taeyong shoved a spoonful of pasta into his mouth, adverting his gaze on anything else but me.

I thought about how weird he was acting. It’s the first time I’m noticing that Taeyong’s been acting... wary, cautious of his every move around me. Just as I thought about how he’s clueless and delusional about my feelings for him, it could have been the same for me.

Luckily (Thank the Gods kind of lucky), classes ended early today. And Taeyong told me to meet him at his dance studio. For what reason? I wasn’t actually sure. I headed there, passing by the many other practice rooms till I saw the number that Taeyong told me. I opened the door, seeing Taeyong and two other guys I’m unfamiliar with. All of them turned their heads to me in unison, Taeyong blinding me with a bright smile while the others looked to each other with confusion.

“You came!” Taeyong squealed, running up to me and hugging my tightly. He was extremely sweating. I would try to push him away, but he probably wouldn’t let go and let me suffocate. Thankfully, he didn’t and pulled away, grabbing my wrist and dragging me to the other two guys.

“Ten, Mark. This is my friend, _____. I wanted her to come so that we’ll have an audience to show our piece.” Taeyong explained to them freely as he pointed to Ten and Mark respectively, an arm swung around my shoulders. I bowed my head amicably with a smile while they did the same. “You never told me you have a girlfriend, Taeyong.” Ten teased, lightly punching Taeyong’s chest. I couldn’t help but blush a light pink. I swallowed and looked up to him, who had a nervous and shy face on, which I didn’t expect at all.

“We’re best friends, please.” Taeyong denied, no hesitation whatsoever. In my head I wanted to frown but I had to keep a smile on.

“Hey, Ten. Wanna get Starbucks?” Mark suddenly asked, looking at him with a wicked grin as if he’s hinting to Ten about something. Ten was quick to respond, nodding his head with affirmation. “Yeah. I’m thirsty. You should just stay here with her. Need js to get anything?” Ten trailed on while the two of them began to take their wallets out of their bags that were at the back of the practice room.

“You guys are really going all the way to Starbucks that’s a fifteen minute walk from here?” Taeyong asked, extremely shocked. I did walk past Starbucks on my way here, and it is indeed extremely far. What the heck were they trying to do by leaving so abruptly?

“Eh it’s fine. Well we’ll leave you to it! Peace!” And just like that, Ten and Mark have left and it was now just me and Taeyong. The two of us turned to each other and chuckled at the same time. “Come on show me your dance!”

“It’s a duet that I’m doing with Ten. Can’t dance if he’s not here.” I looked up for a moment, thinking. “Dancer by day. Bartender by night. That’s Lee Taeyong.” I spread my hands out with jiggling my fingers as if showing a rainbow and mimicking stars. Taeyong laughed and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Broke university student by day, author by night. That’s _____.”

I looked at him weirdly, eyes narrowing at him as I furrowed my brows. “How am I an author?”

“Eh I just assume you’re one since you’re such a bookworm.” Taeyong fakely rolled his eyes but flashed a cheeky smile after. I smiled back and got closed to him, both hand resting on my hips as I rested my weight on one leg. “So what are we gonna do mister dancer?” I asked with the tone of a child, making me laugh after from how ridiculous I sounded.

Taeyong proceeded to take my tote bag off my shoulder, putting it off to the side with the other bags while he grabbed his phone and went to Spotify. “Let’s dance.” He suggested with confidence. He played a song. It’s one of my favourites. A song that didn’t make me think twice to bob my head to, which I instantly did. “I haven’t danced in years and you know that.”

Specifically, it was six years ago. I used to dance in highschool as extra curricular thing. But in college I started to dance less frequently, and my dance friends and I slowly grew distant. But I was okay with it. I mean, it’s life. The world still had to spin no matter the situation.

“Come on I know you have it in you. Just vibe.” Taeyong swayed his shoulders up and down slowly, grooving to the beat as his whole body began to work its magic, his dancing was at the level of professional ones. I never know why he didn’t want to pursue dance as a career and became a bartender instead.

I slowly moved my body in a weird way. Not dancing for years, your body is bound to be uncomfortable and you’d be looking weird as you move. Which was definitely me. Taeyong laughed at me, making me frown and stopped dancing. He huffed with a smile and held both my hands. Instantly, my legs and body moved in sync with his. It felt amazing dancing with Taeyong. It was fun and carefree. I could dance as stupidly as I want and even though Taeyong could pull off the best dance moves, he’d still choose to dance stupidly along with me. He was able to serve himself as a guidance as I found my groove and vibe that I didn’t have in me for a long time.

When the music stopped, Taeyong’s hands where on my waist, while I had mine on his arms. We turned to the mirror and giggled, throwing out heads back happily.

“You still got it.”

“Make sure to find the ones with pretty spines.”

Taeyong and I decided to head to bookstores today for our monthly book shopping. And while I was carefully reading the synopsis of books that had an interesting title, Taeyong was busy examining their cover pages and the aesthetics, mostly the spine.

“Have you started on the book you told me about?” I asked, flipping the book I just took out to its first chapter to get a feel of the writer’s writing style. “I have, actually.” My head shot to him instantly. He’s read the book. But I remembered putting the note in the back pages of the book. Has he reached there yet? “But I’m a slow reader. And busy. I’m only at the third chapter.”

As much as I was surprised about the fact that he’s speed in reading was extremely slower than what I would consider normal, I couldn’t blame him. He’s body with work most of the time and he has a life to live. Not to mention how it’s the first book he’s actually reading. This is a good example that the gap in terms of our reading abilities are definitely big.

“Liking it so far?” I asked. “Yeah.” Taeyong simply replied as he took a book off the display. “I’m getting this. And these as well.” He giggled like a happy child who’s buying a bunch of toys as birthday present from his parents. He lifted the books up slightly, fiddling around and trying to stack them properly while I closed the book that was in my hands. “I’m just buying this.”

“Seriously? Oh wait nevermind you’re a broke university student.” Taeyong taunted, rolling his eyes. My mouth opened slightly, faking my exasperated as I huffed loudly. “Okay mister bartender. You didn’t have to rub-”

“Oh my God. Taeyong?!”

In unison, the two of us turned around to the noise. A girl was running up to us. The moment she came, she didn’t hesitate to hug Taeyong around his torso. Taeyong chuckled, almost awkwardly and hugged her back.

I took a quick look at them. Their hug made a few things clear to me. One, she’s probably known him for a long time. But if she has, why didn’t Taeyong told me about her before? He shares all his secrets, I pretty much know him from A to Z. So why hasn’t he mention her before? Second, Taeyong was quick to reciprocate the hug, from his awkward form to a loving one. They looked like a couple that hasn’t seen each other in ages; a meaningful reunion.

I wasn’t exactly happy with where this was going. I didn’t like how in an instant, she could simply let herself be in such close proximity with him. I’ve never hugged Taeyong for that long at all. It made me feel a couple of things. Jealousy? Judgmental? Sudden hatred towards her? But why should I? It felt so invalid of me to feel these things.

“It’s been years, Taeyong.” She chuckled happily as they pulled apart. Finally. “Who’s she?” Her finger lifted up to me.

“A friend.” Taeyong answered. Of course, Why did I think I’d be any more than that? Just a friend. We’re just friends. Just.

While they were having a chat about who knows what, I wasn’t exactly paying attention since I simply assumed that it was to catch up with each other. I wondered off to another section of the store. After browsing through a few books, it was then I realised that they weren’t no longer in the store anymore when I got back. They left, Taeyong left. Without telling me. It was my fault for leaving the scene discreetly since I felt like my presence wasn’t needed in their bubble at the time, but why did Taeyong not come find me? Was I... simply forgotten?

I went straight home that day after cashing out the books. I didn’t know where Taeyong went after leaving that that girl, but I didn’t want to act like some busybody who asks something that isn’t her business. I got texts from Taeyong asking if I left yet. Was he planning on returning there after leaving for two hours? He actually expected me to wait. Unbelievable.

After that day, my meetups with him became less frequent. He occasionally replied to my texts. More like one sentence after four or so hours. He still updates his socials. And it was all about her. Photos, videos. They were hanging out together more often. For some reason, it felt like she was a replacement; my replacement. I somewhat distanced myself away from Taeyong thinking, “I assume you don’t need me anymore so I’ll stay out of your way.”

But one day, out of pure curiosity, I decided to follow them to a cafe. Taeyong did text me that he’d be heading there, but I left him on seen. Like I said, I’m slowly removing myself out of his picture.

I sat at the corner of the cafe, black jacket, black cap and large black sunglasses. I looked like a stalker in the eyes of strangers. I mean, I was.

I covered myself further by holding up a book to my face. As I continuously stared at them, I grew bored. Don’t get me wrong, I was feeling negative. I didn’t like how she’s teasingly touching Taeyong’s arm, how they laughed happily together and chatting as if they’re in their own little world. But I started to wonder why I even came here. I did want to see what they’re like. But I’m making myself feel more bad this way.

I decided to write a note. I was done with the book I’m currently holding. All I needed to do was give it to Taeyong. With the note. I took out a random piece of paper from my tote bag, fishing out for a pen as well and began to write.

It’s my 145th letter. Fuck how long am I going to do this? Might sound weird, but I’m currently looking at you. Watching you with her. Why does it feel like you’re happier with her? You’re smiling, laughing more. You’re more brighter. I mean you have always been bright. But you just... radiate differently; a new type of glow I never knew you had. I saw your socials, constantly posting about her. I’m jealous, very. I want to be like that with you. But it just feels wrong, perhaps not right. Like I shouldn’t be craving for you. For your touch, your whispers, giggles. Why do I feel like this? The more you spend time with her, the more I realise that my chances of getting you is slowly slipping away from my grasp. But why can’t I move? Why don’t I want to move? I’m not sure what’s stopping me. And that’s what I’m fearing the most.

I felt my cheeks getting wet. It took me awhile to realise that I was balling my eyes out, slowly and painfully. I took off my sunglasses for a moment to wipe off excess tears before putting them back on. I can’t belive I’m crying. I looked down to the note. A tear fell onto it, a spot crinkled as it left a visible mark of my feelings. Just as I was sniffing, constantly having to wipe my cheeks dry since my tears were getting uncontrollable, I looked out the window. And what stood on the opposite side shocked me.

I knocked on the glass, his head turning quickly. He looked around inside the cafe, not sure of where the signal came from. I knocked once again. He looked down on me and I took off my sunglasses, pulling down my hood.

“Nakamoto Yuta?” I mouthed to him, my lips moving widely so he could read them. His eyes blinked rapidly and he leaned in before widening them after realising who I was. We take a few of the same classes. I see him often in school. But we never really talked. He immediately rushed into the cafe, covering his face as if hiding his identity and running up to my table to take a seat.

“Why were you looking in like some stalker?” I asked, pulling my hood back over my head as I lowered myself, my eyes still fixated on Taeyong.

“You look more like one than I do.” Yuta commented. I notice how he was constantly turning around, specifically to Taeyong’s direction. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“I’m looking at them.” He pointed his finger out ever so slightly. And as I predicted, he was referring to Taeyong and the girl. “You know Taeyong?” I immediately asked, extremely curious as to why he was spying on them just like I was. “No, but I know Jiung.” So that’s her name. Pretty name for a pretty girl. Of course.

“And why are you doing that exactly?” Yuta let out a huff, leaning in with his elbows on the table, his shoulder rising up to his ears. “Because I want to see what they’re on about. I keep seeing her with that Taeyong guy. I like Jiung so I’m jealous.” I puckered my lips and nodded. My face showed as if I shrugged it off. But my mind began turning its gears. So he likes Jiung and he’s jealous of them together? He has the same reason of me coming here as well. What forces swirled around the world for us to come together like this? It’s weird how coincidentally the situation was.

“I actually came for the same reason as you. I like Taeyong, and I’m jealous of Jiung.” I frowned slightly, a sigh leaving my lips. I opened up to him quick about my situation since I felt a sense of similarity with him. He probably wouldn’t remember anyways. It’s not like we’ll be crossing paths in the future.

“Were you crying? Your eyes are hella puffy.” He asked suddenly. I breathed out a laugh awkwardly. I gulped and cleared my throat, thinking that I should shove all my feeling down so I wouldn’t look even more ridiculous in front of Yuta. “Yeah.” I quickly slid the note in between a random page.

“Funny how we met here. For the same reasons. It’s like fate.” I couldn’t agree more. “An idea just came to my mind.” Oh no.

Yuta has always been the class clown, saying out his ideas that were completely mind blowing and far fetched. His way of thinking is... unique, in a funny way. I got somewhat nervous after he said that sentence, you can never guess what he’s thinking about or get a clear grasp of the way he thinks.

“How about we try splitting them up?” I didn’t reply, his words slowly resonating in my mind. He can’t be serious, right? But why am I slowly being persuade by an unknown force?

I have yet to say a word, my eyes still on them as I was deep in thought, wondering about all the possible outcomes of me agreeing and disagreeing, weighing them carefully so that I could make the more beneficial decision.

“Come on. You’ll get to be with Taeyong more. And I’ll have Jiung. Win-win situation, right?”

I sighed, inhaling as my chest puffs up.

“Alright.”

Yuta: How’s it going?

Me: amazingg :D

“Who are you texting?” Taeyong asked, I placed my phone down to the side, screen faced down. “No one.”

This is the sixteenth outing with Taeyong after that day. I was able to spend time with Taeyong a lot more, just like before. And probably just like it should. I’ve seen Yuta posting more often on his Instagram stories, mostly of him and Jiung. Our plan of keeping them apart is working. Though Yuta told me that it was Jiung who’s constantly asking to meet up with Taeyong, he was able to force her to hang out with him instead, giving her no chance whatsoever. It was extremely helpful.

I know this whole situation sounds as if I’m being evil or whatever you call it. But why wouldn’t I accept a chance to be closer to Taeyong?

“Should we head to the carnival after this? Or desserts first? Oh I want to head to that new ice cream shop! Ten said it’s delicious but extremely crowded. I don’t mind waiting since I’ll have you to annoy.” Taeyong rambled on. I laughed happily, taking in this moment. I want to treasure such simple moments like these. I want it to be in a snow globe; something remembered forever.

“Do anything you please, Yong.” I chuckled, flashing an eye smile.

Just then, the bell above the restaurant’s door opened, signalling a new costumer coming in. Taeyong widened his eyes at the door. I tilted my head at his weird action, turning around to see just what made him react that way.

“Jiung?” “Yuta?” The two of us whispered at the same time.

Jiung’s eyes immediately went to Taeyong, her face lighting up at the sight of him as she tried to make her way over. But Yuta stopped her by the shoulders. I now understood what Yuta meant by saying, “She’s so attracted to him.”

While Jiung was struggling to eacape Yuta’s strong grasp, Taeyong was halfway off his seat. I immediately reached a hand to place on his arm. “Where you going?” I asked, faking a smile when in reality I was getting nervous.

“Wanting to say hi to Jiung.” Taeyong was about to alide himself off his seat so I grabbed his arm, trying to stop him in the most natural way possible. “I don’t think you should. She seems busy.” I tugged on his arm slightly, an attempt to get him to sit back down. “But it looks like she’s struggling. I- Wait here.” Taeyong noticed how I was trying so hard to stop him from leaving. He raised a brow and shook my hand off in an instant, his strength powering over my desires.

I followed behind him. Taeyong forcefully removed Yuta away from Jiung and Yuta’s eyes immediately glanced to mine. Both of us sending nervous signals to each other in that split second. “What the hell were you doing to her?” Taeyong growled lowly, his voice and tone suddenly growing dark as he held Jiing’s wrist, his body standing in front of hers as if he’s protecting her.

“I was just getting her out of the restaurant since it’s quite packed.” Yuta awkwardly replied with an excuse. “No you were purposely stopping me from going to Taeyong.” Jiung fought back. I stood there frozen, watching by the sidelines as nervousness started rising in me. Are they going to find out about my plan with Yuta?

“I think it’s just a misunderstanding. You two can go now.” I ripped Taeyong’s tight hold around Jiung’s wrist, dragging him back to stand beisde me. “I just want to chat with Taey-”

“I don’t think that’s necessary. Move along now.” I tried to shove Yuta and Jiung out the door. Taeyong’s hand suddenly gripped onto mine. I looked up instantly.

“Pause. You’re very acting weird. What’s going on?” Taeyong’s voice was raised higher than before. A few people were staring at us. “Nothing...” I whispered, looking down. I was now scared to the bone. I didn’t know what to reply, how to cover it up. It’s gonna have to slip out eventually. At least I was able to be with Taeyong more often.

“Yuta and I planned for you guys to never meet again.” That’s it. It’s all over. With that simple line of confession, the truth was now out. No where left to hide or run. Yuta smacked me on the arm, making me wince. “What the heck?!” He half-shouted in a whisper.

“Are you serious? And for what? Jealous or something?” Taeyong was mad. So mad. And I felt it. I was so scared. I was shivering with every word he said. I gulped, avoiding eye contact with him. I didn’t need to give a reply. My body has said it all. A moment of silence filled with tension circled around us. Suddenly, Taeyong stormed out.

I panicked, immediately going back to the table we were at to grab my belongings and rushed out, wanting to stop Taeyong. I looked around frantically. I spotted him walking down the street on the left. I ran as fast as I could, my hand reaching out for him as I shouted his name countless of times, but he doesn’t respond as if he was deaf.

“Taeyong, please!” I cried out. I finally had his wrist tightly around my fingers. He turned around sharply. He tried to walk away, but I tried harder to grip onto the hem of his sweater tighter. “What?”

I realised at that very moment that I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to stop him, but I never thought of what to do afterwards. I wanted to say “Don’t leave.” But it never left my lips.

I stood there silently, my thumb caressing against the cloth as I bit my lip hard. “Hello?” Taeyong asked, annoyed. That one simple word hit me, right on the heart. It was like an arrow, painfully accurate at where its being shot. Just as how one word from him could light up my day, and one word from him can make it come crashing down as well. His change in tone and mood was quick and intense. I couldn’t stop thinking about being terrified.

I eventually took in a deep breath, opening my tote bag and taking out the book that I have forgotten to give him that day while I was spying on him.

“Here. Have it, as a present.” I brushed a hand down the back of my head, my fingers combing through the ends as I turned around and walked away in the opposite direction after shoving the book to Taeyong’s chest, remembering the note was somewhere in there but I never bothered knowing exactly where.

My breathing started to become unstable. The further I walked away, the urge of falling down to the ground and collapsing became stronger. But I continued walking, telling myself to stay strong the whole way till I reach home. “You can cry on the floor all you want. Just quickly get home now.” I kept whispering to myself, begging my legs to speed up but my wobbly knees were not helping.

I cried that night. Very hard. The whole scene of kept replaying like a movie tape. All I could think about was how mad Taeyong looked. With his voice and eyes. It was a look I’ve never seen on him before. It was like a completely new side of him. The entire opposite of what he usually was. I now realised that he’s one of those “Their all butterflies and rainbows till they get pissed off.” That phrase cannot be any more true in regards to Taeyong.

Every day I tried to meet Taeyong. At the bar, his home, the bookstore. Anywhere he could be. He wasn’t replying to my texts, or calls. He probably blocked me. And on his socials as well. He wasn’t responding to me at all. I got worried sick. Is he never going to talk to me ever again?

Constantly, I mentally slammed my head against an imaginary wall, thinking about how I never thought of this outcome while weighing out the possible aftermath of the decision I made. How could I be so stupid, so reckless?

I eventually gave up trying to get in contact with him. He needed time and space away from me, completely. The hole this made in my heart was deep, like a dried up well with vines that has sharp long thorns growing in them. And every time I thought about Taeyong, I am constantly being pierced by those thorns of regret and agony, pricking deeper into my skin the more I fell deeper.

It was choking me; Taeyong’s absence. I couldn’t breathe at all. I was sinking, gasping for air each time I longed for him. I just wanted him back. I wanted things to get back to normal. I wanted to be us again.

Two months have passed. It was the worst two months of my life. Worst than the exam stress I had for last year’s final project. I had university to worry about on top of Taeyong. I was mentally going through hell. And again, the worst one yet. And it was now that I realised, I’d be much better off having him as a friend than anything less. But I was selfish enough to not treasure it that way, and it’s now finally gone. Completely out of my reach.

One night, I was up. Doing assignments. Nothing’s new. Nothing’s changed. Taeyong has yet to open up to me. I glanced at the clock on my phone, groaning as I let my head fall on the table. I closed my eyes. I was too stressed. The world’s spinning too fast. I needed it to stop for awhile. My brain can’t bear this much.

As if on cue, the door bell rang while I lifted my head off the table. My head slowly turned to my room door. The bell rang again. A few seconds later, it rang yet again. Whoever’s outside was frustrated or something, jamming their fingers on the bell while saying “I’ll keep annoying you till you open this damn door.”

I pushed my chair back and walked over to the door. I looked through the peek hole. Taeyong...? I opened the door. On instinct, I grabbed him by his waist while his body fell on me. His face tilted up to meet mine. His cheeks were flushed red. His eyes were half opened and looking around as if stars are swirling above his head. He’s drunk.

“Good night. I wanna go in.” Taeyong whispered. Yup, he’s drunk. His breath reeked or alcohol as he spoke. I stood there for a moment, needing to process the current situation. At three in the morning, Taeyong showed up here drunk. I can think about why later. But now I had to figure out a way to carry his heavy body into the living room.

Taeyong wrapped his arms around my waist, sticking his body against mine. “You’re so warm.” I blinked rapidly. I looked down on him. I can’t believe it. He’s here. After two months of ignoring, he can simply show up here. Drunk, even. Worst of all, I still had the love to move along with this. The anger was still there. It’s just that his sudden presence made me forget about it a little while.

Out of the blue, like a marionette on strings, he jerkily push himself off me and staggered his way to the lviing room. I followed closely behind, not bothering to turn on the lights. I didn’t feel the need to. I sat down at the edge of the couch while he laid his body down. He giggled to himself and muttered things I couldn’t understand. I know what he’s like when drunk. Unstable, crazy, a lightweight. Will not remember a single thing the next morning.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, not even sure why. Why did I bother asking when he won’t remember any of this the next day? Well, he’s here now. And no matter what state he was in, I just wanted answers.

“To thank you. Me thank you. Mwah!” Taeyong puckered his lips in the end, eyes closed and shaking his head furiously. His fluffy hair moving along. I smacked my bottom lip and nodded. “For what exactly?”

“For getting rid of Jiung for me. She’s so annoying. I’d much rather be with you.” Taeyong mumbled, finger slowly pointing up to me. Unconsciously, I pointed back to myself too. “Me?” Taeyong pursed his lips into a thin line and nodded firmly. “Uhuh. Yes, right. Mhm.”

I kept silent for a moment. “That wasn’t really what I got from how you reacted two months ago.” Suddenly, Taeyong forcefully gripped onto my wrist, pulling me down. I let out a soft gasp, realising that my body was laying on top of his. We stared at each other for a long while, the close proximity making it so that I could feel his cold breath on my skin, sending shivers down my spine. I breathed heavily as I felt my face getting hot. Stop it. Why are you falling for him too quickly?

“Go home, Taeyong.” I whispered so softly in a calming and light tone. Taeyong whined in response. He was now pouting with his big boba eyes. He looked like a sad puppy. My heart instantly melted at the sight. I couldn’t resist. “I’m staying here.” He said in a high pitch voice, hugging me closer and putting me in an uncomfortable position for my body. Regardless, I stayed.

After two months he was finally here, and in my arms. This night might not mean anything to him but it made me feel relived. The fact that he remembered my house, my name, me. Whether it was just the alcohol driving him to do such things that are out of his control, I didn’t mind. All I needed was for him to be here. It felt good to be with him for that one night. Just one night was all I needed. It didn’t stop my anger for him about the fact that he ignored me, but I was okay with it. That night, I let it go. All I wanted was to feel such peace with Taeyong.

We ended up sleeping together on the small couch. I woke up with terrible body aches but either way, I sighed in relief when I woke up before Taeyong. I tried finding his phone, that was hidden under the crack of the cushions. I typed in his password. I memorise it like how he memorise mine. I went to his contacts and called the one person I knew.

“I have a favour to ask, Ten.” I said nervously as I watch him carry Taeyong into his car. He hummed, pulling his head out of the car and slamming the door. “Don’t tell him he went here.” Ten gave a half-shrug, nodding his head in response. “Sure. I’m not sure what’s going on between you two, but it seems like a lot. Should solve it soon.”

“Yeah... I hope so.”

16th October.

I’ve lost count on the number of love letters I’ve given you. I can’t give them to you anymore, since you don’t even want anything to do with me. I can’t blame you. I knew you’d be pissed. I was hesitant on doing it but I was so selfish, wanting you all to myself. But what can I do, Taeyong? I’ve wanted you for so long. Yet you’re so delusional of my feelings. How could you have not read any of of my letters? Perhaps you have and chose to ignore it. That’s more painful than you being upfront and rejecting me. As much as I allow you to hate on me, I’d still say this. Fuck you, Lee Taeyong.

23rd October.

I saw you at the bar. You look... happy. Without me. You act as if nothing happened. Like I never happened. I wonder if you’re just putting on an act, or are you actually okay without me by your side. Are you still mad? Did you forget about it but have gotten use to not being with me? I want to know Taeyong so please, respond. That’s all I ask from you. Fuck that. You don’t even have to talk. I just want you here with me. Whether the air around us will be filled with tension, I don’t care. What I’m going through, is not nice, Taeyong. It is punishment for my actions. But how long do I have to keep it up? How long to I have to suffer to take a breath? For you to pull me out of this mess with your forgiveness. I’m falling apart.

14th December.

Wow. It’s December already. I’m sitting at the park we go to every Christmas. We’d be freezing to death but still glued to the bench chatting about life since we just loved being out in the snow. And yet, you never got back to me. I found out from Jiung that you left the country but never said where. I miss you, Lee Taeyong. I’m tired. So tired, of constantly penning my feelings down on pieces of paper. Words I can never say to you out loud, are all in the letters in your books that you never bothered to open. I even hid one between the books of your huge ass shelf. Why haven’t you said anything about them? I know I should move on, because it really does seem like you never want to talk to me ever again. I’m losing hope, more faster than before as each day pass, wondering where the hell as you and how you’re doing. I keep telling myself “Let it be. Let him have his moment.” But I wonder if you ever think about how I’m bearing all of this as well. That without you, I might never be able to forgive myself.

I slide the notes under Taeyong’s apartment door. I knew he was out of the country. Some nights I’d sit by his door, the note in hand as I envision him in his house. I couldn’t think about what he’s doing. And I constantly ponder about it. Is he eating well? Sleeping well? Is he enjoying himself wherever he’s at? Months passed. And as time went on, I began to wonder if my letters were even worth writing. Why was I giving so much? Why am I going through such lengths, physically and emotionally, for Taeyong to be okay? Why am I bearing such emotions when it’s not even certain that I’ll be given the same in return.

I’m making a promise to myself. I’ll let go of Lee Taeyong. I’ll slowly, bit by bit, remove my feelings out of my heart. It’s not worth it, I kept telling myself. I’m meaninglessly suffering for someone who is isn’t appreciating it. So why should I go on? I loved you, Lee Taeyong. I changed my words. I loved you.

And that was the last love letter I wrote.

Along my journey to forgetting Taeyong, I suffered a lot. I was always drawn back to him. I was always willing to put my pen on paper and just write something to him. About anything. It was a bad habit that needed to stop. I had to let go years of feelings that were being pilled up in my heart. And it was something that’s extremely hard to let go. But other than my own factors, there were external, circumstantial ones as well. Whether it was coincidental or not, that was something I can never know the answer to.

I was on my laptop, casually scrolling through Pinterest to calm myself with the aesthetics of random things. Room decor, clothing ideas, handsome idols. Anything that can take my mind off my billions of overloaded projects for awhile.

I didn’t know how, but I ended up looking at quotes, Japanese ones to be exact. The deep meaning of words. Some were heartfelt while other were heartbreaking. I read them off casually till I paused at one.

‘Tsundoku— buying books and not reading them; letting books pile up unread on shelves, floors, or nightstands.’

I scoffed to myself, pinching my temples as I shook my head. It’s just like you, Lee Taeyong. “Fucking hell.” I mumbled, slamming the laptop shut. I’ve been able to not think about Taeyong for a long time now. Or at least I felt like it was a long time. I wasn’t going to let a word get me off course. I placed my laptop on the bed and went back to my study table, suddenly feeling motivated to continue as a way to distract myself from thinking about him.

Thinking that I wouldn’t be facing that state of dilemma again, I just so happen to see a quote the first thing I entered Pinterest.

‘If they were meant to reunite, they had to go separate ways.’

I was then reminded of Taeyong yet again. But I don’t think I was thinking about him as a person, but our relationship. Just our relationship. Having to part ways as a mean to reunite. That’s something I found hard to believe. Why am I having hope that it’ll happen when I highly doubt I’ll experience it? Why is my mind slowly pulling me back to the memories I have with Taeyong? I want him long gone. I want him holed up in the corner of my mind, out of sight, out of mind. But things are always popping up randomly around me, and it all reminded me of him. I feel like it’s his doing, funny enough. Constantly hinting about him with almost everything I come across.

“What the fuck?”

I looked at the Youtube home screen and what was recommended for me. One of the videos had Taeyong’s name. And his face was on the thumbnail. The title? Lee Taeyong | Freestyle dance | Paris In The Rain (Lauv) My finger moved on its own, bringing the cursor to the video and clicking on it.

As I expected, the video was taken in Paris. So that’s where he has been. He was in Paris this whole time without my notice. I was shocked to find that the video has tons of likes and view. I read through the comments. They were all swooning over Taeyong.

“Who wouldn’t?” I said to myself. I scrolled up and played the video. My eyes didn’t leave the screen for a second. I was frozen, not being able to move an inch as I watched, completely in awe. Firstly, Taeyong has his hair dyeda light ashy grey or blue. It suited him well, all too well. His dancing was immensely beautiful. Anyone would fall for him. Visuals, talent. He has it all. Dancer by day, bartender by night. He looked so free and alive in his dance. Serving the world with a hard punch with his deep emotions that were imbued perfectly into his movements.

I bit my lower lip. Fuck. I felt it. The goosebumps, the quivering of my lips. My eyes started to well up with tears. “No, this is not happening again.” The video was still playing, the music ringing in my ears but I couldn’t bear to look at the video. I was watching Taeyong, living the perfect life in Paris. What more could he needed? I clearly wasn’t in his equation. I’m completely gone, removed out of his life. No trace of my presence to be found.

The longer I think, the more I forced myself not to cry. Eventually, being weakling I am, I ended up falling deep into the harsh and intense whirl pool that is my feelings once again, a place I never visited in a long while. The feelings started dancing in my mind like butterflies flapping in unison to the soundtrack of my sadness. I could only assume that it’s what the world wants. It’s how it wants to spin, how it wants to work.

Eight months. I actually counted how long I’ve lost contact with Taeyong for. It didn’t bother me. I was trying to live a life. It’s getting better. It took a lot of baby steps. But I’m feeling a whole lot lighter now. It’s March.

I was walking back from University when my phone started vibrating in my hand since I’ve always left it on silent mode. I lifted it up. It was an unknown number. Instinctively, I chose to not pick up the call. But a few seconds later, the same number showed up on the screen. With a light groan, I picked up and brought the phone to my ear.

“Hello? Who is this?” I asked formally, waiting by the traffic light. I heard the person on the other hand breathe out a chuckle, almost like a disappointed kind. “Who the-”

“So you deleted my number?” That voice... No doubt. It was Lee fucking Taeyong. “Meet me. My home. You got ten minutes.” The call ended.

Rapidly blinking my eyes, I slowly brought down the phone. I read over the number again. It was Taeyong’s phone. Why didn’t I remember it? I used to know it. It’s one of the few things I used to be able to tell off the top of my head. “Ten minutes?” I looked at the time.

I don’t know what urged me, but I ran. I ran as fast as I could. The unknown force. It was unfamiliarly familiar. If that made sense. I was able to live a life without Taeyong. I was. I was capable of it. And that’s what I did. But at the very moment, I felt the need to see him. The spontaneous out of the blue kind of feel. It was all just pouring out of me.

I stood at his doorstep, hand on my chest and other as support for my body against the wall. Panting heavily, I tried to slowly calm myself down. I gulped, and rang the doorbell. No turning back.

The door flung open. And there stood Taeyong. He still had his ashy hair colour. His face never changed a single bit. Nor did his overall physique. He was still handsome, breathtaking. “Come in.”

I sucked my lips and sidled in timidly and warily. Nothing has changed in his house as well. The large bookshelf with the television in the centre. I started to remember the love letters. All of them are hidden in the pages of the books in that very shelf. It reminded me of my feelings for him.

I sat down on the leather couch as Taeyong disappeared into the kitchen. I kept my head faced forward, placing my tote bag down, leaning it against the couch on the floor. Taeyong came back moments later. Two plates with a slice of cheesecake. He handed on to me. “Try it.” He said.

I slowly took a bite. Chewing on it, I scrunched up my nose, placing the plate down on the table. “I hate it. Tastes too artificial.” I commented dryly. Taeyong chuckled and cleared his throat. “Knew you’d say that.” Taeyong shoved a bite into his mouth, eating it as he placed the plate beside mine. “Want to know why you’re here?”

I bobbed my shoulders. This atmosphere, the air between us. It wasn’t awkward at all. Though our words were dry and short, it felt normal. It wasn’t weird being next to him after not seeing him for eight months.

Taeyong stood up, taking small steps to the shelf. As if practiced, he pulled out one letter from a book, another, and another, and another. It was never ending. It took him at least ten minutes to slide out all the letters and placing them on the table. I silently watch, my anxiety turning up a notch with each letter.

He finally took what I hoped was the last letter and went back to sit next to me. A specific letter is held in his hand. He unfolded it, placing the paper on the table and turning it so that I could read.

It was my last love letter.

“So you knew.” I whispered, looking down, leaning forward as I laced my fingers together. I took in a deep breath, my eyes scanning down the note before turning my head to Taeyong. “Then why the fuck didn’t you do anything about it?”

Taeyong lifted the paper off the table, holding it in front of him. He reread it. Running a hand through hair, chest puffing up as he inhaled and exhaled sharply. “Because I wanted you to keep writing to me.”

“What...?” That was definitely not an answer I was expecting.

Taeyong licked his lips, smacking them before sniffling a rubbing his nose. He lets out a weak chuckle. “I liked them. From your handwriting, to your words. I felt it; your love, with each letter.” He whispered softly.

I simply couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This was the explanation and truth I’ve been wanting to hear for months. This is what kept me up at night, what led me to have my mental breakdowns, the constant ‘what if’s I formulated throughout. “You just like them? Taeyong if you’re rejecting fucking do it now-” I was about to scream, but Taeyong was quick to cut me off.

“In a way it felt like you were writing a book. One just for me. That’s why I never bothered to read any other books. I just needed yours. Your... simply overpowering pain in the heart love letters.” Taeyong smiled down at the letter, hovering his fingers over the words.

“And I don’t just like the love letters. I love the author. Paris made me realise that. It took me that long. And I’m sorry for how long you needed to wait.”

“What do you love about the author?”

I could tell Taeyong was taken aback by that question. And I knew he would react that way. He still knew me well, bouncing back and giving a confident answer.

“I don’t want to sound common by saying it’s her smile, laughter, brightness. But it truly is what I love about her. All the times we’ve spent were filled with nothing but pure bliss. Serenity, is what I feel when I’m with her. Longing, like I was meant to be by her side. I’ve known her long enough to know every single detail about her, ones that maybe she doesn’t even know herself. Like how drinks two straws when she’s sad, or having the habit of twiddling her thumbs when she’s excited. Little things like those, I find them adorable. No matter what she is, a nerd, weirdo, plain crackhead, it’s... the energy, her own energy. A light and force only she could illuminate.”

I couldn’t say anything. I frozen stiff by his words. He actually meant it. I could feel it through his voice. He stuttered here and there nervously, finding words to say. But he was able to structure them in the most beautiful way possible. I had no words to say.

Suddenly, Taeyong slowly brought his hand up to cup my cheek. That one touch alone made me feel a lot of things. It was like I was hit by a huge wave of feelings all bunched up together and crashing over me. But it wasn’t something I couldn’t handle. It was overwhelming, but I was calm. I was at peace. It felt good. Just this.

He slowly and carefully swiped his thumbs across my cheeks like I’m the most fragile thing in the world. His touch was lightweight and simply serene. “Another thing the author doesn’t know about herself is that she really doesn’t know when she’s crying and spilling out tears.”

I blinked my eyes, Taeyong smoothing his hands from my cheeks and to my shoulders, placing them there firmly as his eyes stared into mine. I can’t exactly explain what I felt. But it was like the stars aligned, as cliche as that sounds.

‘If they were meant to reunite, they had to go separate way.’ I resonated with this now. I understood what it meant. Our months of separation were all for this exact moment. Both of us suffered, one trying to find themselves again while the other needing the time to realise that what’s most valuable was right in front of him. We needed that gap, for us to reunite and actually be able to love each other properly and willingly. Which definitely would not be a trouble now.

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enha-woodzies · 3 years

Text

➸ CHAPTER 10 | " AT LONG LAST PT. 2 "

starring: enhypen ft. daniel

pairing: jungwon x fem!reader x sunghoon

genres: royal au, romance, angst, slowburn, 18th century setting

word count: 2.4k

taglist: @serendipitysung (betareader) @en-sun @affectionaterainoflove @renkiv @softforjungwoo @jislix @gyeraniee @fluffi @stxrryemxlys @jungwon-luv-bot-pt3 @lost-lepord-beanie @hyunsunge @hooniecore @thenoceurgirl @thonkingdeepo

[ PREV. CHAPTER ] | [ M. LIST ] | [ NEXT CHAPTER ]

One of the strangest things about love is that it will make you feel rooted one moment, then wavered by the next; all by the person whom you treated like your resting place — only for them to be tired of you in their next waking day. In Jungwon’s case, he didn’t feel threatened by the marquess’ efforts to acquire his girl. Despite Y/n’s plead to stop the unlabeled thing going on between them, Jungwon refused to feel daunted. So he did what he does best: expressing his sentiments in the form of written words— the language of the unsaid.

The night Y/n ended things between them, Jungwon made a quick stop to their library to write down a few of the many things she did to him on the daily; it contained some of the uncountable things he wanted to say to her if she’d only listened. He poured out his heart, writing to the best of his ability with all the love and warmth she deserved, hoping his adoration would reach her if it wasn’t too late yet.

Crumpling away various parchments and scratching several more, he finally had it neatly tucked in between the pages of their favorite Jane Austen book she threw at him weeks prior. Before leaving the said book upon the large, round table in the center of the room, Jungwon topped it off with a little quote, once again, peeking from the worn-out cover of the antique novel.

“I will go if you need me to go, but bear in mind that I don’t want to leave. I have no other homeland but you. So I will patiently sit in the corner of your heart and wait for our time.”

If it weren’t for Jay’s knowledge about his friend’s almost parting gift, Y/n wouldn’t be rushing down their manor’s library with an eager yet tormented heart the day after. She immediately clasped the book, the repertoire of their precious memories and Jungwon’s poetic affection, the instant she saw it lying on the surface of her late father’s desk.

Y/n pulled out the tiny parchment with Jungwon’s last quote, putting down the book back on the wooden desk. She carefully muttered each word as if it was an ode, constantly bouncing in her mind back and forth.

Her heart found a bit of relief behind his written words, yet she still found it vague that he couldn’t face her and tell her himself. Y/n picked the book again and as she flicked through the pages, a small, handwritten envelope caught her attention. Her heart began to thump.

She gently tore the envelope open only to be welcomed by several folded papers brimming at the edge of the torn covering. Jungwon got her used to the underlined phrases and pieces of quotes, and almost nothing from Jungwon’s heart itself. And now suddenly, all the letters were about her, from the depths of her lover’s affection.

“Be still, my heart.” She whispered under her shaky breath.

My dearest Y/n,

We made quite a mess, don’t you think? Or rather, I did.

When I didn’t react to your efforts of reaching out,

I'm sure you thought I'd gone on or despised you.

I bet it never ever occurred to you that I just couldn’t

bring myself to say "hello" and risk another goodbye.

You wore your best dress that day we departed,

and you were there to watch me leave.

And all the times you let me in just for me to screw things up and leave again.

I’ve been trying to undo what I did to you by making amends.

I’m trying so hard, believe me.

Everything I said in the past and the phrases I underlined in attempts to confess to you,

They were all true.

I cannot stop thinking of you, my thoughts of you never end.

They’re so loud they prevent me from sleeping at night.

I’ve been restlessly rehearsing the words I’d tell you if time didn’t forbid.

But unfortunately, it appears that my time in your heart is up.

Truth be told, we were something, don’t you think?

I cannot shrug away the thought that we were nothing when

I could feel your calm breath against my heaving chest,

It felt like you were meant to reside there, in the warmth of my embrace.

I’m afraid I couldn’t bear myself to write more of these.

They don’t deserve to be kept in any longer.

If you still wish to talk to me and hear me out before giving your hand away,

Meet me in the Queen’s Garden at dusk tomorrow.

Jay has agreed to chaperone you there,

But he must leave us to ourselves when we reach the Catalpa tree.

Until then, I will remain in the state of waiting, for the last time.

— Forever yours, Jungwon

The awaited dusk came upon, and it was a shocker for Y/n that she rejected Sunghoon’s plea to spend the day together over an impulsive meeting with Jungwon. Jay helped lift his sister from the horse, firmly securing his grip on her corseted waist. Her heart was in a weary state; she feared it would be a cycle again of Jungwon acting out his affection and leaving her hanging when their moment’s up. She couldn’t trust him fully anymore, knowing he had recklessly wasted so much borrowed time and promises.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine? I can stay by the gazebo and wait for you.”

“It’s alright, Jay. Didn’t he promise you that he’d send me home? Ride safe, brother!”

Jay walked closer to her and draped his arm around her shoulder, planting a long, soft kiss on the crown of her head. “See you at home, sis.”

Y/n heaved a deep breath before taking baby steps towards the Catalpa tree where Jungwon had been lounging hours prior. With a heavy heart and romantic complications in mind, she stood in front of the lover she forced herself to detest; eyes never leaving his.

But Jungwon, being easily distracted by her tantalizing eyes, quickly averted his gaze to the grass he had been standing on. His confident stance stripped away though he mustered the courage to look at the beautiful pair, as the object of his affection gradually approached him.

“Why didn’t you come and talk to me yourself?”

“Would you have listened?” Y/n ran out of retorts as she was guilty enough, cutting Jungwon’s explanations that night in their garden.

The boy drew closer to her, softly lifting her resting hand to interlock it with his. “Y/n…” only to be shrugged away by the maiden.

“You must have gone crazy, coming here like this. Tell me, are you that desperate to impel your pride-”

“This is not about my pride! I-” Jungwon ran a hand through his hair as he let out a frustrated sigh, realizing what he just did. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to raise my voice. It upsets me to know that you still think this is all for my ego, supposing you’ve read the letters I left you.”

“So you’ve been living in denial all these years?”

“I never meant to come between you and him.”

“Yet here we are. Someone’s caught in the middle, and it’s definitely not you, Jung.” The boy stared down at his worn-out boots, million-dollar thoughts running through his mind, yet he couldn’t find the ones he needed to say.

“Do you want me to start it off for you?” Y/n crossed her arms, trying her best to compose a cold approach to Jungwon, although the chap’s been looking unkempt like he hasn’t slept for days in every passing minute of their imminent bickering.

“Haven’t you gotten the letters?”

“I did.”

“Is there anything you want to say about it?” Y/n scoffed at the timid boy who was shattered by the lady’s callousness.

“You asked me to come here, Jungwon! All this time you’ve said nothing but a few words to me. Are you even serious right now?” She half-yelled in frustration.

“I’m trying to prevent myself from saying the wrong things.”

“You’ve barely been able to look me in the eye!”

“For the reason that I cannot bear witness to the misery I’ve caused you!”

Y/n gulped when she saw a tear grazing down Jungwon’s dimpled cheek. It was the first time she’d seen him cry in a long time, the last one being the day he left her for university five years ago.

“It pains me,” he stammered, breaths shaky as tears kept dripping down the grassy lawn. “It pains me to know that I’ve yet again, caused you another heartache. If there was anything I could do to bring back the hands of time, I would. I would do it in a heartbeat. If I could go back to when we were thirteen, on the exact day I left you for London, I would vow to you then and there that I will spend every lifetime with you when I get back.” Jungwon went on and on, eyes now fixated upon her sparkling orbs that reflected the full moon above them.

“But I was a stubborn, scared, idle bloke who’s now deserving of punishment. It’s long overdue, but I still think I deserve this, and I’m sorry. I’m tremendously sorry that it took your beautiful marquess to be caught in the middle of our mess for me to realize that you were my all and more. You are my all and more, Y/n. I couldn’t bear this any longer. My feelings will not be silenced this time, and I must let you hear of how I truly, madly, and deeply love you now more than ever. I’d hate myself for eternity if it came to the conclusion of having to lose the one real thing I’ve ever hoped for in this lifetime. If the mighty heavens don’t forbid us to love again, I swear I’d love you right.”

“Why are you telling me this now? You had all the chances, Jung. Why did it have to be in the most unsuitable moment where Mother and the Duke are preparing for the imminent wedding?!”

“Sometimes you don’t fully know the answer until someone’s breaking badly in front of you. I’m sorry, Y/n. But I’m here now, in all my glory, swallowing my pride, and laying my armor down if you choose to rather love than fight.”

Jungwon approached her. Too close until an inch of distance was left between them. His eyes had been watering with tears the entire time he was rambling his feelings, but he wiped her glistening tears away instead, bearing in mind that he’s making up for lost times. His face was mere inches away from hers, breaths fanning against each other as Y/n sniffs lightly with Jungwon’s nose bumping against hers.

“I love you, Y/n. My longing for you aches like piled-up bricks pushed against my chest, as my love for you burns, heavily and passionately, like a thousand suns set ablaze right before our very eyes. My heart is, and always will be, yours. You’ve imparted me this quote once from a book you found scattered around my room. ‘Only the deepest love will persuade me into matrimony’ and I had carved it into the depths of my soul, putting myself under the commitment of being worthy of your choice. I grew confident because I know you love me truly more than him.”

Jungwon raised her flimsy hand and kissed it with much intent before placing it around his shoulders and having his hand rest on the small of her back. With his other hand hanging freely to his side, he lifted it up to graze his gentle fingers upon the lady’s soft cheek, carefully taking in her satisfied reaction to his touch as she kept her eyes closed and her lips parted. Jungwon pulled her chin up with his forefinger, his thumb softly pinching it in the aftermath. He brushes his nose against hers, bathing in each other’s warmth and shy touches, bodies electric.

“Marry me.”

Y/n shoots a concerned look at Jungwon, “but what about Lady Choi? I thought you two-”

“No one else could make me the happiest man in this world, Y/n, no one but you.” Jungwon wasted no time and crashed his lips against hers. First, and long-awaited kisses are finally shared under the illuminating beam of the fullest moon of the year. The gent tilts his head to the side, gaining more access to the lady’s lips as Y/n heaves a deep breath, slowly taking in his upper lip within hers.

He pulls away mere seconds after to get some oxygen into his system while taking the opportunity to continue his unrehearsed proposal. “My heart will only rest in yours. Marry me, Y/n, will you?”

The lady buried her face against his chest that was clad in blue, velvety frock coat adorned with gold embroidery upon its hems. She sniffed his immaculate scent in before letting out muffled whispers. “Give me time to reflect on it. Only then will I give you my answer.”

“Time, of course. As much as you need, my love.” Jungwon gave her a quick and final kiss on the lips before freeing her from his embrace. “I must get you home now. Your mother would be frantic if she knew you were frolicking around with me while she worries about your wedding plans with Sunghoon.”

“Don’t say that. He hasn’t proposed to me yet.”

“But when he does, I’m certain your mother won’t pass up the chance.”

Y/n kissed him back. Fleeting, but full of love. “It’s me who’s getting married, Jung, not her.”

“I love you.”

“You’ve said it already.”

“I will say it again if I have to.” Y/n chuckles lightly, feeling relieved now that Jungwon has trampled down the barriers preventing them from transparency.

The gent lifts her up to his white horse before following after. He instantly took hold of her hands and had them wrapped around his small waist. “Hold on tight. We’re past my promised hour so I’m going to have to speed up, okay?” Y/n didn’t say anything, instead, she hugged Jungwon tightly by the waist and snurfled her cheek against his back. It was enough affirmation for him, so he yanked the thick rope, revving his horse on the cobblestones on their way home.

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