#Ill be slow on posting I feel like sick now a days so! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delusionalmultilingual · 5 months

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Title cover by me, please ask for permission to use. Not the panel but the editing :)

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Todoroki's sick?

This is just a drabble for the moment but if I post this hooray you get to see what sort of lovesick lonely relationship I want.

ITS A COMPLETE SLOWBURN PLEASE DONT HATE ME

Contains: Vomit, Illness, Spoilers.

Todoroki gets sick? Thank god your there to help him you pitiful bastard.

Your in your last year of U.A, just after your exams he gets sick. Where did Shouto go?

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"Todoroki Shouto." The same monotone voice came from your tired teacher, had his eyebags dropped even more? His eyes had surely gotten more red. He looks stoned, you wish you could be too.

Zoning out for a second too long you feel a glare from your teacher who had probably said your name mote than three times by now, flicking his scarf to slide right past your ear, a whooshing sound which jolted you out of your zoned out state.

It was the same silence, the same silence that had gone on for the past three days. Time doesn't normally matter to you, the world moves either to quick or too slow so you do your own thing.

"Focus or I'll make you run laps."

You flinch and look directly at your teacher who had moved towards your desk, black eyes slowly emitting the gloomy red that scared you sometimes. Sitting up straighter then you had ever sat you gave him a small smile before nodding a small apology. Thank god he was tired or he might have probably killed you by now.

"Ah, [Your Name]. Is there something bothering you?" Uraraka asked beside you quietly as you all began writing. To which you turned to see her eyes locked with yours.

You respond with a quick 'hm' shaking your head trying not to worry your friend, shifting your focus back to your writing as you tried not to think about specific things.

'I wonder where Todoroki is...'

'Is he with his dad? Maybe his mum...'

You shake your head and pinch your arm to refocus feeling a hint of heat on the tips of your ears. Your eyes staring intensely at the word 'mixture'.

'Fuck, that's also like him.'

Rubbing your temples now, and running a hand behind the back of your neck and pressing down on the sore spot that had grown increasingly through the pressure of homework and assignments, Hero work too.

A low muttering came from Midoryia, he was back to his usual ways even while Mr Aizawa spoke in his colourless voice. And Ashido and Kaminari were whispering to each other trying to get some form of idea as to what to write.

If you were completely honest you didn't know what to write either, the work was something about Physical and Quirk development, which was a pain when you had learned majority of it in middle school.

Yet you didn't know what to write, even if you knew about what you were learning, you still didn't know what to write. Maybe it was the three assignments that you turned in earlier today, maybe you were just burnt out.

Aizawa's words were now muffled through your thoughts as you doodled over your pages of lined, neat work. They weren't the best but they were cute enough to stay in your book.

"But sir this is too difficult!" Mina and Denki whined in unison, snapping you out of your stage of drawing and listening into the bickering, Bakugou yelling at them from across the room.

"Shuddap. If you werent so stupid maybe you would understand!"

Aizawa sighed yet again, sleep deprived probably, maybe an insomniac. "Bakugou, get back to your own work."

After a miniature altercation between Aizawa and Bakugou, it ended with Bakugou going quiet and grumbling as he continued working and Aizawa scolding Mina and Denki.

Uraraka was giggling beside you, covering her smirk and lowering her head further than what it usually is and trying to compose herself. Her brown hair was definitely longer than what it was in your first year, down to her shoulders now.

She complained that it was getting too long and that she needed to cut it but she didn't have the money, so when Momo offered to pay she declined and said that her hair was fine the way it was.

Even if she was your friend she's a little too anxious about money, even if it was ten dollars. You knew it was because of her background but she's going to be paid a shit ton in the future, if she continued with her path of being a pro.

You ponder on the small parts that you were thinking of before. 'Three days.', was the main thought as you were distracted yet again, which ended with the sake old lecture about listening and paying attention by Aizawa.

***

"[Your Name!" Tsuyu and Mina ran after you, the entire of U.A walking the same paths as the rest of the years. It was your last year, last year of all of this. It sparks an anxious pain in your chest but at the same time motivation.

You turn to face your two friends and Mina practically jumps into your arms and nearly takes the both of you to the floor. And now your winded as Tsu drags Mina off you.

"Are you going to come to dinner tonight?" Tsu asks, her croaky voice comes from her, shorter than Mina and you but thankfully taller than that purple balled idiot. He hurt your neck often when he gave you creepy smiles and all his perverted stuff.

A shrug comes from your shoulders which ends with a pampering Mina begging you not to stay cooped up in your room for the rest of winter holidays. A short answer came from your lips and Tsu's tongue was sticking out as she smiled warmly.

"Probably not, I gotta get this resume in."

Tsu nodded and pulled at Mina's shirt and trying to usher her away as to not hold you back any longer. She might not have spoke many words but she's very expressive through her emotions.

Eventually she was picked off bit by bit, and the dormitory was around a minute away walking. You were tired, but now having to write up a resume that you were planning on doing a week earlier, didn't happen. The procrastination got to you before you even started.

So you began walking, thinking about how to start on your resume even though it was simple, obviously you had to start with your full name, address... 'Would it be the dorm number or just U.A?' The thought ran through your mind before getting thrown into the many other thoughts.

You gave a small wave to Sato who was watering some of the flowers that the class planted earlier this year. He waved back only a few seconds after you, and by then you were already at the steep of the stairs. Pushing the doors open to the smell of Bakugou's food.

Ignoring the smell you looked at the elevator before taking the stairs, you were only on the first floor anyway. It was a flight of stairs, the least you could do is not be lazy.

When you unlocked your door, the small 'rodent' so you claim it to be meowed and purred against your leg.

"Hey Asana, what'cha doing pretty?" You ran a hand along the curled soft hair of your cat, you weren't really supposed to have pets in the dorms but they didn't have to know about him.

Sure, Asana was a male cat with a girl's name, but he didn't know that. He can't understand English, sometimes that makes you suspicious of him. So you shut the door behind you, picking him up and smooching his head three times before he places a paw to your nose.

"You stink."

Asana responded with a long meow, of course. He wanted food, you place him on the ground and sort him out. Flopping onto your bed with a groan of relief when the softness of the cushion collides with your back.

In less than a second, the little rodent you loved so much had jumped on you and was making biscuits on your chest, putting all his weight on his front paws, making you wheeze in pain, how could a cat be so heavy?

He purred loudly and soon after fell asleep on you, which left you scrolling on your phone and typing up this resume that you definitely needed to do before you left school. And of course it would probably take three seconds to finish, but you had sooooo many other things to do. One of them was steal Bakugou's recipe cause damn his cooking is amazing, he would mind so you would have to do it in secret.

Did he even have a recipe to follow? It would surprise you if you didn't, maybe Sato could help. Bakugou never seemed to mind him helping with cooking, he'd prefer him cleaning or doing something else. But only a grumble would be his response.

Thinking over your plan you knew it wouldn't help, you were already on social media and Mina had posted a class photo, Sato was there as well. Damn, he probably ran so he wasn't late.

It was already dark, maybe you could order in. You didn't have much energy to cook anyway, Bakugou definitely wouldn't waste his precious time cooking for you anyway, you were 'a pain in the ass'.

'Ah, I forgot about Todoroki.'

The thought that crossed through your mind from earlier today had reached you again, Midoryia said that he wasn't out with family. Iida said that he had probably become ill, with his continuous efforts at school.

"Asana, should I message him?" You ask your cat, he wasn't going to respond. Either a meow or his ears twitching would be the response.

He was dead asleep. On your chest, curled ears twitching when you sighed deeply and looked at the name on your screen, 'Shouto'. He had a small emoji next to his name, thanks to your creativity of putting what their quirks were as emoji's.

After a long groan and thinking you fumble around messaging him quickly.

'Hey Todoroki, I was wondering how you are doing since you haven't been at school.'

Sent.

Fuck.

Squeezing Asana'a pretty white fur he responded back with a low purr. Three minutes go by, feels like forever and the embarrassment of messaging someone you don't usually message. Ah, this is shit.

Your phone lights up, the notification carxges your eye.

Shouto 🧊🔥

'I'm unwell.'

Dry text. As usual, it didn't bother you as much as it used to, he's gotten better since first year.

'Would you like me to get you something?'

You message back immediately, the heat rushing to your face.

Shouto🧊🔥

'Porridge and Orange juice?'

Was all he replied before you sat up, Asana jumping off and getting comfy on your bed, maybe you should change. Sweats and a singlet? Yep.

Grey pants and a black singlet was what you wore, bringing up a hot bowl of porridge and a carton of Orange juice that was in the fridge, wasn't yours but you'll buy another one for whoever complains.

He was on the fifth floor, wasn't a preference, you would complain if you had to go up five floors.

You reach his room that was labelled with his name, Todoroki. And you knock on the door, it was dead quiet. Usually you would be able to hear Jiro playing her instruments but she was gone as well.

The door clicks open and you see Todoroki, taller than you. His hair a mess and both of his hair colours mixing with eachother, he has showered. But he looks like a mess.

"Can I come in?"

You ask quietly and he covers his cough with his elbow, nodding and turning around so you can go inside his dorm. Very traditional, you saw it a few times while studying with Sero. He cleans regularly, but it's gotten messy since he's been sick.

There was a bucket next to his bed, has he been really sick? Maybe Gastro.

"Sit back down I don't wanna make you run around or something." You usher him back to his futon, you have the kindest expression on and aren't trying to push him around too much.

The room has a hint of sickness in it too, maybe you would get sick too. Oh well.

He sits down with his legs crossed and looks up at you, his face puffy and his hair still a mess, he looks like his gaze is a blur and you gently give him the porridge.

"Have you been eating?"

This is awkward, first you had to message him and now your stuck in his room, with him when he is sick. Your eyes wander and he eats the porridge slowly, blowing on the spoon a few times and switching off his phone. He nods to your question, responding back in a sick and croaked speech.

"Mhm, not much."

Your breath tightened, his voice was usually deepish and monotone but when he's sick. Jesus, gonna take the life outta you.

In less than a second that all changes when he leaps towards the plastic bucket beside his futon and gags profusely, throwing up the porridge he had eaten mere seconds earlier, his stomach trying to throw up on an empty stomach now.

You quickly make your way towards him and kneel down beside him, he puts a hand out to stop you but you move his hair out of the way. It had gotten longer throughout the years but your pretty sure he's been missing his hair appointments.

"Come on Todoroki! Why didn't you let us know." Grumbling beside his ear, he wipes his mouth before sitting back up again, washing his mouth out with the cup of water beside the bucket and spitting it into the bucket.

He goes to stand up, but you keep him sat down, giving him the carton of orange juice that you had brought earlier, were you holding that while keeping his hair out of the way?

"What are you doing?" He asks in the same groggy probably drugged up voice while watching you pick up the vomit filled bucket and taking it to the toilet in his room.

You look back at him, pushing the toilet seat up and pouring the foul substance into the toilet. Flushing it before closing the lid. "You need to rest. Your not getting up unless I'm gone."

Strong tone and using the shower head in the bathroom to rinse the bucket, you turn your head to see if he agrees.

"It's only a stomach bug."

"A stomach bug that makes you look like your about to die."

"Every illness makes you look like that."

"Your not getting up unless you need to go to the toilet. Your quirk is going to drain your energy so don't use that either."

He sighs, not wanting to argue and knowing you were kind of right, he hated to admit it but he actually liked that you cared for him like that. He had gotten used to looking out for himself but when his friends and classmates helped him he realised he also had to look out for others.

"Fine."

He couldn't help it however. He wasn't that sick, right?

You sit down beside him on his futon and look at the half eaten bowl of porridge, he was drinking the juice in hand and staring at you with those oh so beautiful eyes. But it's when he leans over and rests his head on your shoulder that makes you freeze.

"Thanks."

Was all he spoke before closing his eyes and breathing in your scent, you were confused as to why he had done so. Maybe he liked you? Is he clingy when he's sick?

You chuckle and pat his back, he was already relaxed into you but your physical touch made him melt, his body weight becoming evident on your body. So you use majority of your strength to keep sitting up, while adjusting to his weight.

His eyes were closed against you and his breathing became quieter and quieter until you almost could mistake him for being dead. It was soon you realised you were both breathing at the same pace. Did that always happen when two were so close?

Spotting a damp rag on the floor, you pick it up to feel if it is still cold, it wasn't. You couldn't move yet because he was practically attached to you. Jolting when you moved even an inch, so now you were laying down beside him on the single futon. His head against your arm and his arm along your waist.

This wasn't like him, for sure. Was he mistaking you for someone else? Your hoping he's not, cause whoever he would be thinking about like this. Wasn't you.

"It's cold." He speaks quietly, it's only then that you realise the chill in the air. It was already night? But the sun was up, you checked your phone that was sat in your pocket. Your eyes widen at the time. Two hours?!

Two hours had gone by and you could have finished this resume. You couldn't have wished for anything better, or worse? Todoroki Shouto was asleep on you, but you needed to finish this resume.

"Todoroki-"

"Shouto."

"Uh- Alright then. Shouto, I have to get this resume done."

He grumbled and geld onto you tighter, looking up at you, oh lord, he was adorable. Looking up at you with his opposite coloured eyes and pouting ever so slightly.

"Just do it in here."

"Ok then."

Why would you want to argue with him like that? You felt a sense of pity because he was sick, but also because he actually wanted you to stay with him? Your living a dream that you so desperately don't want to end. Maybe if he was well this would send you head over heels.

***

"Hey Todoroki! Where's [Your Name]?" Mina asks with her usual bubbly attitude, staring up at the taller boy with her 'raccoon eyes' as others have said.

Todoroki looks up from the book he was writing in, locking eyes with Mina, Asui was standing next to her with her frog-like tongue sticking out as he responded, scratching the side of his neck.

"She's not feeling well."

"What?!" Mina exclaims, her hands coming to the top of her pink curls quickly as she looked shocked. "She didn't even go anywhere! How did she get sick?"

"She came to visit me when I was sick." He replied back in a monotone speech and got back to writing whatever was on the board. Not knowing how excited Mina looked when she turned to Asui and giggled running off.

'Did I say something wrong?'

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This story is officially FINSIHED! I know I definitely lost some sort of motivation towards the end, I hate slowburns but I do say so myself. This is alright.

Proofread!

Thank you for all the support I have been getting! d=(^o^)=b

#mha #mha headcanons #mha x reader #mha fluff #shouto todoroki #shoto todoroki #shoto x reader #todoroki x y/n #todoroki x you #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #bnha shouto

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jadeleechsupportgroup · 2 months

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Bittersweet

malleus as therapy.

cw: mental illness, suicide mention/ideation, overdose mention, psychological trauma. no gore or horror though.

(wrote this a while ago. based on a real life event for me.)

“It is difficult for me to understand.”

Malleus’s voice draws me out of the fog of my own mind and back to reality like the tether of a wayward life preserver. I wonder what he would think of this comparison.

“What is?” I ask, hoping not to make it too obvious that I wasn’t listening. I was, at first. I just have a lot going on right now. I always do.

He slow-blinks, catlike, lizardlike, dragonlike, his spring green eyes focusing on me a bit more purposefully. “That humans treat birthdays as occasions to celebrate,” he says, possibly repeating himself, to my sheepish guilt. “They have such short lifespans, yet they are so eager to lose another year each time.”

“Oh.” I clutch my stomach. I feel sick, and not because I ate too much cake. “Well, it’s not that simple. I-”

Deuce and Ace and Grim have started a conga line. I instinctively wince away from the noise, even though they're my best friends and I love seeing them happy, because the whole room is too loud and too close and I really think I might hurl.

“I, um, I’ll be right back.”

I set my paper plate aside and dart - slink - scrabble away from the chaos. I feel an episode coming on, or maybe it’s been playing for a while now, like a show I put on Netflix and left forgotten on autoplay until it asks me if I’m still watching. The brambles of unwanted memories tug at me with sharp fingers.

I wind up in the Diasomnia courtyard. It has benches under trees. It has a fountain. It has fog because of course it does, it’s Diasomnia. I sit on a bench and shut my eyes and grit my teeth against the acid burning through my stomach.

[ ping ]

My phone wants my attention. Normally it’s superglued/surgically attached to my hand, and muscle memory politely shoves me toward checking it, but I can’t look.

[ ping ] [ ping ] [ ping ]

The messages flicker before my eyes as clearly as when I first read them.

[ ping ]

It was weird, I had thought at the time. A couple vague posts from my friends popped up in my feed at random. Eventually I messaged one to find out what happened.

[ ping ] [ ping ]

Overdose, they’d said. Insulin and antidepressants. A month’s supply of hoarded medications. Suddenly the posts made awful sense. Claws gripped my heart and made it hard to breathe.

[ ping ]

“I had almost forgotten that humans can tell lies.”

Malleus’s voice startles me out of my woeful thoughts. “What?” I ask stupidly.

He gazes down at me. His features are shrouded by the dark, but I can see the downward turn of his mouth and feel the intensity of his eyes. He’s concerned. “You said you would be right back.”

I turn away from him and look at the ground. “Sorry,” I mumble. “You wanna sit down?”

He does. His presence warms the air next to me. I want to isolate myself - it’s so easy - but I make myself scoot closer to him so he can at least hold my hand.

“A lot of people hate birthdays,” I blurt out abruptly. “Like, they gripe about getting older, usually.”

My hand curls up tighter. He’s so different from me, all soothing heat and composure and grace to my sharp edges and cold, jittery nightmare of an existence.

“Is that what troubles you?” he asks quietly. His voice helps.

“No.” My voice wobbles, about to fall off the balance beam. This was not how I pictured having this conversation. In fairness, I had hoped it was a conversation I would never need to have. “A couple years ago. Something bad happened.”

Malleus is yet unfamiliar with many a human habit and social convention, but it seems he has learned at least one from me. He lifts one arm and rests it along the back of my shoulders.

My voice goes strangely cold and steady.

“My friend died. Killed herself. She overdosed and had seizures for ten days until they took her off life support the day before my birthday.”

The words linger like the bitter fog of my breath in the air. He says nothing.

“I hate my birthday now. I’m mad at her for doing this to me. I hate myself for being mad at her. I hate it because it could’ve been-”

My voice hitches as if caught on a sharp edge. If I open my mouth to try again, I know I’ll choke on tears.

“It could have been you?”

He poses the question as delicately as the touch of a fallen petal.

I’ve already cried over this so much that I don’t think I can ever cry again. But I’m finding it hard to breathe, the air escaping from my chest in erratic puffs of visible vapor.

[ ping ]

I hated the group chat they’d made. A dozen semi-strangers propping each other up with worthless promises that she would be okay, even though I knew the moment I heard the news that she wouldn’t make it. So many people lamenting how sad it was. So many “my door is always open”s.

“I think I understand.”

Malleus speaks close to my ear. I fall into his embrace as though collapsing under the weight of my words.

“It is not about celebrating the loss of a year,” he says in a soft murmur, “but the completion of one that might have been lost.” He strokes my hair. “As if conquering a great foe in battle.”

“Mhm. Slaying the dragon.”

It’s out of my mouth before I can stop it. But he laughs.

“I should hope not. It is my birthday, after all.”

“Yeah. Sorry I’m making you miss it.”

“All is well.” He leans his head against mine. “I do not believe I am missing anything.”

I want to accept this as a wistful sentiment, but I make myself stand up. “Well, contrary to popular belief,” I say, taking both of his hands in my own, “birthday parties aren’t exclusively for you.” I give a light tug to pull him to his feet, and he rises with the poise of a dancer. “They’re also for your friends to eat cake and play games and be super obnoxious. So you shouldn’t leave them hanging.”

I never thought I would find the lights and crowd noise of a party welcoming, but I welcome it. Malleus keeps a hand around my shoulders - protective, comforting - until he’s certain I’ve recovered enough to stand on my own. I’m not quite up to joining the conga line, but I help myself to another slice of cake and some bonbons and a cup of punch.

“Feeling better?”

Lilia winks into existence next to me.

I’ve given up asking how he did that or when he showed up or anything else to the tune of fact-checking him against reality. “I forget you two can hear a pin drop in the next zip code,” I say as flatly as I can.

He gives a light laugh and pats my head. “I only want to make sure you are well,” he says.

“I think given my track record it’s safe to say that I’ve never been very well, Lilia.”

A strange expression settles over his eyes. Something knowing. Something…aged.

“It is never easy to face a monster in battle,” he says. “No matter your experience, your skills, your preparation- every confrontation is unique.”

I hold eye contact with him and sense I am speaking to a very different man.

“Do you know the meaning of bravery, young one?”

“Something something not being afraid of things?” I offer.

His smile politely declines my suggestion. “Silver made that mistake as well.” Lilia reaches over and taps me on the nose. “To be fearless is not to be brave, child of man. True courage lies in having fear and choosing to fight regardless of it.”

My gaze sweeps back to Malleus. Sebek is losing any composure he might have had due to a smear of frosting marring his lord’s white blazer. I look down at the half-finished cake in front of me. “It never stops, does it?” My voice comes out in a half-whispered croak. “I’ll never win.”

Lilia ruffles my hair. “You won’t know unless you try, young one.” His smirk never wavers, but it looks more genuine. “Besides,” he says with a knowing glance at my band of idiots - Grim balancing precariously atop Ace’s shoulders and trying to place a birthday tiara around Malleus’s horns - “it is hardly as though you are fighting alone.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #rexii writes #rexii writes twst #twst fic #malleus x reader #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #friendship as therapy

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scoops-stevie-archive · 1 year

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ik i said 'modern take' in the wip post but that's not what ended up happening, so have a very vague timeline. this was written mostly around midnight and it's unbeta'd so there's bound to be mistakes and incoherence.

Eddie Munson is no stranger to people knocking on his door at all hours, for all sorts of things. During the day it's neighbors needing Wayne's help with a busted pipe under the sink, or a ride into town, or a pack of Camels and a six pack traded for gas money. He and Wayne don't ask for anything in return on these occasions; the trailer park is a community on the outskirts of Hawkins' elite and they take care of their own here, no payment or judgment.

But during the night, when Wayne's long gone and already at work, people come knocking looking for a quick fix with shaky hands and nervous glances over their shoulders. Eddie’ll run them through his (Rick’s) prices, give them a little discount if needed and cover the lost earnings out of his own pocket. He keeps a pocket knife on him in close reach when they’re real shifty and skittish – knock on wood, but he hasn’t had a deal go bad yet.

That changes when Chrissy Cunningham dies in his living room and throws him into the deep end of the Upside Down. No knife can protect him from the monsters he thought only existed in his campaigns. The town turns against him (not like they were on his side in the first place) and brands him a murderer, sends a manhunt after him. When it’s all said and done, hardly anybody wants to buy from him and he loses half his income. He spends most of his free time nowadays cleaning spray paint off the side of the trailer.

All this to say, need for a helping hand and a good high weren’t the only things people came to the Munson’s for.

There’s always been whispers of Satan worshiping, all because he plays D&D and listens to metal music and preaches about the evils of a capitalistic society.

Only a few knew of how close those rumors were to the truth, just a bit skewed to the left.

Eddie Munson is the seventh son of a seventh son. A healing man, as his mamaw would say. He’s never laid eyes on his daddy so that makes him able to do things no other member of his family can.

Now he and Wayne never openly advertised it when they moved to Hawkins when Eddie was eleven. They knew these people weren’t as open-minded as the folks back home were, with their holier than thou attitudes towards the more "primitive" practices of the mountain regions.

Wayne wasn’t normally one to speak ill about people but when he told Eddie, with a not unkind voice, “These are the type of people that get huffy when they think y’ain’t usin’ the book the way the good Lord intended.” Eddie remembers nodding along in the truck’s passenger seat, even though he didn’t really have a firm grasp on what his role in this was just yet. Wayne continued, “but one day these folks are gonna need someone and their medicine won’t be able to help ‘em.”

Eddie understands now. It’s been ten years and he’s seen all kinds of people for just about everything under the sun, from the common cold to warts to colic. He isn’t a man of faith by any means; doesn’t really believe in God in the way most Christians do – he just knows that the religion goes hand in hand with the mountain magic he was taught and it feels like he’s breaking an unspoken rule when he tries to leave it out.

It’s been ten years since people started seeking him out, mostly under the cover of night where prying eyes can’t see, but business has been kind of slow because of the whole murder allegation fiasco, even though his name was cleared and the blame was shifted to a copycat killer.

So he isn’t expecting someone to be pounding on his front door at two in the morning.

The explicative he has on the tip of his tongue dies when he opens the door to a woman carrying a toddler bundled in blankets.

“Please,” the woman says. “She’s sick and I heard you could help.”

Eddie looks at them and weighs his options. He could turn them away and the kid potentially gets worse with whatever she has and the guilt would eat away at him. Or he could be a decent fucking person and help. He opens the door further and ushers them inside.

The kid is awake, he notes, turning on the overhead light in the kitchen. She just looks like shit. Probably feels like it, too. The corners and edges of her mouth are tinged red, a dead giveaway for thrush.

“How’d you hear of me?” He takes the kid from her mother and tilts her head back toward the light. “Can you open your mouth for me, kid?” She does and the back of her throat looks like she went to town on a whole tub of cottage cheese. He winces in sympathy and hands her back to her mother.

“When I went to the pharmacy to pick up Katy’s medicine, I couldn’t afford it out of pocket. So I started asking around and a woman told me of a boy that cured her own son a couple years ago.”

There’s been so many people, Eddie has no clue who she’s talking about.

The woman tells him her name, Michelle, and he motions for her to lay Katy on the couch. He’s getting a rag from the bathroom when his bedroom door opens.

“Wa’s goin’ on, Eds?” Steve asks, still half asleep and rubbing his eyes. “Why’re all the lights on?”

If it were another time, Eddie would coo and pull him close, tuck his face into his shoulder and rock him back and forth until he was asleep on his feet. Instead, he tries to guide him back into the bedroom with a gentle hand on his hip.

“Nothin’, baby,” he says quietly. “Go back to bed, I’ll be there as soon as I’m finished, alright?”

Steve looks like he’s about to agree until a nasty sounding cough from the living room has him perking up.

“Is there someone else here?” he frowns, eyes darting from the end of the hall back to Eddie. He pushes past him before Eddie can even get a word out. Eddie sighs and follows him, detouring into the kitchen to run the rag under cold water and grab a bowl.

“Steve, this is Michelle and Katy,” he introduces as he carefully moves Katy’s head onto a pillow. “Katy’s sick and her mom brought her to me.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “You? What can you do?”

Michelle looks alarmed at this but Eddie is quick to reassure her, “You have no reason to worry. Steve here’s just never seen me in action before. Has Katy eaten anything at all?”

Warily, Michelle shakes her head. “Just liquids. She hasn’t been able to swallow anything.”

Eddie nods but gives a warm smile to Katy and feels her forehead for a fever. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” She nods, looking absolutely miserable. “Don’t worry, kid, by tomorrow you’re gonna be feeling right as rain.”

Addressing her mother, “I’m gonna do some things that might look a little weird to you, but I promise I know what I’m doing. You were told to come to me for good reason.”

He starts wiping Katy down with the wet rag and mutters the Lord’s prayer under his breath, does this three times until the rag is warm, and then wrings the water out into the bowl. Next, he holds Katy’s mouth open and blows air into it. Steve and Michelle give him odd looks but he ignores them in favor of getting a lid for the bowl and throwing the rag into the ice box. He and Steve walk her out and Eddie hands her the bowl after Katy is in the car.

“Keep this under her bed and make sure she stays there until the fever breaks. As for the thrush, it should be cleared up by morning.”

Michelle’s brow furrows. “How? You didn’t do anything, how can she be cured?”

“I’m confident enough in my abilities to know she’ll be alright.”

Michelle leaves with a healthy dose of skepticism, as Eddie thinks all people should, but he knows that not all people believe he’s the real thing until they witness it for themselves.

“Care to tell me what that was all about?” Steve asks after they’re back inside the trailer, door locked and lights off as they crawl into bed. Eddie just yawns and does what he wanted to do earlier: pulls him close and tucks Steve’s head under his chin and runs his fingers up and down his back.

“It’s a long ass story that can wait until the sun is up and I’ve had at least three cups of coffee and seven hours of sleep. This shit is exhausting.”

it is said that the seventh son has healing powers that can cure thrush, talk the fire out of a burn, and stop bleeding. for thrush, he blows into the patient's mouth (in some instances, they'll spit into the mouths, as it's believed their saliva holds the healing properties.to cure fever, you gotta stave it out. don't eat anything once the fever comes on. wipe yourself down with an ice cold wash rag and recite the lord's prayer three times. when the rag is warm, wring the water out into a bowl and put the rag in the freezer. keep the water under the bed or couch and lay on it until the fever breaks.

#mine #cj writes #appalachain eddie #steddie #steddie ficlet #appalachian eddie munson

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fanaticsnail · 3 months

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Snail! I want to say I love everything you have given us for One Piece and your updates and ideas are all spectacular!

In particular, I am loving the Yandere Doffy things that are rolling across my dash, and believe me I am here for the whole "he has to keep himself in check for her" vs "he has her to keep him in check" situation, but I really latched onto the other anon's idea for why the Reader is held captive. The idea that Doffy compares his princess to his mother is fabulous, and that letting her leave Dressrosa (leave him) would have disastrous consequences by way of his mother becoming ill because his father was too weak and they left Marijoise combined in my head with a fic idea you posted about Doffy being overprotective while the Reader is ill.

What if Doffy keeps his delicate flower of a princess in Dressrosa, right under his thumb where she is meant to flourish, only to have her wither out of nowhere? Going from her reading to him while he rests in her lap directly to him reading to her as she dozes, sleeping and resting the same way she has been for days (and there doesn't seem to be any improvement, he is running out of medics that still have their heads attached). He cannot fix this; there is no way to snap his fingers and have her be well again, be awake and alert and oh-so-sweet as she should. His impatience and fear work in tandem; if she is going to get better, it will take time- but there is always the option that she will not, and he is watching her slow decline. And Doflamingo? He cannot bear this.

Ah, the potential for fluff, and heavy introspective angst.

Oh. My. Gosh. The plot thickens. Yandere Doffy: ask 1 & ask 2 here so far.

I am loving the fact that we're all in agreement that yandere is such a good colour to see him in -> suits him very, very well.

I have been wanting to write Doflamingo a care fic for an ill spouse or significant other for some time now (likely when I started getting sick, myself). It would just be so beautiful watching him struggle and not be able to do anything about it. Just as you said, the medics and healers are starting to run out of heads.

He can't fight it, he can't beat it, and it'd be horrible watching them fade away just like his mother did 😭.

OH MY GOSH. BUT WHAT IF THEY'RE DISCOVERED WHEN DOFFY GOES TO IMPEL DOWN?? AND THEY'RE NOT GETTING BETTER?? Who's going to help? Who can take care of them like he can? Who can ensure their safety like he can? So many options. I feel like I need to do a few of these to get it down right. So many different ways to go with a Yandere Doflamingo 🤌.

This is excellent, everything is all working together swimmingly. Thank you for your lovely add on, I will absolutely see it done. So much love for you, Anon 🖤🖤

#one piece #x reader #ask snail #snail answers #Doflamingo #Donquixote Doflamingo #Doflamingo x reader #fic prompt #yandere

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fernandopiastri28 · 3 months

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quand c'est? - part 3~ ln4 x op81

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

Yeah, yeah, he’s an idiot and should just accept defeat. He shouldn’t push himself so far. It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before, so the attempt is mute. Oscar knows he won’t listen to him, he should just give up while he’s ahead.

warnings: major illness, cancer, sickness, major angst wc: 2267

Lando ends up back in bed, a pair of Oscar’s boxer’s awkwardly sagging around his ass and a plain black quadrant shirt on. He’s been loaded up with pain medication and he can still taste the powder of the tablets lingering on his tongue. Oscar’s off in the gym doing a workout with Kim and had only left after much insistence from Lando.

He’d tried to check his phone, catch up on anything via social media he’d missed or answer some messages from family and friends, but it felt as if just looking at his phone screen was burning his corneas and brain, so he settled for staring up at the ceiling.

He thought about Oscar for a bit, but thinking about his boyfriend for too long resulted in him being half chubbed up against his thigh at seven in the morning. He could’ve done something about that, maybe it would’ve helped reduce stress from his body, but he was too tightly strung to do anything to himself- he genuinely thinks it would’ve killed him if he put his body through something as strenuous as wanking.

And that’s genuinely fucking embarrasing, so he tries to sleep away the shame.

Lando’s woken up by a heavy mass crawling on top of him. “Morning,” He grumbles as Oscar drapes himself half onto Lando.

“Morning,” His voice is less thick with sleep, but he’s clearly tired and panting, “You feeling better?”

“Mhm,” He shifts to wrap his arms around Oscar. His shirt is slightly saturated with sweat, as is his hair, but it’s nothing he hasn’t gotten used to. It’s part of being and/or dating an athlete. “Somewhat,” He adds- he feels far from ‘better’ or ‘good’, but it’s more manageable.

“Feel up for anything?”

Lando quirks his eyebrow, very forward, “Early morning sex?” It’s uncommon for them to have sex in the middle of a race weekend due to the imminent aches that Lando has to suffer post penetration, but honestly, it couldn’t be worse than his head right now, and if it makes Oscar happy- he’s down.

Oscar’s cheeks go splodgy red, “Tha-that’s not what I meant,” Lando isn’t sure why he gets so flustered and awkward about it. They hooked up for the first time in silverstone 2023, and that was over a year ago. Since then, they have been many cases of slow and languid sex before the race weekend and last night rushed fucks at the end of it.

“Okay? Then what did you mean?” His fingers drift through Oscar’s fluffy swoop, already dried and not showing a trace of being sweaty. Lucky bastard.

“Uh, a shower maybe?” They basically just had a shower, Lando doesn’t see the point. Maybe Oscar is testing his abilities to see if he can withstand a shower this time around. “Or get up and ready for the day if you just want to skip to that- we have some media stuff around midday, so I was thinking we could just wander around Orchard road until then,”

Lando thinks about it for a bit. He likes orchard road, pretty much each building is an architect's dream and an engineer's nightmare. Plus, there are quite a few luxury shops, so he could go get some new clothes and shit- but, it’s always so busy whenever he’s been in the past. Busy means being recognised, being recognised means having to take photos and autographs, interacting with fans means being peppy and.. and being normal Lando.

He can’t be normal Lando today, his body can’t even fake it.

“Not Orchard road,” He shakes his head, mumbling into Oscar’s arm as his nose juts against it. “I can’t do- can't deal today,” And of course Oscar is sickeningly understanding.

“All good, Lans,” God, he loves when he calls him that. It just sounds so good with his accent. “I’ll let Jon know, yeah?”

“Why?” Lando feels dopey, his mind clogged up with drugs.

“He’s your trainer, he needs to know if you’re unwell,”

“Yeah- okay,” His eyes blankly focus on his nails, where they’ve grown out too long like Oscar’s always are. They gently scrape down Oscar’s back, faint red lines appearing in its wake.

They stay like that for a few minutes, Lando unmoving and silent. “What’s going on in your mind?” Oscar’s got his eyes on Lando’s unfocused ones. “You look so out of it,” His thumb slides across Lando’s cheek, and he struggles to bring his mouth to answer.

His tongue rests heavily in his mouth, and it feels like his brain might throb out of his ears. He hadn’t noticed that he was coming off the painkillers because it had been so sudden, and he’d been trying so hard to just focus on Oscar.

“Empty,” His voice is hardly there, much like how it sounds after a party that consists of a lot of screaming.

Oscar licks his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to Lando’s lips. “Don’t feel up for talking?” His face is bare centimetres from Lando’s, and his features are all fuzzy being so close up.

He shakes, I’m not up for anything. It’s too many words for now, so he stays silent. It’s weird, only minutes ago he’d be considering the aspect of having sex, now he can hardly blink on command.

Maybe this is what it’s like being properly sick, and he’s just always gotten lucky with only having brushes with bad colds.

Oscar rolls off him after a little bit, and Lando’s eyes shut again. He doesn’t notice how much time passes- seconds, minutes, hours. It feels like it’s only been a 10 minute power nap when he’s awoken by Oscar again who tells him it's ten am and they actually need to get a move on.

He’s in a very typical Oscar outfit- black castore shorts and a team supplied papaya polo shirt. He has an 81 cap in his hand, his other hand on his hip. “Lando,”

“Oscar,” Lando slurs as he tugs the blanket further over his head.

“Lando, if you’re not up for the race today- just tell me,” He sighs, a frustrated one. “I’ll tell Jon, the team just needs to know now so they can get Pato race ready,”

He doesn’t get a reply, “Lando, wake up, mate,” He’s getting increasingly more irritated, and so is Lando. “Lando, wake up, Lando- fucking hell. Lando!” His voice is about as loud as the Oscar Octaves go, and Lando genuinely wants to smack him across the face.

Lando groans, a weird strangled noise of pure affront, “Shut the fuuuck up, Oscar,” He pushes the covers down and just stares at Oscar. “Fucking hell,”

Brown eyes meet green eyes- very unfocused green eyes. Green eyes that have no emotion behind them. They’re open, they’re there, but it doesn’t look like Lando is actually seeing anything.

“Jon’s looking for you,” God damnit Jon, does the man have anything better to do with his life?

Well. He is employed to pretty much hound Lando like a dog, so he is actually doing his job.

That makes one of them.

“And you need to get dressed, we’re just gonna head straight to the motorhome and shoot some stuff, alright?” Oscar sits on the edge of the bed and Lando’s lip juts out slightly. It would be unnoticed by anyone else, but Oscar knows each and every quirk of Lando’s. “C’mere,” He opens his arms.

Lando shuffles to prop himself up, not able to quite sit up. He makes a slight scoot forward before letting out a harsh breath. He’s not sure how much he’s going to be able to do today at this rate.

Oscar meets him halfway and embraces him. “You can’t race like this,” He hums, “You’re burning up- you could hurt yourself,” Lando allows himself to fully zone out, the words going in one ear and out the other.

“I’m.. gunna get dressed,” The words fall out of his mouth awkwardly, like they haven’t had time to fully form before they’re said.

Oscar moves back, standing up too. “Great,” He knows there’s no use in trying, so it’s better to just cheer Lando on where he can- make him feel somewhat better.

Oscar goes to the front door to put on and lace up his shoes while Lando debates what he wants to wear. Despite the uncontrollable sweating the night before, he’s feeling on the edge of a shiver, so after a long debate, he settles for a random pair of black jeans and an orange hoodie, the sleeves rolled to his elbows.

He shuffles into the bathroom, staring at his appearance for what feels like a concerning amount of time. It feels compulsive, in a way, like he physically cannot control his eyes to look elsewhere. He goes into autopilot as he reaches for his toothbrush, squirting toothpaste onto what he hopes are the bristles.

He turns the sink on, waving the toothbrush around in a hope to get it wet enough. He could’ve just settled for a dry brush, like he’s caught the younger boy doing a few times, but the thought makes his body physically cringe. According to Oscar, it’s better for your teeth, to Lando, it’s psychotic behaviour.

Lando gets impatient after a minute of brushing and spits out the toothpaste from his mouth into the sink, wiping his lips clean with a towel after. By this point, his eyes are working again and he can see. His headache has also weaned off somewhat, so that’s exciting.

He emerges from the bathroom, trying to remember what he needs to pack for the day. Phone, paddock pass, hat, journal, camera. Phone, paddock pass, hat, journal, camera. Phone, paddock pass, hat, journal, camera.

He can’t find his pass. Fuck. Where the fuck is it.

He grabs his pillow, tossing it to the ground with the thought his pass would be under it. It’s not a crazy thought, it’s happened once or twice before. He looks under the bed, which is a difficult task as it hurts to move usually, so squatting down and tilting his head towards the ground feels hellish. It’s not on the desk, not yesterday’s bag or jacket.

It’s just- gone.

“Lando, Lando,” Oscar repeats, walking up behind him. A hand loosely wraps around Lando’s bicep and he jerks at the feeling. “What’s wrong? Have you misplaced something?”

“Yeah, my- my pass,” His eyebrows knit together, a look of frustration and anxiety painting his features.

“I have it, I saw it on the ground this morning and grabbed it because I knew you’d forget it,” The aussie calms him, handing it to him as proof. Lando presses his fingers into the card tightly, squeezing it as if he’s worried it might fly off.

“Thanks,” He smiles, relief flushing his system. “I love you,” He looks over his shoulder, pecking Oscar on the lips. “Sorry- for being mad earlier,” Deep breaths and sighs break up some of his words, but Oscar can understand him all the same.

“It’s all good- you’re not well. I understand why you’re just a bit out of it,” Oscar holds Lando’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Just get your shoes on and we can head off,” Lando’s nostrils flare in effort as he steps towards the door, bending down to get his shoes on.

Oscar looks hesitant to ask if he needs help, his mouth opening and closing a bit like a fish, “I’m okay, I’m good to go,” Lando stands up, steading himself with a hand on the wall, out of sight of Oscar.

Oscar pauses in front of him, and for a few seconds they just stare at each other, then Oscar slides his hand up Lando's cheek and kisses him softly. Lando melts into it, moaning embarrassingly easily and quickly. God, he hadn't realised just how much he needed this until now.

They physically have to pull off each other after a few minutes, Oscar’s face flushed pink and Lando’s chest heaving through desperate shallow pants. “You’re so hot,” Lando bites his own bottom lip, grinning hard.

“Don’t-” Oscar warns, “Don’t do that face or we’re not gonna leave for another hour,”

Lando wants that insanely bad, but he genuinely thinks his legs would buckle and break underneath him if he tried, so he’s the one who opens the door and leads them outside of the room.

They go down the elevator, down to the ground floor where they’re practically attacked by fans. Their hands get separated, Oscar being pulled into a different direction by a pack of young boys while Lando’s swarmed by a group of teenage girls.

Lando’s sure he’s taken about 30 photos and signed about 20 shirts by the time they’re able to get properly outside and into the car. Oscar takes his hand back, squeezing it harder, “Sorry about that, I know you wanted to avoid the fans today,” He murmurs, doing his best to comfort his unresponsive boyfriend.

Lando’s tongue drags over his teeth, recognising the gap in between his two front teeth, the slight difference of lengths between each tooth, the ridges in them. He moves to sucking on the inside of his bottom lip, pinching it with his teeth. The pain is distracting from another uprising headache.

He won’t say anything to Oscar this time, he’ll just tough it out.

#oscar piastri #lando norris #lando x oscar #landoscar #f1 #formula1 #formula one #mclaren #f1 2024 #fernandopiastri28 #sickfic #fanfic #ln4 #op81

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azrielgreen · 5 months

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I am genuinely so impressed by how you are juggling so many projects. What is your writing process like for that? I remember you sharing about how you romanticize the process but like how much time is given to each project? Is it based on where the dopamine leads you during the day? How do you maintain the discipline? How much of a project is mapped before you start drafting and editing? It is so hard to create and i just *genuinely* admire your work ethic so much.

Hi, oh thank you so much, that's really kind of you! So, juggling multiple projects is still new to me, I've only ever had 1 or 2 at once before but the last year has taught me a LOT about how to manage it, how to roll with the punches and the importance of balance.

TL;DR this became a ramble so I summarised:

3 hours a day

dopamine led but with consistent rewards in place

discipline countered with indulgent self care

embracing change and new inspiration

not comparing to others

making work space very pleasing and comfortable

trust you will do it because you've done it before

romanticise

stay open to the universe

you've never failed unless you give up completely - it's fine to miss a deadline, life is very short and it's better to be healthy, happy and inspired than burnt out and sick. take it slow, enjoy it, work when you can and reward yourself CONSTANTLY.

So, time wise, I will try to dedicate at least 3 hours a day to one single project and I'll try to keep it one project per week otherwise my head is all over the place. It's usually dopamine led as following joy is key to my energy levels, but I have also learnt the past year to discipline myself and adapt to a constant flow of creation.

I maintain the discipline by treating myself as wonderfully as I possibly can. I still and always will romanticise everything I do and make it fun; all frills, self indulgent and lovely. Having a space I love that's set up well is hugely important for me. My desk area is amazing now that I've worked on it for well over a year.

One of the best things for crafting discipline but not losing the joy is the THRILL of achievement. When I complete something, i feel amazing and that spurs me on. I cultivate multiple ideas as indulgently as I can and expose myself to a lot of new inspiration. If something doesn't work or feels not good? I give myself the freedom to change it up and the confidence to know that no matter what, it'll work out beautifully so long as I keep going because it always has. There were times during Touched I would CRY it was so hard to write and I was so distracted.

Knowing you can do something because you've already done it is an incredibly powerful little power up that I use often to give myself a boost.

But honestly, overall, I really do romanticise my life in general. I make beautiful things, I love what I write, I'm so grateful for everything and always open to new ideas and I never close myself off by comparing, doubting or clinging too hard to what felt good before. I give myself space to realise that I'm constantly changing and growing and that my writing reflects that which is SO exciting!! I think honestly, I'm my biggest fan. I hype myself, reward myself and treat writing like a blissful escape, which it is, even when it's 7 hours non-stop for a story I am very ready to be done with.

The most important thing about maintaining this level of output (for me) is giving myself space to mess up a little, to miss a deadline, to delay posting and not feel awful. 'You're Divine' is one of the greatest writing lessons I've ever learned, in that just because you can physically write 25k+ a week doesn't mean you SHOULD. Towards the end I had made myself very ill. I won't ever do that again. It's never a failure, unless you give up completely. Life is very short, it's difficult to feel inspired when you're hard on yourself. Treat yourself like the person you love most in this world. Be a little selfish, lean in where you're weird and praise it to the skies.

Thanks so much again!

Love, Az

💜💜💜

#askaz

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compassionatereminders · 28 days

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Hi Kat,

I wanted to add something to your post about not wanting Vs. not being able to do something.

Last winter I had a major depressive episode. Most days I wasn't actually able to do a lot of things, but still I went on pushing myself, because I thought I had to. I went to work, I tried to do stuff at home, but mostly I just went to work, waiting for the earliest time I was allowed to go home (it's an office job, I didn't do anything those days, except being miserable and waiting to go home again) and then go to bed and feel guilty about myself. Those days I often wished, that I wouldn't be able to do things. Not able to go to work, not able to cook, somedays even wishing I wouldn't be able to get out of bed. And only when a few weeks later I had a massive breakdown, because my body just wouldn't take it anymore and I ended up on sick leave for several months and even being in hospital for two weeks, I realized that I wasn't wishing, that I wouldn't be able to do. But that I already literally wasn't. And wishing for it was in itself was a way my illness expressed itself and also just my subconscious telling my duty ridden mind to slow the fuck down.

So yes, I agree with you!

Now that I am feeling better, I am scared of ever feeling like that again. I want to be able to do things now, I wish for myself to be able to do things, even when not everything is possible for me at the moment. And finally feeling days on which I don't WANT to go to work are now actually a good sign, because they tell me, that I have gotten better. A lot. (It's still a long way to go and I still have a lot to learn, but I have also come a far way already).

(also I hope people preaching purity will someday realize, that condemning other people for doing things that are totally legal, where everyone consented and is of legal age and ability to do so, is not okay. Just because you are uncomfortable with the idea of something, doesn't mean it should be forbidden. (And I consider myself asexual and actually am quite uncomfortable with everything concerning sex. So I really don't get how someone can be that stuck up)

Wishing that you didn't have to do something is both valid and fully understandable, especially when you're disabled and would really benefit from not having to do it - but not being able to do it no matter what isn't a privilege. I'm not saying that disabled people who can force themselves to work are in an admirable position, just that the alternative isn't better

#chat with kat

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caspersickfanfics · 7 months

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Appreciation Post #1

(This is my way of thanking other creators! If you're mentioned here please know that I appreciate you and your work has made my day (probably multiple days, actually). Having said that, if you don't want to be in this post, please let me know and I'll be happy to edit it!)

Through the Snow by @dutifullyshamelessearthquake

Warnings: vomiting, standard sickfic stuff Fandom: Genshin Impact Characters: Cyno, Tighnari Highlights: long!!! (almost 20k!!!), attentive/gentle Tighnari, suffering/clingy Cyno, slow build-up and pacing

Excerpt: Cyno coughed violently into his hands, before his body lurched with the motion. Tighnari cringed, hearing liquid splatter on the wooden floor. Cyno's back heaved violently beneath his hands, and there was more splattering. He coughed wetly a few times, before inhaling a sharp, shuddery breath. The air smelled sour.

There was no question that this would be in the list this week - what an absolute dream to have a multi-chapter Cyno/Tighnari sickfic! The excellent pacing and general progression of the writing paired with extremely attentive caretaker Tighnari makes this work one of my all time favorites. Overall just a great mix of hurt and comfort!

Very Important Bonus Note: There's also some amazing art for this fic here and here by @relevantlucidity which I revisit frequently and even more art for it here by @myfriendscallmeasimp which is so precious!!!

Unfortunate Circumstances by @imill

Warnings: vomiting (induced and natural), scat/diarrhea, standard sickfic stuff; incomplete fic Fandom: Genshin Impact Characters: Scaramouche, Childe Highlights: long - about 7k of pure misery, balances complex emotions - fear, worry, guilt, disgust, pity - extremely well, wonderfully descriptive diarrhea + vomit combination if that's your thing, 2 sick characters for the price of one

Excerpt: Childe gasped, his chest tight as he looked at the trembling figure in front of him. He had thought semi-conscious, carsick Scaramouche looked horrible but this one looked even worse. Without a second thought, he pulled the smaller harbinger into a hug, fingers gently running through his wet hair. And Scaramouche didn’t try to fight it, he didn’t have the energy. He sobbed into Childe’s chest, mentally cursing himself out for being so fucking weak.

The number of times I have reread this fic specifically is frankly concerning. If you're into the emeto/diarrhea combination, it's a must-read. It's heart-wrenching, brutal, and ultimately really sweet and comforting. I don't always like fics where the caretaker is also ill, but this one feels realistic without minimizing either characters' pain. It's just an absolute treasure and I adore it.

Scaramouche Art by @warmmilkytea

Warnings: vomit/emeto art Fandom: Genshin Impact Characters: Scaramouche Highlights: lovely + comforting art style, captures the ✨ angst ✨ so well, such a great visual depiction of the buildup before being sick

This entire blog is right up my alley to be quite honest. I'm really not knowledgeable about art but these works make me feel things!! Wonderfully comforting things. When I look at these pieces, it's easy to picture a narrative around them and I adore that. This one specifically does such a lovely job of depicting one of my favorite bits to write - the buildup. I visit this blog often and just scroll through when I'm struggling with inspiration to write, so I'm very grateful that it exists!

Sharing a Receptacle by @danafeelingsick

Warnings: vomiting, food, standard sickfic stuff Fandom: Genshin Impact Characters: Tighnari, Cyno Highlights: extremely high quality writing, beautiful balance of dialogue / body language / descriptions of the internal world and emotions of the characters

I've been waiting for a month to recommend this fic, I've read it so many times it must be tattooed to the back of my eyes by now. I'm struggling to say what I want to about this fic because as I'm trying, I keep wanting to read the whole thing again. I don't know, it's just a masterclass in balancing the external world with the internal, emphasizing the hurt and the comfort just exactly right, and managing two sick characters on top of it all. I love it more with each reread!

Bonus Note: Dana's writing is the reason I started playing Genshin so everyone thank them for unintentionally reviving my desire to write after 5 years of writer's block XD They also have a bunch of incredible artworks which will likely appear in future appreciation posts (if I can ever stop waxing poetic over their writing).

A (Flame)light in the Dark by @aeryssickfics

Warnings: literal torture, mentions of blood (specifically coughing and vomiting up blood), vomiting, mentions of wetting and messing, vomiting on oneself, being chained up, mentioned force feeding, hallucinations Fandom: Genshin Impact Characters: Kaeya, Diluc, Aether, Lumine Highlights: intense whump/angst makes the eventual comfort and caretaking feel even better, very unique fic, intriguing combination of plot and hurt/comfort, depicts Kaeya/Diluc nuances really well

Upon rereading this fic for, genuinely, probably the 10th or so time, I just now picked up on a really interesting parallel between the sibling pairs in this fic. So now I love it even more because I am nothing if not absolutely weak for well written subtext and themes. I'm not usually big on whump fics outside of emeto stuff, but this one hits the spot. It flows very nicely, depicts some challenging perspectives and topics with the weight that they're owed, and I just highly recommend it to anyone who's curious and who doesn't mind the warnings!

#appreciation post #queued

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icedmatchatae · 2 years

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Glimpse of Us | KTH Chapter V: Same Old, Different New

Pairing: Problematic Idol Taehyung x Grad Student Reader

Genre: Idol AU, Ex-Childhood Best Friends into—, Angst (Hello, welcome to my angst central), Fluff (mainly in the flashbacks), Slow Burn, Eventual Smut

Summary: BTS’s V has been living a lavished and successful lifestyle, but underneath all of that, Kim Taehyung is far from the perfect image the media and fans made him out to be. All he wants is to relive the feelings of happiness and purpose in his life, but how can he when he left behind those memories years ago? The same memories, he hopes to see a glimpse of.

Warning: Underage alcohol consumption (in the flashback), everyone is basically in this chapter pls bear with me lol

Word Count: 11.5k

A/N: I'm so sorry for not posting last night HHHH I got sucked into doing something last minute but please enjoy!

Chapter V: Same Old, Different New || Series Masterlist

“Hyungie, open up.” You say as you held a spoonful of fish stew in front of your ill bedridden best friend.

Being at the ripe age of nine, Taehyung thought it was a good idea to play on one of the days of Geochang’s rainy season. Being his best friend, you were easily influenced despite the protests of both his parents and your grandparents. You both thought they were just there to ruin your fun, but in reality, it was to protect you because days after you got sick but not Taehyung for some miracle.

However, Taehyung made it his goal to take care of you such as feeding you, tucking you in bed, putting a cold cloth on your heated forehead, and giving you disgusting ginger lemon tea to help your sore throat.

Eventually, you got better within the week, but it was Taehyung’s turn to get sick and you immediately felt bad that he got it from you. Nonetheless, you made it your goal as well to care for your best friend.

Taehyung opened his mouth and took in the delicious content. He was pampered by the Gods, or in this case, you. You did the same thing, but better—his words, not yours. You fluffed his pillows, cuddled with him since you were immune to any sickness, and scratched his scalp to his liking.

“You’re the best at taking care of me.” He cheesed, wiggling in happiness under his blankets.

“Not as much as you did with me! Look I’m better!” You countered, giving him more spoonfuls of soup. “Plus, I’m the one who got you sick…”

“True, but I would be upset if it were anyone else. You’re an exception.” He reassured you. “If I got it from Eunjeong and Sungyeon, there would be problems.” You laughed at his sayings.

“You’re such a mean eldest brother.” You joked to which he pouted. “But you’re the best of best friends.”

The sides of his lips lifted upwards forming his rectangular smile. “Impossible. You’re number one, Blue.”

You hummed and shrugged, “Maybe to you. But you’re number one to me.” You tilted the bowl towards him, so he can finish it all up. He slurped the remaining in the dish and gasped in satisfaction, thanking you a million times more.

“Taehyung, stop. You don’t need to do that.” You pushed away the chopsticks holding a piece of tuna that Taehyung pushed in front of your face.

The morning arrived sooner than you liked and the hospital was filled with more murmurs and rushing health professionals from behind the door of your room. You were tired as hell, but the nurse suggested you eat first before going back to sleep. You were assigned to eat three meals daily due to your previous eating habits, so the tray before you had all the nutrients you needed for breakfast.

Though you expected to be alone by now, Taehyung was still right by your side. It made you curious that he was here and not at home. Didn’t he have like…a busy life as an idol? Now he was trying to feed you food.

You were a bit embarrassed by it but more so uncomfortable at how he was being. You remembered how you used to take care of one another when the other was sick, but this was different.

“But you need to eat, Blue.” He frowned. “Plus lemme take care of you like when we were younger.” He pushed, but the blank stare in your demeanor made him put the utensils down. You sighed in relief so that you could finally eat on your own.

“Don’t call me Blue. I may have said yes but you haven’t earned anything yet for you to call me that. That was before and now is different. Do you understand me? I also can eat for myself, it’s not like my limbs aren’t working. I’m grown too.” You informed with a stern tone as you mouthed a spoonful of rice. You saw him frown, biting his lip and nodding. You hated that you felt guilty for being cruel but it was true. You couldn’t let him in that easily. “But I appreciate what you’re doing for me. You know you can leave right?” You eased him, noticing how tensed he was before.

He nodded before licking his lips as a habit. “I know, but I don’t want you to be alone here. I remember how you get…”

He did it again, but this time you let it slide. You scrunched your face at the hard reality of those words. You really hated being by yourself, especially in new environments. You’ve been in Seoul for a little over half a year, but everywhere you went didn’t seem as right. Most likely because you were alone for the majority of the time, but you couldn’t do anything so you had to suck it up and get used to it.

“Thank you again.” You told him, politely smiling.

“No need to thank me, Bl—I mean, ___.” He chuckled nervously as he watched you eat more and more, looking appreciative at how you were stuffing your cheeks.

The atmosphere was somewhat awkward, but it wasn’t as bad as before. It just…needed some getting used to again. Taehyung was a person you held many memories with, then he vanished for years and now he was back, so it was difficult to approach it without acknowledging the gap and distance between you two. But hey, it was something.

“So…” You cleared your throat. “How long do I have to be here?”

“I told them a month because you needed to rest, but I knew you would complain…”

“And you’re right about that.” You responded, sipping on some orange juice.

“So the doctors compromised with two weeks,” Taehyung informed as he drank his hot chocolate. You pondered that he was still anti-coffee after all these years, but never told him.

“Two weeks is too long. I don’t have any illness or broken anything really. I still have work and scho—”

“While you were out, Kenji and Seojoon Hyung were with me before they left for the night. Kenji told me to tell you that you’re off until you were in stable condition.” He reported as he leaned back into his chair.

“But—”

“He also mentioned that I should fight you until you agreed. His words, not mine.” The idol grinned, remembering the little complaint the younger man displayed. But then the smile vanished as to why he took the advice from someone that barely knew you. Also though Kenji meant no harm, it felt like poison in the idol’s veins every time you interacted with your coworker.

You slapped your palms over your eyes and groaned. “Then he mustn’t know how expensive staying at a hospital is. It’s gonna cost me a for—”

“No, I paid for everything.” He shook his head before you looked at him flabbergasted.

Your jaw dropped as you blinked dumbly, “No, you shouldn’t have. Stop—”

“Why not? ___, you haven’t taken care of yourself properly. You were literally dehydrated and starving yourself, in addition to putting all this unnecessary stress on you. Kenji told me you’re working seven days now while still in school!” Why did Kenji know so much about you? Taehyung grew concerned and wanted to know who your coworker exactly was. “I know we’re still in a weird purgatory with our friendship that we rekindled three hours ago, but I still care for you, if not more than before, whether or not we grew apart. I don’t like when you do this to yourself, you of all people should know. It’s not healthy, and you know I’m right.”

He was scolding, and you were pissed, but you couldn’t deny that he was right. Similar events happened like this where you would faint in school or at home. They weren’t chronic, but it was mainly due to having so much stress at a very young age. Your body went into overdrive at certain points where it couldn’t handle thus blacking out. Stressors came from socializing, helping your family farm on the weekends, your elderly grandparents aging, studying in school, the list could go on and vary by the person.

Taehyung was there for almost all of your fainting and stood by you while holding your hand to ensure that you weren’t feeling as stressed. He’d scold you, kinda like now, but it was because he was worried. He tried doing the most for you, whether it was being the first to speak to someone, to helping you on the farm to assisting you and your grandparents with some daily stretches, to reduce muscle tension.

“Y—you’re right…” You exhaled as you glanced at him. His pupils dilated with his lips apart, surprised that you were being levelheaded with him rather than yelling. “This was my first faint in Seoul, so I’m sure everyone except you didn’t know what to do.”

Taehyung hummed faintly before his eyebrows pushed together, “Did you faint after…you know…I—” He hated mentioning it, but it happened. Fortunately, you knew what he was talking about so you nodded.

“A lot during my undergraduate years actually…” This brought an aching frown onto the idol’s face. “I was never alone though. I had roommates who helped and it was usually surrounded by crowds. Although it was sometimes too much for them…”

Saturated silence covered the room, though it was even lighter compared to a couple of minutes ago. Maybe it was that you were both “catching up,” but this wasn’t something you’d expect with “catching up.”

Nevertheless, Taehyung reached for your hand and opened your palm out. Using his thumbs, he applied pressure to it, thumbing down your skin. He has done this before as past time while you were both doing nothing but having your quality time. “I wish for you to never go through with that again. If so, I hope that it would happen when you’re with me.” He spoke timidly, being careful with his wording. “Please take care of yourself. I don’t wanna see you in a hospital again unless you’re giving birth.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed as you tried hiding the laughter within you, “You’re a shithead, you know that?”

“Mmm, no. I’ve heard asshole and dick.” He shrugged as a light smirk formed on his lips. You looked away as you continued finishing your food. “But I really am serious when I say to take care of yourself. Now if you want me to take c—”

“I’m not making you do that.”

“Then you take care of yourself.” He stated. “Saying you’re a grown woman, yet you drink three cans of Coke as a meal??”

You pouted, having no comeback so you finally let it go and agreed. “Fine, but the hospital bill. You didn’t need to do that.”

“I want to and I can. It’s all part of caring for you, okay?”

You sighed before nodding. You were still careful of him, but you accepted his presence back into your life. Improvements were being made slowly but surely. You wondered how this would go.

The nurse came by again to give Taehyung a complimentary meal. Perks of being an idol you assumed but as she settled the tray down, she turned her head to say, “By the way, Mr. Kim. There’s someone outside of the room. She said she has been notified by one of the people on the entry list for Miss ___.”

Before Taehyung could even speak, you interjected. “It’s probably Halmeoni. Kenji must have told her where I was and wanted to check up on me. Send her in.”

The nurse has a puzzled expression but merely nodded as she left the room. Taehyung shifted back at you and said, “You have a nice boss…”

“Well, ye—” You barely completed your sentence as the door slammed open, flinching you and Taehyung. Your eyes searched for the sound, then creased your forehead at this newcomer. She was definitely not Halmeoni, not even being a Halmeoni.

But Taehyung knew exactly who she was. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail, dressed in her athleisure wear, yet sported a YSL crossbody bag. Her face writhed with frustration, but eyes bounced off of him and you, someone who she doesn’t know.

The idol got up from his seat and faced his body to his girlfriend. “C-Clara—“

“Tae, where have you been? You’ve been gone the entire night and missed our morning walk together.” Clara complained as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Since you were with Seojoon Oppa, I called him and ask where you were and he said the hospital. I came right away thinking you were hurt, but the front desk told me you were a visitor and—”

Her eyes landed on you. Nothing on you or your face screamed familiarity to her mind. Her brain couldn’t click at the sight of you, but her thoughts questioned who were you and how you knew her boyfriend. But despite looking rather sickly, the socialite deemed the visual of South Korea thought you were pretty.

Intimidatingly and competitively pretty.

“Who’s she?” Clara simply asked Taehyung who was practically a goldfish.

No thoughts were running through his mind right now. He didn’t expect to let his girlfriend meet his childhood best friend. If anything, that was at the very bottom of his thoughts list. Yet it still happened…earlier than he wanted, and when did he want it? Never at all.

Judging by her behavior, questions, and the worried look plastered on her face, you recollected the subtle memory of Jungkook revealing that Taehyung had a girlfriend of five years.

This was probably the girlfriend in front of you.

Unnoticeably to the two, you scrutinized her. You bit the inside of your cheeks. She looked familiar, probably someone famous but not in the entertainment industry. Regardless, she was drop-dead gorgeous, making you feel a bit insecure. So this was Taehyung’s type? Huh, couldn’t blame him. He was always uniquely handsome, a stunning visual.

But he was being an idiot right now by not answering his girlfriend’s question. You didn’t want her to accuse you of something. She looked approachable—kinda not really—, but your intuition says she could use her power over you.

So you decided to step in. “You must be…” Her irises diverted to you again as your brain worked its magic. “Clara, his girlfriend? Taehyung has told me so much about you.”

The idol finally resumed as he snapped back towards you with a stupefied look. The both of you knew it was a straight-up lie, but you eyed him out before laying them back on his pissed-off girlfriend and smiled. “I must say you’re very pretty and graceful in person.”

All of sudden, the tension peeled off her body when a smile formed on her. “He has?” She cooed as she stepped closer to the bed. You nodded and grinned. Fuck, you were prettier up close, an approachable and family-winning face, she thought. “Tae, aren’t you gonna introduce me to her? I mean she already knows bu—”

You giggled and Clara couldn’t help but observe your every move. Meanwhile, Taehyung rolled his eyes but guessed it was time. “So Clara, this is ___ ___. She’s my childhood best friend from Geochang.” He presented you with such precision, hiding an exciting smile. But then glanced at Clara who kept her stare at you. “___, this is Na Clara. My…girlfriend.”

“Childhood best friend?” The socialite pointed out before looking at her boyfriend. “You never told me you had a childhood best friend.”

Taehyung scratched the back of his head, not out of nervousness but you could sense a bit of irritation, but Clara doesn’t notice a thing. “Uhh, we had a falling out before I debuted. I thought it was over…But we met again a couple of weeks back when I was out with Seojoon Hyung and Wooshik Hyung.”

“Oh, so it’s been a while since you reunited with her?” Clara questioned, biting her pink-coated lips. “Why didn’t you tell me about her now, at least?”

Taehyung seemed appalled at her behavior. “Why does it—”

Oh, no. You refused to listen to this potential fight, so you butted it again. “Uhh, I’m practically irrelevant in his life now. He’s right about the childhood best friend, but it’s more was. I’m just an acquaintance. It was nice of him to visit—“

“___, you’re not irrelevant.” Taehyung gloomed, but you didn’t care as you were trying to save his ass.

“Either way, it was nice meeting you. I hope to see you again.” You greeted the socialite before glaring at the idol. “I think you should go and say whatever you have to say elsewhere.” As if you conversed this with him through your mind, he got the gist that you didn’t want to see an argument happening. Yet his eyes widened for a sign of your reassurance of being alone. “I’ll be fine, I promise. Kenji texted that he’ll visit later today.” It was another white lie, but he may come knowing how much his grandparents would nag him to bring you homemade dishes.

Taehyung’s eye twitched at the mention of Kenji. He wanted to say a thing or two but restrained himself as he wasn’t in a position to do so. So he gave in and nodded. “Be safe, okay? If you need anything, just text me.”

“Don’t worry so much, Mr. Big-Shot Idol. I’ll be fine.” You smiled comfortingly, which eased Taehyung.

“It was nice meeting you too!” Clara spoke back, waving goodbye. “Maybe we can hang out sometime.”

You didn’t know if you wanted that, but you nodded civilly. You began to question if bringing Taehyung back into your life was the right decision.

“I can’t believe you fucking came!” Taehyung banged the front door open, stomping inside and through the entranceway. Clara closed the door behind her and rushed behind him. She watched as he paced around the living room, not caring if he had shoes inside the house. “Barging into the room like that, have you no shame at all?”

“I do have shame! Why’d you think I waited outside until I got permission.” Clara reasoned.

“Didn’t Hyung tell you that I wasn’t hurt?”

“No, he told me that you’ve been at the hospital the whole night if you weren’t back home.” She explained. He groaned at Seojoon’s choice of words. “He didn’t say anything else because I hung up and came rushing! You had me worried sick! I thought something happened to you!”

“Well, I’m fine as you can fucking see.” The idol said sardonically.

Clara sighed, trying to be as rational as possible. “So, that girl…what even happened anyway?”

Taehyung slummed himself onto the couch and ran his fingers through his disheveled hair.

“She fainted at work because of exhaustion and stress. She tends to do that, so I had to make sure she’s fine since she has no family in Seoul.”

The socialite wrinkled her face, gathering more questions. “And she really is your childhood best friend? You’re not ch—”

“Why do you always think I’m cheating if I encounter another girl or hang out with anyone but you?” The idol retorted as he puts pressure on his temples. “I gave you no fucking reason for you to accuse me of cheating. Don’t you trust me?”

“I do! I ju—”

“You just nothing.” He interrupted. “Don’t stay shit like that if there’s no reason.”

“I’m sorry! It’s just…” She bit her lips, rubbing her bicep at his statement. “She’s really pretty, Taehyung.”

Taehyung squinted his eyes at her, incredulous to say the least. “How do you even want me to respond to that? Aren’t you like getting compliments and praise left and right? This was never an issue?”

Her face twisted then shrugged, “It’s not. I’m just saying…How long have you known her?”

Taehyung protruded his lips out, debating if he should tell her. He wasn’t necessarily against sharing things about you, but it was different with his…girlfriend. It didn’t feel right to do so, Taehyung knew deep down.

However, if he wanted you to be back in his life, this also meant showing you to others who were a part of his life after you, including Clara and his other members. He couldn’t keep you all to himself. He felt iffy about it, but he had to no matter what. “Well, if you must know, we’ve known each other for almost twenty years. But I haven’t seen her for nearly half of it. She’s known Kim Taehyung before all of this.”

Clara had something in her eyes that Taehyung couldn’t figure out. Wondering? Curious? Jealous? It was difficult to explain, but he didn’t think it was a bad sign. To save his brain all the trouble, she finally spoke. “How do you feel meeting her again?”

The idol was taken aback, not expecting her to ask that. It was weird but somewhat appreciative. “Uhh, it’s good? She kinda hates me, but she’s willing to be friends again.”

“Why would you say she hates you?”

“Like what was said earlier, we had a falling out.”

“Why?”

“Jesus, how many questions do you have?” He fussed.

“She’s literally the only person who knew you the longest other than your family. She probably knows everything about you and I’m curious.” She casually replied.

“Maybe more than she admits though…” He mumbled and she couldn’t get what he said. But before she could ask him, he went ahead and said, “We had a falling out because I was a complete dick to her and basically ignored her after moving to Seoul.”

Taehyung closed his eyes, not knowing how painful it must have been for you. You needed him, but he wasn’t there for you. The guilt oozed inside him. Though he couldn’t make it up, he hoped that he could rekindle your friendship and regain your trust in little to no time.

“So she was just a friend?” Clara brought him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, why?” Taehyung answered swiftly. She blinked at her boyfriend whilst he stared back in confusion. He gave no other indications. Strange…he told the truth but there was a faint sparkle in his eyes.

“Well, if she’s a part of your life again, then maybe we can hang out with her. Bring her to parties, don’t you think?” Clara suggested. “After all, she has no one in Seoul.”

Taehyung hated that he liked her idea. He agreed that he should bring you into some get-togethers, but not spend time with his girlfriend and best friend together. Yet it was part of his way into helping you heal your scars and open you up to trusting people again, including himself. He wanted you to get back on your feet socially, and that was something he wanted to do.

Weeks went by and you were still cautious of Taehyung, but you couldn’t help to admit that you missed him. You forgot how much his aura made your day. He looked weary most of the time, but his demeanor spun a 180 when he came to visit you. Sometimes he was with Jimin, Jungkook, Seojoon, and even Clara shockingly. There were moments where she’d watch your every move but nothing too intense. The girl seemed friendly and wanted to get to know you a little better, but of course, you were still traumatized from the past girls who approached you. Heck, even the others wanted to know you too.

But once he was alone, he was reassured that they meant no harm and were genuine. More or less for Clara, but she was his girlfriend after all. Despite all, Taehyung made it a routine to visit you while you were in the hospital, interrogating you if you ate or drank water which you did.

By the time, you were discharged. You glowed radiantly like a goddess and plumper in the face and cheeks, looking like the Blue he knew and loved. Though you told him not to, he always called you Blue in his head and sometimes with Jungkook and Jimin.

You still couldn’t go back to work as your boss instructed you to come back a month after leaving the hospital, which was bullshit from your perspective. But it gave you time to rest and focus on school. You were doubtful of it, but knowing you couldn’t do anything about it, you nodded. It was difficult to find a job as is, and finding a job that worked with your hours was a needle in the haystack.

But still, you were grateful for your bosses. They even closed an hour or two within their business hours to visit you. They gave you so many side dishes and stews while ranting to you about how they missed their favorite worker and how terrible Kenji was by himself.

While Kenji was there too.

More weeks passed and you were finally able to work again. You went back to working five days now. Halmeoni refused to give you any more, even insisted on doing less but you denied it and stuck with your regular shifts. With that, Taehyung also visited and ate at the restaurant. You were still his server, but this time, you actually held a conversation with him and treated him warmly. There was still distance, he could sense that kilometers away but he enjoyed every minute of it.

One night, he and Jungkook stayed back and helped clean the restaurant up. Your bosses and Kenji didn’t deny the free labor from the handsome rich idols, so you let it be. Less stress for you maybe.

Kenji left quickly for the day as he had a group project to work on, so you were left alone to close up. Once you hung your apron on the hook, you turned to Jungkook who called your name. You shouldered your bag and tilted your head. “So my birthday is coming up, and I was wondering if you would like to come.”

You scrunched your nose, and a million thoughts ran through your mind. “I-I’m invited? You really want me to come?”

Jungkook gawked blankly at you. You looked so serious and worried. He turned to his older member and Taehyung only nodded at your behavior. “O-of course, ___. I’m inviting you right now! I’d love for you to come.”

“Oh.” You said quietly. You bit your lips and fiddled with your fingers, wondering what to say. “Ummm, when and where is it?”

“It’ll be next Saturday! You don’t work weekends right?” You shook your head, making Jungkook grin in happiness. “It starts at 8 PM. It’ll be at Taehyungie Hyung’s house.”

“Why is it at his and not yours?”

Jungkook blushed hard at your thoughtless question. He felt a bit embarrassed to say it, but Taehyung chimed in. “Jungkookie’s house is not fit to invite guests. It’s not messy, just structured unusually.”

“I just have a lot of stuff…” The younger member tried defending himself, but it didn’t seem solid.

“So you think you could come ___?” Taehyung asked, hoping you say yes.

“I…I love to, but who’ll be there?” You were asking many questions because you feared it would be a full-on party to which you’d take back your acceptance.

“Don’t worry. Hyung says you’re not comfortable with big parties.” You eyed Taehyung out for exposing your shyness. “I’m also shy too, so I don’t have many friends. It’ll just be our members, some partners, maybe some of Tae’s Wooga Hyungs, my close idol friends, and my brother is coming into town. It’ll just be a grilling dinner, really. I promise. Maybe even karaoke.” Jungkook comforted your hesitancy and you appreciated him for that.

In fact, besides getting closer to Taehyung, you’ve also grown fond of Jungkook and Seojoon. Though you barely spoke to Seojoon, he was there for many occurrences but he seemed comforting. Jimin seemed too much for you that you were overwhelmed, but he meant well. Also, his eye contact scared you. Jungkook was a good ground. Maybe because he was younger and shy like you.

You nodded before smiling tenderly. A breathtaking sight in both Jungkook and Taehyung. Taehyung being that it was been a while since he has seen you smile so genuinely. Jungkook being that he may have a teeny tiny crush on you. You just looked so gentle. “I’ll be there, but I may need the address.”

“I’ll send it to you,” Taehyung announced.

“Why not me?” Jungkook pouted.

“It’s my house address.”

“Point taken.”

It was the following weekend and the older members were preparing the food on the table. Jungkook was busy greeting his guests, Jimin and Wooshik were having a conversation, Clara did some last-minute cleaning and Taehyung was scared shitless for you.

This was the first time he asked you to hang out beyond your work. Well, technically Jungkook asked but it still counted. This will also be the first time you actually meet almost everyone new in his life. This was new territory for you, because not only being introduced to new people, but these were also idols, artists, and influencers. He knew you were nothing like them, you probably knew too. He knew you were nervous and scared to be outside of your comfort zone. He only wished to keep you calm and relaxed the whole night through.

But for him? Taehyung didn’t really understand you. When you first met again, you ignored him. Then, you were vile and snappy. Next, you were still mean but at least you spoke to him civilly. Now you were a little bit approachable. You were hot and cold, mainly cold but he didn’t know where he stood in this. Were you even willing to be in a friendship with him? You don’t seem like you wanted it, despite the friendlier exchanges. He felt lost and didn’t know how to talk about it with you.

“Babe, you okay?” Taehyung felt arms wrapped around his waist, startling him. He looked down and spotted Clara looking curious, noticing how tense he was. “You seem frazzled.”

“Just a lot going on.” He replied. Her grip loosened as she lets go but held one of his hands.

“Are the sessions doing okay?”

His jaw hardened. Of course, she’d ask that. “Yeah, they’re great.” He answered, but sarcasm rang around it.

She hummed before grabbing a filled glass of wine from a tray. She sipped the content before saying, “Who else is Kookie inviting?” She scanned the room, getting more and more packed with familiar faces.

As if Jungkook heard, he stopped by the couple. “Where’s ___?”

“You invited her too?” Clara’s eyes widened in shock.

“Yeah, she’s my friend too.” Jungkook cheesed in pride, but it made Taehyung’s eyes twitch. “Is she coming?”

The front door opened and the three’s attention went toward who was coming in. The two youngest members thought it was you, but three men stepped in—Wooga Squad, Hyungsik, Seojoon, Sunghwan, and Namhyuk. Taehyung pierced his eyes at Namhyuk. It seemed that he finally had time to hang out after months. It was good to see, he thought, but still felt weirded out.

Clara waved at the older men and greeted them. She excused herself to hug all three of them, happy to see their attendance. Her boyfriend observed their interactions, feeling nothing, and had no comments.

“Did she text you?” Jungkook asked, growing worried. “Did you send her the right address?”

“Chill, bro.” Taehyung cocked an eyebrow. “She’ll come, she doesn’t back out. She’s probably just worried or lost. I live a little out of Seoul.”

“Doesn’t she know us though?”

“Yeah, but it’s different than showing face. She needs to be eased into these kinds of things.” Taehyung informed the younger as his eyes went towards the door. “Believe me, I know.”

Jungkook raised his brow at him. “Really? You know.” He knew you were his childhood best friend, but he acted like no shit happened between you two until recently. “Hyung, she’s not fifteen anymore. It’s different.”

But Taehyung diverted his eyes, staring seriously at his member. “Whether she’s fifteen or twenty-five, I know her. Things are different now, but there are still those same old things I know too well like the back of my hand.” The conversation ended there, but there were still some things Jungkook wanted to say. But he went against them, or else people would know about his interest in you.

But Taehyung knew by the looks of it and he didn’t like it one bit.

Taehyung’s phone rang and he instantly checked who it was—you were calling. He excused himself away from Jungkook so that he doesn’t hear your conversation. Once he was at a distance from the crowd, he answered and greeted you.

“I think I’m here?” You announced through the speakers. “These houses are too big and it took me an hour to get here.”

“Why didn’t you call me to come to get you? You would have been here sooner.”

“You’re literally hosting it at your house. I could never ask you that.” You countered. He heard shuffling in the background, most likely you were carrying something else. “It’s fine because I was running late anyway.”

“You know you can knock, right?” He gazed at the entrance, waiting for some kind of sound.

“I know, but…well, I’m gonna be honest. I’ve been here for almost thirty minutes. I even saw Seojoon and the others go in but I hid behind a car.”

“What, why?”

“I’m nervous, Taehyung.” You squeaked, breathing slowly. “People like you, they don’t like me as much.”

He hated your doubts, wanting to take them away from you. “Don’t say that, ___. You know almost half of them and they like you. The rest will like you too.”

“You think so?”

“Of course and I never lie to you.”

You respired, “Okay, but like can you get me? I feel awkward coming in by myself.”

He smiled pleasantly. “Yeah, I’ll be there. See you soon.” You ended the call and Taehyung began walking through the guests.

“Is ___ here?” Jungkook begged him once the call ended.

“___’s coming?” Jimin’s eyes shined in glee.

“Wait, ___?” Yoongi heard your name. “Your best friend, ___?”

“Why is she coming? Did you two make up?” Hoseok wondered. “Jungkook, you know about this?”

“I invited her!” The youngest publicized. “She’s my friend now!”

Wooshik gasped, “You brought the cute waitress friend from the restaurant?”

Taehyung pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh my God, before anyone else speaks, yes to all—Wait, why are you calling her cute—You know what? Never mind. She’s here actually, but don’t stare at her like some woodland creature! She’s nervous about meeting all of you so cut her some slack.” His eyes roamed his friends who stood quietly, even nodding. “I’ll go get her.” He resumed his walk out.

“Wait, why not me?” Jungkook asked.

“She asked me to,” Taehyung muttered before opening the entrance and stepping outside.

The idol eyeballed over his driveway and front lawn, but there were still no signs of you. He walked down the porch stairs and called your name. All of sudden, a neatly curled head of hair popped up from behind a parked car. You walked around the vehicle, fully revealing yourself to him and Taehyung’s irises widened.

In addition to your hair styled softly curled, this was the first time he saw you in makeup. It was natural and enhanced, but you had a touch of red on your lips. You usually bare-faced into work, most likely because you were too tired to care. But what made him blown away was the dress you wore. A faint tangerine hue midi dress with thin straps that had floral patterns precisely spread across the fabric, the skirt of the dress flowed like a mermaid. You paired it off with some nude block heels.

Taehyung gulped at your appearance. It was so you like how he remembered, but so… mature and grown. This really was you, his best friend ever since he was young. His Blue. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you until you clear your throat.

“Stop staring, it doesn’t help my anxiousness.” You went up to him and pushed the tray of confectionery into his hands.

“S-sorry.” He apologized before looking down at what you gave him. He inspected it a little longer before he gasped in utter disbelief. “Are these…”

“Yes, they’re my butter mochi.” You finished his ask with a reply. “I didn’t have time, nor money to buy him something. I also don’t know what an idol would want besides name-brand things. I slept late last night to make them…Do you think he’ll like it?”

His eyes met your worried ones, but he couldn’t help to find endearment in your concerns. “Of course, ___. He’ll love them. Jungkook is literally a hyena with any food.”

You exhaled as you flattened your dress down, “Is this too much? This isn’t even mine. I had to borrow this from Kenji’s sister and she lent me some make—”

“___, you’re blabbering.”

“I know I told you I was nervous, but is it really showing?”

“Unfortunately, it is.” He spoke honestly, to which you groaned. “But again, you’ll be okay. With all the hype Jungkook and Jimin have been giving you, I’m sure you’ll be greatly loved.” You rolled your eyes at the thought of those two being blatantly obvious with their flirting. You also knew that Jungkook had a little crush on you. “You know Jungkook has a crush on you right?”

“Don’t even remind me. I feel bad because I don’t. I barely know the guy too.” You vocalized into the air. For some reason, your rejection of his member mitigated his worries. He knew Jungkook would be upset about it, but at least it wouldn’t be as much of a problem.

“Let’s go inside. Everyone’s dying to meet you.” Taehyung guided you toward the entrance. He had his hand on the knob and before he twisted it, he stared at you once more and said, “You look beautiful, by the way.” He averted back to the door to open, and it was a good thing he was focused on that otherwise he would have seen the rosiness of your cheeks creeping up.

As you entered and took your shoes off, you tried your best to push negative thoughts and useless concerns out of your head. You cheered yourself on that Taehyung was right about them liking you. Once you reached the end of the entranceway, you felt many pairs of eyes on you like you were new meat. Technically, you were so you viewed them back with big doe-eyes. You gripped your hands together, playing with them to ease yourself.

“Everyone, meet ___! She’s my childhood best friend from Geochang.” Taehyung presented you to his friends who ogled at your form.

You grinned followed by a wave or two at his members and other guests you didn’t know besides the ones you saw at your work. “Hello, nice to meet you all.”

“JK, she made her famous butter mochi. It’s the best thing in the whole world.” Taehyung walked towards his youngest member and handed him the tray.

“I’ll eat these with pride and honor, ___. Thank you!” Jungkook praised and you chuckled with satisfaction. Hoseok eyed the treats out, but the youngest pushed them away from his eyes to see.

Meanwhile, the rest continued to peer in your direction. You didn’t know what to do. Though your reflex was to cling onto Taehyung like before, it would be questionable, especially with Clara’s eyes on you. They were filled with blankness, but still. So you stayed still and tapped on your appendages.

“You’re ___?” Seokjin was the first among them to ask. You nodded then came more questions. “You were the one who talked to Taehyung late at night when we were trainees?”

You laughed nervously, cringing at how you were being. “Yeah, it was a long time ago but…you remembered?”

“How could I forget losing my sleep because of that?” Yoongi added in, making some of the crowd laugh. “Always hearing damn laughter from the other side of the room.”

“You’re pretty.” Namjoon blurted out, grabbing the attention of everyone, particularly Taehyung. “Like, super attractive.”

“Isn’t she?” Wooshik cheesed. “Yah, you look healthier too. I’m so happy for you.”

“Good to see the voice that haunted our sleep,” Hoseok mentioned jokingly. “I mean it in the nicest way possible.”

“Oh, thank you.” You responded but it sounded like a question. The pink hue crept back up into your cheeks. “Uhhhhh…”

Jimin came into the conversation, “You know ___ is single—”

“Okay, we’re not getting into that,” Taehyung interjected as he went to your side. “Feel free to get to know ___, but not too much.” He focused his pupils on Namjoon, Jungkook, and Jimin. “Go easy on her. This is her first party in Seoul.”

Jimin then linked his arm around yours, surprising you as you gawked at his action. “Come, ___. Sit by me tonight.”

You were about to protest, but you were getting dragged towards the table with Jungkook and Wooshik following suit, asking you so many questions. You turned back to see Taehyung bewildered with his mouth open.

You were stolen from him.

Taehyung felt a smaller hand intertwined with his, knowing that it was his girlfriend. Clara looked at him, but he continued to look at your overwhelmed stature as Namjoon asked you about your schooling.

The socialite giggled lightly and squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry, she’ll be fine. Just enjoy yourself.” Taehyung hummed gingerly, knowing you’ll be okay but kept an eye on you the whole night through.

You would think that winning the soccer championship games in your second year of high school called for a celebration. Even Taehyung thought so, but he didn’t think it would be this vast.

It felt like everyone and their moms were here squished up together, shoulder to shoulder in this house. Taehyung practically bulldozed over people to get to his destination and he couldn’t quite indicate where his destination was with all these invitees.

His captain and sunbae, Jungjae, hosted a “small” get-together at his house to which Taehyung got granted permission by his parents and brought you along to jubilate with him. But once you arrived, you noticed his parents weren’t around, more people than the team multiplying by the minute, older ones who brought alcohol and juice, and breaths running down your necks.

Neither of you expected it, and to his dismay, Taehyung was ripped away from you as his teammates were greeting and introducing him to their friends and it just went downhill. He got pressured into drinking the bitter taste of soju as a team bonding. Now he maneuvered his way through the sardines of bodies, trying to figure out where you were. He scoped the area, hoping to some kind of characteristic of you. He was near the back of the house, noting the lawn with the large pool in the middle of it. Jungjae was from a well-off family, so it made sense. But no one dared to go outside, since all the fun was inside.

“Hey, Tae!” A hand rested on his shoulder. He turned and saw it was one of his teammates, Kim Minjae, who was the same year as him. “How you’ve been?” He offered a cup of an unknown alcoholic substance but Taehyung denied it.

“I’m good, it’s…this party is wild.” He had to shout his answer over the blaring sounds of the music.

“I know right? Maybe even hoping to get with someone tonight.” Minjae smirked as he gulped down his drink. Taehyung did not want to envision his teammate trying to stick his dick somewhere. He needed to find you, thinking that you’re probably very uncomfortable right now.

“Good luck with that, I guess,” Taehyung commented, more to himself.

But it was when Minjae gasped and smacked Taehyung’s chest to grab his attention again. “Her, that one. I’m calling it.” His teammate pointed over and Taehyung followed the direction. “Pretty in the black dress.” Once he landed his eyes at Minjae’s “target,” Taehyung almost had smoke blowing out of his nose.

Through the transparent sliding door, you sat outside at the edge of the pool. At the end of your feet, there was a cup resting. You looked into the door, seeing all the “fun” happening. You were so easily turned off by what was happening in the house, you stepped outside to be alone. The crowd alarmed you, so you left it immediately and sat there in solitude.

“She’s even alone, this is perfect,” Minjae observed before chugging down the alcohol. “I’m going in.”

Before he could even do anything, Taehyung stopped him, pulling his teammate back. “No, you’re not. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Aww, did you call dibs already?”

“There’s no dibs. She’s my best friend.” Taehyung scoffed. “I’m not letting you go near her!” His voice got lower, and the protectiveness with you heightened so much more, seeing that Minjae tried to do something.

“Geez, alright, I won’t.” Minjae back offed, noting how angry Taehyung got. But despite all this, he was being a drunk idiot. “She is hot though. Did you tap th—”

“Leave before I punch you in the fucking throat!”

“Okay, bro. No need for violence.” His teammate raised his palms out as he surrendered. He eyed you out before shifting his eyes at Taehyung, then ultimately leaving before a fight broke out.

He didn’t bother to look back because Taehyung sped towards your direction, pushing people away with no remorse. He slid the door open, catching your eyes. Once you saw your best friend, your calmed face morphed into great relief with the pout you pushed out your mouth. “Blue.”

“Hyungie.” You got up from your seated position and ran into his arms to feel his embrace. “I don’t like this. I thought you said it was the team and their plus ones.”

“I thought so too.” Your best friend sighed. “But I guess Jungjae Hyung wanted to go all out for his final year.”

You sniffed his shirt, analyzing his smell. You held his chin to open his mouth before wafting his breath. “You drank.” You stared sternly.

“You too!” He didn’t want to be at fault for everything. “There’s a cup right there.”

“I was offered one but I didn’t drink it. I fled before they even noticed.”

Guilt consumed him as he couldn’t deny your allegations. “I was told to. It was for the team, but after that, I didn’t take another sip.”

“I’m not mad at you.” You giggled as you held his cheeks in your palms. “I’m just tryna give you a heads up because your parents may be up and will notice smells.”

Taehyung pondered that for a minute before a sly smirk appeared, “What if I sleep over? It is a weekend. Your grandparents are asleep, no?”

You threw your head back in laughter and shook your head, “Can’t believe you’re taking advantage of my elderly grandparents and their early bedtime.”

“Better than getting punished by my parents.” He shrugged oh so innocently before pecking your temple. “Let’s leave, Blue?”

“Mmm, yes please.” You tangled your fingers together and readied yourself. “Before we go home, let’s go to a convenience store. I want ice cream or a soda. Any liquid in the house is mixed with alcohol.”

He lifted your intertwined hands and poke his nose at your skin. “I’ll treat. A reward for putting up with this damn antic.”

“Can’t deny a hard bargain, Hyungie.” You agreed as you pointed over towards a gate. You spent much time outside, you were able to inspect the perimeter. “We can leave through there. No one will know we left.”

“I’m sure they won’t even know anything. They’re all drunk out of their minds.” He pulled you as you ran through the grass. You escaped the madhouse and made your own adventure with some strawberry juice and vanilla ice cream.

Hours later, people were drunk out of their minds and dancing to Yoongi and Namjoon singing through the karaoke microphone. The birthday boy knocked out on the couch, cuddling up to Jimin while the older held a conversation with one of the guests. Hoseok was sitting in the corner, red as a tomato. Seokjin sat next to him reading webtoons. Seojoon, Hyungsik, and Wooshik sat on the floor and engaged in a nonsense conversation Everyone was scattered around the house.

Taehyung was chilling on the other side of the couch. He didn’t bother where Clara was. The last thing she told him was that she was going to go to their bedroom upstairs since she felt drowsy, but that was over an hour ago. Other than her, he had to be a good host and make sure everyone was fine or not breaking any of the home decors.

So he stood up and walked around the house, inspecting that everything was alright. But as scoped out the areas, he realized something—you were nowhere to be seen. The last occurrence he remembered in the night was during the cutting of Jungkook’s birthday cake. The youngest tried to feed you some of his first slice. You denied it but he insisted and pulled the birthday card, so you had no reason but to.

In fact, Taehyung was never able to even spend time with you as everyone kept talking to you and Clara clung to his side at all times. Questions were asked like how long you’ve been in Seoul, how was Geochang, how you met Taehyung, where you go to school and what was your major, which Taehyung found out that it was Masters in Education through overhearing conversations. You always loved helping and educating others, especially him.

However, the main question of the night was what exactly happened between you and Taehyung. The members knew, but everyone else didn’t. Considering his friends saw you go from ignoring him to ridiculing him to having a genuine conversation, it spiked many wonders and thoughts. They were so curious since you were the person that knew Taehyung the longest, almost your entire life. You were practically a portal of history to who was Taehyung before being famous and the celebrity everyone knew and loved.

On contrary, you actually didn’t say much about it other than the “falling out,” even throwing a small fib that since Taehyung was away and have gotten busy, you grew apart as time went on. The members didn’t even argue but had confused looks. Taehyung didn’t know why you did that, especially all that he did to you. Maybe saving face, but who really knew?

Your answers were short and simple, not going in-depth with anything and definitely not with Jimin’s questions about dating and preferences. Taehyung was bothered by why his friend asked them but realized that Jimin was just curious about that realm. To be honest, he doesn’t think his member even has an interest. He just wanted to know things.

Now Taehyung’s mind dwelled on your whereabouts. You didn’t say you were leaving. Were you okay? It was barely midnight. He checked the bathrooms and they were empty, even the guest bedrooms, and still got nothing.

He went up to his members and asked, “Have you seen ___?” Jimin, Seokjin, and Hoseok looked up at him and crinkled their eyebrows in thought.

“The last time I saw her was before Jungkook was knocked out.” Jimin nudged the birthday boy who continued to be out cold.

“Maybe she went home?” Seokjin proposed with Hoseok drunkenly nodded quietly.

Taehyung shook his head, “She would have told us, especially since it’s pretty late. I wouldn’t even let her leave all by herself.”

“I’m sure she’s fine, Tae.” Jimin tried reassuring his best friend. “You’ve been worried about her the whole night through. I’m sure she had fun.”

There was so much Taehyung wanted to say, but bit back and nodded. He glanced at Yoongi and Namjoon still going strong at karaoke. “I need some water.” He announced before leaving to go to the kitchen.

He filled a glass up and chugged it down. He had a mild headache on his shoulders, still feeling worried about you. All he wanted was to know you were okay. Though this was small, it was still a party and people did pummel you with everything they got. In a way, it got too much for you.

Wait, he realized. When you were overwhelmed, you had a habit of walking away and being by—

Barking interrupted his thought process. It was Yeontan and sounded like it was coming from the backyard. On another thought, he hasn’t seen his pet the entire night so he was now concerned about two things.

The idol headed towards the back entrance and discovered the sliding door was opened a big wide, enough for his dog to stroll through. As his eyes searched for Yeontan, a gust of relief hit his face.

Not only did he find his dog bouncing and panting in joy, but Yeontan also kept you company as you sat on the patio and ate a slice of cake while talking to his dog. Your bare feet up and crossed onto the chair across “No, I can’t give you cake. There might be chemicals in here that are poison for you.” You spoke accordingly as you forked a piece into your mouth. “Not for me though. I am human and you are a dog.”

Yeontan cocked his head to the side before crawling towards your legs and jumping, whining his little heart for you. You placed the plate down on the table to grab the furry creature. “Okay, I’ll let you sit on my lap again.” The second you settled him on you, he curled up into a ball and laid down before closing his eyes. He cuddled his head into your lower stomach. “You get so cuddly. Reminds me of your father when we were younger.” You patted his fur down continuously.

Taehyung’s heart skipped at the scene. It was wholesome and sweet that he enjoyed every minute of the interaction. Also, the fact that you still knew his habit of cuddling. You looked at peace, for the first time tonight, being alone with his dog. But he hoped that he can join in like old times.

He knocked on the glass door before opening it wide enough to enter. You turned to see him close the door behind you as you grinned courteously. “I found you.” The idol greeted as he sat on the chair next to you. “Everyone said you were gone, but I didn’t believe them.”

“You’re right.” You replied as you caressed Yeontan. “Been here with your doggy for a while. He never wanted to leave me.”

“I’m surprised that he likes you. It took a while for him to like the members.” Taehyung stared at his pet as he leaned into this chair. “Clara still struggles with him. He always growls or runs away from her.”

You frowned as you glared at the animal on you. You stage whispered, “You shouldn’t do that to your mom. She cares for you, you know?”

Taehyung chuckled at your behavior. “Actually, no. He’s my pet. She doesn’t really care for him, only feeds him when I’m not around. Clara didn’t agree with me getting a dog, but I still got him.”

“Who would say no to this face?” You purred as you brought a sleeping Yeontan into your arms and kissed his head.

The idol heavily admired the view as you nuzzled your face into Yeontan’s fur. The small Pomeranian lazily licked the tip of your nose before going back to his slumber. You giggled and kept him back on your lap.

“I forgot that you just go away from everyone, yet you’re still here.” Taehyung pointed out, grabbing your attention.

“I mean I didn’t want to be rude to just leave without notifying the host.” You shrugged as you reached for your plate of dessert.

“I guess the habit never left you.”

You blew out a soft laugh from your nose. “Yeah, the habit of you always finding me never left either.”

“You had me worried.” He spoke truthfully as he bit his lips. “I know you’re not the biggest fan of these kinds of things.”

“You shouldn’t have been.” You told, trying to assure him. ”Parties before were crowded, but this was pretty tame.”

“Yet you still came outside alone with my pet.”

“It got a little too much when a drunk Jungkook was glued onto me and Namjoon asked me to sing with him. After laying birthday boy down on Jimin, everyone else was distracted so I dipped without notice.” You explained as you took some whipped buttercream into your mouth. “Everyone was nice though, and they gave me their numbers and even asked to hang out, but…”

“But…” Taehyung egged on, wanting to hear more of your opinion.

“I told them we’ll see ‘cause I really am busy with work and school, and other things.” You sighed.

“Did you have fun at least, ___?”

“Yeah, I did.” You smiled, reminiscing about tonight as you scraped what was left of the cake before popping it in between your lips. “It’s been a while since I had done something like this, so thank you for helping me out. I know you were busy and all, but—”

“No, no, I wasn’t busy. I actually wanted to hang out with you, but everyone else was in the queue to spend some time with the famous ___.”

“Please, I’m sure I’m the farthest from being famous in that room.” You snorted in disbelief. “Jungkook even introduced me to some of his idol friends, I forgot their names…Eunwoo? Yugyeom? I don’t know. There were so many names to remember.”

Taehyung smiled happily at your rambling. “Baby steps, I guess. Uhh…” He scratched his temple, trying to think of how to word this properly. “I hope this helped with, ummm, trusting people a little.” You blinked, reaching his uneasy eyes. “I’m sorry if this offends you. I just—”

“I understand.” You said. “I remembered back in the hospital that you wanted to help me trust people again.”

“Did it work?”

“Well, this is only the first meet so…” You breathed out. “Baby steps, I guess.” You repeated his saying to which he scrunched his nose in amusement and looked down at his lap. “I’m sure you’re wondering if I’m on my way to trusting you.”

His mouth cured down when he pulled his up to see your pupils and face forward. “Is it that obvious?”

“You’ve been worried about me the entire night, you looked for me, you’re being protective of me from your drooling members, you’re asking all these questions now…and I know that’s what you want from me.”

“I—”

“I don’t like saying this now, but that’s how you were, Taehyung.” You huffed, then finally met his eye contact. “It’s fascinating that you still do that.”

“Why is it fascinating?”

“Because it’s been ten years since I last knew you.” You murmured. “I’m sure there are many differences between Taehyung before and Taehyung now.”

The idol pursed his lips at your statement. It seemed that everyone but him verbalized that things were different between you and him. That you weren’t eight anymore, that he wasn’t able to care for you as much as before, that the restoring bond wasn’t strong like when you were younger. He hated it, he didn’t want to resort to that so-called justified belief. The memories were there, that was his evidence as well as yours, but you refused to look at them as how he did.

“You say that yet, look where we are.” Taehyung implied, gazing at the perplexed expression on you. “Party inside, yet you’re outside and alone just like before. And you said it yourself, I always find you.” You didn’t respond, only letting him speak further. “It feels like the same old things between me and you.”

You processed what he was saying. He seemed bothered, the defense evident on his features. You understood what he meant, and you did see the patterns within the weeks, but you weren’t going to tell him that. There was still distance and you couldn’t figure out why or how to solve it yet. You doubted he figured it out too because he was struggling right now.

Or maybe you did know, but you feared the results and vulnerability you had to do.

“You can’t say that we’re still the same because you know damn, well that’s not true. Again, you don’t know the kind of person I’ve become in the past ten years, Taehyung.” You informed him, eyeing him out. “It’s all blank and all you know are those memories when we were younger and naive. There are differences.” You stated calmly indifferent to your heart palpitating rapidly. “Like how I think of you now.”

Taehyung felt a stubby pit in him. He didn’t like that he was aware of that fact, but it stung when you confirmed the distance. You were right, he knew nothing within those ten years and who you were. He hated himself for it. The shortness in his breathing was present but tried his best to control it without going through another episode. “W—what do you mean by that?”

“Well…” You fiddled with your fingers, gathering your thoughts into words. “You were my best friend.”

“A-and-and now?”

“I don’t know.” You responded curtly. Your tone was rude, but you didn’t know how to say it without hurting him. And the hurt was there on him with his shoulders slouching lower. “Sorry, to say it like that. But it’s my truth.”

He nodded defeatedly. “I get it. I’m the reason why it’s so hard for you to trust others.” You didn’t want to comfort him and say it wasn’t true, because that would be lying. ”And trusting the perpetrator is almost impossible.”

Now you wanted to counter. “It’s not impossible, Taehyung.”

“How can you even say that when you don’t even know how you think of me?” His glossy irises shined through the dimming light of the midnight moon. Hints of tears were not there, but he was fighting them back into place.

“Because I’m letting you back in again.” You directly expressed, but the pain was still there. Your eyes frantically searched around as you debated your next move. You hesitantly raised your arm out to him. At times, your hand flinched back but kept moving forward. He followed your movements in curiosity before he realized what you were doing.

Your fingers jungled through his ebony locks, scratching his scalp in fondness as you peered at the idol. “Taehyung like how you have your reasons, I have mine too. It’s not impossible because I forgave you too. If you want me back in your life, I want you as well. It goes both ways.” You held forth as you pushed back his bangs, revealing his shining forehead. “It’s just gonna take a while with all that happened, okay? Even with your members and friends. It’s coming together.”

“I don’t want us to be awkward though. I know you feel it too.”

“We can’t help it. We have empty years behind us, and hopefully, we’ll be able to catch up. Just don’t think too much about our past now and don’t compare. I’m not the happy-go-lucky pushover you know.”

“You were never a pushove—”

“We’re back and focus on how are now.”

“How are you even so calm? I miss my best friend and wanna hug you so tightly, but I feel like you’re gonna kick my ass if I do.” He spoke childishly, making you giggle.

His insides tingled at your lovely sound.

“You’re not wrong again.” You brought back your hand. A low whine came out of his mouth when he couldn’t feel your touch anymore.

“Of course, I’m not. I know you inside and out.” He frowned.

“Not all…” You said under your breath and were in relief that he didn’t catch it. “I’m calm because I know it will happen. Not everything happens within a night, Taehyung.”

“I also don’t like how formal you call me. I miss Hyun—”

“Don’t push it.” Clipping your voice, you clenched your jaw. You shut him up right away. “Let’s take it slow, please.”

He agreed then you yawned largely before rubbing your eyes. “You tired? I have extra roo—”

“I’ll take a cab home.” You spoke as you stood from your seat with Yeontan in your arms still sleeping. Taehyung copied your movements before you transferred his dog to him. “I need to wake up early to study anyway.”

“Are you sure? Everyone’s too drunk to move any limbs and is probably sleeping over.”

“More reasons for me to leave.” You said matter of factly. “You can take care of them. I sobered up while outside.”

“It’s late. I don’t even know where you live. What if you live far?”

“Taehyung…”

“I’m being respectively concerned.” He reasoned as he slid the back door open, letting you both inside. “I’m not letting anyone leave the house. We’re all sleeping in the living room. I prepared matching pajamas for every one of us.”

You chortled at exaggerated words, but deep down, he spoke the truth. He was an idol…he could afford it. “Seems like no won’t be an answer for you?”

“You’re not wrong.” He smirked as you both headed down the empty hallway and up the stairs. Judging by the sounds and muffled voices, the party seemed to die down as everyone grew sleepy. In a split second, all of his members were in the living room dressed in red checkered pajamas. Even the sleeping Jungkook was changed.

You trailed behind the idol. Once you were brought into the first door to the left of the second floor, you found the same pajamas his members wore. You turned to him, in a surprised but expected expression. “You deadass bought matching pajamas. How’d you know their sizes?”

“I don’t, but it’s pretty easy for men through height.” He pointed out. “But you’re one of the few ladies inside the house so it’s pretty limited.”

You grabbed the folded clothes off the neat bed, checking it out. “I’m sure this is fine then. Thanks.”

“You’re lucky with this guest bedroom. You have your own bathroom in this. When I bought this house, I didn’t even know until Jimin pointed it out.” Taehyung leaned into the doorframe, crossing his arms. “This is Jimin’s unofficial room.”

You chuckled at his same-aged member. “So I guess I’ll change and head down to the living room?”

“No, you’re staying here.”

A formed morphed on your lips. “What, why?”

“There are so many men down there. I’m not putting you out there.”

You eyed Taehyung speechlessly. Sure, it was transparent that he was protective over you, but you didn’t think to this extent. At least not now, which made you question it densely.

“You have a nice spacious room to yourself, ___. Don’t give it up to sleep on a couch or floor with some…men.” He gagged at the emphasis of the word. Did he not realize that these were his friends he talked about?

“Fine, it’s your house anyway.” You gave in as you unfolded the sleepwear.

“There’s a new toothbrush for you to use as well as some makeup remover and cleanser. Make sure you lock the door. Jimin might notice something’s up.” Taehyung provided and you hummed in response.

“Thank you again. I’m actually very tired, it’s been a long day.” You were grateful for all his doings tonight.

“Don’t overwork yourself.” He reminded strictly, making you roll your eyes. “I’m serious, ___. I don’t want to repeat the last time.”

“I’ve been better, I swear.” You promised, sticking out your pinky toward his frame. Your gesture made him grin as he latched onto your small finger with his longer and larger one.

“Keep that promise.” He advised before parting. “If you need anything, just call me or knock on my door. I’ll be here for you.”

“Thank you.” You gave your gratitude once again. “Good night, Taehyung.”

“Sweet dreams, ___.” Sweet dreams, my Blue. He wanted to say so desperately.

Once he left, you changed your clothes. You headed towards the bathroom to wash up. As you brushed your teeth, you reflected on the night. There was a slight shift in this…thing with Taehyung, and it was a good sign you hoped. At the very least, he now was aware of how genuine you wanted to be his friend again. It was only a matter of how much and how long. It really was going to take a while, but it couldn’t be helped. At least on your end.

You still didn’t trust him, but it was gradually getting there. You and your heart knew. After all—

He was your best friend.

Tagged: @manuosorioh @kaal-ee @dahliasbouqet @bertqut1 @fuckthinking @thvxstf

#taehyung x reader #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfiction #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #kim taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #bts x reader #matcha masterlist

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thedreamlessnights · 4 months

Text

A Little Rest

Here's my last fic for @bg3-apprecimaytion! I knew that I would have to write something for @davenswitcher's Rockstar!Astarion from the beginning of this event. It's a bit late, but here it is! Ever since I read this fic, he's been on my mind 24/7 - I had so much fun crafting up this fic for him and his favorite groupie, and a soft moment between the two! It's set at some point in the future of their relationship, post-Cazador ♥

I used the prompts sick and borrowed clothing, and I hope you enjoy @davenswitcher! You are so lovely and talented, and this fic has me on my toes with every update! I can't wait to read more of your beautiful lyrics ♥

AO3 Link

Warnings: Descriptions of a headache and general cold symptoms, mentions of being overworked, and past addiction. Explicit sexual content - slightly rough sex, fingering, praise, and penetration.

The headache is the first sign.

Astarion is no stranger to those. He’s spent more time in the last few years with a throbbing skull than without. Still, from the very beginning of the ache in his temples, it’s clear that this one is different from the others.

Unlike the slow, steady build of his migraines, the pain comes out of nowhere. It’s as if someone has struck him across the head. As it goes on, it spreads outward – circling around the crown of his head until it feels as though his skull is being crushed by some invisible force.

Still, it’s manageable. He’s performed in much worse conditions. The pain isn’t blinding, and though his thoughts feel a bit slow, filtered out through the ache of it, he should be well enough to concentrate on the lyrics.

Then comes the sore throat. Concerning, but nothing new, even combined with the discomfort of his head. Many of his mornings have started off with a scratchy throat and a pounding headache – the price of his indulgence the night before. But he’s been sober for months now, and considering the amount of tea he’s been drinking, there really shouldn’t be any irritation.

When the exhaustion sets in from limb to limb and his nose starts running, Astarion is finally forced to admit to himself the thing he’s been skirting around all morning: he’s well and truly sick.

A cold, likely, but enough to make him want to curl into his bed with a soft blanket and sleep the day away.

But, of course, he has a concert scheduled later that night.

He’s missed several shows in the past, and been late to even more of them, but ever since Cazador was finally booted from his life, he’s been trying to be more consistent. Huge crowds of people have flocked to the city just to see him perform, and the thought of letting them down blooms guilt deep in his gut.

So, as he has so many times in the past, he pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to Gale.

A: Gale? Wru?

G: At the store, getting some equipment for tonight’s show. Why?

It’s the answer he was hoping for. Thank the gods that Gale had finally learned his commonly-used acronyms, because every second Astarion spends staring at the blinding light of his phone is worsening his headache.

A: Need medicine ASAP. Head is killing me. Feeling ill

G: I bought you painkillers a week ago. Check your belongings?

A: Cold medicine. Sore throat. Nose won’t stop running

Gale spends a minute or two typing, all of which has Astarion anxious. Gale can be a pain, but surely he’ll bring the medication. Won’t he?

Finally, the message comes through, and Astarion can’t help but scoff when he sees it.

G: The best remedy for sickness is rest, Astarion.

A: Gods, Gale, I know!

A: Just bring it.

A: Please.

G: Fine 🙄

Gods, who had taught him how to use emojis? Now he’d be insufferable.

Trying to ignore the sensation of his skull splitting in two, Astarion drops his phone on the bed next to him and shuts his eyes, hoping the pain will fade. When that doesn’t work, he stares blankly up at the ceiling, mindlessly counting away the seconds.

It’s agony. The store can’t be far, but every moment of waiting feels like decades. His nose keeps seeping liquid, and no amount of blowing or wiping alleviates it. When he finally hears the door opening, he lets out a breath of relief and sits up.

“Thank the gods. It took you long enough–”

But it’s not Gale who is at the door, holding the treasured bag of medication. It’s someone he’d much rather see, giving him a bright smile, her multicolored eyes shining in the light.

“Estellé,” he breathes.

The sight of her alone is enough to dull the throbbing of his skull.

“Gale told me you weren’t feeling well,” she says, stepping closer and setting the medication out on the bed. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Now that you’re here?” he starts, flashing a smile. “I feel well enough to take on the world.”

But to his horror, just as he’s finished speaking, a sharp cough rips from his lungs, startling him and ruining all his attempts at being debonair. “Oh, for hell’s sake,” he groans, leaning back on the soft pillow and shutting his eyes again.

What a horrid thing this sickness is, robbing him of the sight of her.

But Estellé simply lets out a laugh in response, sitting beside him and smoothing the hair away from his face. “How has everyone taken the news?” she asks. He can hear her twisting open the medication, shaking out a pill or two and pouring some water for him from the bedside pitcher.

“News?” he asks.

She places the water in one hand and a pill in the other, and he forces his eyes open to gulp it down. The sooner he gets it into his stomach, the sooner the blasted thing can work.

“The concert,” she says. “Were people angry it was canceled?”

“No, my dear,” he answers. “It’s not being canceled. Believe me, I fully intend to go out there and give them the performance of their lives.”

He can’t see her face, but he can hear the sharp intake of her breath. “Astarion,” she says, and her tone has taken on a hint of chiding. “You have to cancel it. You look terrible.”

“Darling,” he exclaims softly, drawing his hand over his heart. “You wound me!”

“You need to rest,” she insists. “It won’t help anyone if you make yourself feel even worse.”

“You sound just like Gale,” he grumbles. “But fine – for you, my lovely Estellé, I’ll cancel.”

Once again, he opens his eyes, squinting and feeling around for his phone. As his fingers close around the cold metal, a flutter of shame moves through his chest. It’s rare that he cares about the negative newspaper articles, but ever since he met Estellé, something has changed.

He doesn’t want her to think badly of him. He wants to show her what he can be. She’d helped free him from Cazador, and that isn’t something he takes for granted. It isn’t something he intends to waste, lost in the drugs and the sex and the fame, as he used to be.

But she’s watching him with a muted anxiety, as if she’s worried he’ll attempt to go out anyway, and he really can’t resist her.

When he swipes his phone open, he finds a text from Karlach.

Hey, Star. You alright? Need us to cancel the show?

Ten minutes ago, he would have denied her offer in a heartbeat. It’s almost painful to take it, even though so much of him wants to.

Unfortunately, yes, he writes back. I’d love to perform, but…

But his head is squeezing in on itself like a fist around a stress ball.

But his voice can barely rasp out his words, much less croon one of his songs to the audience.

But his girlfriend is here, looking as though she might cry if he decides to move.

But I don’t feel well enough to go on, he finishes, sending the message through.

Aww, Karlach writes. That’s okay, Star! Get some rest and feel better – we’ll handle it.

A rush of gratefulness for his band washes over him. They’ve been there from the beginning, dealing with his lashing out, his anger, his irresponsibility. He’s been through horrible things, but everything he’s experienced would have been so much worse if they hadn’t been there for him.

He doesn’t even want to think about what that would have been like – performing nightly with strangers who didn’t give two shits about his well being. Trapped with Cazador, battling out the urge to drink.

Gods, he thinks, suddenly overwhelmed. Maybe it’s his illness getting to him, or maybe the medicine is just starting to kick in, but he’s feeling well and truly sappy.

He drops his phone and flashes Estellé a grin. “There you are, love. I am now yours for the evening.”

Estellé affectionately rolls her eyes, scooting closer and brushing damp strands of hair away from his clammy forehead. Then she rests the back of her hand against his skin, and her brows pinch.

“You’re burning up, Star,” she says.

“It’s just the effect you have on me,” he shoots back, wanting to see her smile.

As predicted, the corners of her mouth pull up, but the concern doesn’t fade from her eyes. Still, she bends down, grazing her lips against his temple. “Stay here,” she instructs. “I’ll be right back.”

The moment she leaves his side, Astarion immediately feels worse. The throbbing behind his eyes is suddenly awful, and his mouth and throat are unbearably dry.

He can see glimpses of her in the bathroom, fiddling with something in the drawers. He hears the water faucet turn on and off, and then she’s coming back to him, dabbing a washcloth over his burning forehead.

It feels heavenly. Her touch always does.

When she pours him another glass of water, she tilts it back for him, and it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. His dry mouth abates, his sore throat soothes, and he contentedly lays back against the pillow, watching her.

The next few hours pass like that, with her slowly getting comfortable. His nose continues to run, so she keeps him supplied with a box of tissues, occasionally re-dampening the cool cloth on his forehead. She turns on some awful TV show, but he happily watches it with her, holding her hand and drifting in and out of sleep. Eventually, it takes him fully, sweeping him away from his hotel room and into the emptiness of sleep.

When he wakes, he finds a cup of tea with honey at his side, as well as a bowl of soup. Next to him, Estellé is curled up with a soft blanket, her eyelids fluttering as she sleeps. The TV is still on, so he leans over her to grab the remote and shut it off.

She looks so incredibly peaceful like this, tucked into his chest, the soft puff of her breaths brushing against his skin like silk.

If he didn’t feel like he’d been run over by a truck, he’d say that getting sick isn’t so bad.

Eventually, he gulps down the tea and eats some of the soup, finding it still warm. It’s comforting and nostalgic, and the thought of her caring for him like this makes the sap he’d felt earlier grow until it feels like it’s splitting his chest open with the feeling of it.

Love. The word comes without warning, and without permission. He’s in love with her.

Maybe it should have been obvious earlier, but it feels fragile and new in his mind, and it’s accompanied with a healthy amount of fear. For months on end now, she’s been the thing he looks forward to each morning, and the last person he wants to talk to at night. The person he truly feels comfortable with, the one who truly sees him.

To her, he’s so much more than his fame. It’s a rare thing, to not feel the need to put on a persona like he does with everyone else. Still, even after everything she’s done for him – love? Does she love him back? If he conjures up the nerve to tell her, what will she say? Is it too soon, when they’ve been seeing each other for so long?

Love isn’t necessarily new. After several bottles of wine, he’s admitted his love for his band. He loves his parents.

Why does it feel so different with Estellé?

Something tugs at his chest when he thinks of her, but love is not something he’s ready to jump into quite so fast. It’s delicate, like fresh ice formed over a lake in the wintertime, threatening to crumble with too much weight.

After much deliberation, he decides that this is a subject to explore when he’s not feeling like there’s something drilling into his head. After all, he shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions – who knows was in that medication Gale bought for him.

Yes, the love debate can come later. For now, more rest. Recuperation. If the gods are merciful, perhaps he’ll feel better next time he wakes, rather than worse.

With one last glance at the beautiful image of Estellé sleeping peacefully next to him, he settles down, closes his eyes, and allows the sweet lullaby of rest to sweep him away once again.

The lullaby of rest, he thinks, on the verge of sleep. That would make for a good song.

When Estellé wakes, for a moment, the room around her seems like a dream.

She’s stayed the night at Astarion’s hotel room before, but it’s still a rare occurrence, given the risk of paparazzi seeing them out and about. Anyone who lingers too long in his life is dissected in the papers, pulled apart piece by piece for strangers.

They’ve been decently cautious (most of the time, at least – even she can’t resist his occasional impulses to throw caution to the wind and fuck on the beach) and so far, they’ve only been spotted together once or twice. Most nights spent together have ended with getting redressed and heading home.

Waking in his bed is still new, and she tucks the feeling of it away to cherish later.

Astarion’s body is warm, but not searing like it had been the day before. He’s still resting, but when she tests his temperature with her hand, she can already tell that he’s doing much better. There’s more color in his face, and his expression looks less troubled.

When she looks at the nightstand next to him, it’s clear that he drank the tea she left for him, and ate a helping of soup.

It’s a good sign that he’s eating. Overall, she’s much less worried than she had been last night.

When Cazador was still his manager, Astarion had been so overworked. Now that he’s free, she’d expected him to rest, but he’s been more determined than ever to put on a good show. It’s a sweet thought, but concerning - especially since she had to talk him into canceling yesterday’s show.

What was he thinking, wanting to go to the concert? From the moment she walked in, already worried from what Gale had told her initially, it was clear that he hadn't been feeling well.

His silvery locks had been tangled and messy, spreading around his pillow around him – so unlike the casual, chaotic air he usually embodied. There were dark circles under his eyes, his eyes were puffy, and his nose was pink. When he talked, it sounded like he was pushing out the words through gravel.

Gods, she thinks, looking at his sleeping figure. The peace in his face, the even rise and fall of his chest. His perfectionism would be the death of him one day.

Taking one last glance at Astarion, she decides that he’s sleeping soundly enough that she’ll be safe to go grab the two of them breakfast from a nearby bakery. Her clothes are wrinkled from sleep, so she rummages through his belongings and finds one of his shirts, slipping into it. Last night’s jeans will have to do, though.

After slipping out of the hotel, she finds the morning air brisk and the streets clear – no lingering paparazzi. It’s easy enough to make her way to the bakery and select a few different pastries to be shared, then return to Astarion’s room.

At the sound of the door closing, he stirs.

“Estellé?” he asks groggily.

“I’m here,” she assures him, setting the pastries down on the nightstand.

He opens his eyes, smiling when he sees her. When his eyes sweep over her clothing, he stalls. “Darling, is that my shirt?”

“Yes,” she admits. “I didn’t bring any spare clothes with me, and I borrowed it. Is that alright?”

He props himself up on his shoulders, and this time, he takes his time taking the sight of her in. “It’s more than alright,” he grins. “You should wear my clothes more often.”

She laughs, turning to grab some of the pastries. “Alright, handsome. Here. I bought us breakfast,” she says, sitting beside him. “You can have the first choice.”

He digs through the bag, eventually picking an éclair and chomping down on it. He really does look better today. His cheeks are flushed with color, and his blue eyes are bright and clear, the flecks of gold inside them sparkling in the hints of sunlight that stream through the gap in the curtains.

Still, when she places a hand over his forehead, he closes his eyes and leans back onto his pillow, sighing contentedly.

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

“Dreadful, darling,” he croaks, accentuating the words with a melodramatic groan and a forced cough. “At this point, I’ll be shocked if I ever recover.”

“That’s a shame,” she replies, biting back her smile. “Looks like you’ll have to stay in bed, letting me take care of you.”

He hums in response, his eyelids fluttering. “You’re right, my dear. I feel much too ill to move. How awful,” he says.

Once they’ve finished eating, she takes to doting on him – wiping his brow with a damp cloth, brushing out his hair with careful precision, massaging his tense shoulders. He’s much more present than he was yesterday, and every time she turns away, she can feel the heat of his gaze on the back of her neck.

“I think a shower would do you good,” she tells him. “Do you feel well enough to get up now?”

“Maybe,” he answers, his gaze fixing on her shirt again. “If… you were to come with me?”

Insatiable, she thinks to herself, a streak of arousal shooting down her spine.

“Alright,” she agrees. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

This time, she can’t suppress her smile.

He gets to his feet with seemingly no trouble, giving her one last heated look before he makes his way into the bathroom. After a moment, she hears the water kick on, and the muffled sound of him humming Love Bites follows shortly after.

She pushes the door open and finds his clothes in a pile on the ground. Through the clear shower door, she can see his foggy silhouette in the steam that’s rapidly filling up the room.

It doesn’t take her long to discard her clothes, leaving them on the floor next to his. When she steps inside, she finds him shampooing his hair, his silvery locks doused with water and hanging down his back. His body shimmers with glistening droplets that cling to his skin, and even though she’s seen him hundreds of times, she can’t help but be struck by the sight of him.

“How’s the water, handsome?” she asks.

“Better with you in it,” he says instantly, turning toward her voice. When he sees her, his head tilts. His eyes sweep up and down her body, and his gaze darkens. “Well?” he asks.

She moves closer, slower than she knows he’d like her to, letting the warm water pour over her. It’s hot but not boiling, and as it wets her hair, it melts the tension away from her shoulders. She makes a show of running her hands down her body, all the while watching Astarion’s face grow impatient.

He pulls her in, settling his hands on her waist and positioning the two of them so the water isn’t hitting their faces. Then, after tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, he kisses her.

It’s hungry and desperate – soft lips against hers, the heat of his body pressing against her, her back meeting the cool tile of the shower wall behind her. He kisses her like a man starved. Like he hadn’t taken her three times only two nights ago, and left marks on her neck, breasts, and thighs that still stain her skin.

Want pools in her gut, hot as flame. She grasps desperately as his shoulders, leaning her head back as he kisses down her jaw. It isn’t long before he’s nipping at the skin, leaving more marks to match the others.

“Astarion,” she breathes.

He groans against her skin. “Estellé,” he says, his hold tightening on her waist.

Her knees already feel weak, and she knows that they’ll only continue to buckle under his touch. Luckily, he’s steady in front of her, his arms strong and sure from all his time at the gym in the mornings, keeping her upright and stable.

He crowds her against the wall, his lips moving back up her neck, and this time, he slips a hand between her legs. Just as she’d predicted, her legs nearly give out underneath her at the feeling of his talented fingers. And he knows her much too well – knows what drives her crazy, what makes her tremble.

It’s an embarrassingly short amount of time before she’s shuddering into a climax, her back arching against the wall and Astarion coaxing her through it, keeping her feet planted on the floor. The sound of her panting echoes in the small space, evidence of her pleasure meeting her ears in waves, over and over.

“You are perfect,” Astarion murmurs, pressing an uncharacteristically soft kiss to her lips. “Every time. Although….”

His thumb rolls against her clit again, and she gasps – sensitivity and overwhelming pleasure mixing into one dizzying sensation.

“I think you can give me another,” he says. “You’ll do that for me, won’t you, darling?”

“For you?” she chokes out with a laugh, rolling her hips with the movement of his hand. “Anything. Anything you want.”

“Good girl,” he replies, and that’s nearly enough to send her crashing over the edge right then and there. By the grace of the gods, she holds on a little longer, because she wouldn’t be able to stand the inevitable teasing that would follow if she instantly came like that.

Still, the sensuality of his slick skin against her, the maddening rhythm of his fingers, and the hungry look in his eyes – it all leads to another very quick orgasm, sparking through her limbs with just as much intensity as the first.

When her body finally comes back to her, he kisses her again. There’s something about him that’s unusually restrained, although it might just be the remnants of the sickness in him.

Then he props her back, nudging his knee in between her legs to hold them apart. One finger slips into her cunt, then two, then three, all with relative ease.

“Oh, you’re ready for me, love,” he practically purrs. “Turn around.”

She makes a show of it – slow, graceful movements that show off her ass as she braces her arms against the shower wall and bends over for him, hearing the sound of his breathing go heavier behind her.

Water drums against her spine, slowly growing cooler by the minute, but it’s the last thing on her mind. All she can think about is Astarion – his smile, the color of his eyes, the look on his face when he sings to her.

The sound of his voice in her ear, and the warmth of his skin when he holds her. The pet names he gives her, and all of the times he’s told her she’s special.

The fleeting hope she has that maybe, despite all of the logic screaming in her mind, she might spend the rest of her life with him.

He positions himself against her entrance, drawing her back to the present as he places his hands on her hips and slowly presses into her. “Gods,” he groans. “You feel… hells. Incredible.”

In response, she lets out a soft whine, rolling her hips back to meet him. His grip tightens and he groans again, setting a rough, quick pace that has her struggling for breath.

He feels so fucking good inside her, filling her up, his grip almost bruising on her hips. He rambles out praise, telling her how good she feels, how beautiful she is, how he wants to keep her there with him and make her come over and over until she can barely move. Judging from their past experiences, she knows that he’s being completely and utterly truthful.

“Fuck, Star,” she whimpers. “I’m close.” Her cunt clenches around him, and he lets out a choked noise, thrusting harder. Her body starts to tense, coiling up from head to toe, and he fists a hand in her hair.

“Come for me,” he instructs.

Her body obeys immediately. Her vision blacks out, and for a good few seconds, she can’t remember how to breathe. Her knees are trembling, her mouth is dry. The water has gone ice-cold, and she’s not sure she’ll be able to walk out of the shower on her own after this.

Behind her, she can hear Astarion reaching his own climax, moaning out the sound of her name as his thrusts lose rhythm and he finally spills inside her.

For a moment, neither of them move, both still recovering from the aftershocks of pleasure. Then he pulls out of her, gently easing her upright. She’s expecting him to shut the water off, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lathers her up in soap, gently massaging her aching muscles, kissing over the blooming bruises he left.

“Was it alright?” he asks softly.

“It was perfect,” she responds, lost in the bliss of his touch on her skin.

It seems to be enough, because he carefully washes the soap off her skin, moving on to shampoo. He takes care not to get it in her eyes as he rinses it out, then he does the same with conditioner. It smells like him – herbal and sharp, mixed with a hint of warmth.

Only then, when both of them are clean, does he turn the shower off and help her out. Her movements are slower than usual, and she knows that she’ll be feeling the effects of their shower later.

“You might need to be the one caring for me tomorrow,” she teases.

“In that case,” he says, giving her a grin, “I’ll be spending the day with the loveliest woman in all of Faerûn.”

#bg3apprecimaytion2024 #astarion x oc

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savventeen · 1 year

Text

purple, white, grey, and black

pairing: idol!seungcheol x gn!reader rating: M wc: 2.9k summary: you're asexual and proud, and have been for a while. so why does seeing ace pride posts sometimes churn something within you? or, the one where reader talks about where/if their asexuality and trauma intersect. warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced sexual childhood abuse, (these things are only talked about in the vaguest sense but please be careful), anxiety, mentions of acephobic family members tags: asexuality, asexual reader, established relationship, dialogue-heavy, emotional hurt/comfort a/n: this is a rewrite of a fic i wrote for a bts queer introspections fic fest, and i want to preface this by saying everyone's journey with asexuality is different and the one reflected here is based purely on my own personal journey. if any of you struggle with any of the same thoughts/questions reader does, that I do, i hope this can remind you that you're not alone 💜

jimbo the himbo @spaceace9393

just a friendly reminder: asexuality is a valid identity. it's not any kind of disorder, and it has nothing to do with disability, or trauma, or mental illness. we are not sick, or broken, or in need of "fixing.” we're just people who don't experience sexual attraction, that's it.

You stare at the tweet for a long, long time. Long enough that your phone screen dims before shutting off entirely, leaving you with only your reflection for company.

Your chest feels... you're not sure how to describe it, exactly. It might be a little bit like when you accidentally clogged the bathroom sink the other day — like there's something cold and murky sloshing around inside your lungs, bits of feelings you can't quite name sinking down to rest on something that's been building unseen for a while now.

Closing your eyes, you breathe in, slow and deep, and then release a shaky exhale. Your fingers start tap-tap-tapping away on your thigh as you realize that you kind of, maybe, really want to talk to someone right now.

You have your kakaotalk app open between one blink and the next.

you

cheollie? are u still at one of the hybe studios?

cheollie 🧡

yeah i'm still here not working on anything too important rn tho so you can swing by if you want i have extra ramyeon packs that soonyoung dropped off they're the spicy kind you like

You can't help but smile softly to yourself. Even though the anxiety of what you want to talk about makes your heart race, you don't think you'll ever stop being endeared by Choi Seungcheol.

you

cheollie ur the best ily ❤️ see u soon ~

cheollie 🧡

love you too ❤️

You quickly throw on your comfiest hoodie, threadbare and fraying at the seams, and you make your way over to the Hybe building. You also stop at a convenience store on the way, grabbing a canned coffee for each of you because you're a good partner like that.

By the time you get to the door of the studio, though, what little confidence you'd built up for yourself starts to fizzle out, replaced by the anxiety simmering on low just beneath your skin. The confusing feelings are still sloshing around inside your chest, so much so that you think about knocking even though you haven't knocked in months — not since Seungcheol started texting you the code of whatever studio he was working in at the time.

Groaning to yourself, you smack the edge of your phone against your forehead a few times before quickly punching in the code and opening the door before you can talk yourself out of it.

Seungcheol is slouched comically in the chair, head so low it's practically leaning against the armrest as his socked feet rest propped up on any empty corner of the desk. The computer's wireless keyboard is cradled against his chest and stomach, keys down, and he's using its smooth back as a makeshift mousepad. ...To play Solitaire of all things, you realize.

You stand there, just blinking for a moment as you process the image in front of you. He looks so stupid and cute and you can't help the grin that pushes against your cheeks.

"Cheol," you giggle. "What the fuck."

"Shhhhhhhh..." Seungcheol's eyes don't leave the monitor. "Don't question the process."

You snort as you finally close the door and walk over to set his canned coffee on the desk, on the opposite side his feet are propped up.

"What process?" You stand over him, folding your arms across your chest as you try to keep a straight face. Raising an eyebrow at his posture, you ask, "The one where you turn into a slouchy slug?"

"Hey!" Seungcheol swings the keyboard into your hip like he's trying to chop down a tree, making you double over even as you start giggling. "I am not a slug, how dare you!"

You just laugh louder and playfully shove his chair away from the desk. He yelps in surprise as his feet suddenly fall to the floor and he nearly topples over, and then he turns the full force of his pout upon you.

"I can't believe my very own partner is trying to kill me," he laments. "What did I do to deserve such betrayal? Did Jeonghan put you up to this?"

"Aww, poor aegi," you coo. You walk over to him and squish his cheeks between your palms so that his lips pucker out comically. "My poor little guppy wuppy."

His dark brows furrow harder and you let out an oof when he jabs you in the stomach with the wireless keyboard he'd managed to hang onto in the chaos, letting go of his face. It wasn't hard enough to hurt (never is) and you just stick your tongue out at him in retaliation.

He rolls his eyes and points to the couch. "Go have a seat, traitor."

You acquiesce with a soft snort, burying yourself in the corner while Seungcheol tidies up the studio. You pull one of the throw pillows into your lap and very quickly end up hugging it tightly to your chest.

For a few blissful moments, you'd forgotten about all of the confused, anxious things swimming around inside of you — forgotten the main reason you'd come here in the first place.

You must zone out, because the next thing you know, Seungcheol is squatting in front of you and trying to catch your eye, one hand gently squeezing your knee. "Hey, Y/n-ah. You doing okay over here? Want me to take you home?"

His eyes are wide and earnest, worry lightly furrowing his brow, and you will never cease to be grateful for how much he embodies unconditional care and comfort.

Shaking your head, you reach out to clasp the hand on your knee. "No, 'm fine." You tug on his hand, a silent request to come sit next to you. "Just wanna talk to you, if that's okay."

"Of course it's okay," he promises. "Always."

When he sits, he leaves a sliver of space between the two of you, leaving it up to you to decide how much (if any) physical comfort you want right now. That simple, little act of thoughtfulness is like the glimpse of a lighthouse amidst the storm that's brewing within your ribcage, and it gives you the courage you need to hoist your metaphorical sails and let the wind take you where you need to go.

You waste no time in anchoring yourself to Seungcheol's side, throwing your legs over his lap and burying your face into his collarbone.

"Hey, jagiya, hey, you're okay," he soothes automatically. His hands come up to wrap around you, pulling you close and rubbing soothing arcs up and down your back. "You're okay. I'm here to listen, yeah? I'm here."

He doesn't say anything else after that, just settles a bit more into the couch and waits for you to speak, always so full of patience when it counts.

It does take a while for you to say anything, mostly because you don't really know where to start. There's still so much swirling around inside you, murky and confusing, that you're not really sure if there is a start.

And a part of you wonders if it's even worth opening up your mouth at this point — the same part of you that's always walked hand-in-hand with your shame and doubt.

But Seungcheol's breathing is a steady rise and fall against your chaotic thoughts, his heartbeat a siren song reminding you that he has always held your hopes and dreams and fears and questions oh so carefully in the palms of his hands.

Eventually, you realize that it doesn't really matter where you start as long as you jump in. So jump you do. "Cheol?"

"Hmm?"

"Do— do you remember when I came out to you and the rest of the group as ace?"

" 'Course I do," he assures warmly, giving you a small squeeze. "Still so proud of you."

You hum happily. But your anxiety is making you feel fidgety again, so you pull one of Seungcheol's arms down into your lap so you can play with his long, sturdy fingers. He lets you do it without complaint, and something within you settles.

You let yourself breathe in, breathe out.

"After you guys," you start, bending and unbending his fingers one by one, "the first person I ever came out to was my mom, you know? And it's— it wasn't that she wasn't supportive. Or like, I think she was trying to be supportive, at least, but." You take a breath. "Do you wanna know what the first words out of her mouth were, after I told her that I was ace?"

Seungcheol hums an encouragement, pulling you impossibly closer with the one arm he still has wrapped around your back. You take another breath, uncurling all of his fingers and holding the spread-out digits in both hands, almost like you're going to try and read his palm.

You breathe in, breathe out. "She said— without any hesitation, she said, 'Oh, is it because of your trauma?'"

You feel the way Seungcheol tenses beneath you, watch the way his fingers twitch between yours like he's trying not to curl them into a fist.

"And I didn't know how to respond to that," you continue, keeping your eyes down, "so I just said 'I don't know, probably.'" You give the same little helpless shrug you'd given then, small and defeated, and you use the motion to hunch your shoulders a little more.

"Y/n-ah. That's..." Seungcheol starts, voice a little rough around the edges like he's trying to keep some big emotion from breaking through. "I can't imagine what that must've felt like."

And you know, you know, that he's filling in the blanks. That he's taking the words 'trauma' and 'asexuality' and drawing conclusions that probably aren't too far from the truth.

You grip his hand tightly between yours and tuck it against your chest like a child clings to a favorite stuffed animal; he presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. You both breathe — in, out.

"Yeah. It didn't— it didn't feel great," you admit, an understatement. "And she's not the only one, either. Every single family member I've come out to, every single one of them— that question has always been the first thing to come out of their mouth."

The faces of those family members flash before you, all carrying the same expression — pity, one etched so deep it felt (feels) almost condescending. "Is it because of your trauma?" "Is it because of what happened to you? Did he make you like this?"

"And I just..." You flail the hand not clutching Seungcheol's, searching for a way to put into words what you've been feeling for so, so long. "I have this knowledge living inside me at all times that, to the family members that I'm out to— they'll never see my asexuality as something to celebrate. All they will ever see is my trauma and how this part of myself is something that comes from a broken place."

You think about the tweet from earlier, the hundreds of others you've seen like it, and feel tears begin to gather.

Sniffling, you continue. "And then I'll go on the internet and see all kinds of ace pride and posts about how we're valid and don't need to be fixed and... and I know that. Logically, I know that my ace-ness isn't something that needs to be changed, isn't something that could change, even if I wanted it to, but..."

But.

For so, so long, you have had no idea how to finish that sentence. And it feels like some kind of defeat when you realize you still don't have an answer. "...I don't know," you shrug, helplessly.

Seungcheol presses another kiss to the top of your head, staying silent like he knows you still have more to say. He keeps a steady rhythm of slowly rubbing his free hand up and down your back, a tactile metronome for you to follow.

After a few minutes, you continue with a sigh. "About once a year, I'll talk with my aunt, and she never fails to ask if I'm "still ace" and... I just..." You cut yourself off with a frustrated groan.

"S'okay, aegi," Seungcheol whispers, squeezing the hand you're still holding close to your chest.

"Sometimes it feels like my ace-ness is tainted, you know?"

Even as the sentence feels punched out of you, it's such a bitter relief to finally admit it out loud. Because even though you've never really let yourself put it into words, you are finally able to recognize that this is one of the murky feelings that has been weighing you down — collecting in your subconscious like debris in the gutter. "And it's why bringing up my past can be so difficult for me. Because I'm so scared that people will go from just accepting my asexuality to thinking 'Ah, that explains it.' Like I just gave them the missing piece to a puzzle or something, when before it was just a part of who I am.

"And there's also a part of me that feels like... I don't know, that I'd just be adding fuel to the fire for all the people who like to shit on asexuality. That I'm just an example of why people who think they're ace are just traumatized and need therapy. But... I think I would have always been ace, no matter what happened or didn't happen to me as a kid. And I just...

"I don't know, Cheol," you croak, the tears you've been trying so hard to keep in finally starting to cascade down your cheeks. "I don't know how to feel anymore. I don't know where to fit. If I fit. If it even matters whether I fit or not."

And really, now that you've talked it out a bit, it essentially boils down to one thing.

"I guess— I guess what I'm saying is that I just want to be able to feel like I can be ace and a little bit broken at the same time. That I can be a work in progress and still something... worth celebrating."

You tuck your free hand into the sleeve of your hoodie and use it to wipe away the tears that are still falling. Seungcheol's next exhale shudders a little bit out of his chest, and then he's letting go of your hand so he can cradle your jaw and tenderly wipe at the tears himself.

"Hey, jagiya, will you look at me, please? Will you let me look at you?"

You nod, the lump in your throat having doubled in size between one moment and the next, and he gently lifts your chin until you're eye-to-eye.

"There you are," he murmurs, with a sad lopsided smile. You notice he has tear tracks of his own, and looking into his big, glassy eyes aches and soothes in equal measure. "I'm going to tell you something very important, so I need you to listen carefully, okay? Can you do that for me?"

Again, you nod, swallowing thickly.

Seungcheol's expression quickly melts into something serious. Not something scary, but something solid — a firm foundation for you to rely on.

"Y/n L/n. You will always, always be something worth celebrating. Being a work in progress is a part of life, and you and I and everyone else on this planet will be one until the day we die. I may not know all the answers, and we might never find the ones we're looking for, but if I know anything, it's this: not a day has gone by since getting to know you that I am not so, so incredibly proud of you — of the person that you are and that you are continuously becoming. More than I can really put into words."

You think you could drown in all of the love and support and affection pouring out of Seuncheol, overwhelming you in the best way. It's like your heart has capsized and all of the ooey-gooey feelings are flooding in, pulling you down deeper, deeper, deeper still.

But you've hit your emotional threshold for the day and decide to cut the moment the best way you know how. "Even when I'm an annoying little shit?" you choke out past your now-stuffed nose.

Seungcheol laughs wetly and wraps his arms around you again, tilting you both over so you're both mostly lying down on the couch. "I think maybe especially then," he murmurs, mostly to himself. Louder, he says, "I think we've earned ourselves a nice nap, what do you think?"

You think that sounds heavenly, and you both adjust your positions until you're comfortable and you can feel sleep pulling at your consciousness. Before you let it claim you, though, you take a few moments to breathe.

It feels a bit easier than before, the breathing. The stuff sloshing around inside your lungs doesn't feel as murky as it did before, doesn't feel as suffocating now that you've been able to bale some of it out. You don't have any more answers than you did before, but you have a bit more peace.

And as you finally drift off to Seungcheol's quiet, snuffling snores, you think that having a bit more peace might be enough for now.

#svtsource #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol oneshot #seungcheol x you #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x y/n #scoups fanfic #scoups oneshot #scoups x y/n #scoups x reader #scoups x you #asexual reader #savv writes #savv fics #giving you all a big piece of my soul with this one

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