#Like it clearly says this test is only going to give accurate results if the patient fasted first and it says here the patient didn't fast | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shihalyfie · 4 years

Text

A meta and analysis on Takaishi Takeru

Of all of the Tokyo Chosen Children, Takeru is lucky enough to get significant attention for two full series from beginning to end, and his character also goes through some drastic changes in the process, especially through Adventure and 02. There’s so much going on with him that it makes it hard to give a short answer to the question “what is Takeru like?” because there’s so much you could say about him at so many different times.

Fortunately, that’s what we’re here to talk about today!

Takeru in Adventure

At first glance, Takeru seems to be the “tagalong kid” -- the obligatory “little kid character” you have whenever you have a party in a fantasy story. Generally, these “obligatory kid characters” are the kind constantly struggling to catch up with the older ones. Adventure being a series that loves to play with tropes and expectations, though, very quickly says no to that.

Seki: ...We also mixed up the children’s ages, for a bit of variety. Kakudou: The oldest one would be the most unreliable, and the smartest one would be one of the third youngest. Just a little to throw you off the usual, conventional track. Seki: The youngest one would feel too much like a burden to everyone else, and conversely would actually have himself together.

Takeru “doesn’t want to be a burden” -- meaning his feelings on this issue are actually rather much like Hikari’s. Unlike Hikari, though, Takeru reacts to this compulsion differently -- instead of simply repressing things and pretending the problem doesn’t exist, Takeru’s reaction to his own negative feelings is to “have himself together” and act as if he’s got everything under control.

Or, more accurately, pretend he has it together and has everything under control.

Takeru, for all intents and purposes, was not supposed to be on the camping trip the others were on, not having gone to everyone’s school -- he had to get special permission to go. Takeru’s family is very, very split harshly at this time, with his mother not even able to treat Yamato comfortably. Yamato deals with the familial estrangement badly -- alternating between approaching everyone awkwardly and exploding like an emotional fuse bomb -- but Takeru tries to take it as a sign that he needs to be “responsible”. A lot of his actions in Adventure are him basically exuding this aura of “I can take care of myself!”, and in fact he works very hard to “assert” himself as if he were yet another peer. We even see him make the complaint directly in Adventure episode 43 -- while he is correct in calling out Yamato for coddling him and him only while recklessly disregarding the others, the fact he specifically complains about Yamato approaching him as someone holding them back if he’s not protected reveals a lot about his own mentality regarding the situation.

One of his first major scenes in episode 2 is him offering his own food for the pile of supplies everyone has, even though it’s just snacks. Which is, probably, a pretty accurate summary of Takeru’s character at this point: on the surface he’s responsible, well-behaved, and capable...but, in fact, he’s still about as immature as an average eight-year-old child would predictably be.

Yamato spends his Adventure character arc pretty openly angsting about his relationship to Takeru and how his family’s split has affected them, but throughout the entirety of Adventure (and, eventually, 02 as well), not only does Takeru rarely if ever touch on it, there are indications that Takeru deliberately tries to dodge the subject or not dwell on it too much. In Adventure episode 12, he actually outright lies to Patamon about his younger childhood memories, claiming he “probably doesn’t remember” anything about it despite the audience very clearly being shown that he very much did, and in episode 26 he comes very close to leaking his actual feelings about the group being separated being tied to what happened to his family, before quickly covering it up and trying to move on with the topic.

In other words, unlike Hikari, who knows exactly what she’s feeling but is compulsively unable to vocalize them, Takeru actively suppresses his negative feelings and tries not to dwell on them too much. Again, this comes from his desire to “not be a burden” on others -- he’s got this situation under control! Everything is fine!

And this has a very, very nasty payoff. While Yamato clearly deals with his emotional issues badly, tending to get very explosive about it, Takeru’s way of coping isn’t actually all that much better in the long run, because Yamato’s frustration and openness about his emotions at least lead him to being very straightforward about his feelings, incredibly self-aware and sometimes even self-conscious, and ultimately able to get at least some degree of catharsis from the situation. Takeru...not so much.

Takeru is a child, no matter how much he tries not to act like one, and it ultimately results in him reacting disastrously whenever something hits him too emotionally hard -- which results in Takeru suddenly becoming irrationally stubborn and even angry. We later see what it takes to actually break through Takeru’s facade of “totally having this together” in Adventure episode 22, which is also the first time he openly breaks down wailing in front of anyone besides Patamon -- and it’s, of course, when PicoDevimon convinces him that Yamato hates him. The interesting part is that this is so blatantly a lie that even Tokomon is able to quickly call bullshit on it, but Takeru, previously having worked so hard to maintain this facade of being responsible, falls for it completely with utter irrationality -- and it really does suggest that Takeru’s fear of losing yet another member of his family, and being a burden to Yamato, runs so deep that it causes that entire facade to shatter in one blow.

Which is where the problem lies: Takeru’s habit of suppression is so bad that once one of his triggers is hit, he completely loses all sense of rationality and blows up, and it becomes nearly impossible to reason with him because he locks down on becoming stubborn. It’s also dangerous because even he isn’t particularly self-aware of what he’s doing when he blows up like this; at least Hikari was very consciously aware of her suppression problem, but Takeru never really seems to have any awareness of the fact that his covering up of his feelings is directly related to some of his worst moments. We see it cause problems between him and Patamon again in Adventure episode 33, when Patamon asks a rather innocuous question about the brothers, and it hits Takeru’s trigger so badly that he snaps at him, resulting in the fight that kicks off the plot of the episode.

Adventure episode 52 is basically a major test for Takeru as to whether he really can hold himself together in a situation where everyone else older than him is gone, and “having himself together” is something he has to actually do instead of just have the surface facade of. He does, ultimately, pass, and this is why the Crest of Hope glows this episode -- but it’s also made clear that it wasn’t quite as easy for him as he would normally pretend it is. Of course, it also helps that Piemon is genuinely the scariest threat they’d faced during that time, but it also reveals that, yeah, ultimately, Takeru is an eight-year-old child who still has to struggle to put on a brave face so that Hikari doesn’t get impacted by his own fear.

For all it’s worth, although we get a ton of depth into his background and mentality, Takeru does not actually change that much as a character over the course of Adventure. This incident is probably what changes him the most in terms of him gaining a more solid core, and he also learns to accept the inevitability of fighting after his stubborn refusal to engage in it all the way back in Adventure episode 12 -- but for the most part he still does remain a bit naive about the world at large, and, more importantly, his issue with trying to cover up his problems with a confident smile never really gets addressed. At most, he’s willing to admit his grief over being separated from Patamon in Adventure episode 54, but even that is something Takeru tries to bounce back from quickly, much like with the first time he cried with Patamon in Adventure episode 12. But there’s nothing to indicate that his problem with emotional management isn’t going to continue being a problem from here on out if left unchecked.

That problem ends up taking another three more years to get addressed.

Takeru in 02

Takeru is one of the first people we meet in 02 (for reasons that end up revealed in the final episode), and right off the bat we learn that he’s a bit...evasive. He leaves a cryptic line to Daisuke about his goggles without coming even close to what we all know is the full extent of what’s on his mind (that the goggles specifically remind him of someone important to him), and later just...deflects Daisuke throwing accusations at him with a mild dismissal. In fact, even though Takeru pretty clearly understands very quickly what’s going on with Daisuke and how touchy he gets with the Hikari issue, he keeps dodging the question and constantly saying things that are evasive about it and therefore never truly helps his case until episode 17, when the circumstances between why Hikari and Takeru knew each other are finally properly clarified to Daisuke and he stops getting on their case about it on his own.

There were multiple points in time before this -- especially in episode 7, when Daisuke is practically at his worst in regards to approaching Takeru -- when Takeru could have easily said something to at least attempt to get Daisuke to stop bothering him, but Takeru never even asks him to cut it out! He simply continues to handle everything with a “yeah, okay, sure! :)” attitude, which of course confuses Daisuke (who’s rather allergic to people not being straightforward) rather thoroughly, and you wonder if he’s practically enjoying seeing Daisuke’s antics to the point he’s just enabling it further.

As a point of aside trivia, the official 02 website adds the fun detail that apparently he's popular with the girls at school but doesn't show much interest in them himself, and the Animedia audio commentary CD for Armor Evolution to the Unknown had his voice actor even express the opinion that he saw Takeru as someone who wasn’t really the type to think about romance at this age (adding in a separate interview for the 02 DVDs that he felt Takeru was respectful of girls primarily due to having been taught by his single mother to be such). The latter part of course isn’t something that comes from the writing, but given the website trivia I’m inclined to personally agree with it -- and, more importantly, the implication is that Takeru is at least aware of these kinds of things, but actively chooses to not think about it and deal with it when the time comes.

So in other words: That part about how Takeru actively suppresses things that are negative or inconvenient to think about, all for the sake of keeping a smile plastered on his face? Yup, still there.

In fact, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment from 02 episode 17 implies heavily that, even with their parents having developed a more cordial relationship after the events of Adventure, Takeru is now emotionally dealing with the aftermath of his parents’ divorce worse than Yamato is, since Yamato is at least able to speak about it casually and even joke about it openly, whereas Takeru keeps his mouth shut and the framing of the shot heavily implies he’s still extremely sensitive and unable to vocalize his feelings on it. Takeru never brings this up as something eating away at him for the entire series -- but BelialVamdemon uses it against him in episode 49, revealing that, yes, this is a problem that’s still tearing away at him, and yet he’s refusing to be open to anyone about it, even to Yamato himself. (Especially since, again, Yamato seems to be doing a great job trying to move forward; why kill his mood and thus be a “burden” to him?)

Even so, Takeru is very different in 02 partially because his circumstances are completely different. Adventure had him as the youngest in a group of older kids, so in terms of “being a responsible child”, that naturally meant being deferential and polite to everyone due to standards of propriety. 02 is where we learn a lot more about how Takeru interacts with peers his own age and people who are outright younger than him, when he has a bit more leeway to be more assertive.

On top of that, back in Adventure, Takeru was a young child who had a very small “range of periphery” -- as a young child still rather naive about the world, his emotional investment in things primarily pertained to loved ones and the people around him. But now that he’s a bit older, he’s gained a certain degree of strong feelings about “what’s the right thing to do”, and now has very strong opinions on it.

These things ultimately manifest in, unfortunately, Takeru losing his composure much more often than he did in Adventure, and for reasons that pertain to much wider things than just his brother. Still not having recovered from the trauma of losing Patamon back in Adventure episode 13, Takeru starts physically fighting Daisuke in 02 episode 11 because he perceives Daisuke as not doing enough to prevent Patamon from potentially becoming a slave to the Kaiser, and in 02 episode 13 he lashes out at Hikari in frustration about her refusal to do anything about her situation (which he of course ends up deeply regretting later in the episode).

Takeru’s infamous scene of suddenly switching modes on the Kaiser and punching him out in 02 episode 19 is basically the pinnacle of this -- because, yes, the Kaiser really did deserve it, but this really is not a good thing for Takeru either. This is Takeru getting the closest we ever see him to being a genuine sadist, and it’s basically everything to do with his emotional stuntedness coming out at once -- blowing up in anger out of nowhere with a passive-aggressive demeanor, succumbing to the weight of his trauma in the worst way possible, and mixing the ^^ front he puts on with his tendency to blow up angrily at anything that cuts him a little too emotionally close.

And for the first time, we see someone actually acknowledge how bad this is. Iori, one of the most consciously perceptive of the group, witnesses, for himself, the sheer jarringness of Takeru seeming to only really have two modes between “all smiles” and “unreasonably angry”. Sure, Takeru had shown a penchant for getting active as soon as there was something he needed to protect, but the moment it got personal, Takeru suddenly blew up in front of his eyes and almost turned into a completely different person. (Perhaps he’s not that different from Yamato after all...)

This is a very important moment because it sets up the base for what ultimately becomes the Jogress arc between Iori and Takeru. Daisuke ended up reaching out to Ken because Ken was someone who needed someone to accept him and teach him to move forward instead of drowning in the past; Miyako ended up reaching out to Hikari because Hikari knew herself to have a suppression problem but had difficulty doing anything about it, so the extremely in-your-face and aggressive Miyako could go in deep. But with Takeru, since his personality is genuinely volatile, and because Takeru goes out of his way to hide the fact he’s having emotional problems, personalities like Daisuke and Miyako wouldn’t help much because they’re too straightforward for someone like this who’s a bit unpredictable -- whereas Iori, who’s assertive but also methodical and thinks through everything consciously, is eventually much better able to reach out to him.

Once the relevant arc kicks in, in 02 episode 34, Iori continues to observe Takeru, and quietly notes the many “contradictions” in Takeru’s behavior -- since, after all, Takeru starts to sometimes violate what you’d think would be common sense whenever he gets too emotionally compromised. The fact that ostensibly one of the outwardly “nicest” kids in this group suddenly blows up in certain circumstances and basically goes “absolutely nope, needs to be killed!” in the midst of a few moral debates over killing sentient Digimon disturbs him deeply, and really, it’s not even about the killing part (after all, it’s later established in 02 episode 43 and after that Takeru and Hikari have a certain degree of acceptance of the inevitability that the others don’t) as much as Takeru’s being pretty gung-ho about it. Not “I don’t like it, but we have to” like he said earlier, but NOPE, GOTTA DO IT.

Iori refers directly to the duality of Takeru that he doesn’t quite understand multiple times in this episode (including in regards to the incident back in 02 episode 19), and it continues to torment him until the end, when Takeru only gives a very cryptic “clarification” that he doesn’t necessarily hate the darkness per se.

Iori, too intimidated to ask Takeru about it directly, goes to ask Yamato in 02 episode 35, and Yamato finally clarifies the background that we as the audience knew but Iori didn't: the story behind Takeru's trauma regarding the loss of Angemon back in Adventure episode 13. Yamato also makes a conjecture about why Takeru has been acting so ambivalent towards Ken -- you'd think he'd still be under Takeru's scorn after the events of 02 episode 19, but in fact Takeru's judgment of him in episode 25 was simply that he was certain something had changed, yet he couldn't tell what he was thinking (really rich coming from someone who refuses to tell anyone else what he's thinking himself!). Yamato guesses that Takeru is inclined to be a bit more forgiving of Ken due to understanding the feeling of losing a partner -- and the ultimate conclusion here is, basically, that Takeru's behavior is contradictory because he's acting based on what's personal to him, not necessarily via principles that make sense. After all, back in Adventure, it was clearly demonstrated that Takeru isn’t exactly rational when things hit too close to home.

The other important thing that happens this episode is that Takeru learns that Iori is actively trying to reach out to him, when Yamato drops him a line informing him that Iori asked. Despite complaining that Iori could have just asked him directly, after Takeru witnesses the face-off between Iori and BlackWarGreymon and a demonstration that Iori is clearly trying his best to make sense out of this entire mess, Takeru actively reaches out to Iori and says something to comfort him -- “a life is beautiful simply by existing.” It’s still cryptic as hell, but it’s not something he would have said in the midst of his anger in prior episodes.

It would be one thing if it were simply that by itself, but the following episodes further push the idea that Takeru really is starting to change after witnessing all of this. 02 episode 36 has him explicitly acknowledge what Iori’s been doing this whole time in trying to understand him for the sake of their Jogress, and, finally, during their meal later that episode, he says, very openly and honestly, that he thinks they’ll be able to do it now. After two instances of Jogress, these kids are very aware of what that entails -- so this is basically Takeru consciously acknowledging to Iori “yes, I understand that you’re trying to reach out to me, and I accept it and want to understand you.” Because Takeru is such a convoluted sort of person, this “understanding” ended up being something that didn’t span a single magical moment as much as it took several episodes and a diplomatic, conscious affirmation on both ends -- but it’s a fitting way to go for someone who had always indicated some pretty poor conscious awareness of where his feelings were taking him.

This is especially because, in 02 episode 37, his statements to comfort Ken are in pretty significant opposition to the sort of anger he’d displayed in earlier episodes, and are now a more pragmatic view of the issue in light of Iori’s efforts and everything he’d just witnessed with BlackWarGreymon -- and to drive the point home, the episode has, at the very end of it, Takeru making his first true explicit show of goodwill towards Ken after having been a bit touchy with him for so many episodes.

Iori himself, being the youngest of the 02 group, still has a lot to learn, and so Takeru, who had previously been one of the youngest in the Adventure group himself, now has his role inverted to effectively be a guiding mentor to Iori as he finds his own way. Basically, Takeru becomes responsible for the welfare of this young child, and so his way of treating Iori is markedly different from the more detached and playful way he would treat others from here on out. This is especially because, earlier, Yamato had informed him that Iori had taken a very roundabout way to help understand him better, and so Takeru probably understands that he scared the hell out of Iori earlier and needs to do better. While the Takeru of 02 episodes 38-50 still has a way of being playful, and while he still isn’t completely straightforward about his intentions, he is definitely much better about being open with the others, especially Iori, instead of doubling down on his “everything-is-fine” mode.

And perhaps this is what the other meaning of “hope” thus became in this situation -- learning to be forward-facing even in the midst of truly knowing and understanding everything that’s wrong with the situation.

Post-02

Although Takeru’s Spring 2003 track is addressed to no one in particular, meaning that it’s the most likely reason he’s so willing to be open about it, Takeru outright admits he’s having problems with his emotions -- especially those pertaining to Angemon’s death. We do, however, learn that Takeru’s started writing the early, early drafts of what’ll eventually end up becoming the novels he writes as a future career.

This being only a year after the events of 02, Takeru’s position is interesting. His decision to start writing is that he wants to have a record of everything before it’s forgotten -- because these things are very personal to him -- but he’s not emotionally ready for the huge task of finalizing everything in words, to the point he still hasn’t told his mother he’s started writing yet. After all, this is a book we eventually find out takes upwards of twenty years, and so this is the presumable reason why -- being able to get this down in a rational way that’s not emotionally compromising is going to be an upwards battle for him.

Even come Kizuna, there’s still a long way for him to go, because an actual line (in a very fast-paced movie) is dedicated to establishing that he’s still uncomfortable with his novel progress to the point he won’t even let Yamato see it. His official character profile and background details are revealing, too -- although he’s currently taking language classes in university and is even part of a children’s literature club, he still hasn’t actually decided on what to do with his future, meaning that he hasn’t determined that he’s going to be a full-time novelist with these yet. That means that even though he’s clearly still clacking away at his novel (multiple indications in the movie are given as such), his memoirs are still at the level of being so deeply personal, and not something he feels comfortable telling well, just yet.

I’ve pointed out before that despite not appearing directly with them in the movie, Takeru and Hikari have more in common with the others in the 02 group than they do with their Adventure seniors, and this is fully codified in the drama CD when Takeru is content to basically just “do whatever” with the rest of his friends instead of having any particular concerns about his future. And as someone who has a tendency to kind of just let his emotions take him wherever they’re going, this isn’t too surprising. Although he approximates as the closest to level-headed during most of the group’s antics during the CD, he’s still completely guilty of enabling them full-force, after all...

So, with the 02 epilogue, we get the massive meta reveal that the entire series was Takeru’s novels the whole time. This was planned to be the ending for Adventure before recording for the first episode had even started, but was postponed to the end of 02 when the second series was greenlit -- and if you’d followed the Japanese version, there are a ton of meta hints scattered around from day one:

The narrator of the series is Hirata Hiroaki, who played Takeru and Yamato’s father, and is revealed in this episode to voice him as an adult as well;

Episode 12 of Adventure is named “Adventure! Patamon and Me” and is the only episode title in Adventure or 02 to use a first-person pronoun -- and it’s of course a Takeru-centric episode, with the episode title using Takeru’s boku;

02′s first episode kicks off narrated by young Takeru opening the story, with Takeru himself suspiciously omitted from the opening vignettes;

02 episode 18 suddenly has the narration cut in when discussing Takeru’s trauma from Adventure episode 13, with the younger Takeru even filling in part of it himself;

02 episode 49′s “next episode” preview for 50 suddenly also starts using “we”, which also includes Takeru’s boku;

Finally, Takeru starts narrating right after Oikawa’s death, which fades into what’s revealed to be his adult voice.

In the context of Adventure, Takeru was “the youngest child”, so the idea makes sense that “the littlest one” would be the one to grow up and reflect on all of the adventures they had as kids -- and once 02 was added, it practically made sense that Takeru would be the one to recap both adventures, being the one person who was there to completely witness both (it also explains why Takeru and Hikari’s character arcs remain somewhat unresolved by the end of Adventure compared to others, since by this time it was apparent their story would be continued in the second series). So on a meta level, Takeru is, in a certain way, one of the most important characters in both groups.

On a level relevant to his personal character arc, on the other hand, the point here is that Takeru finally managed to put together his book and story in a way that he was comfortable telling the entire world about, to the point of choosing to make his entire career into it. That’s something that requires a lot of coming to terms with what happened, how he feels about it, how others feel about it, and everything about the whole ordeal in general, without compromise or (too much) bias.

And in the end, that’s really a lot!

#digimon #digimon adventure #digimon adventure 02 #takaishi takeru #takeru takaishi #shihameta

294 notes · View notes

justhockeythings-blog1 · 3 years

Text

Found Family

A/N: So I tried to do something a little different with this one. I tried to make it as accurate as possible and I did research on the adoption process for this piece

TRIGGER WARNING: (This will also be tagged) There are mentions of infertility (I tried to keep it brief) and adoption within this story

Request: “I’m so happy! I can’t wait for our little one to arrive!”

You had wanted a child since you were younger. Having grown up around a number of cousins and being around kids your entire life, it just felt normal that you would one day settle down and have a family of your own. When you were little it had been seven kids, to which your parents had laughed, as you grew the numbers varied anywhere from two to five children but one thing was consistent, you wanted a child to call your own.

The baby fever began to really set in while you were in college, it seemed like all around you people were getting married or having babies. You had been a Godmother to your best friend’s baby and many of them called you “Aunt Y/N”. It was fun and you loved being a part of those kids' lives, but every day you wanted one of your own, trying so hard to stick to your rules about finishing college first.

When you met William, one of the first things you had shared with him was the idea of one day settling down and having a family. Obviously things with his career meant that you needed to be ready to up and move at any moment, thankful you had a job that could be done in nearly any city. It didn’t steer you away from wanting that family though, so the two of you sat down and had a serious discussion about how you wanted your relationship to progress.

Five years later, you had been married for two and were happy as could be. You both were settled in Toronto, you had a steady job, and a wonderful support system. The only thing that was missing was the one thing you had wanted since you were a child, playing with baby dolls. It wasn’t for lack of trying though, you and William agreed when you got married that you both felt like you were in a good spot in your relationship to begin trying.

You did everything that you possibly could, you tracked your cycle, you were off birth control or any kind of contraception, and every time there was the same empty result. Finally, after nearly a year of trying, William made the suggestion that maybe both of you go to the doctor to see if something was going on. He knew it would be difficult, but watching you month after month disappointed when you had a negative pregnancy test staring back at you, it all was beginning to weigh on him. He wanted to give you that family so badly, but if it was something with him then he needed to know.

You could remember the day clearly, it was the start of the off season and it was raining, the grey sky reflecting the mood that the two of you felt as you sat in the doctor’s office, waiting for the results of your tests to come back. When the doctor came in and sat down, you could feel your stomach drop as she cleared her throat to deliver the news.

“I’m not saying it’s impossible, I’m just saying that it would be very difficult for you to conceive… I’m very sorry.”

The words had hung over your head as you cried into William’s arms, on the drive home, and through the night that you spent laying in bed. She had said it wasn’t impossible, but those words seemed to have crushed any hopes that you could have had. Willy could see it too, the way you avoided sex for a while after that, how you looked longingly at teammates babies, the sadness in your eyes when you held them. It broke his heart to see you going through it, knowing that you were struggling to have the one thing you wanted.

After a few months he had sat you down again to have the talk over again, because he was determined to give you the family you always wanted and he had dreamed about with you. Which is how you found yourself, sitting across from William at your dining room table, pamphlets and papers scattered in front of him.

“Willy, what is all of this? Are you divorcing me or something?” You tried to joke, though the initial sight of the papers had been enough to make you wonder if that was where this was going.

“No, no. I’d be crazy to do that,” he smiled softly, “This is our future or could be, if you hear me out.”

You cocked your eyebrow at him, briefly glancing at the papers and gesturing to him for further explanation. After a long day of work, your mind wasn’t prepared to have to process stacks of paper at a glance.

“I know you want a child, and while the doctor said there’s a possibility, I noticed the shift in you over these last few months. I know how hard this has been for you and it seems that it’s never going to happen, but I think it still could and in the meantime…” He gestured to the papers in front of him. “I know there are a number of kids who are looking for that perfect family too.”

It was then that it dawned on you that he was talking about adoption, reaching to pick up one of the pamphlets that he had on the table. It was clear that he had put a lot of thought into this idea, seeing as how he had so many resources in front of him.

“There are kids of all ages and I reached out to a few agencies to see what the laws are and stuff and there’s a lot of work we would have to do. There will be house inspections and we have to get approved but I think it’s an option worth pursuing. For both us and our future child. I know this isn’t exactly how you wanted to build our family but... I think it’s an idea worth looking into.”

You could sense the hesitation in his voice, knowing that you two had skirted around the topic of kids since that day in the doctor’s office months ago. It seemed though, while you were processing your grief over the struggle, Willy had taken it upon himself to look into other options. Looking up at him, you could see he was nervous about this and knowing him, he was probably worried that this was going to offend you in some way. You, on the other hand, were so wrapped up in looking at all the papers, pamphlets, and work that your husband had put into the last few months. You didn’t even notice that tears had slipped from your eyes until you felt Willy’s thumb gently wiping them off your cheeks, drawing your eyes away from the paper you had been reading and up to his.

“We don’t have to, if this isn’t what you want, I’ll throw it all away and we can forget I even brought it up.” He whispered gently, his heart aching at the thought that this may be doing more harm than good.

“No!” You rushed, looking at him. “No, this is just… You put all of this work in all this time, I didn’t even think about how you were feeling during all of this-”

Willy cut you off, quite literally, by putting his hand over your mouth. You raised your eyebrows at him, resisting the urge to lick his hand like you normally would and he could tell you were holding back because he chuckled.

“Don’t do that. We each worked through this ourselves and together, I just think… This is a good way to start our family.” He smiled widely.

It was a smile that you thought could brighten a room and right now it was brightening your day. You may not have been able to have a kid on your own yet, but you could have one and still build the family that you and Willy always dreamed of. You giggled below his hand, reaching up to gently pull it away from your mouth so you could speak again

“So, where do we get started?”

The first step it turned out was to contact an agency and begin the piles of paperwork, you could have sworn that you would need glasses by the end of it. All and all, between meetings, the discussion, the training classes, and the paperwork, it took you and Willy about five months to move on to the next step of the process.

The home study, in your mind, was the most nerve wracking part. The agency looked into every detail of your lives: Your jobs, your home, your routines, who was around you, it sent your mind into a whirl. You were worried, despite Willy constantly reassuring you, that they would find something that would prohibit you from adopting. It felt like a vigorous interview process that never seemed to end. It was another six months before it all came to an end, and you felt like you were back in time, waiting for results.

“Well Mr. and Mrs. Nylander, I am pleased to announce that after review, we can approve you for adoption and we can now begin the final step of the process, which is going to be getting your family started. Your profile will be available for expecting mothers to look at, there really is no time frame here. Just be patient and all will fall together.”

It felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off your shoulders, you were going to have a kid. Your family was going to grow and you could see that Willy was feeling the same. You left the agency meeting with happy tears in your eyes, a skip in your step, and the knowledge that you were going to be a mother.

A year after beginning the process you received a phone call from your caseworker. Willy was gone at practice and you knew you should have waited, but your curiosity got the better of you and you answered on the third ring.

“Hello?” You greeted, wiping the counter as your phone was tucked between your ear and shoulder.

“Hello Mrs. Nylander, I have some great news for you,” her words made your movements freeze, leaning against the counter to brace yourself. “Your profile has been out for a few months now and I am so pleased to tell you that there’s a young mother who has chosen you two for her baby. She’s currently six months pregnant and she would like to get in contact with you. I highly recommend taking these next few months to have open communication with her, it will highly benefit both of you.”

You nearly dropped the phone at the news, scrambling for a pen and paper to write down all of the information your caseworker was giving you so that you could properly relay it to Willy when he came home that night.

“Congratulations Mrs. Nylander.” You could hear the smile in her voice as you hung up the phone, the happy tears falling down your cheeks again.

You had waited so long for this to happen and now you were about to begin the final leg of your journey. You slid down your cabinet, sitting on the floor and laughing as you placed a hand on your chest. It was really happening, all of the pieces were falling into place. You were going to be a mother, Willy was going to be a father. The rush of emotions you felt kept you sat on the floor, happily crying as you thought about how to break the news to him. Though, as luck would have it, your emotions took up more of your time and before you could put any of your thoughts into actions you heard the front door open.

“Y/N? Babe, I’m home!” Willy’s voice was close and no sooner had you heard it, was he rounding the corner.

The sight of you on the floor must have shocked him because seconds later he was at your side, hands cupping your cheeks as he wiped your tears away gently with his thumbs. His face conveyed worry and you wanted to assure him that you were fine but your voice failed you.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” He urged, sitting down across from you so he could prepare for the worst.

“We’re gonna be parents.” You smiled tearfully, reaching blindly behind you to pull the notepad off the counter and hold it out to him. It was nowhere near the announcement you wanted to give him but it was the best you could do, hoping your scribbled words would explain what you verbally couldn’t.

“What?” He took the paper from you, reading it over quickly. You watched with a wide smile, his eyes turning into saucers as he exchanged looks between you and the paper.

“We’re going to be parents!” He smiled, hugging you tightly, laughing in relief as the weight was beginning to lift off of you two.

The next few months were filled with meetings with the mother of your soon to be child, more paperwork, appointments. You did your best to be there for the woman whenever you could, getting to know her and forming a relationship with her to help ease the transition.

You had made arrangements with Lila, the mother, to take the baby home following their birth, allowing her the time during birth and right after to have with her child before the baby was officially brought home to you. When the day came, the two of you could hardly wait for the news about how the baby was and how mom was doing.

“Willy, she’s going to be fine. The doctors there are great and Lila already said that she’s not worried.” You tried to assure him as you watched Willy pace back and forth in the waiting room of the hospital. You were grateful the hospital you were at allowed adopting parents to visit the baby and mother after birth, you hoped it would make the transition easier for everyone. That being said, Willy was restless after the second hour of labor, and that was nearly eight hours ago. You were surprised there weren’t marks on the floor from his endless pacing.

"I know, I'm just so happy! I can't wait for our little one to arrive!" Willy explained and you chuckled, grabbing his hand just as the doors opened and you saw your adopting agent come out, bringing you to your feet beside him.

“Would you like to meet your baby?” She smiled, letting you exchange a quick glance followed by eager nods as you followed her back to the room. Lila sat in the bed, cradling a small bundle to her chest, and when she saw you enter she gave you a gentle smile.

“Congratulations, you guys have a baby girl.”

The moment that she was placed into your arms, Willy right beside you with tears in his eyes, the world felt right. It may not have been how you planned, but looking down at the sleeping face of your child you knew this was just as special.

You wanted a baby, but what you had found along the way was so much more. You had a family, one that went beyond just you and Willy. A family that you had found and made, together. Just like he had always promised and one that you wouldn’t trade for the world.

“She’s perfect, our own little angel.” He whispered, stroking her cheek as he pressed another kiss to your forehead. You could feel your hair dampen slightly with the tears that had inevitably slipped from his eyes.

“Our little angel indeed.”

124 notes · View notes

jjkpls · 4 years

Text

Mean Yoongi 4 - Finale (M)

> genre : angst (a hell of a lot), smut

> pairing : min yoongi x reader (f)

> total words : 11k+

> warnings/content : takes place post rona quarantine, explicit sexual content (bj, fingering, dirty talk, lowkey cum play), bad writing (it’s been a while, i hope you don’t feel the struggle too much)

> summary : You haven’t talked to Yoongi in so long, now that you’re allowed to see him again, you’re not sure how to do it anymore.

> previous

"Your hair has grown a lot."

I don't say anything. I stare, probably a bit cold, I don't make an effort to answer. There's a lot of things to say but no words seem right. Her attempt sucks anyway. I can tell, from the way she nibbles on her bottom lip, eyes shying away, that she thinks the same.

The moment is filled with tension. The bad kind of tension. She's fidgety, feeling awkward. I feel it too but I'm better at hiding it. I've always been. Sitting back in my chair, observing her attentively, I can't help my insides from twisting on themselves, my heart from squeezing painfully in my chest. She's the same, mostly. With a shadow under the eyes she didn't use to have, a pallor I hate on her cheeks -usually painted that lovely shade of crimson, whenever I'm here to watch, as if the colour exists only for me- a slump in her stance. I wonder what I'm like to her. My hair's changed, as she mentioned. It's quite long, it's grown indeed, and enough for my natural colour to take over my whole head. I am tired, both in body and mind. So much so, I don't find the energy to tease her like I would before. And maybe, that's the biggest thing that's changed about me, and this sole thing is turning me into someone else entirely. I may as well be a whole someone else. Not the man who used to, every now and then, sprinkle glimpses of an awkward grin I've never gotten used to wearing but that I know, she loves. Certainly not the one who teased her with a relationship she could graze but not catch, with my fingers deep in her cunt, using crude and harsh words foreign to my lips straight in her ear, because she secretly loves it. Dancing on her feet, playing with her own fingers, gesticulating and waiting, hoping for an easy way out to manifest somehow. Probably for me to grant it to her because no matter how difficult I make myself to be, I've always been good at that. Dictate and guide how things go between us. I am sweet even if I wouldn't ever admit it aloud and it's been convenient, always, for her. I'm sort of curious to see how it'll go, how it can go if for once, I'm not making any effort for the both of us. I raise from my seat, eyes dropping from her. (She's wearing Converse, I note. This probably because she didn't plan on seeing me.) Hands digging deep in my pockets, I'm not sure I can approach her. These weird, implemented reflexes raise in her too. People don't do it so much any more. Getting close. And I can see her flinch in impulse before her eyes grow big and demanding. "I got tested-" She cuts herself short. It sounds weird. To speak in this deafening silence, she can hear it as much as I can. And to say those words too. She doesn't have to finish the sentence, I get the idea and from the shade of her voice, I can tell her results have turned out negative. Maybe I'm a bit irresponsible. Maybe a bit too desperate. In any case, it makes me scoff, roll my eyes. Staring down at my feet, hair hiding most of my face to her, I have to bite back on my tongue the words that almost roll out. Something about not giving a shit about that, and her being ridiculous. I don't really trust my mouth, I have no idea what would come out of it, therefore I don't speak. My hand reaches forward, bony fingers catching the front of her shirt before I'm dragging her to me. Very naturally, as if it hasn't been months since the last time I've touched her, as if even before that we were used to holding unto each other like that, she melts in my arms. "Why didn't you call?" She could, technically, ask me the same thing: I could have done it. I hope she doesn't ask. I wouldn't know what to say to her. How honest to be. I'd probably say that I was waiting for her to do it first. Which sounds ridiculous, childish as hell but couldn't be more true. I'd say, if I had a different tongue, that wouldn't get tied up anytime deep feelings are involved, that I was worried and terrified and sad, like I had not been in a long while. And all this because she wouldn't call, she wouldn't reach out for me and my heart, probably too profound and too serious, couldn't quite comprehend and certainly not accept her silence. Those months drove me crazy. Literally. I came to ask myself if I didn't make it all up. If the special bound between us had ever really existed or if it was just all projection. "You didn't either." She ends up saying. Clearly, she's as speechless as I am when it comes to explaining months, almost half a year, of pure dumbassery. It's not like it's necessary to explain anyway. She should just know how to tell me that she missed me. And I should know to do it too. She's better at that stuff. Not that good but still better than I am, I think. If she can't do it then I'm not sure I can even try. But today I'm different, as I said. And when she accuses me like she just did, I tense but don't let go. I can hear the way her breath catches in her throat, her shoulders rising to her ear. She's probably expecting me to back away and start cursing at her. I only squeeze further though, sliding my chin along her shoulder so to tuck my neck nicely with hers, humming pure appreciation, when it feels as comfortable and warm as it possibly can. She smells wonderful, she's warm and so willing to let me wrap myself around her. "I wasn't at my best so- I thought I'd just wait for you to call when you would-" I found the courage, apparently, to say all the things that's been heavy on my mind. It's easy when she's this tender. Embodiment of warmth, of welcoming, of loving, I can only be serene, voice low and soft. "But you never did." The only reason I allow myself to reproach the things that technically she can also blame me for, is because I know, that pressed that hard and that close against her, she can feel my heart beating insanely, exposing and telling on me. "You should have!" I don't need to say anything for her to gather that I'm not amused. I unwrap from her, deciding she's being too much of a stubborn brat. I sigh, watching her pointedly not watching me. She yelps and finally grants me her pretty eyes when a pinch to the back of her thigh, right under her ass, scalds her. Here's her "Mean Yoongi", as she so calls me, according to the Snapchat conversation she shares with Taehyung. I see her bite back a smile, her pretty lip flushed when she releases it. "What was that for?" She whines as if it's not fair, rubbing the soreness of her thigh with one hand. I smile mostly with my eyes, deciding to ignore the tears that have gathered in her eyes while I wasn't looking. I back away, taking a stand against the top of my desk, arms crossed tight on my chest. "You deserve way more than that. Lucky for you, I feel lazy." Her gaze follows mine, aimed at the leather sofa. The thing presently empty but virtually filled with the substantial memory of that one fateful time I touched her for the first time, her ass made red by my ministrations. I can't do that today. I'm too soft for now. I still enjoy seeing her squirm, blush and shy away while simultaneously loving thinking about it though. "I could tell you the same, Yoongi. You could have-" I'm losing patience. It's not entirely against her. It's more accurately against us. We're playing the same pointless game. The unnecessarily torturing game of denying, of dismissing. I should probably just drop it, even if it hurts and leaves me with too many pressing interrogations. I might look a bit more serious when I start studying her face with great attention. She's beautiful. I missed seeing her. The mental picture I had kept of her, along with the real ones I'd spent months looking at, didn't do her much justice. She looks somewhat surreal. Prettier than I remember, yet printed with the same aura I recognize. "I told you why already." I whisper to her. My own voice surprises me. It's as if my heart, that's been too hurt, has been left tender, exposed and I'm turned weak even in demeanour. I bet it's confusing for her. It is for me. Feels disarming. "But- what's the point then? If when you're down you don't call-" To that, I don't know what to say. I don't know how to admit to her, if she hasn't guessed it yet, the extend of my inability to seek for what I need, for what makes me feel good, for her who I've wanted and craved for. Of course, I needed her. Of course, I wanted her to be here for me -and be needed and wanted by her. I don't know how to say it though therefore I kiss her. A soft press to the corner of her mouth. I smile, probably looking dumb, when I see her wide eyes blinking, sending one lone tiny tear on her cheekbone. Her cheeks turn red because apparently, she's not immune to me and my kisses anymore, her immediate, strong reactions turning out to be the same as the ones she used to have, in the very, very beginning, when she was so putty, so lenient, such a good girl and also, the shyest and most innocent little thing. She needs some time to accommodate, to say the least. She's barely kissing me back. Simply letting me pepper her mouth with kisses, closing her eyes, hands reaching for my sweatshirt yet not so much giving me back.

After too long of not enough, I need to stop. Because what I think I know might not be so right anymore. Maybe I read things wrong, yet again, and she's not in the same place I stand. After looking at her face, and her eyes, who struggle to dry up and look at me, I ask, "What's wrong?", granting her all of my attention. "Wha- you, what's wrong?" I scoff. She looks like she's about to cry while snarking like a brat. "You're really testing my patience." "You're different. You don't have patience normally." I tilt my head to the side, a tiny smile lifting one corner of my lips. I can't say it's not true. "I thought you wanted me sweeter?" She stares, frowning. Confused, embarrassed and almost upset. I know I'm a weird fucking version of myself right now. The one that hasn't come out a lot these past few years and that she'd certainly never met before. I'm scared she doesn't like it. Maybe she hates it. If she liked me before, there's no reason she'd like that one Yoongi, is there? "I'm just messing with you. I'm tired and-" Gentle fingers wrap around her hands, intimating her to walk forward, forward and close enough for me to close my lips on hers again. "It's been a while." I let her look into my eyes, read the longing and probably the sadness. "Sorry if I'm weird. If you don't like me like that just- bear with me for today, hm?" "I bear with you all the time." Well. That's not even the last thing I expected her to say. Pretty mean for a sweet girl like her. "What does that mean?" She shrugs. She knows but she won't say. She has that pout on her mouth. The tilted one she does whenever something's been said loud and clear in that little head of hers but she's not generous enough to indulge in sharing. I stare, disapprovingly, thumb chastising kindly her cheek. "That's rough." "I don't mean it like that-" "Then what do you mean?" My mouth finds her again for an instant. It's a soft gentle kiss that doesn't hint at anything more. She remains silent. "Cats got your tongue? You usually can't shut up but you're so quiet today." Through her cute pout, she mumbles, "I guess I'm weird too today." My phone buzzes where it lays on my desk. With a quick glance, I can tell it's a text from Namjoon. I don't even need to read it. I can guess it. He's probably calling me an idiot while simultaneously demanding me not to be one.

I heard him earlier, I bet she doesn't know, when he held her hostage by telling that I was awake and that she should go say hi. He held her hostage because she was just passing by. From how loud Taehyung and Jimin were when the front door banged opened, half an hour ago, I could tell they were drunk as hell and she had just planned on dropping them off and leave. And Namjoon, being the good man and even better friend that he is, wouldn't let that happen. How could he when he's seen me all those months in states he probably hoped, back when we were young trainees, that he'd never had to see me again in? It hurt and it still does a little, to imagine that for the first time after so long, after finally being freed from the government harsh but necessary restrictions, she would come so close to me yet consider pass by me, without saying hi, without inquiring if I'm here, even. If it were not for the firm, absolutely non-subtle suggestion coming from Namjoon, she would have done it. She would have left ignoring me. Then she knocked gently on my door, I could tell she was terrified when I opened it and faced her, quiet. And maybe it was pure projection but I felt she wanted to be here. She was scared and embarrassed, didn't know what to say, what to do with herself and me, but she wanted to stay and try to untie this shitty intricate ball of knots. The thing is, it's late. It's super fucking late and I'm reminding when the screen of my phone lights up again to remind me to check the text I just received. She arrived too late at the dorms. We wasted, collectively, too much time not saying much and here we are, standing in the dimly lighted studio, facing each other with too much of an ambiguous tension surrounding us. Everything is unclear. The kisses she would allow me to leave on her lips but not give back to me, tasting lovely but with an aftertaste, a bitter taste of confusion, raising questions as far as their meanings – are they greetings or goodbyes. It's past one in the morning but I'm not ready to let her leave, especially when I don't know what she'd be leaving behind. Anxiety is creeping in my bosom. It's pissing me off. Vainly I bend over, to my side, tapping my finger on my phone to have it lit up. Maybe Namjoon is not just insulting me and has left actual practical advice for me to follow and not fuck this up. "Yoongi?" My ears perk up but I don't look up yet. My eyes are messed up from the exhaustion and I struggle to read. I see keywords: idiot (as expected), asshole, chance, upset. I see the word "love" even, that makes me wince. How can he believe he'd help me by sending me this word when she's standing right in front of me? She called yet she still has not talked further. I shut my phone instantly, worried to have been too lowly engaged to her, to have vexed her in any way, to have been an idiot, precisely what Namjoon threatened me into not being. I raise an interested eyebrow, inviting her to talk and she finally does so, fast and barely audible, "Can I spend the night?" She grimaces. I mean to frown but I realise my face is already squished in a scowl. Maybe her grimacing makes sense. "You mean here, at the dorms?" I ask, forcing my expression to quiet down by a tonne because my shock seems wrongly interpreted by her. That seems to help. She looks at me with her big demanding eyes, the ones I know. The ones that beg, unapologetically for my affection. She nods. "With me or- in the spare room...?" She nods again. "That doesn't answer my question, ___." "Yoongi." Here comes the little brat tone half-whining, half-menacing because she doesn't get her way straight away. How lovely to meet her again. I decide to spare her from any torture, for now, shutting the light off and guiding her, with my hands on her waist, through the dark and out my studio. "Why do you even ask? How many times have I invited you to stay?" I whisper in her ear, adoring the way I feel her tremble against me. "It's different now." She huffs, not the least hiding her annoyance. I can admit things are different now. Sort of feels like a whole different fucking life, if you ask me. I wouldn't have imagined that I needed the world to be taken upon such a devastating global catastrophe for my lover to accept spending one full night with me, for the first time. I don't even see the correlation, honestly. I don't even know why she didn't want to before. I forced myself not to dwell on this question too much. Simply accepting that she wouldn't and that's her right to not want to. But that was weird. "Is it?" My arm reaches before her, turn the handle right because she's left lost and awaiting in the dark. There's a gust of her smell coming to me. The sweet, comforting, familiar and magically charming, addicting scent. There's the click of the knob in the dark, and the door opens up on the hallway's bright lightening. No words are exchanged as I lead her, a hand gently pressed to the bottom of her back, so close to her ass the idea that I could just let it slide down can't leave my agitated mind. Most doors are closed shut, there's no much noise being heard in the whole apartment apart from the occasional high pitched giggles from the two drunk kids in the living room. She's too quiet to be entirely at ease with the situation. I don't even think she's ever come inside my and Seokjin's bedroom. Seokjin.

I wonder how aware she is of the fact that I'm sharing my room with someone else. If she does, she didn't seem to mind when she asked, with her battling lashes and irresistible pout, to spend the night with me. If we do end up making him spend the night elsewhere, he might curse at me or give me the cold shoulder for a minute or two tomorrow, but he'll live. "Is it? Different?" I ask again. We've reached the bedroom and I decide to lock the door for good. If Seokjin were to, perhaps, come to our room to head to bed, he'd be met with a locked door.

She doesn't answer, still. I'm pretty sure she allows herself that because of how lenient I am with her today. She knows I'm not going to force the words out of her. I sigh calmly, resolved, black eyes patient as they fix her. "Of course, it is. Isn't it to you?" "What is?" Hands raised to the sky, eyebrows high in bewilderment, her confusion, so big it's almost revolt, couldn't be more explicit. "I'm asking because I don't know, ___. You don't talk to me, how am I supposed to know?" "Sorry." She mumbles. Blushing from embarrassment, as she lowers her hands, looks down and sinks on herself. "It's ok." My hand leads hers to my lips, I kiss its back. "Why didn't you call?" "Yoongi, sometimes I just don't know how you feel. No, always- I mean, never, I never know how you feel-" I'm not sure how much she means to hurt my feelings. I'm pretty sure she knows, if the way she seeks for words, not to offense me, is any tell. But she sucks at preserving them. Her words sting like hell. "During- I just- I didn't want to force myself into you if that's not what you wanted, that's all." "And that's not what you wanted? Just hearing me, you didn't want that?" I have to ask. It's probably better talking about her feelings than mine, right now. "Course, I did..." She sulks. "Then why not try? At least for yourself, I don't get you." Maybe resentment of a tortured, sensitized heart is unleashing. I don't want to ever harm her but she's done it, a lot. I don't want to believe it but maybe we've parted too long for a cold, unpenetrable wall not to have taken place between us. At least, provisionally. It can't be that unpenetrable. "I'm sorry." She lowers her head, whispering. Looking all saddened. Guilty. Nervous. And of course, I'm too soft. "You used to force yourself into my life all the fucking time, sneaking in my studio like an affection craving puppy, you didn't care back then but now that I like you, you don't want it anymore." Her eyes blink, shift suddenly up. Wide and alarmed. They scrutinize me sitting on the bed, checking my own nails, pretending to be nonchalant about the bitty bomb I've just dropped. "Wouldn't peg you for the heartbreaker type but ok-" "Don't say stuff like that." "Like what? Stuff that I mean?" I roll my eyes because the moron watches me with an emotion in her gaze, anger, she's menacing me. "It's not funny." "It really isn't." I shake my head along. "I talked with a friend and he said the reason you didn't call is probably that I was messing with you too much, not saying anything you wanted to hear. That you got tired of waiting for me." "Namjoon?" I nod. I had to talk to Namjoon. Because I had to talk about her to someone. Taehyung was simply out of the question. He's her best friend. One of the closest of my own friends. He probably knows me too well, knows I'm not that well-off in my personal life, in my heart and mind to be with his non-biological sister. And Namjoon is kind and loves me a lot, even if we wouldn't talk about that. So much so that it makes him genuinely happy to see me excited about someone. "It's not really- that. I'm just a coward, Yoongi. I didn't know how to talk to you and ask you the things I wanted to and-” She's staring down, at her own fingers pkaying with each others. Cute. “Yeah, I don't know, I didn't know how you felt about me." "I thought I was obvious." She shrugs. She shrugs. It should anger me. I'd have the right to be mad. I was obvious. I've been obnoxious. Letting her mess with me and my stuff because she owns me and therefore, by definition, also everything I have. Letting her in. Filling up all the room, all according to her own whims. "Com'here," I demand, rather gently, spreading my legs and leaning back, hands holding me up. She obediently steps forward, takes her seat on my lap, right where I want her. That's perfect. Everything I needed to obliviate the fact that she hasn't confessed liking me back yet. "What is it you wanted to ask me?" She's hovering over me, slightly taller, should feel superior. But her pretty face is turned down, eyes avoiding mines from shame, staring at her hands toying with the strings of my sweatshirt. The bubble, so intimate, is small, very very small and it's hard to live in it. The air she's breathing is mine, the same way the air I'm breathing is hers, and she must be aware of the way all I'm seeing are the tiny, pretty details of her face. "Yoongi. You really like me?" "Course, I do." My cheeks burn from embarrassment. I kind of hate it but I live for the grin she struggles to hide. "Stupid." Totally free and unnecessary but not unjustified, I deem. "Then can you be my boyfriend? Or like would you- would you like to be?" With a hurried press of my lips to the corner of her mouth, I attempt to hide the grin growing on them. "Took you long enough." I fail miserably as I can't help but smile against her mouth, poorly kissing it. "It doesn't answer my question." She points out. I know it doesn't. I hate how happy and rather emotional I felt just having her ask me to be her boyfriend. Who would have thought I would mind this much? Honestly, I wouldn't have guessed it. I never thought it'd move me that much. But I suppose, I should have known by now, that, that's what she does: she moves me. It's a breathtaking kiss, stolen or given while I press her down on her back, body not hovering but laying on hers, every inch of hers pointedly connected to mine, that shuts the conversation down. It does not have to matter. Now that we've found each other back, we believe again we have all the time in the world. Maybe it's a mistake. The state of our world, these days, tend to suggest we don't, we never know how much time we'll have and what exactly it'll be made of. I didn't actually answer but maybe the answer is so fucking evident, she should trust my lips and my hands and my eyes each time they linger on a part of her they seem to have a liking for. And perhaps, she could just accept me and everything else along and assume rightfully that if I wasn't saying it all, it wasn't because I didn't feel it, didn't want to, didn't have anything to say but because I could not. "The gears in that head of yours are killing the mood," I mumble against her cheek, bothered by her loss of commitment, here again, to make me feel lonely when she's just right fucking here. "What is it?" I ask in a gentle whisper.

Here above her, close enough to still share breath but far enough to see her face, it's impossible to act like a dick. Her eyes are shiny, dripping emotions. I can see them clearly without knowing exactly how to read them. She's held back by so many things but as always a timid mouth won't let them slip. I've yet, after all this time, to decide if I love or hate that about her. She can be so open, in appearance, she's animated, she's enthusiastic, she's bright and welcoming. But at the same time, the corridor she lets you in hides a door at the end that she simply cannot allow to let you slide through. I've caught glimpses of this room when she left the door ajar a few times, mostly when I'm balls deep in and maybe a bit too soft when I whisper sweet words in the shell of her ear. She's mostly a mirror of myself, a better version though. When my eyes can look bored, uninterested and sometimes borderline mean, hers are always soft, always kind. It doesn't matter what or who they are set on. Even when she's upset, when I've said something she didn't like to hear, when she's been teased one too many times by Taehyung or her boss has been a fucking asshole all day long, she'll have her eyebrows cutely dropping down, mimicking anger and failing poorly because the eyes, right under it, are still as tender and bright and beautiful. Right now the door is ajar and from what I can see in her eyes, she looks like she's in love with me. It's pure torture because I know, and I can see that too, that even if it were to be the case she wouldn't say, she wouldn't say the words, not to me, not like that anyway, she couldn't. Perhaps I'm seeing things. Perhaps it's wishful thinking, or worse, my own reflection I catch in her eyes without recognising it. After a few seconds of her deliberately ignoring my question and me not getting impatient because I get to just watch her, I decide it doesn't really matter if she is or not in love with me if she keeps looking at me like that. The illusion so realistic, shocking my heart with delicious waves of electricity, I could live with that. "Yoongi?" And if she keeps saying my name like that, like a whine, like a shy little girl, I'll be spoiled forever. She says my name a lot today, I realise, as my spine is taken by an umpteenth wave of chill. Maybe she missed saying it. I surely missed hearing it. "Yeah?" I'm even more breathless than she is. Hovering above yet hanging from her mouth. I must look desperate to her. Even if this has the potential to tickle me the wrong way, I decide not to mind. It's pointless to fight back innate facts, isn't it? I am desperate for her, have been for fucking months, before even circumstances distanced us, I thought it could even end up killing me at some point. It was bad after a couple of weeks when I realised she'd still not called me. Not even a text or a word passed through Taehyung. Nothing at all and I had the sickening feeling growing in my stomach that it wouldn't change. After making sure she was ok, wherever she was, with whoever or maybe alone, she was fine and she was simply not reaching out for me, the torture really started. I just didn't get it. How could she, the most annoying little bug, stop doing what I thought her to like best, it is to say, bugging me? The last time we saw each other was fantastic. She had left slamming my door but with the pretty shade of infatuation on her cheeks, I had no doubt, even if things were not entirely cleared out yet -because I thought the cat and mouse game was entertaining to her as much as it was to me, and because at the time, we still felt like we had all the time in the world for this and for everything else- that we were good, better than good actually. I was confused, utterly lost. Too coward and too upset to reach out myself. If she wanted to talk to me, she would have done it, wouldn't she? She used to before. "Can you lie down? On your back, I mean." The request makes me raise an eyebrow. "You're always sorta on top of me, and I-" The sentence is never finished. She's embarrassed if the cute button of a mouth she wears along with the stealthy avoiding eyes are any teller. For some reasons, my heart beats faster in my chest in an uncomfortable thumping. Maybe I'm a grumpy old man. A grumpy control freak of an old man who's terrified by the least changement. Because Change to me, in all honesty, sounds horrifying -which sounds ridiculous given chances were bet on changes that ended up bringing the life that I now live, some rollercoaster, made of the worst up and downs sitting on top of the least trustworthy, stable ground. It's scary, feels ominous even when it's just my now-girlfriend sweetly starting to ask, and demand for things in my bed. Maybe I need to chill. Match better the chaos that's inside with the unbothered, emotionless exteriors. All I can think about is how lame her justification sounds given, "I can recall quite a good amount of times when you were on top.", and therefore, freak out about what's really behind her request. She frowns then glares, right in my eyes, at last, and sighs. She's being the snarky little girl who doesn't want to discuss and that's cute. That's adorable because I'm on top and I decide but she thinks she can control, demand from me. And she'd be right. She can ask anything from me. She always could. Rolling my eyes like I don't care, lazily rolling on my back like I'm not nervous as hell to just lay there for her, I watch carefully and savour the way she bites on her smiling lips, ecstatic as she is to have been granted an upperhand over me. She takes the seat she owns on my thighs, a mischievous glint decorating her gaze. "Do you remember our first time?" It does the trick. Her ephemeral sense of confidence flatters and she sinks down a little on herself -conveniently on my crotch-, flushing darkly. "I'm not senile, 'course I remember." Softly, the pads of my fingers press on her covered thighs. My eyes fixed on her lively face. She can't really bear it, they might burn her a little. She tries to flee, falling over, hiding her face in the crook of my neck. Her lips brush my skin, she sighs there, it's a wonderful, dip into her. "Remember the first time?" "I just said yes." She whispers the same way I do. I pinch very lightly the back of her thigh, not to hurt, just to warn her because she has a little edge to her tone. Of course, she'd be so impatient when I find myself able to be patient. "When we met for the first time." She leans back, curious eyes peeking at me. A lock of hair is brushing her cheek, I drag it behind her ear, kissing her lips with my thumb because I'm too lazy and laid too comfortably to try and raise up to her mouth. She frowns for a second before she shrugs. I can see she doesn't get where I'm going with that. If she can't even remember, she surely won't see. "You were in the kitchen with Tae, being loud as hell until I came in and you just stopped talking altogether." She rolls her eyes. "I thought you hated me." "I was just shy." She's a bit vexed that I'm bringing it up. I know that she hates that, when it's pointed out, that she gets shy and embarrassed and timid. I understand because I'm the same. The difference between us is that I hide pretty well my inner turmoil with a mask made of coldness, of confidence or disinterest. "You were, weren't you? Now, look at you..." Her eyes don't quit mine. She knows damn well what I mean. "Sitting on me like you're sitting on a throne." She actually giggles at that, tilts her head to the side, gaze going up to the skies as if she's considering the thought, a blatant giddy feeling of importance and timid pretension written all over. She knows it's right. I'm not sure to what extent she understands how much she owns me but she knows there's something big that's unsaid if she's allowed to just have me like that just from asking -only mildly politely. "Could have imagined that, princess?" She's too honest, shakes her head no. I smile lightly, amused because now that I've raised the question, I realise I couldn't have imagined that either. I didn't like her too much at the beginning. Or to be more precise, she gave me a bad first impression. I'm never good with new people but this girl, it just went wrong. I'd been chanted so many praises about her and when finally, I got to meet her because she was for once hanging out at the dorms when other people than Taehyung and Jimin were here, she shut off as soon as I walked in, for some reasons I didn't get at the time, decided to be unfair and that I was not deserving of her infamous sweetness. The stark contrast between her bright boisterous peals of laughter before I entered the room and heavy mean silence once I'd sat on one of the bar stools made me livid. I thought it'd be the end of it. I wouldn't get to know the person, the "amazing person", I've been told about because I wasn't meriting somehow. And after months of forced proximity, because she kept being invited over, involved with outings, something clicked within her and she became the annoying little brat I've known her to be and just had to grow fond of -because it was easier than to just stay reluctant to her advances and become mad each time she'd come to me. It didn't take too long, if I'm being totally honest, to go from deeply confused vexation to an out of character giddy fondness. I've never said it. Don't really plan on doing it. Even now that I'm feeling all mellow and sappy as fuck. She doesn't need to be told from my mouth anyway. I'm pretty sure Namjoon, if he hasn't had a word about this yet, will do later. And from her ever insistence, her never flattering determination even when I, from self-admission, had been harsh or mean in the way I could have told her off, I suspect she knows, she's always known. Her dizzying smile tastes the sweetest and her annoying voice is addicting, as if dipped in a thick layer of dopamine. And I'm too weak for pretty smiles matching pretty eyes, and for brats harassing me with their affection. Therefore when she starts peeling my shirt off of me and spreading her kisses everywhere she can reach, I don't say anything even though I half-hate it. I hate feeling exposed like that when she's fully clothed and on top of me. I don't really like in general being too naked especially for her knowing what she has for me compared to what I've got for her. And she's touching me, one of her hand pressing my wrist onto the mattress and I know what it means, she doesn't want me to protest or try and touch her. I don't because I want to be good for her, for once, not be an ass and impose everything because she seems to want peculiar things today and I can do that for her. But I adore the way she's humming against my skin, smiling uncontrollably against it and sprinkling the most tender kisses. For once, I'm letting her have her way, and won't thrash and push her over to get the upper hand I prefer to hold, bear with the flush burning my cheeks and speeding my heart. It is nice to have her being so willing to take her time with me, with loving me, as if she really wants me. She's also very much hot precisely where she presses her centre to my cock and my patience, if exceptionally efficient today, has limits. "You-" I'm cut off by a strong shudder born from her tongue swiping along my jaw and the little suckle on my ear that follows. "Undress." I groan once half of my composure found back. "No." The short but firm answer triggers me, without taking a second to think, my hand, the one she hasn't been holding hostage, raises and seizes the back of her thigh meanly. "What do you mean no?" "Yoongi, listen. I think I'm tired of you bossing me around." My eyes grow wide at that. She has the acutely tiny singing edge to her voice, the one that I know well for it rings louder every time she's embarrassed or doesn't feel the most confidence. But she's standing straight and tall on her throne, pressing steadily on my crotch as she slowly explains how this will go, her way. "Now that I come to think of it-" A hard grind stealing a huff from me. "You couldn't even- you couldn't even ask me out properly! I did it! I do everything all the time and you still get to choose? That's not fair." "If I remember correctly I always make sure you come first, don't I? So how unfair is that, princess?" She pouts. Stops moving altogether. I can picture her in a second raise her arms to her chest and cross them tight there, frowning and sulking. The little girl is upset. She's adorable. I suppose she hopes to intimidate me somehow or to make me swoon enough to give in. It does the opposite though. The more she pouts, the brattier she gets, the more she tickles my fancy. And I always want more. She's all the more fun when she's feisty too. "I have something in mind, Yoongi." I raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. Hers lower down, condescending, unwilling to give up her position. "I want to take care of you." She says, voice quieter from her prior disdainful approach. The Adam apple seems to double in size in my throat when I try to swallow this time, struggling so much so it's audible. I think I knew. I suspected something the moment she started to stare at me with those eyes. I just thought I could get away somehow, I managed to many times before. She's pretty easy to manipulate, a firm precise press of my fingers, a hot whisper to tease her core and she'd let it go. I'm pretty weak today though and here she is saying words that set me off, reach someplace dusty and far, so far away hidden within me that it feels uncomfortable. The trigger is uncomfortable. It's scary. I don't know what it'll be. I don't know how I'll handle it. I don't know if I ever want to try. Sincerely, the greatest and easiest pleasure I've ever had to indulge in has been hers. In her pleasure and her body. Her orgasms I tasted on my tongue, the ones that hug me tight, have always been the most spectacular. "You don't need to take care of me." I need to take care of you. I'm not sure where it comes from. I've come a long way in my own personal journey, I now know I deserve more than I used to believe I did. Yet I don't, I can't imagine her being the one taking care of me. It needs to be me. I need to spoil her. "You don't like that? When someone... focuses on you?" I think about a lie or a little distractive thing to say. I choose to be frank. If there's a day to be and a moment and a person with whom to be, it must be it. "Not really." "Maybe because you're not used to it. Wouldn't you like that? Because I want to. I thought about it a lot." That's the issue with her. She owns the power. Ultimately she does. Even if she doesn't feel like it, she does. Always. Today it shows in more ways than one. She's so eager, so excited, I don't know how to disappoint her. Reluctant but kindly enough, I ask. "What did you think about?" My mouth is dry as hell. I don't understand how I can be filled with so much anxiety, still. When I feel this old and this wise, and so pleased and spoiled yet, still, terrified. It should just be heaven. I don't get why sometimes the sweetest things have to be so scary to take a bite of. She smiles to herself, satisfied to find me willing to hear her. It's a shadow of promise. I will judge later on if she'll get what she wants or not. For now, I'm just hearing her out. She's sweet and she deserves to express herself. In no time, she meets me centimetres away. She's leaned over, forearms pressing a bit on my chest to keep herself from crashing completely onto me. She's beaming through her eyes, mostly, shining intensely in the dim light as she observes my face from up close. There's the scent of her shampoo, the vanilla coconut mix that I used to be obsessed with, smelling around me even when she wasn't there. It's awfully comforting to have that too sweet smell again, for real this time, teasing my senses and waking up a lovely nostalgia. With the tips of her hair brushing slightly the bare skin of my neck, how am I supposed to refuse anything she asks me. "I realised that we've never- I've never got to- taste you." The last words are not even pronounced out loud. There's the t I read on her teeth biting slightly her pink tongue, the rest of the syllabus she just gives up on and it's for me to read on her lips. Given how obsessed I am with them, the task is not that demanding, her request couldn't be clearer to me. I should be ecstatic, shouldn't I? I'm not. I'm nervous as hell. I don't know what's wrong with me. "That's what you thought about a lot? My dick in your mouth?" She flushes bright pink but doesn't waver. She decided she's a big girl and gets to fantasise about what she wants and she won't be shamed for it, not now that's she's grown the courage to ask aloud. I chuckle humourlessly. "Princess." I can almost see her ears point out at the pet name. She seems to like it. I think I'm keeping it. "You're too pretty to have a dick in your mouth." Her face twists in the loudest mask of indignation and revolt. Straightening her back again to stand tall over me, she looks down on me under her severe set of frown eyebrows. "What does that even-" Her hand falls flat on my chest, meeting the skin hard enough for a sharp slapping sound to resonate in the quiet room. "Yoongi! It doesn't make anyone any less pretty to- what are you even saying? How can you- Why are you diverting? You're always diverting-" She raises her hands to the sky in pure bewilderment. Her face is still contorted in anguish though, I can tell she's not done arguing about this. "I'm telling you I want you in my mouth and you- what do you say to me?" I can't really hold back the cackling laughter erupting straight from my bosom. She's startled by it, upset still but unsure of how serious I am and for some reason, when she stares at me laughing, the tiny shadow of a smile colours the corner of her mouth. The tempting beautiful thing suddenly appears only a few centimetres from my face. She looks down on me with all the seriousness she can gather, eyes squinted tight. "Are you serious, Yoongi? Do you really not like that?" How honest should I be? The ever same existential question. How honest can I be? "Because you- like everything else and I thought you liked going down on me but- do you not like receiving?" Because my own personal question is loud, louder than the soft whisper of her voice, and so much more pressing because finding the answer seems to be more essential, it'd answer her questions and a lot more, the ones she may have but never dare ask. I hope to find the answer or at least a hint of it in her eyes. I don't know any other more evident places where to look for it. My quiet gaze shuts her off a little, I see how she doesn't physically back away but there is something in her eyes wavering and suddenly she looks kind of sad. She might just be disappointed but the effect is immediate, I feel my heart cracks. "I just," I raise for a second just to find some courage on her mouth. "I'm better at giving, it's all. I feel weird just sitting here and taking, it's just weird." It's just hard. "But it's the very principle of Lo-" She cuts herself off before she finishes but too late for me not to make out the last syllable. "Of what?" I ask, a growing crooked grin teasing. I allow myself that because I know that I can't get her there. She might even be more scared than I am. That's funny how I find ease in teasing her in those places yet I know that if we really do get there and start being serious about it, or if she'd dare tease me back, I'd lose my shit. I can hardly handle her calling my name in a whine as if she needs me so much she can't handle me not being a constant part of her. "Do you really not like that? Like not want it?" She asks, eyes boring in mine, looking all serious and grave. I can't disappoint her when she looks at me like that. I don't want to. "I don't want to do anything you wouldn't want or like but-" Gently, the pad of my thumb caresses her soft cheek. I'm not sure what I've done to deserve her. I'm pretty sure there's been a mistake somewhere, an error in the matrix. While I'm not bad, I'm quite good as a person, I'm persuaded that pretty girls with hearts that gentle can't be for me. I can't even tell her how beautiful she is. "Actually no buts. Just, do you want it or not?" How could I say no? When she asks so nicely, so many times to and of course, she looks the way she does. I might be a huge hypocrite. Turning this into her using her charms to get what she wants rather than me accepting to be selfish because it's easier that way. Nonetheless, it's almost reluctantly, with a fat lump in my throat that I let out a tiny, "'Kay." She leans over, eyebrows high. "Was it a yes?" I hum, rolling my eyes a bit. I'm feeling embarrassed, too embarrassed, and she's bouncing on my cock like it's the most exciting news she's heard all year -which might actually be given the circumstances.

It's nice but confusing.

Does she like me that much or is she just really into giving heads? Suddenly I have flashbacks of all those times she got on her knees to fetch something from a low hanging shelf, or under the coffee table. I just thought, innocently, that she had no sense of adulthood and she didn't realise, that once adults are grown they don't get on their knees like children, looking up to you talking like it's not weird at all. Like it's not suggestive at all. Like if I were just to ask nicely she'd probably say yes and I'd be the opening of a pants' fly away from sitting comfortably on her tongue. I can't lie and say that I've never thought about it. Evidently. I have. Probably each and every time she's done that little supposedly innocent thing, and then, a few other times in between. She's giddy when she leans even further, sliding off to the side of my lips when she tries to smooch them. She's even giddier when she crawls down my body, hoping to the side so that she can start unfastening my belt and jeans. She's giddy but quiet when she starts pulling my pants off of me. She's feeling timid, I can read it on her cheeks, but she can't possibly be as much as I am. I don't think I've ever had her undress me like that, in the open, when the light is too bright for comfort and her eyes so focused on me. Now that I come to think of it, I can count on one hand the number of times I've been naked with her. And it's never been like that. With her not fucked out enough to not pay so much attention. With her eyes roaming over me, and every now and then glimpses to my face, gaze smiling and tender. The gaze doesn't leave me as her tiny hand tentatively reaches for my covered shaft. It still remains there, attached, for the longest time, while her fingers pressingly roam over it. I twitch under the touch, heart pounding harder, full of anticipation and anxiety. "Don't drag this shit forever." Maybe I could be nicer. Maybe I could show more patience -if I hadn't been so challenged all evening, I'd probably have some left but clearly, I don't. Maybe I could be less of an ass, I could precisely be the sweet, lovely boyfriend she deserves when she's moments and centimetres away from swallowing me down her throat. Probably I should make more efforts. Or learn how and when to make them. I'm probably not the most practical right now. Being rough when I should be sweet and sweet when she needs me to push her a bit. "But I wanna take my time." She says that with a smile on her pink lips, not vexed at all. And here she proves once again that maybe I don't know shit about her and women in general. Because when I feel like she should get offended or at least aggravated, she just takes me in and finds something that she likes in my insufferable self. I simply bite on my lip, pensive. Doesn't say much to her but she sees it and translates it a way that fits me well. A lazy blink later, I have the ghost of a new kiss on the corner of my mouth and then her lips tightly wrapped around my tip, concealing the fresh breeze of air that her undressing me completely brought. It's undefinable, the sensation of her hot wetness wrapped around me. She doesn't waste a second, visibly having changed her mind about taking her time, trying to have me as far as she can. Bobbing her head and sucking me in with so much enthusiasm, I have red flushing my cheeks when I hear the sounds that she makes, wondering if I seem as desperate, as voluntary, as messy when I do eat her cunt - and the rash comes directly from the blatant, easy answer: a big fat yes. Of course, it would feel that good. When her pussy feels like some Heaven, naturally her mouth would have me like that. In no time, my cock is rock hard and balls tight and ready to blow. It's been months since I've felt this good and even then, I didn't have that treatment. Having someone and her, at that, giving so much of herself, I see the way she tries to catch back some air, frowning because I'm pretty sure her jaw is hurting a bit, jerking me off fast to compensate the lack of warmth and her pretty, pretty eyes, smiling at me, doing the most. My thighs are tensing, my right leg keeps jerking upward uncontrollably, fists holding tight onto the sheets, overwhelmed. I'm not sure what I've done to deserve this. And maybe I'm going to doubt the universe placing this stupid princess on my way even more now that I've had her been so good to me, by just being herself, especially given that she's turned out to be an expert and a passionate at sucking my cock. "Fuck" Here goes my tip hitting the back of her throat again. And her hands, soft and encouraging, playing with my balls, pad of her thumb pressing sometimes between my perineum. "S-stop, I need to-" "You'll fuck me later, come in my mouth." She demands, breathlessly, diving back in before I even get to protest. "You can't say shit like that." I whiningly stutter, she's brought fucking tears to my eyes. I see blurry as I stare at the ceiling, vainly trying to hold back my climax. It makes her chuckle a bit, hum something I can't possibly understand with her mouth full and bells ringing in my ears, all I capture is the vibration it sends to my whole shaft, tickling along my spine, making me bent it embarrassingly. "Really wan'you to come-" She mumbles, lips making out with my tip in the process. "Then swallow me down." It comes out before I plan on it, before I mean to say it, through gritted teeth. She slides down my length, taking me in, like my every word is her command. The unexpected rush of pleasure, like an electric shock, seizes my hand which jumps to her head and decides to stay there, fingers fighting against the very weak remain of my brain cells to grab and clench and tear the head of hair they laid on. It's when I meet the back one more time and she decides to swallow down just then that I reach it, spilling down her throat, growling aloud without meaning too, spurring few words I probably wouldn't say to her if my mind wasn't so cloudy. I'm somewhere else. Body empty of any tension and I realize that a blowjob is exactly all I needed all those months. I haven't felt this relaxed and satiated and satisfied in so long, I feel dizzy and a bit lost. Even my own bed feels foreign, maybe it's just because she's on it. Smiling down on me with her small fingers painting shape on my skin and her pretty smile kissing my chest. She kisses her way up, leaving a path of warm sprouts, takes her time right on my drumming heart, smooches my cheeks with a tiny giggle that blooms probably from the red dots I assume are on them. She looks down on me, eyes sparkly and lips stuck in an upward curve. I see her hesitating. She's unsure of something I don't get because she just blew my mind off. My fingers knead gently the flesh of her thighs, inviting her to speak if there's something she needs to say. Her soft finger presses on my lips and she raises an eyebrow. "I don't know if I can kiss you..." "Why?" I ask, probably a bit too abruptly because I'm stupid right now and I don't understand under what circumstances she couldn't press her mouth to mine. She rolls her eyes evidently, scoffs and finally points at my crotch then her mouth, flushed all over her cheeks, when she sees me still struggling to understand. "Course you can. You always can." She shrugs, eyes fleeing away. I kiss her hard on the mouth, the hand buried in her hair pressing her further onto me. I consider vaguely how gross she might believe me to be when really, I'm just a bit too whipped for her and cum, no matter if it's mine or hers and shockingly enough I realise anyone else's too, I don't fucking care, any of her kisses are kisses that I want to consume. I roll her over on the bed and kiss her harder, licking and sucking her tongue until she's just wide eyes glinting up to me. "You can always kiss me." She nods, swollen lips tilting up. She doesn't find me too gross, it seems. Good. "And thanks." One kiss. "Was really nice." She tries to bite back her grin but fails, tittering even as I pinch lightly the side of her waist. "Was it nice for you?" I kiss the side of her jaw, smiling against her as I continue, purring close to her ear, "Just like you imagined?" I can feel her frustration before she even expresses it by raising a fist ready to punch me. It makes me chuckle. That's what she deserves for putting me in this situation anyway. I can't be the only one embarrassed, especially when I made an effort to content her -even if to content her was to content me but it doesn't matter. When my hand slides so naturally down her stomach, fingers strumming teasingly along the hem of her pants, the nagging and the arguing should be postponed for now. "You're an-" I slide easily under her clothes, palm cupping perfectly her cunt, it cuts her off. She gasps, eyes growing wide as they stare off at the ceiling, biting on her lip. "I'm what?" "Nothing." She grunts between tight jaws, both mad and horny and that's just too funny. I'm enjoying this immensely, torturing her kindly, while my fingers dip in her soaked heat, with her lips centimetres away so that I can kiss them as much as I want. She responds to all of my kisses. Tense her neck every time I part away for a second to take a look at what I'm doing, at her overall form, her laying in my bed with her twitching legs parting to give me more access. "I'm nothing? That's mean." "Yoongi, not now." I catch the curse she doesn't spit in my face before she gets to swallow it back down. The prospect that things should be cleared out now and that this will happen again, and again, and again until the day she decides she's tired of me drives me wild with excitement. It means I'll get to push her buttons and piss her off enough she'll curse at me the way she rarely ever does Taehyung when he's reaching her very limits of patience. Maybe I'm a bit gross, at least a bit freaky, if the idea of her mad beyond herself, calling me names yet simultaneously letting me play with her body like that turns me on so much. "When if not now, princess?" She pulsates around my fingers at that. It has to be the name. How lovely. How adorable. So adorable I can't help but grin giddily, effectively hiding my face in the crook of her neck so she doesn't catch me when I do. "You're so close already." "Shut up." "All worked up just from having my cock in your mouth." She groans, closes her eyes tight as if she's trying to focus all her attention on my fingers fucking her. "So easy to please, I'm a lucky bastard, am I not?" I keep mumbling next to her ear because I don't care what she pretends, I know she loves hearing me and I can bet with great confidence on what she loves to hear me say. "Having a girlfriend like you-" "Oh my Go- Yoongi-" "Come for your man." So easy to please. I know I'm not reaching the spot she likes best because her fucking pants are in the way. I've learned that the stretching is something she enjoys thoroughly and from how tense and on edge she got herself, my three fingers are doing wonders, dragging the ring along with every thrust. But I'm sure, I know, what's triggering her. She's too much like me. Probably worse than me. So desperate to feel the love, and here she is, coming around my fingers but mainly around my words when I'm just calling her mine. It takes her ages to come back to her senses, to stop desperately drinking my love straight from my mouth, and for her sweet cunt to stop kissing the tip of my fingers and let me slip them out. She's fucked out when she's back. Hair I barely touched all over the fucking place, eyelids heavy, mouth red and swollen, eyebrows low and eyes wet the way they get when the pleasure is so good she becomes a bit too soft and sensible and sometimes a tear or two escape. I get to clean her up a bit, rearranged her clothes and then realise that she's actually spending the night with me so I might as well get her pants off, throw my own pants away and put some shorts on, turn off the lights, and catch her in the most comfortable spooning session I've personally ever had before I feel her alert and with me entirely. "You okay?" She nods her head, blinking a few times more than necessary when she watches me raise my fingers to my mouth and mechanically lick them clean. In a whisper, after too long of laying quietly in the dark -apart from the angry stomping going on in the hallway along with mumbled curses that can only come from Seokjin and that we both decide to ignore- she timidly asks, "So we're dating, Min Yoongi?" "We've always been dating, dumbass." Which is not exactly true, not exactly false. To me, anyway, if she'd ever come to decide that the whole thing was just a fling then, it would have been just that. But I'm pretty sure she's always liked me as much as I have and even if I never expressed it clearly, I don't just fuck around like that. Especially with girls as sweet as her. And I don't really get that words define what we are anyway. Nothing changes now that I've said that. Maybe she's happier with the situation and that's all I want therefore I can give them to her, but honestly, yeah, to me we've always been each other's. "You're an asshole." "I'm your asshole." I don't know if she can hear my grin but the exasperated sigh suggests she does. "That's- gross." She still kisses my cheek and then my chest, huddling to my side, humming to herself when my arms wrapped around her squeeze a little harder. She's warm and soft and all mine, and when the realisation hits, that just a few hours ago she was infinitely far away from me, and now she's here in my arms, in my bed, (kind of) officially just mine to please and enjoy, my heart swells. That's all I've needed.

A/N: Guess what, it’s one of my new year resolutions to STOP taking a break from writing and this blog. *clown*

I hope it wasn’t too bad, too stiff. I meant to give this couple a nice ending because I got attached to them as quite a lot of you have. Hopefully, you’re not disappointed and sorry if it was so angsty but I guess, my heart felt a bit heavy writing it. SOZ

I'm already working on another story I’m really excited about and inspired for. I’ll try to have it release very soon.

If you’ve come this far, THANK YOU immensely. I LOVE you.

I hope all of you and your loved ones are doing fine. My best wishes for this new year. Let’s meet here more often.

#ksmutclub #btswriterscollective #networkbangtan #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi scenario #yoongi fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts scenario #my writing

227 notes · View notes

ourloveisforthelovely · 4 years

Text

Unexpected Part 2

Harry Potter Marauders Era AU

Link to Part 1

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader

Rating: M-minor smut

_______

Regulus couldn’t get away from Sirius soon enough. The last thing that he really wanted to deal with was Sirius asking questions about his love life. Regulus was already regretting what he admitted to his brother. Saying that he didn’t love you was a bit harsh. While he didn’t exactly know what love was, Regulus was sure that there was something of it inside him for you.

Stepping into the house, he remained in the hallways but focused his attention on you specifically. You sat talking to Lily with Halley in your arms.

I do care for her more than she knows...I suppose that I do love her

The past four months had been crazy for both of you. Crazy was putting things lightly. Before Halley was born Regulus never had any interest in having a child. The day that you had come to him with the test results, Regulus almost fainted. Remembering the day was enough to make him nervous again.

Regulus stood in the hotel room looking at the muggle pregnancy test as you stood waiting for him to say something. He had paced around the room a few times and was close to losing the stronghold that he had on his temper. Regulus needed an answer and you were only looking at him for an answer on how to feel.

“Are you sure? What if it's faulty?”

You looked up at him with a confused expression. Regulus was trying to remain calm and you could see it. He was trying not to upset you and for that, you would be eternally thankful.

“Six of them?”

Regulus ran a hand through his hair. Six of them wouldn’t lie. One could be faulty but you clearly covered your bases...smart clever girl.

“Is there anyone else that the child could belong to?”

Your face immediately went from worried to shocked. That comment you clearly didn’t expect and Regulus regretted asking it immediately. He was the one that had taken your virginity that night and you only made time for him from that night forward.

“I’ve only slept with you! We have been seeing each other a lot lately...if you’re suggesting that I am some loose tramp just forget what I’ve told you and I’ll handle it on my own with no help from you.”

You quickly gathered up your things and turned to leave without another word. Regulus stood motionless a moment longer before taking off after you. He ran through the hotel room and skidded into the foyer.

“Y/n, wait! I’m an idiot.”

Your hand was on the door handle as you turned to face him. What color Regulus had in his face had vanished leaving your lover paler than normal. His young face was etched with worry as you began to speak.

“No, you’re just a prim and proper boy who wasn’t trained to have unprotected sex with some stupid girl who is on the other side of the tracks.”

Regulus had to agree with you on that one. His mother would have a fit if she knew what her youngest son had done. Regulus couldn’t let her know...not yet. Walburga would expect you to “get rid of it” and that wasn’t something that he wanted to happen. Regulus wanted nothing more than to protect you and his child...even if it meant disappointing his family.

He quickly closed the distance between your bodies. Reaching out Regulus pulled you into his arms. What he was doing...he had no idea. Holding you seemed like the best option that he could come up with.

“Let me take care of you...We did this together and to be honest with you, Y/n, I’ve become taken with you.”

His words from that day were still accurate. Regulus was taken with you and he didn’t see that changing. Maybe he wasn’t ready to say love then and in some ways he was afraid to say it now but deep down he knew that he loved you. You would be the one that would prove to him that love exists.

Halley crying pulled Regulus from his thoughts. Any time the child made a noise, Regulus was on his feet. Had he ever expected to love the child so much? No. The moment that Halley was put into his arms the first time, Regulus was in awe of her. For someone only being minutes old, she already had him wrapped around her finger.

The baby’s arrival made Regulus question his own relationship with his own father. Orion had always been closed off and didn’t want to be bothered with his sons until they were older. Regulus wasn’t even aware if his father knew who he was until he was at least six. When he was older and not as interested in causing havoc (as Sirius) Regulus finally became closer to his father.

The last thing Regulus planned on doing was letting Halley feel this way. That was the thing that he liked about being in Paris alone (without other family involved). It was just the two of you looking after Halley alone. The two of you only relied on each other to make sure that the baby was happy and healthy. Now...Regulus was afraid that would change. When your parents and his parents decided it was time to sink their claws in, things would become difficult between Regulus and yourself. Would he side with what his parents wanted (which would involve Halley being raised in a life of privilege and pureblood shenanigans) or what your parents would want (still a privileged childhood but no pureblood bullshit that would piss his parents off)? Regulus already made a personal promise to himself that he would put his foot down and tell his parents no...should it need to be done.

You, meanwhile, had stood up trying to lull the child back to sleep. Meeting Regulus’ eyes, you gave him a small smile. Regulus couldn’t help but smile back. You were stunningly beautiful and you were his.

I really am an ass.

Regulus thought as you came to join him.

“Is everything alright?”

You asked, softly. Regulus nodded. He gently kissed your forehead, earning a scowl from Lily in the other room.

“Everything’s fine, darling. How about here? Are they plotting my murder?”

You rolled your eyes before giving him a sly smile.

“Nothing of the sort. Would you like to come upstairs with me to get the baby to sleep? It will be a bit before my parents arrive.”

Regulus nodded. He was more than happy to snag a few moments of silence with you. After the disastrous meeting with James, Regulus needed some time to prepare for meeting with your parents. He already expected your father to not be pleased with him. What kind of father would be pleased to find out that their daughter hastily married a man that she had a child with secretively? If there was some kind of father that would be okay with this then they must have something wrong with them.

“Y/n, you can put Halley in Harry’s crib if you would like. He’s not due for a nap for a while.” You gently placed Halley down in the crib. Making sure that the baby was sleeping, you turned and went back into the bedroom that Lily directed you toward. Regulus lay back on the bed with his hands behind his head.

“It didn’t take her long to go to sleep.”

You commented before easing your shoes off. Regulus gave you a smile.

“Normally at this time of day, it isn’t too bad. I was thinking...maybe we could go look at some houses or flats tomorrow? I would feel a lot better if we had our own place and didn’t have your brother looking down his nose at us nonstop.”

You moved to lay down beside Regulus on the bed. Snuggling your face into his chest, you gently petted his cheek until Regulus rolled himself to look down at you. His steely gaze kept your eyes locked on his.

“Is that what you want?”

You asked. Regulus nodded.

“We need our own place for our family. I know that you’ve missed your brother but we can’t stay with them forever. I have a feeling that I will be in a fight with James if we stay too long. I wouldn’t want to rearrange your brother’s face too much.”

Regulus was relieved when you didn’t become annoyed. You were well aware of the animosity between Regulus and James. Their relationship had been rocky since childhood at school and you didn’t see that changing much into adulthood. You had a feeling that Regulus would be more receptive of a cordial relationship with James but your elder brother wanted nothing of it. James was still furious with the Black family for how they did Sirius (and you understood that). Regulus, in James' mind, was a pampered little prince that knew nothing of the world. Regulus was the little brat that became Slytherin’s seeker and helped the Slytherin team crush Gryffindor into the ground. There were many other petty things that led to James’ disapproval of Regulus. Now James had your marriage and Halley’s birth to add to his list of reasons why he didn’t like Regulus Black. What James didn’t see was that Regulus lost his own brother that night and suffered greatly when Sirius left. He didn’t see that Regulus was only going through the motions after Sirius left.

You pulled yourself from your thoughts before looking up to Regulus.

“You’re right. We’ve gotten used to our privacy. I’m not looking forward to keeping quiet or worrying about silencing charms anytime that we want to touch each other.”

Regulus’ eyes fluttered open at that. He gave you a small smile.

“We have to watch ourselves to not wake up the baby. I am not about to take extra care to not give your brother nightmares….or….”

You immediately put a finger to his lips.

“Don’t be mean. Trust me, James is probably already brooding over the fact that we have sex..making him hear it would be just cruel.”

“I never claimed to be nice”

Regulus commented before leaning down to kiss you. You eagerly kissed him back. Slipping your hand down his chest to the buckle of his belt. Regulus’ hand quickly covered yours.

“Do we have enough time?”

You nodded.

“We’ve gotten used to quickies, unfortunately. Lucky for us, Halley sleeps like her father and won’t wake up for small noises.”

Regulus rolled his eyes.

“Very funny, smart mouth. You know, I think that I am in love with you.”

The two of you shared a smile before Regulus stood up to remove his trousers while you pulled your skirt up enough to spread your legs. You watched your husband with a pleased smile as he slid his trousers down his slender hips.

“Funny, I think that I’m in love with you too.”

You replied as Regulus took his place over you. Regulus gave you a needy kiss. He was as desperate as you were for some “closeness.” You groaned against Regulus’ mouth and he gently pushed inside of you. As much as you wanted to lay about and make slow passionate love to your husband, there wasn’t the time. The last thing that you wanted to do was face your parents looking thoroughly fucked. Things were about to be awkward enough without turning up with messy hair and swollen lips.

“Maybe we can con Lily and James into keeping Halley for a few days so we can have some private time alone. We haven’t had any of that from the day the child was born.”

You suggested as Regulus set up a steady pace. His eyes snapped open and rolled up to you.

“Don’t talk about your brother when I’m making love to you.”

Regulus hissed. You reached up and pulled Regulus down to you.

“Then kiss me and don’t be so loud.”

It seemed like the two of you had just gotten your clothes back on when there was a knock on the door.

“Yes?”

You called out. Lily’s voice came from the other side.

“Sweetheart, your parents are here.”

Regulus muttered “fuck” under his breath as the color drained from your face. It was time to face one part of the firing squad.

“Okay...be right down.”

It took you a few more moments to start downstairs. Regulus had gone into Harry’s room to get Halley. You waited outside of the room until Regulus stepped back out with Halley in his arms. The baby looked confused as she held onto her father’s shirt.

“It's going to be alright.”

Regulus said, hoping to sound confident. You only nodded before turning to walk down the stairs.

Taking a deep breath, you walked into the living room where your mother and father sat. Both were gleefully talking to a very quiet James. Your mother was the first to turn. She immediately stood with a smile.

“Y/n, darling!”

Euphemia moved to hug you but stopped the moment that she saw Regulus and the baby. Her mouth dropped as your father noticed the same thing.

“Y/n…”

Your mother started as James came in.

“It's exactly what it looks like.”

You narrowed your eyes on your brother as the annoyance began to build up.

“Shut up, James. They don’t know everything nor do you.”

Your father frowned. Neither James nor yourself ever argued with one another so this sudden venomous attitude was a shock.

“Y/n, what is going on, dear?”

Fleamont questioned as he turned his attention back to you. You took a breath.

“Before the both of you get angry, let me explain. Regulus and I got married and this is our baby. We didn’t tell anyone because we were afraid that someone would get hurt. If a letter with the information fell into the wrong hands...it could have been disastrous.”

Euphemia was clearly surprised as she put a hand over her mouth. She had a granddaughter that she didn’t know about. Shocked was the best feeling that she could come up with. James stood up.

“You know he is right?”

Euphemia immediately gave her son a displeased scowl. Of course, she knew who Regulus was. When Sirius turned up half dead at her doorstep, she wanted nothing more than to take Regulus away from his parents too but the boy wouldn’t hear of it. He had too much loyalty to his family.

“Yes, we know who he is James. I’m not angry with you, Y/n. I understand given the present situation with the times but I would have liked to have been there...for everything.”

Euphemia wanted to say more about her internal displeasure but it would make no difference. She could have told you that she missed every mother’s dream of watching her daughter walk down the aisle. Euphemia wanted nothing more than to have been able to be there with you while you were pregnant...that was taken away from her. In time the wounds would heal.

James’ mouth dropped.

“You’re both okay with this?”

Fleamont turned to his son. Your father’s displeasure was clearly written on his face but he didn’t speak of it.

“There is no point in beating a dead horse, James. What’s done is done.”

He finally commented as Euphemia stepped closer to Regulus with a warm smile. Regulus still looked like the shy boy that she remembered so well.

“Let me see this baby.”

She said cheerfully as Regulus slowly put Halley in her grandmother’s arms. Euphemia smiled immediately before gently stroking the baby’s cheek.

“She’s lovely.”

Euphemia commented before smiling up at Regulus.

“She looks a lot like you and your brother, dear. How old is she?”

“Four months, ma’am.”

Euphemia nodded with a smile before meeting her husband’s eyes. Fleamont had finally stood up and came to look at his granddaughter.

“She’s a perfect little girl. Harry will have a little playmate now.”

James looked up at that. You were pleased to see that realization had finally washed over your brother’s face. He hadn’t even gotten a good look at his niece due to him acting like an overgrown child. James looked at you apologetically. He made a mental note to talk to you later when Regulus wasn’t hovering over you. It would be easier to talk to you without the little pampered prince around. You would be his sister again...not Regulus’ wife.

James smiled down at his niece who was snuggling her grandmother.

“I only hope that Harry and Halley are as close as Y/n and I were.”

James said with a pleased smile. It was a genuine comment too. He wanted nothing more than for his son to be as close to his cousin as the two of you were as siblings. James could only hope that he could repair whatever damage he had caused that day.

For the next few hours, everything went smoothly. To your delight, your parents seemed as pleased with Regulus as you were. Your mother gave you a pleased as punch smile that let you know everything was alright with your family.

One set of parents down...one more to go...

When they left, you went to get Halley ready for bed. Regulus had remained in the living room attempting to talk to a very non-receptive James. You knew that it would be a very long road between the two.

As you walked up the stairs, you heard Sirius and Remus talking. The moment that your name came up, you froze outside the door. Sirius’ voice was the first one that you heard…

“Regulus doesn’t even love her. He said he hopes to fall in love with her someday but at this time he doesn’t love her. I think that it's a bit mean of him. Empty words hurt and you know how lovely Y/n is.”

You felt both your mouth and heart drop as Remus spoke.

“He actually admitted that to you?”

Sirius quickly spoke again with a sigh.

“That’s exactly what he said to me. He married her because it was the right thing to do. He didn’t want people talking about her. What I think is he didn’t want people talking about him. My brother is such a selfish little git. Makes me want to go punch him...he has a good wife. Y/n loves him so much and he just…”

“Sirius, maybe Regulus doesn’t know his own feelings. You know how you were over admitting to not knowing what love was at first…”

“Don’t care...Y/n is the mother of his child and he says I love you...he needs to mean it.”

You couldn’t listen anymore. Wanting to cry, you were tempted to go downstairs and yell at Regulus. This conversation would need to happen in private. Words couldn’t describe how heartbroken you were. Regulus had always made you feel loved and when he said “I love you” it felt so genuine. Now that you knew it was all a lie, you couldn’t formulate how to describe your feelings. Knowing Regulus only married you to keep himself “in a good light” was the worst feeling in the world.

It was another thirty minutes before Regulus came into the bedroom. He froze seeing you sitting at the end of the bed with tears in your eyes. Regulus immediately frowned. You didn’t cry.

“What’s wrong, love?”

You shook your head.

“Don’t call me that.”

Regulus blinked a few times before raising an eyebrow.

“I always call you that. What have I done?”

“Don’t tell me that you love me ever again! Never try to fool me with empty words. I know what you told Sirius outside. You married me out of some sense of duty so you wouldn’t be made out as the bad guy. It wasn’t out of us being in love. I was a fool then and I suppose that I still am. I would have been better off with people talking behind my back…”

Regulus’ cool composure didn’t drop. Inside, however, was a different story. He was about to panic over the knowledge that you had heard what he told his brother. The bigger question was how did you hear it? Did Sirius tell you? If he did, Regulus was going to strangle him!

“I do love you.”

He argued as you stood up. You took off your wedding ring and put it on the bedside table. Regulus could do with it what he wanted. As far as you were concerned, you had no idea what would happen between Regulus and yourself now. That sacred trust, that you thought was there, clearly wasn’t.

“Just stop! We have to stop! This has to stop!”

Regulus was beginning to lose his temper now...especially with himself. If he had just kept his mouth shut earlier then none of this would be happening. He would have a happy wife that loved him not one who was sobbing and hated his existence.

“If you are wanting me to leave you it isn’t happening.”

You rolled your eyes before starting for the bedroom door. Regulus moved to stop you but you shoved him out of the way.

“Well, I might just wash my hands of the whole stupid thing. I regret ever meeting you, Regulus Black.”

Regulus didn’t move to go after you. He was in too much shock to move. You had never said something so cruel to him. Not that he blamed you, had the rolls been reversed Regulus would have been as upset.

I really am an ass.

Regulus thought before lying down on the bed silently praying that he wouldn’t wake up.

A few hours had passed when the sound of Halley crying woke Regulus up. He sat up quickly and flipped on the bedside lamp. Yawning, Regulus glanced down at the clock that read 2:45. Halley had the fun habit of waking up around 3:00 every morning. Why would this night be different?

The soul-sucking depression hit Regulus like a brick to the stomach. The realization that you weren’t beside him made Regulus want to cry in frustration. He hadn’t cried in years but the night's events were enough to make him want to. Had this happened in France, he would have found a bottle of brandy and drunk himself to sleep.

Getting out of bed, Regulus slowly stepped into Harry’s room to only find the sleeping boy in the crib. The sound of you talking gently to Halley quickly grabbed his attention and Regulus turned in the other direction.

You sat in the living room gently rocking Halley who was eagerly playing with your necklace.

“I’m just fine on my own.”

You commented, not looking up to meet your husband’s exhausted face. If you had, you would have seen the depressed expression on Regulus’ face. You weren't sure if you would care or not though. At the moment, you wanted him to realize just how miserable and heartbroken that you were. You had considered telling Regulus that he could just go and be a typical 19-year-old and chase skirts if that was what he wanted. You weren’t going to stop him or keep him in some “loveless” marriage that he thought was the best idea in the first place.

“We always do this together.”

Regulus sadly commented. You kept your attention focused on your daughter’s face.

“Maybe it's time for a change. Go be a typical husband and go back to bed.”

______

@amelie-black

@truly-insatiable

@realgaytrash

@lucasfilms77

@exhsle

@spiderxalmighty

@mrspadfoot4

@brokencasbutt67-writer

@authoressskr

@fandom-trash-worth-it

@hankypranky

@summer-novak

@shaylybaby2032

@emiwrites3reads

@li0nh34rt

@tas898

@marichromatic

@maggioli-m

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@sprnaturallover

@deanwherescas

@shitfaceddaniel

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts

@knight-of-gleefulness

@wontlookaway

@mycuddlycorner

148 notes · View notes

wooyunhwa · 4 years

Text

kingdom of welcome addiction | C.S.

view pinned post for masterlist!

Genre: smut (mostly suggestive in this part though)

Pairing: demon!san x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: blood drinking, virgin mc

Synopsis: When you accidentally summon a bloodthirsty demon boy to your bedroom, you form an unexpected contract with him.

A/N: Thank you for reading and comments are super appreciated as always!

If you had to read the words pythagorean theorem one more time, you were gonna smash your brains in.

You reached over to your phone, unlocking your screen to the group chat.

y/n: anyone wanna come over and help me with this dumb problem? my heads gonna implode.

chaeyeon: busy tonight, Y/N. lol, just summon a demon or smth.

yuri: lmao that ouija board is still there right? I think we left it under your bed

chaeyeon: I don’t think you summon demons with a ouija board, yuri

y/n: ugh you guys are no help. brb, summoning demon...

You realized how weird this conversation would sound from an outside perspective, but it was a sort of inside joke you had within your friend group. You and your friends had joked about ‘summoning a demon’ before, and you’d even used a Oujia board a few times and done fake seances to freak each other out. The results were always disappointing—not that you ever actually wanted to contact the dead or anything, but you were at least hoping for a spooky story or something you could tell.

You knew they were joking around, but your brain felt a little delirious from all the math churning it into mush.

You switched tabs from your test, typing in the search bar “how to summon a demon”. You chuckled a little under your breath at the ridiculousness. But at least then you could tell your friends you actually tried. They’d get a kick out of that.

You followed a few rabbit holes down some forums, mockingly reciting strings of incomprehensible Latin. If you were gonna do this, you were gonna commit fully.

“You called?”

You scrambled backwards, nearly jumping a foot off the bed at the sudden unfamiliar voice echoing in the room.

Then you saw him.

He was perched on your bookshelf, one leg dangling lackadaisically over the edge, the other folded up at his side. You caught a glimpse of his piercing crimson-red eyes illuminated in the dim candle-lit room. He looked particularly cat-like in his position, a devilish grin painted on his face, what looked like fangs coming to two sharp points in his mouth.

The man picked up a pen from your bookshelf, twirling it in his hand casually with playful twists of his fingers. “You’re new…” he mused, glancing at you up and down. “And... cute. Fresh blood. How'd you get my number, hmm?”

You sat stunned, dizzy from confusion. Your words were lodged in your throat, unable to utter a single sound. This had to be a dream, right? Had you fallen asleep while working on your homework? It wouldn't be the first time.

He tapped his fingers impatiently against the oak of the bookcase, waiting for your next move. The only words you could manage came out in a hoarse croak, shaky and uncertain. "This—I'm dreaming…"

He shook his head, clicking his tongue tauntingly against his teeth. "Oh, there's a lot of things I could do right now to assure you you aren't," he started, the gleam in his eye particularly sinister as he drew his gaze up and down. "But trust me. You wouldn't want that."

“Who—”

“I have a lot of names, but you can just call me San. Your friendly neighborhood demon.” He flashed a fiendish smirk. “Well, maybe don’t linger too much on the ‘friendly’ part.”

“D—demon?”

“What, you didn’t know? You’re the one who summoned me, darling.” He drew out his words, slowly, carefully, continuing to play with the pen in his fingers. The way he spoke sent shivers down your spine, as if he had the power to kill you at any moment. He probably did.

He pressed his palms against the top of the shelf to hoist himself off, the books on it threatening to topple with the sudden movement. The minute he vaulted down from the shelf, you were able to get a better look at him.

The first thing that drew your eye was his impossibly broad shoulders, accentuated by the tight cut of his shirt. It contrasted against his tiny waist, cinched in neatly with a belt. His proportions were unreal, and so very fittingly non-human. He was undoubtedly the most incredible sight you'd ever seen in your life, human or otherwise. He made his way over to the bed where you sat. You snapped your laptop closed, pushing it to the side, your blood turning to ice as he inched closer to you. The way he sauntered across the floor almost seemed like he was floating, like gravity was merely a fun game to him.

He poised himself over you, his powerful stance alone commanding you to look at him. His fingernail dragged under your chin with a distinct sting, pulling your gaze up to his intense eyes. It was cold, like a dull knife, causing your body to tremble slightly. His piercing eye-contact was entrancing, even spell-binding—you couldn't tear your eyes away. "How cute," he teased sing-songily, “you’re a virgin.”

Your eyes widened, still pulled in by his magnetic gaze. “How did you—”

"I can smell one from a mile away. The scent… it's just so…" he paused to lick his lips, drawing his tongue slowly over his black metal lip ring. "delicious."

“Anyway, you must have had a reason to summon me, no? A soul to harvest? A sacrifice maybe?” Something about his tone was giddy at the idea. “At your service, darling.” He drew down in a playful bow, his mouth twitching into a smirk.

You hated to say it, but he was entirely your type. From up close, you could see his other piercings more clearly, several earrings lining both ears, glimmering against the cartilage. His right eyebrow donned a shaved slit, decorated with another piercing. Of course the demon you summoned in your dream would be your ideal man. Well, he kind of looked like the edgy Hot-topic boy of your 7th grade self’s dreams, but you couldn’t deny that was still kind of your type still. His jet-black hair framed the sharp cut of his jaw perfectly—you were sure he could see you practically drooling over him at this point. He looked crafted by heaven—hell?—itself.

Even so, no single part of you desired for him to take your virginity right this second. Maybe under different circumstances, but not with the time ticking down on your math assignment and the fact that he was a fucking demon you just conjured into your room.

You shook your lewd thoughts out of your head, worried for a moment that demons might have some sort of mind-reading powers you weren’t aware of. “Well, uh, actually… I need help with my math homework.”

He snickered, his eyes trained on you like prey. “You can’t be serious. Tell me you’re not serious.”

“I’m kind of serious. It’s like 10% of my grade.”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth again, breaking eye contact finally, and you felt a sense of relief as you finally had a moment to breathe away from his suffocating glare.“For someone who just summoned a demon you’re a real buzzkill.” He perched himself on the edge of the bed, resting his butt lightly against the edge of the frame. “Fine,” he groaned. “Let’s say I actually helped you. You know how this works, right? If I do something for you, you have to give me something in return.”

You gulped. This was a dream, it had to be, and the best you could do was go along for the ride. Even so, you couldn’t help but feel shaken, despite doing your best to convince yourself it wasn’t real—like some sort of subconscious defense mechanism your body employed in danger. And, well, he kind of seemed like danger. “Like what?”

“Well, normally...” He glanced back over, pinning you down with his gaze once again. “It’d be your soul.”

Your breath stopped in your throat. You weren’t quite sure if you were ready to give up your entire soul for 10% of your math grade, although that was a pretty accurate metaphor for your college experience.

“Your virginity maybe?” he hummed, drawing his tongue back over his lips, then, seeing your expression, shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “No? Damn. It doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“Um… I can offer to make you dinner?”

He paused, his eyes widening for a second, then burst into a cacophony of laughter. It was the first time he broke his exterior, and for a moment, he looked a bit more human. “I’ll take it.” Then, more “but you realize a contract with a demon is binding, right?”

“So, I’m contractually obligated to make you dinner, that’s what you’re saying?”

He paused, his smile turning amused once more. “Feisty. I like you,” he winked flirtatiously, sending heat rising in your cheeks. You hated to say it, but he was devilishly charming, on top of being probably the hottest being, human or not, you’d ever seen.

You glanced at your phone, noting the time ticking down slowly but surely. “Okay, I’m not joking. The math. My assignment is due in 45 minutes.”

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

He sat next to your side on the bed for a while, guiding you through the problems like some sort of hot e-boy math tutor. Not that you were complaining about that. The way he sat was surprisingly cute, one leg tucked up at his side, the other folded underneath him.

“Where’d you learn math, anyway?” you asked, admiring his immaculate side profile as his eyes trained on the laptop screen, typing the answers in. “They have like, demon school or something?”

He gave you a side glance, and you once again felt uneasy under the heat of his gaze. “A demon never reveals his secrets.”

“I thought that was a magician.”

He visibly stifled a laugh, pressing his lips tightly to avoid giving you the satisfaction of breaking his serious exterior. “Can you be quiet? I’m focusing. I’m a demon, not a mathematician. This is way out of my scope of work,” he grumbled through his teeth.

You watched him silently as he worked. As he typed, his tongue lingered just outside his parted lips in concentration. “Even you sitting next to me is distracting,” he hissed quietly. “You don’t realize what your scent is doing to me right now.”

Right. Your virgin scent. Was that really so appealing to him?

“Fine. I guess I’ll go make dinner. You promise you’re gonna turn this in in time?”

“I’m contractually obligated,” he responded dryly.

You hoisted yourself off the bed and headed to the kitchen to make dinner, but something about leaving a stranger in your room felt strange. No stranger than accepting he was a demon, though, you supposed.

You returned with a large plate of pasta, pretty much the only thing you had on hand. He received it apprehensively from you.

“What?” you asked, offended at his look of disgust. “Sorry, I didn’t have any fresh human souls on hand. My bad.”

You sat across from him on the bed, watching in fascination as he nibbled slowly at the thin spaghetti noodles. “You have any hot sauce or anything?” he asked, wincing as he took a few more bites.

“I barely had enough pasta to feed two people. I’m a broke college student. Anyway, I never forced you to accept the dinner offer.”

“I didn’t think it’d be so bland. What, you didn’t know demons prefer spicy food?”

“I didn’t know demons existed until today. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. This is all a dream I’m going to wake up from in a bit anyway.”

A wicked smirk danced up on his lips again. “Oh, you still think it’s a dream? Cute,” he sang condescendingly. “Well, then I guess it wouldn’t matter if I did this...”

Your heart seemed to stop in your chest as he crawled forward on his palms. You felt his breath linger on your neck first, then the gentle scrape of his pointed canines against your sensitive skin. Every hair on your body stood up. He pressed them down slightly, just enough to feel the tension on your flesh. Then he bit harder, nearly piercing as he sunk them in.

You reeled back, shoving him off you breathlessly. “What the fuck-”

“You still think it’s a dream? Then it wouldn’t matter if it sunk my teeth in. You’d just wake up, right? Isn’t that how dreams are supposed to work?” he taunted, a smile curled up on his lip. His fangs gleamed under the still-dim light of your bedroom. “Humans are so amusing,”

You wiped at your neck, rubbing circles where his teeth pinched your skin. He sat himself upright again and stood up from the bed. “Well, my end of the deal is over. Consider you released from your contract.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Well I’m not gonna stay here.” His hand came up to his ear like a phone. “Call me if you have a soul to harvest. You know my number.”

He was gone before you could blink, like an apparition, disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared. Your eyelids grew heavier as you reflected what had just happened, and you wondered what would happen if you fell asleep in a dream. Would you just wake up?

You collapsed into bed, still unsure whether or not the past few hours had actually happened or not. Part of you hoped they had—there was something about him that was so deeply captivating, you would do anything to see him again.

As he said, you did have his ‘number’.

You woke up dazed, still unsure if you had dreamt the events of the night before. The only sure way to know was to check your assignment—if you had really fallen asleep while doing your homework, you wouldn’t have turned the assignment in, right?

You opened your online class page, scanning for the assignment, and there it was, in bold letters:

Submitted: 98%.

Your breath caught in your throat. You felt two distinct emotions: relief that you got the assignment turned in, and complete disbelief that your encounter last night was not part of your imagination.

You could summon him again.

He seemed about as harmless as a demon could seem. At first, he had been entirely intimating—his aura made it seem like he could have eaten your soul right there with no second thoughts. But watching that powerful being, capable of so much evil and chaos, do something as mundane as your math homework… that was the most entertaining, and almost adorable thing, you’d ever witnessed.

Besides, you had something he desired, something you could dangle in front of him to keep him coming back. You had your virginity, which seemed to be the ultimate prize for a demon like him. The way he had talked about it last night, it seemed you were irresistible for him. But he also accepted your rejection so easily.

As long as you kept drafting up meaningless contracts, he had to oblige, right? You weren’t sure exactly how it worked, but that’s how it seemed from your interactions last night. If it worked like you thought it did, his job as a demon was to make a contract with his summoner, no matter how insignificant, as long as he takes something in return.

That night, you read the same latin phrase you had before he’d appeared, this time off a sticky note push-pinned in your wall.

You heard him again before you saw him, and you whipped your head around to see where he was standing behind you.

He wore the same playful, devilish smirk, displaying his fangs. “Hmm, you decided to let me harvest your soul now, have you? That was quick.”

It had barely been 24 hours, and yet you’d already forgotten how incredibly hot he was, for lack of a better word. Your lips parted slightly in awe, forgetting for a second to formulate a response.

“I hope your silence is a yes,” he interrupted.

You shook your attraction to him out of your head for a moment, remembering what you brought him here for. “I want you to clean my bathroom.”

He laughed in disbelief, plopping himself down on the bed. “I’m sorry, you want me to what?”

“That’s how this works right? I summon you and do what I want. And I give you something in return.” You leaned against the desk behind you.

“What am I, your errand boy?”

“But that is how this works, right?”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth in annoyance. “Yes,” he grumbled reluctantly. “But what do I get this time?”

“I cook you dinner again.”

“I’m gonna need more than that.”

“I’ll let you bite my neck. Draw blood if you want.”

His eyes widened at your proposal. His reaction confirmed your suspicion—the blood of a virgin must be like crack to a demon like him. His face went flush. “Deal,” he confirmed eagerly.

You watched him as he cleaned, and there was something satisfying about watching this bloodthirsty demon scrubbing the bathtub on his hands and knees. He almost looked a bit pathetic. You stood in the door frame, unable to help from grinning at making him perform such menial tasks. A lot more was at stake now than just dinner, so you might as well have some fun with his end of the bargain. Even on his knees, you couldn’t help but watch him in awe. Every part of him was sculpted immaculately—his appearance was distinctly human, and yet he was in all other ways otherworldly.

“I can’t believe I’ve been reduced to some human’s lowly errand boy,” he hissed through his teeth.

“Less talking, more scrubbing,” you demanded with a smirk, and he shot you a deathly glare.

You followed through with your promise of dinner, and this time you came prepared with hot sauce. He devoured it eagerly, and you felt proud for making a dinner worthy of a demon’s praise.

But there was still one more promise you had to follow through on, and the thought made your head spin.

He sat across from you on the bed, eyes trained on your neck in a very un-subtle display of desire. You’d never felt so wanted, even if it was just the thought of your virgin blood that had him practically drooling.

“You sure about this?” he asked hesitantly. It was strange that he was even asking permission, as he seemed so eager the other night to just sink his teeth right into you.

“I’m contractually obligated,” you teased dryly. Then, more seriously, “But yes, I am.”

He placed his left hand on your neck, steadying it in place. His fierce, almost predatory gaze washed over you completely.

He leaned forward, parting his lips to drag his teeth gently along your neck. You tipped your head back, giving him a better angle. He teased there for a while, lingering his sharp canines on your skin. His breath was hot and heavy against your neck, the warmth of it sending chills rocketing down your spine. Your lips parted slightly, gentle moans escaping at the sensation. The situation was predatory, and yet it felt completely sensual in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

He paused for a moment, lips fluttering over your skin as he spoke. “You have no idea how hard it is not to completely drain you,” he whispered, voice dripping off his tongue with a sort of lustful hunger. “I promise I’ll only take a bit.”

He sunk down, and you heard it before you felt it—the distinct sound of teeth piercing flesh. You cried out a bit, bringing your own hand to your mouth to muffle your whines. It stung a bit, but in a twisted way, there was something about it you liked. You felt his tongue draw over your wound slowly, lapping deliberately at the fresh blood like a starved animal.

He moaned against you, and it echoed in your ear like the most divine sound you’ve ever heard. He may have been a demon, but his noises sounded like they came from heaven itself. He pulled your waist against his as he slowly bathed his tongue over the punctured flesh, his fingers squeezing as he grasped at your waist. He littered a few faint kisses across your blood-stained skin, moving slightly down towards your shoulder blades. The sudden sensation drew soft, pleasured moans from your lips.

As he finally pulled away, parting his lips tenderly away from your skin, you caught the faintest glimmer of his blacked-out eyes before they flickered back to normal. His deep red irises sparkled like rubies as he maintained eye contact. He brought one of his hands up from your waist, gently wiping at his blood-stained lips with the back of his palm. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself for a second. Your skin tastes so sweet, like candy,” he praised softly, voice deep and wanting. “And your blood, fuck—it’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted.”

The seductive gleam in his eye signaled that you had awoken something in him, something you hadn’t meant to. He was still holding you, probably without even noticing, but you didn't want to draw his attention to it quite yet. You wanted to experience it for just a bit longer if you could. Something about the way he held your waist against his made you crave more of him.

Almost as if a switch flipped, his expression went dark, his fingernails suddenly digging all the way into your waist. You yelped in pain as he nearly punctured the skin through your clothes. “I need you to walk away from me right now. Before I do something I’ll regret,” he growled. You watched as his eyes flashed to the same demonic black for a moment.

You gulped, slowly backing yourself away from him, scrambling off the bed. "Farther," he groaned painfully, his breathing becoming heavy and labored. His hands clenched at the blanket on the bed, balling into restrained fists. "Now."

You ran from the room, your feet moving before you even knew where they were taking you. You ran all the way down the hallway to the front door, sliding your back down against it as you collapsed to the floor. Your limbs shook weakly, trying to calm yourself down. You must have sat there for an hour or more, completely frozen, not quite aware of the passing of time. You wiped the blood of your neck, but it didn't do much, smearing it across.

When you managed to finally stand up again, you made your way hesitantly towards the door of the bedroom, swinging your head around the doorframe first.

"San…?" you called apprehensively.

But he was gone, leaving only a light imprint on the sheets of the blood-stained bed and two deep punctures in your neck to remind you he was ever there.

[to be continued]

#san smut #choi san smut #yunho smut #ateez smut #san fanfic #ateez fanfic #hongjoong smut #ateez fic #ateez fanfiction

324 notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

to the person who sent this ask, I'm going to leave out some of the details of your message (rant? XD) since it contains some personal information and it wasn't clear if you wanted me to answer (and have other people know those details about you)

but I still wanted to answer anyway, clearly, lmao

hi so hey i'm the girl who sent an ask about birth control earlier this week

and i don't really have anyone in my life i want to talk to about this, so why not send it to the hot bts porn writer?

i am terrified i might be pregnant, like, for real. i know its highly unlikely (we used a condom, interrupted intercourse and all) but i am freaking the fuck out and i have never wanted my uterus to bleed as much as i do right fucking now. this is stressing me out so fucking much i am no longer functioning as a normal person.

[...]

anyway, thanks for listening to this crazy ass rant about something that is probably not going to happen! i will swear off sex for a while, until i am back on proper birth control. sorry for ranting hehe

and happy bday tae ♡

As someone who had moments in life being stressed about their period being late, I can tell you being stressed about your period being late does in fact make your period late because you are stressed.

Yep, Mother Nature do be a fuckin' bitch

-ㅅ-

You probably know already, but the most accurate result for a pregnancy test comes one week after your missed period. If you don't want to wait that long, the soonest is one to two weeks after intercourse. Tracking your period gives you probability of pregnancy (for most phone apps, I use one myself).

I know what it's like to be scared. My last period was 4 days late and I was checking all the times I had sex (which is pointless for someone like me). On Christmas Day, I received my present from Mother Nature as blood gushing between my legs, hooray!

:-)

(but actually >:| )

And tbh the reason is probably because this entire month has been shit for me. I did hope I could be in a better headspace for Christmas and New Years so this blog could have some festive fucking, but, alas, it's bad news after bad news. :/ I am only allowing myself to write what I want and not force anything. I have things I want to write, but some days... hah. It's killing my vibe, seriously. And made my period late, stressing me out and making my period later.

*disgruntled*

It's okay to be scared. I still think it's unlikely (from what you've told me) and perhaps it is only irrational fear and anxiety, but I also understand that it will still strongly affect you, of course. And even if you know all the rational reasoning, I know that doesn't take your fears away. Take everything one step at a time. Breathe. The other person is supportive of you. You know the steps to take. The waiting game, truly, is the fucking worst. Distract yourself with your hobbies, binge watch a show, do things to keep your mind occupied.

And remember, whatever comes, you have options. You can rant to me some more (lol). You can DM me here or (thanks to BTS) I now have an Instagram.

I, uh, hope Mother Nature blesses you with blood coming out of your vagina? (feels really weird typing that) Should I make some kinda prayer circle for you? A circle of Namjoon photocards with a piece of paper that says, please give anon the gift of a period?

Would that help???

*pat pat* I'm here for you. I know you're scared. Rant whenever you want hahaha

birthday boy :D

wholesome pics only, of course ;)

5 notes · View notes

johns-prince · 4 years

Note

I was reading Norman's biography of Mick Jagger the other day and at some point I realized that good old Mick had it BAD for John. They hung out a lot in the Lost Weekend and Mick seemed heartbroken when May told him John had gone back to Yoko. He was so upset that he talked to the press about it multiple times, whining about not having any access to John and that he was hiding behind Sean. Mick wasn't wrong, though. I was just very entertained by his reaction. Then there is this:

"Mick, as a result, had found himself in the—for him—highly unusual position of wanting to see someone but having his every friendly overture rebuffed.

From his sitting room window, he could see the Gothic rooftops of Lennon’s home, and would sometimes act out the part of a spurned girlfriend: “[John’s] right over there. Does he ever call me? Does he ever go out? No. Changes his phone number about every ten minutes. I’ve given up . . .” But there was no disguising how much this apparent indifference really hurt. Once or twice, he put aside the Tyranny of Cool sufficiently to leave Lennon a note with his own current phone number at the Dakota concierges’ desk, but no response ever came."

LOL "John is right over there. IS HE THINKING OF ME?" The thirst was real, you guys. I don't remember Mick being this sad about any of his women leaving him. Me thinks Johnny hit and quit it but someone fell in love, you see.

I agree, Mick sounds like a jilted lover/girlfriend here who just wants to be at least acknowledged. He was seriously upset about the fact that, when John went back to Yoko he knew that she didn’t like him. She thought he wasn’t worth John’s time and was a bad influence. Gotta remember, Mick and John had been friends since the sixties-- Mick was much closer to John then Paul, even.

Also talk about the gall because she was completely fine with John hanging out with the likes of Klein, Phil Spector, and Magic Alex... Like, talk about bad influences-- Phil fucking pointed a gun at John because he liked to freak John out and upset him. She liked these people. She approved of them for John. Yoko isn’t fully to blame, John also holds blame for how he’d treat people and just cut them off [even if he personally didn’t want too] but she encouraged John to cut ties with family and close, old friends just, like that.

I feel for Mick. I honestly feel for anyone who loved John, it did seem trying at times. I mean, sometimes it’s not always easy for me to love John just as some crazed groupie... I could only imagine how intense and, confusing and exciting and, memorable it would have been to know him, personally, and get to love him personally.

I personally don’t think anything serious happened between John and Mick. Kind of like how I believe nothing deeper then just, solid friendship was between John and Stu-- someone he could confide in, who wasn’t just Paul.

Was there flirting between the two? Absolutely, though I find it to be a partially playful joking sort of flirting between friends, and partially with a serious edge to it. Libra’s are natural flirters, they often to do it unintentionally because it’s just, part of their personality. John most likely both an unintentional and intentional flirt, and his male friends weren’t left out on his teasing’s and naughty, playful behavior [specifically moreso open and direct about it in the 70s]

But, I do think you’re right that Mick had it bad. Most male friends of John seemed to have it bad for him, in some way or another. Women and men loved John-- he was rather easy to love, despite how he’s painted and the sort of front he put up. As Paul said-- John was a loveable guy, everyone loved him, and he was right [though Paul usually only mentions everyone else when talking about loving John, deflects onto others at the same time but I digress]

Even men who apparently thought of him a poky bastard seemed to inevitably be drawn to him, and like him [like David Bailey]

He was loved, so, so much.

“The theory is that when John went off to Spain on holiday with Brian, that’s what it was all about - John trying to get his position clear as the leader of the group. Also, I’m sure Brian was in love with John. We were all in love with John, but Brian was gay so that added an edge.” Paul McCartney - Anthology

PAUL: “Well, I’m sure Brian was in love with John, I’m sure that’s absolutely right. I mean, everyone was in love with John; John was lovable, John was a very lovable guy.” [x]

“What did John Lennon see in me? I think outrageousness and being true to myself and not giving a fuck. We hit it off straight away, even though I was in complete awe of him. He was nothing else but kind to me. I never saw the other side of John, the Harry Nilsson drinking side of John, where he turned on a sixpence. I only saw the gentle, gorgeous side of John, and he was gentle not only to me but my parents, my band members, and I just fell in love with him.”

— Elton John [x]

“Nowhere can the caring side of John Lennon be documented more accurately than in his relationship with Malcolm Evans, the very tall and bespectacled man who became a regular as a road manager, along with Neil Aspinall, on the Beatles’ tours. Evans had a magnetic personality and was a favorite with reporters and the women who tagged along. His smile and charm could be deceptive; he would have done anything to protect the Beatles. At one point on the touring aircraft, while traveling from Jacksonville to Boston in 1964, a tired Mal Evans sat next to me in the rear of the aircraft with tears trickling down his face. I asked, “What’s the matter?” Mal answered, “John got kind of cross with me … just said I should go f— off. No reason, ya’ know. But I love the man. John is a powerful force. Sometimes he’s rough, if you know what I mean, man. But there’s no greater person that I know.” I never learned what the dispute was about, but I do know that a few minutes later, a sullen Lennon walked by and embraced Evans.” — Larry Kane [x]

“Sharing a twisted sense of humour and a penchant for mischief, Nilsson and Lennon were natural buddies. It was perhaps inevitable that the LA-dwelling singer would gravitate towards Lennon. Lennon clearly appreciated Nilsson’s edginess and was very likely looking for a male soulmate to fill the hole left by McCartney. For his part, Nilsson’s feelings for Lennon ran even deeper: ‘I really fell in love with him. He was all those things you wanted somebody to be.”

Man On The Run: Paul McCartney in the 1970s by Tom Doyle [x]

“But the acerbic John is the one we know and love, you know, because he was clever with it, so it was very attractive. But, for me, I have more than a slight affection for the John that I knew then, when we were first writing songs, when we would try and do things the old songwriters had done. I slightly regret the way John’s image has formed, and because he died so tragically it has become set in concrete. The acerbic side was there but it was only part of him. He was also such a sweet, lovely man – a really sweet guy. ””

— Paul McCartney, discussing John Lennon [x]

John was a charming man in his own right, charismatic, and funny. Having a good sense of humor is always attractive, and draws people to you. As Paul says, and Elton, John was kind, he was sweet and friendly. He wasn’t always this, Mr. Tough and aggressive, ripping into people with his sharp tongue. He was gentle, he could be gentle, in his own way. Warm, and loving.

He had this ability to just... make you feel like you’ve known him longer then you actually have. Like you have some sort of, special relationship or connection with him-- that you were the only one who was close enough to see underneath his armor, to know him as intimately as anyone else ever could.

Course, this was simply how many felt and wanted to be the reality[specifically men], when it wasn’t, not exactly. They didn't really know the real John, they didn't get to see him at his most sincere, when his beautiful armor was chipped away and he was standing naked and scared. He described himself like a chameleon when it came to social settings, when interacting with different individuals [friends], which honestly makes sense as a Libra [Gemini’s are just as guilty of this]

They got to know a facet of John... Maybe they did get a glimpse of John here and there, but it’s just reality that John didn’t just, open up so easily to people like that. He didn’t like feeling vulnerable, and he had a habit of testing people’s loyalty and love for him [whether it had been consciously or not, I’m not always sure] because of the insecurities and doubt that one day, they’d turn on him or abandon him.

Again, he had this way in making people [other men] feel as if they had an intimate and special connection with him. And maybe they did to varying degrees. John had a way to act open with others, without actually being open and vulnerable, or at least not fully. I’m not sure if I’m making sense lol

Only ones who I think ever got to know the real John, were Mimi(of course she raised him), Pete (friends since they were just peanuts), Cynthia somewhat, May got glimpses and wanted John to be himself and independent... Yoko to a degree (though she focuses on entirely pushing and talking about Brand John Lennon™)

And who I know for a fact did, and does know John the most intimately, deeply, unabashedly, is Paul.

But anyway, speaking of being so very attractive, John was attractive. Like, many women and men found him exceedingly attractive, like this one male photographer who believed John was the most handsome out of the band;

“I think John was the best looking, actually. The refined nose. He never went out of his way to be a disagreeable person. He would be the one to go over and just sit and sign some little girl’s book...”

Harry Benson, photographer who took the photo of the iconic pillow fight and other well known Beatle photos, talks about John. [x]

Then we have David Bailey, who described Paul, Ringo, and George as rather pleasant-- while describing John as being a fucker, a bit poky.

And yet, it was John who David Bailey claimed to like, out of all of them.

“I didn’t like the Beatles – I liked John ... John was a fucker. Paul was always the nicest guy in the world. George, he always seemed full of angst. Ringo always seemed Mr Nice Guy. But John was a bit poky; I liked him.”

-- David Bailey Originally; published in the March 2014 issue of British GO magazine.

That’s honestly the only parts of the interview worth reading, Bailey is sort of a dickhead and clearly seems biased against Paul, and just The Beatles as a band in general, so [which is fascinating. Considering he might’ve been peeved towards Paul ever since John brought his partner along for that photoshoot because he didn’t want to go in alone lol]

Mick did love John, though in what way or in what varying degree, is up for discussion and personal conclusion. Just like how it’s up to interpretation and discussion how much and in what way David Bowie, Elton John, Harry Nilsson, Mal Evans, Billy Preston, and Brian Epstein loved John.

But it’s clear as day that, in my opinion, they almost all seemed to have some sort of man-crush on him. A serious admiration. Harry Nilsson sounded like he was in a bro-mance with John [or at least he wanted to be in one with him]

Course we can’t forget Paul, but we all know that Paul loved John in such varying degrees, it’s truly impossible to label it. They’re soulmates, can’t really categorize the love between soulmates so easily.

Anyway, point of this all; Mick definitely had it bad for John, but then again who didn’t?

#questionsquestionsquestions #john lennon #mick jagger #honestly most of response is unnecessary but I already put so much effort into it lol

65 notes · View notes

poormeowmeowcollector · 3 years

Text

Trying To Balance With A Part Of Yourself Missing

Summary: Thor bargains with Odin on Loki's sentence, and he wins. Loki is moved with the Avengers to fix his past mistakes. But Odin's term changes everything, and Loki's foe is not their mistakes, but their self-image.

Warnings: each chapter has individual, the work in general is pretty dark

Notes: When a dialogue of Loki is in bold, he is speaking English. And when a line is in italics without a dialogue, it's an intrusive thought.

Chapter 5: The Doctor

Chapter summary: Banner takes Loki for the tests.

Warnings: Language, gender dysphoria, gender dysmorphia, internalized racism, intrusive thoughts, needles, blood, medical themes, mentions of child neglect [not on screen], mentions of self harm [not on screen]

First | Previous | AO3 | Next

This time, Friday wakes them up, reminding them of the appointment with Banner. Loki groans and drags himself out of the bed and into the bathroom, it's better to get rid of that smell, at least for as long as it can hold.

At least Loki doesn't have to look at their body as they wash themselves, an advantage of blindness they didn't think of until now. Still, being forced to touch all the time is unpleasant and uncomfortable to no end. And trying to wash his hair without scratching his hands on the horns or his claws scratching his scalp is a task unimaginably difficult.

Loki now understands why Jötnar run around naked, wearing a shirt with these horns is almost impossible. But, they must hide the chest plate, at least from everyone but Thor. And Banner, after the examination. And, shit, he probably has to take breakfast with them…

They sigh and glance at the mirror, only to make sure they don't look so much for a mess. His appearance is acceptable, so he takes the now charged earpiece and walks away, wearing it as Friday starts instructing.

A hand touches their shoulder, making them flinch away. Thor, the owner of the hand, mutters something, probably an apology, but he can't hear it thanks to Friday. They take a breath out and smile at Thor, muttering a good morning. Thankfully, Friday stops talking.

"How are you feeling? You look…" Thor trails off, trying to appear as polite as possible.

"F-f-feverish? It's fi-fine, just-just a b-bad day," he brushes off, suddenly glad that he doesn't need Friday's translations.

"But, you're ill," Thor argues, making Loki sigh.

"I'm not-not, it's a bad d-day," they answer.

"Loki, you can't fool me. You're unwell, why don't you admit it?" he groans. Truth be told, Loki rarely admits any weakness with ease. As long as one can walk, there's no need for whining, Odin had said countless times and Loki never stopped obeying.

"I d-d-do. It's a b-bad da-day," he speaks slowly and as clearly as possible.

"Loki, you're having a fever. It's not just a bad day, and you are allowed to admit that you're ill. Please," Thor begs, actually begs. If Loki wasn't so pissed off, they'd be touched.

He pulls Thor closer, mostly to maintain some secrecy. "I am on m-m-my pe-pe-period," they hiss, watching as Thor's last brain cell comes to life.

"Oh… well, this explains the irritability of yours, brother. You know your patience always runs low these days," Thor nods, all matter-of-factly. Loki has to take deep breaths and remind themselves again and again that murder is a convicted crime, and they should not get locked up in a Midgardian prison. Or any prison, anytime soon.

Luckily, Thor remains silent after that. The only one who breaks the silence is Friday, reminding Loki that he can't eat before a blood test, or the results will not be accurate. Fine, they didn't really feel hungry anyway.

Perhaps, if you skip today's food entirely, you'll lose that disgusting bloating of yours. He tries hard to not grimace at the thought. No, they have to remind themselves, it will leave after a few days, it always does. Just do the damn tests and then eat, it's not that hard.

When they reach the kitchen, Loki can feel eyes on him and a mix of confusion and irritation in the air. Alright, just stay quiet and it will pass.

Wanda mutters a good morning, her magic swirling around her like some form of shield or blanket. Loki repeats the wish, forcing a smile. They don’t know which is worse, the jealousy building up or the guilt over the last time they listened to that feeling.

Thor helps him find a chair in the bright chaos, and even pulls it. For fucks sake, they're not unable to sit on a fucking chair! He tries to prove it by being the one who adjusts it on the table.

"Morning, dude. How're you feeling?" a man asks, Wilson. Just by his voice, he sounds kind, less judgemental.

"Fine, thank you for asking," they answer, plastering another fake smile (one of the best skills being a prince has given them).

Still, Wanda is seeing through it and attempts to find out, by using a simple mind invading spell. One that makes the base of Loki's skull feel ablaze. As loud as he can, he thinks of the word stop, making Wanda pause and retreat, her curiosity replaced with shame.

Then, a conversation occurs. Loki doesn't want to take part, but the combination of the voices and Friday's translations is overwhelming, making his head pound. Friday catches the message and stops translating, but the voices are still too fucking loud. Loki sighs and decides to just take a sip of water, and see if it'll help, but it turns to ice before it touches their lips. But fuck, he's thirsty and in pain.

A hand touches their shoulder, and they jump up, turning around to see a short person dressed in purple. "Are you ready for the tests?" He asks, Banner. Loki nods and gets up, pardoning himself before walking away.

"Are you okay?" he asks, making Loki groan.

"Wh-wh-wh-why does e-e-everyone ask me-me if I'm okay? I'm f-f-fine!" they snap, stopping only after feeling Banner freeze.

"I asked because you looked like you were about to start crying over there. No offence, they can be loud sometimes, but you didn't seem like you were taking it well," he answers, half expecting his skull to be crushed. But Loki is just ashamed he didn't hide the pain better.

"N-n-n-none t-taken. Noise is not exactly we-we-we-welcome, and I used to to-to-tone it down w-w-with spells. Now, I c-c-c-can't," they explain, just beginning to collect themselves.

"You know, you can ask Friday to deafen, if you use the earpieces. It helps," he suggests. Loki nods, happy with the silence that they fall into. At least Banner doesn't feel like he has to talk all the time, even though he's nervous. He's still afraid of him, even though it's not necessary any more.

The lab is a fucking bright room, Loki has to cover their eyes and let Banner navigate them, after lowering the lights.

During the examination, Loki comes to realize that Asgard and Midgard are opposite when it comes to healing. First, Banner promises secrecy, any information stays private until Loki asks for a leak, or in a life or death situation. And then, he just asks about everything and listens to the answer. No doubt, no comments and no painful examinations with leeches or smelly potions that make people’s skin pink. Well, the examination on light sensitivity was painful, and Loki swears to piss on the grave of whoever thought a flashlight in the eyes is a good idea, but the rest were fine.

When he was young, Odin would not easily believe Loki, no matter what. The times when they were forced in hunts that were leaving them in the healing wing for weeks or feasts until they faint on their plate due to fever are uncountable. The show would usually begin with Loki faking the illness because he’s lazy, come to its climax when Loki would be deemed delicate and weak while being tossed in the healing wing and the parade of hypocrisy would end after Loki returns to his chamber only to be forgotten there. Loki learned two lessons from this. One, if they can stand up, they're not ill, and they shouldn't bother other people with whining. And two, if he's truly ill, it's wiser to deal with it on his own than let others draw conclusions.

The change feels so odd, yet it’s so welcome.

Until the time for the blood test.

"Just follow my instructions, I'll make it as painless as I can," he promises, and then instructs Loki to lift their sleeve and show the armpit, the non-dominant one. Loki doesn't show his nervousness, and tries to appear as cold as possible when he reveals the hand, and everything he's done to it. Banner doesn't comment and doesn't show pity, but his skin grows just green enough for Loki's eyes to notice.

The other instructions were easy. Clench the fist, breathe in, breathe out and relax the hand. Banner is surprised to say the least when he sees the tube filling with blue liquid instead of red, but doesn't comment.

Do you think he could bleed you dry and be done with this shit show? Loki hitches a breath and clinches their stomach, stopping when the sound of something breaking and a hot pain blooms in their arm. Did he freeze the tube and break the needle?

Banner fetches something from a table and grabs Loki's hand, muttering something about getting the needle out. Loki hisses from the pain, and manages to freeze Banner's glove, but he still covers their hand with gauzes. The white starts turning blue and freezing in some parts, Banner is about to do something about it but Loki hums a no.

"Do you want to try again?" he asks, Loki could feel how he was expecting a negative answer. But he nods a yes and covers his right hand, so he’ll uncover the left one and clench. This time, they don't dare looking at the needle and mentally play some random songs for a distraction. Banner tells him to clench again, and then gives him some cotton to press in the hole before he vanishes behind some machine.

"What were you humming?" Banner asks, making Loki's face go ablaze.

"I… em… a song," they mutter, and mentally berate themselves for the lack of words. Banner laughs, but not out of malice. And he hands over a paper box and a bag. Loki stares at him and tilts his head, but Banner tries to brush it off as "something that's always done when someone gets a blood test". As if Loki is also a fool, apart from blind.

They're about to get dismissed and leave when Friday tell them via the earpiece that Banner will ask questions when he sees the test results. Loki sighs, it's better to be the one who tells him, right?

"Ba-banner, about th-th-the te-te-te-test, y-you may so-see some… abnormalities in th-th-the tests. It's n-normal, yet-yet-yet uncomfortable," they trail off, feeling confusion on Banner's side instead of clarity.

"Would you mind being more specific? I need to know what to ignore,"

"Hormonal, m-mostly… on, em…" he groans in frustration, feeling like an absolute fool, "on me-me-menstruation hormones… and y-y-yes, I kn-know wh-what it implies. B-but, d-don't tell anyone, only Th-th-th-thor knows," they get it out, waiting for a myriad of feeling emit from Banner. But he just makes a small oh sound and hands over another paper package.

"I guess you'll find them easier than tampons. If you finish them, just come to me. Don't try to steal Nat's, you'll be disappointed, and possibly earn a chinned tooth," he smiles, but Loki can sense the warmth from saying Romanov's name. Love, he concludes, what a complication when towards your co-worker, from what he's heard.

"W-w-w-we're done?" they raise an eyebrow and look down at Banner, glad he doesn't look afraid. Interesting, just enough inspection, and he isn't afraid any more. What a gullible scientist.

"Friday will find anything we missed, and she can help Tony make you some glasses, if you decide you want them, or inspect the brain damage from the other guy," he answers. Loki nods and is about to turn around, before thinking twice about the answer he got.

"W-w-wait, wh-wh-wh-what brain d-damage?" they blink. Apart from the nightmares, thoughts, flashbacks, headaches and general fuckery, his brain works perfectly. Well, perfectly might be an exaggeration, but the Hulk hasn’t done anything.

"You're telling me you walked around with a dead ear since the Attack and didn't notice?" Banner is now the one to raise an eyebrow.

"I w-w-was in so-so-solitary c-c-confinement until y-y-yesterday. Not much to h-h-h-hear," they explain. But… he should have heard Thor coming today in the corridor…

"Yeah, your left ear is dead, or the nerves getting messages from there to your brain. You can thank the other guy, and there's nothing to be done," he isn't exactly mild on announcing another damage on this throughout fucked up body, but it doesn't exactly matter. So, they just nod and go back to hiding under their sheets, but this time they make Friday play some music, just to cover up the silence.

~~~~~~

Taglist: @lucywrites02 @electroma89 @the-emo-asgardian @rorybutnotgilmore @hybrid-in-progress @weirdfangirl2416 @darkacademicfrom2021 @nicoistrying

19 notes · View notes

multisfabulis · 3 years

Text

Wayfinder’s Voyage

Oceanic (Chapter 1 | 2)

Word Count: 5785

I hope everyone enjoyed reading this! I'm honestly super anxious while I'm typing this because, not only is this my first fic in the KH fandom, this is also my first ship fic so I'm feeling a lot of pressure.

I want to apologize if the characters seem OOC in this, I was mainly going off of memory and a Wiki because I didn't want to sit through an entire LP of BBS just to get a few details accurate. It already took me a month and a half to write all of this and I didn't want to take up more time.

I do have more Terraqua fics in the works, as well as a couple other KH fics in general, but those will probably be posted way later. I just wanted to test the waters with this fic and see how I do so...

So some things to note:

*Both Aqua and Terra's first scenes in this fic were made entirely for the purpose of giving them build-up while not diminishing Ven's importance to them. I was already going to be fucking with canon a lot but I also didn't want to leave Ven to the wayside so I created those scenes. You'll see Terra's in the next chapter.

*I feel the need to apologize for the second half of the second scene because that still feels like word barf, even when I know why I wrote it like that. I hope the intention behind those words is still conveyed clearly but I'll understand if it's not.

*As for the last scene, I completely misremembered the sequence of events leading up to the end. I already knew that scene was going to be changed somewhat just for the context of the ship but I think it's pretty clear which parts I changed on purpose and which parts I was winging it. It's been years since I last watched that scene, it was super late into the night, this was my third rewrite, and I felt satisfied with my work before realizing I fucked up and decided to go along with it.

Read on AO3 | Read on DA | Support me on Ko-fi!

Today started out like any other normal day. Aqua woke up, did her morning regimen, and set off for the great hall to begin her studies. She and Terra, her friend/rival, were to train under the watchful eye of their master Eraqus in the hopes of coming one step closer to fulfilling their lifelong dream. They would one day surpass the rank of apprentice and become Keyblade Masters in their own right, something she wished would arrive sooner rather than later.

Then came time for their daily duel. They would often spar with each other as a way of proving their capabilities in battle, seeing what areas they could use improvement in, and showing off the techniques they had learned from past fights. This seemed to be no different from their previous clashes.

She was on the defense, blocking and deflecting each blow Terra threw her way with relative ease. He managed to find an opening she didn’t account for and all but jumped on the opportunity. He charged in, his Keyblade held high, and she only had a split second to raise hers in an attempt to guard against it. Yet, whether it was due to a miscalculation on his part or her just reacting too slow, he ended up hitting her unarmored wrist. She quickly backed away, letting out a cry of pain as both Keyblades were dismissed in a flash of light. Eraqus rushed over to check if she was okay.

Terra was beside her with remorseful apologies spilling out of his mouth but she barely paid them any heed. Her eyes were focused on something much more alarming, something she knew Eraqus saw too. Emanating from Terra’s hand was an aura of Darkness, which vanished as soon as he noticed it. He tried to defend himself to Eraqus but the damage was already done.

Their master had an almost zealous hatred for Darkness, believing it’d bring nothing but destruction in its wake, and sought to rid the Land of Departure of any, even if some laid dormant in his apprentices’ hearts. This was a constant problem for Terra, who always seemed to harbor enough to fall back on, be it consciously or not. For it to flare up during training, that drew Eraqus’s ire.

It was hard not to feel sorry for Terra as he was being harshly scolded. It wasn’t like he was trying to use Darkness, at least not intentionally. She knew that it was only an accident but it wouldn’t help stop the shame he undoubtedly felt. He’ll probably curse himself for being too weak and letting Darkness in yet again once he thought no one was around, an occurrence she’s been privy to more than she had any right to be. She needed to talk with him once she had her wrist taken care of.

With a hand on her back, Eraqus began leading her out of the great hall. She looked over her shoulder to catch one last glimpse of Terra before leaving. He hung his head in shame as he clenched his fists in what she believed to be anger. It was just as she expected. She turned her head back to face forward, hoping he wouldn’t blame himself more than he already was.

They made their way over to the infirmary, where Eraqus gently took hold of her wrist to examine it. She could see now how bruised and swollen it was from the impact as she winced with every slight movement. He was able to determine she had a sprained wrist, which she regarded as a miracle. With the amount of force Terra had in his swing, she was thankful it didn’t result in a break. She was to keep it wrapped and iced for a couple days till it healed, something she had no problem with.

After it was bandaged, she was told to take it easy until then. She asked Eraqus about Terra and he said he’d have a talk with him once enough time had passed for things to settle down. There was an undercurrent of regret in his voice, made even clearer by the expression on his face. Their master may be strict but he still cared for them, similar in the way a father would for his children. This gave her some hope in that he realized what happened was an accident and he’d forgive Terra. Time would only tell.

She spent the rest of the day in the library. She figured she’d get some studying done if she couldn’t practice with her Keyblade for the next few days. Try as she might, though, she could barely focus on the words she was reading and that was if she didn’t reread the sentence to understand it. Her mind kept wandering to Terra, whether he was okay or not, and what he was doing right now. Worry gnawed at her heart until she couldn’t take it anymore. The sun was beginning to cast orange and violet hues across the sky when she decided and rushed out to find him.

He wasn’t in the great hall or his room when she looked in. Searching all around the building yielded no results, either. She wondered where he could be, her anxiety growing as she saw night quickly approaching. He had to still be in the Land of Departure and the only place she hadn’t checked yet was the mountain. She ran out to the Forecourt and then beyond its boundary.

Stars were twinkling into existence by the time she reached the winding path leading up to the mountain. If it weren’t for the lights set alongside the dirt road, she would’ve been stumbling about blindly in the dark. It was when she arrived at the overlook just before the summit she found him.

His back faced her as she saw that he was sitting on the edge of the cliff. Taking a few steps closer revealed him to be looking down below the mountain with an indiscernible expression. It was troubling to see him like this. What happened earlier today had to be weighing heavily on his mind.

Tentatively walking forward, she called out, “Terra?”

He stiffened and quickly turned around to face her, asking a barrage of questions like, “Aqua, are you okay? How’s your wrist? Is it bad? It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“No, no, it’s all right, see?” she replied, showing him her bandaged wrist. “Master said it was only a sprain and that it should be okay in a couple days as long as I took it easy.”

He let out a sigh of relief, no doubt feeling some of the guilt be lifted off his shoulders. “That’s good. I don’t think I would’ve forgiven myself if I managed to break your wrist.”

“Well, you didn’t, so don’t beat yourself up over it, okay?”

Silence fell between them. She noticed him staring at her wrist with clouded eyes, despite her assurances of being fine. Before she could think of a way to broach the issue at hand, he spoke up.

“Aqua, I’m…I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt you, it was an accident, and---”

“I know, I know! You don’t need to apologize, I know you would never try and hurt me,” she interjected, trying to comfort him. “I’m more worried about you and how you’re doing after Master had those…words with you.”

He averted his eyes from her. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen Eraqus scold Terra like he had before and those always left him feeling horrible with himself. She was used to being the one to get him back to normal but something told her this wouldn’t be as easy as previous times.

Turning away from her, he said, “I deserved it. Master was right, I could’ve seriously hurt you.”

“But you didn’t and that’s what matters,” she replied.

“I was wielding Darkness, Aqua!” he exclaimed, taking her aback. He ran a hand through his hair before continuing on, “I thought it was gone. I thought I had it under control but I guess I don’t. Maybe it never left.”

“Terra…” She walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay. You’ve gotten rid of Darkness before, you can do it again. You just have to---”

He brushed her off. “What if I don’t? What if I’ll always have Darkness inside me?”

“What are you saying?”

“Maybe I’m not meant to be a Keyblade Master. Maybe I’m just destined to fall into darkness. It’s my fate to lose my heart and become a Heartless.”

“That won’t happen, Terra. You’re strong enough to resist it and---”

“What if I’m not, Aqua? How else would you explain why I keep having Darkness come out of me? You can’t, can you?”

To her horror, he was right. There was no way she could explain why Darkness lingered inside him, even with the numerous attempts to rid himself of it. It wasn’t because he had a weak heart, that much she was certain. So what was the connection between the two? Was Terra right in that he was destined to fall into darkness, either by losing his heart or some other means?

The thought rocked her to the core. She didn’t want to believe his fate was to be lost in a hellish abyss until he was put out of his misery. He was her dear friend and he deserved so much more than being reduced to a lowly Heartless. She refused to accept it, which was why she decided to do something about it.

“You won’t fall into darkness, Terra,” she affirmed, stepping around him to meet his gaze. “I know it.”

“How? How can you be so sure?” he asked.

“Because I won’t let you.” She took hold of his hand in a gentle yet firm grip. “I promise I won’t let you fall into darkness.”

He seemed genuinely shocked by her words. She meant what she said and she planned on upholding her promise. It may be hard and it may even be treacherous at times but it’d all be worth it if he remained in the light.

“And, if you do fall, I promise to always guide you back home,” she added, giving his hand a squeeze.

“...You have that much faith in me, huh?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Why wouldn’t I?” She cupped his cheek. “You’re my friend, Terra, and I know you’re strong enough to resist its temptation. I’ll just be there to remind you every so often.”

He said nothing, instead deciding to pull her into a hug. She was surprised by this, seeing as how he wasn’t a very affectionate person, at least in the physical aspect. She was about ready to question him on why he was doing this when she heard him whisper in her ear:

“Thank you, Aqua, for believing in me.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest from the sincerity in his voice. She could sometimes be slow on the uptake but this had to be a new record. It was only now she realized just how much her vow must’ve touched him and how badly he must’ve been feeling before she showed up. She was glad to have cheered him up some. Thus, she returned the hug and answered,

“You’re welcome.”

Terra wasn’t going to fall into darkness, not if she had anything to say about it. He won’t be led astray. She’d be his anchor to the realm of light. A promise is a promise, which she wholly planned to keep.

Aqua breathed in deep and touched the tip of her paintbrush on the small piece of glass sitting in front of her. Drawing it upwards left the top half in a pretty shade of cyan blue. She continued to paint with delicate and meticulous strokes until she was satisfied with her work. The bottom half was then covered in a dark blue, which almost matched the ocean she imagined in her mind. Once the piece of glass was completely painted over, she gingerly picked it up and set it aside to dry. One down, four more to go before she moved on to the next phase.

She was in the process of making her Wayfinder. She already crafted two others that happened to be sitting off to the side, one in amber and one in green. She hoped to give them to Terra and Ven soon once she was done creating hers. Seeing as how she and Terra were meant to have their Mark of Mastery exam in the near future, they were meant to be good luck charms and Ven was getting one simply because it’d be unfair if he was left out. They also had another purpose to them, something she thought was rather poignant and was the main reason she wanted them.

Wayfinders were said to be designed after star-shaped fruit called Paopu, which were also said to tie friends together. If they carried these on them, nothing would drive them apart. They’d even help find one’s way back to them if they were ever lost. It may be silly of her to believe in this but it struck a chord within her when she first heard it and, in some ways, she wanted it to be true.

The question of what would happen after she and Terra aced their exam had weighed heavily on her mind for some time. Eraqus had told them they could either travel beyond the Land of Departure and expand their horizons or succeed him and protect their world from Darkness. They hadn’t decided yet but she wondered what the aftermath of her choice would be. Would she choose to leave or stay? Whatever it may be, it meant Terra would have to contend with the other. Maybe the reason this was troubling her so much was because a part of her deep down was afraid of losing the two people she considered to be her best friends.

She knew she had nothing to be scared of yet she worried all the same. It wasn’t like the bonds she shared with Ven and Terra were so weak, they’d break upon setting foot outside their home. Their strength would remain steadfast, even if the three of them were far apart from each other. She just needed to remind herself of that whenever she was lost in her thoughts.

The last glass piece was painted and she put it beside the others to dry. With that out of the way, the next thing to do would be setting the five glass pieces into place and soldering them to the frame so they wouldn’t fall out when she held the Wayfinder facing up. It was too late to do it tonight but she would get straight to it after her training tomorrow.

She glanced over to where the other two Wayfinders were sitting. She stood up from her desk, reached her hand out to grab them, and sat back down. They shone brilliantly under the golden light pouring in from her window. A lot’s happened over the last few years.

She never thought Eraqus would take in another apprentice but it was at the behest of an old friend so that’s how Ventus came into the picture. Fragile was the best word to describe him when they first met, like he could collapse at any moment. It fit him even more when he actually did from Terra’s bombardment of questions, falling into an almost come-like state for several days. Her skepticism as to whether he was capable of becoming a Keyblade Master only grew when Eraqus said he was amnesiac and that was why he fainted. How could someone like him become Master when he was so weak, for lack of a better term?

Yet he managed to prove her wrong. The more time he spent with the two of them, the stronger he got, to the point he was able to keep up with them in battle. He wasn’t as powerful as Terra or as magically gifted as her but he made up for it with swiftness and sheer tenacity. The only reason he wasn’t taking the Mark of Mastery exam along with them was because of his age, though she believed it was also due to him needing to outgrow some things, like his rebellious streak for example. He’d be a great Keyblade Master one day, she was sure of it.

Terra’s changed so much over the years. He was no longer a child struggling to keep his head above water as he flailed his Keyblade about. He’s grown into a strong and capable man she was proud to call her friend and rival. He’d be her fellow Master in due time as well and then they’d stand together to protect both theirs and many other worlds from Heartless someday. At least, that’s what she envisioned before things somehow became different between them.

She couldn’t quite explain what changed between her and Terra. It wasn’t like the way they interacted with each other was different from normal. They still met up every day to talk and train so that couldn’t be it. The only thing she noticed was…well, things she had never really noticed from him before. Not that they were never there but they were only starting to make themselves known to her.

Before Ven, she’d only seen three sides to Terra. The dutiful pupil to their master, the reliable confidant to her, and the introspective self-doubter when he thought he was alone. It was only after Ven entered their circle she saw the kind and protective side of him, almost like he was an older brother to him. She always knew those qualities existed within him but it was different seeing them in action to someone other than her. It’s only now she’s really acknowledged them.

He was still her friend but there was a deeper meaning now. Her feelings towards him were different than her feelings towards Ven and maybe that was because she’s known him practically all her life as opposed to the four years for Ven. Maybe all this was was her growing up and becoming an adult, which meant changing feelings and realizing that things were going to be different for her now, whether she liked it or not. Throw in the anxiety of potentially drifting away from him and she was left with a jumbled up mess of complications she struggled to put a label on.

All this was doing was giving her a headache. She should be focusing on the road ahead instead of thinking herself into a corner and letting her mind run wild. She’s so close to accomplishing her dream and she couldn’t risk anything jeopardizing it. Whatever answers she wanted, she’d find them after becoming Master.

She looked down at the Wayfinders still held in her hands and pressed them close to her chest. She let out a heavy sigh as she tried to calm herself. Different was new but it didn’t have to be bad. Change was a part of everyone’s lives and she and Terra were no exceptions.

Things may be different between them but it didn’t mean they were bad. It could mean they were good and she just couldn’t see how yet. As long as they were together, nothing truly bad would happen. That’s what she hoped.

Aqua sat at the end of the dock, watching the sun set over the horizon. A warm, pleasant breeze was blowing through, carrying with it the strong scent of salt. She could hear the ocean’s waves rolling along the sandy shore and leaves from the trees behind her rustling. This was everything she imagined a beach to be like. The only things missing from it were Terra and Ven.

The Destiny Islands was what this world was called. She only stopped by with the intention of taking a short rest but it was after reality began to sink in she had to give herself something more than that. She needed a moment where she could think clearly, decompress, and just breathe. She needed this before going back out there and starting the whole process over again. That’s where she was now.

Where did it all go wrong? She finally managed to achieve her dream of becoming a Keyblade Master but it felt like a hollow victory when it turned out Terra failed the exam on account of his Darkness flaring up again. Then she was asked by their master to keep an eye on him in case he strayed too close to darkness, which she didn’t agree with but knew it was out of concern for him so she followed. It was through that she learned of the questionable acts seemingly committed by Terra and it caused her to doubt him and his resolve. When she met up with him and Ven at Radiant Garden and she revealed the truth of her being there, their trust in her was shattered.

Then she found out Ven was being hunted down by a masked boy, who had ties to Master Xehanort. He’d been pulling strings behind the scenes and he was dragging Terra along for the ride. An encounter with the masked boy in Neverland left her exhausted yet she still trudged on before arriving here. All she was trying to do was make things right so why did it turn out like this?

Maybe she wasn’t cut out to be a Master. They were supposed to keep the balance between light and dark, protect the worlds from malevolent forces. If she couldn’t even protect her best friends, the two people she treasured above all else, then what good was she? Eraqus was wrong in making her a Master, much less his successor. She never should have become one.

She took out her Wayfinder and just held it. The orange hue of the sunset washed away the once vibrant blue into something dull and dark. Her heart grew heavier the longer she looked at it, running her thumb over the token in the center. Nothing would drive them apart, huh?

It was never that she thought of Ven as weak or doubted his capabilities. It was never, ever that. She just wanted him to be safe, to be unharmed because she knew she couldn’t always be there to save him. There was a part of her that still viewed him as the fragile boy she first met who fell comatose from one too many questions. Sure, he’s grown much stronger since then, but she felt the need to protect him regardless. He was her dear friend and she wouldn’t know how to live with herself if he got hurt and she wasn’t there to help him. She’d rather have him hate her for being overbearing than risk losing him because she wasn’t cautious.

She wished she could express how sorry she was to Terra. She vouched for him to Eraqus, swearing he was strong enough to resist the dark temptations, yet hearsay was all it took for her to lose faith in him. Xehanort’s machinations framed him as someone he wasn’t and she fell for it so easily. It honestly pissed her off that he was manipulating and taking advantage of Terra and his trusting nature. While he wasn’t exactly innocent in this, it was clear as to who the real mastermind was. She wanted so badly to apologize to him, to tell him she should never have doubted him.

Her grip on the Wayfinder tightened as she felt her eyes beginning to burn. Did they have theirs still, she wondered. She wanted to believe they did but was it childishly naive of her to cling to that narrow hope?

She was a horrible friend to them. She caused one to lose faith in her and she may as well have betrayed the other. She may have pushed Ven too far away for him to come back and drove Terra further into the darkness. She wouldn’t fault them for wanting nothing to do with her anymore. She wouldn’t, either, if the roles were reversed. Were their bonds now severed?

No, they couldn’t be. The magic she placed on each of their Wayfinders was still active and she could still feel Terra and Ven’s hearts through hers. That had to be her silver lining in this. Even if the cord connecting the three of them together frayed till it was only a thread, that thread was unbreakable.

She needed to protect them. She couldn’t let Xehanort and that masked boy do whatever they wanted with them. They wouldn’t hesitate to save her if she were in the same position so she shouldn’t, either. They were precious to her, she’d do anything, even give her life, if it meant they’d be safe.

She stood up from the dock, Wayfinder still in her hand, and looked up at the now starry sky. She didn’t know where they were but she didn’t need to. Her heart was going to be her guiding key.

They needn’t worry much longer. She was going to find them and the three of them were going to stop whatever Xehanort had planned. Then they would share one more night under the stars, like they had all that time ago.

May they find a way to each other once more.

Aqua watched on in horror as the man in front of her stabbed his Keyblade into his chest. She wanted to cry out his name but she couldn’t find the strength within her to do so, having thoroughly exhausted herself from their fight earlier. His body went slack, his Keyblade vanishing into thin air, as a portal of swirling darkness opened beneath him. He fell back and, quickly realizing where it led to, she dove in after him.

She had to save him. It may not have been Terra, not completely, but his heart was still in his body, she just knew it. Why else would he have let her go when he was so close to finishing her off? She couldn’t leave him to wander in the Realm of Darkness for all eternity. Even if it meant bringing Xehanort back, she’d never forgive herself for doing that to him if he was still in there. She made him a promise and she was damn well going to keep it.

The first thing she noticed was how cold it was. It wasn’t freezing but it was still too chilly for her liking, evident from her shivering. She felt like she was stuck in an empty black void as she searched around for any sign of Terra. She was eventually able to find a dim light just a few meters below her, a light she recognized as his. Summoning her Keyblade, she changed its form to that of her Glider and raced towards the light, not once taking her eyes off it.

It didn’t take long to reach him. The light grew dimmer and dimmer the closer she got before dimming completely upon seeing him. He looked to be just sleeping, even when he was plummeting straight down to what she considered to be hell. She grabbed onto his arm and struggled to lift him onto her Glider, only managing to accomplish that feat by sheer force of will. Giving him a quick once-over revealed no visible wounds and he seemed to be breathing normally. Relieved that he was physically all right, she turned the Glider around and began heading back up.

She had him and he was going to be okay. They would be back in Radiant Garden soon and she was going to fix him. She and whoever else could help her were going to find a way to get Xehanort’s heart out of him. Then she and him would go home and wake Ven up, like she said they would. They’d be together again. Their master may be gone now but they’d have each other to lean on and support. The hope of them being reunited again was the only thing keeping her going at this point. After everything that’s happened, she needed this to come true. She almost wanted to pray to whatever power there be to grant her wish, to give her this.

Well, a deity or some other higher being there was heard her and sneered. Her heart dropped once she saw the portal they came in from starting to close. They were still so far away and it was shrinking with each passing second. It would be gone by the time they reached it, leaving them stuck in the Realm of Darkness with no way out. She looked over at Terra’s unconscious form and, knowing what had to be done, made her choice without any hesitation.

That was when it hit her. She finally found her answer and she wanted to scold herself for taking so long to realize it. She finally knew what Terra was to her and it was so easy, so simple to understand that there was really no excuse. He wasn’t just a friend to her, he was more than that, he deepened beyond that. It was only natural, in some ways, for her to have fallen for him.

She loved him. She loved everything about him, from his ability to want to see the good in people to his devotion to her and Ven. She can scarcely remember a life where he wasn’t a part of it nor did she want such a life. He was irreplaceable, someone she confided in, a man she could talk to about anything without fear of judgment. He was her rock, her dearly beloved. She loved him, which was why she was able to decide on her fate with little regret.

She was going to take his place. Her promise came out of a love different from what it was now but she planned to uphold it all the same. Her love for Terra was stronger than her hatred of the man possessing him and she couldn’t bear to leave him behind to die in a hellish wasteland. It only hurt to know she wouldn’t be there to help guide him back home, to her and Ven.

She disembarked from her Glider and went around to the side. Terra appeared to be holding onto the handles somewhat, which seemed to be the only reason he was staying on it instead of falling. She brushed the back of her hand against his cheek before resting it on his, giving it a gentle squeeze. She was going to miss him when she was gone but this was for the best.

“We’ll meet again someday.” She squeezed his hand again. “Even if so much time has passed, we’ll meet again.” She was giving both him and herself false hope. “I’ll always be with you, okay?” She didn’t believe she would find a way out. “Goodbye, Terra.”

Then she let go and began falling. She didn’t take her eyes off him once as she fell, even when it became too dark for her to see him clearly. She wanted him to be the last thing she saw if she were to possibly die in the next few moments. She only wished she could’ve amended things between her, Terra, and Ven before their grand battle in the Keyblade Graveyard but she was resigned to contend with this. She’d be okay with taking that regret to her grave.

Tears rolled down her cheeks but she smiled through them. She saved him from a fate of wandering the dark realm alone. She hoped Terra would win out in his fight against Xehanort and reclaim his body as the image of him finally disappeared from her sight. Maybe, just maybe, they’d meet again in the next life.

She closed her eyes as she let the darkness overtake her. It was then she heard herself say those three little words that carried with them so much meaning. Whether she said them aloud or she only imagined she did, it didn’t matter. All she wanted was for those words to reach Terra’s heart, to let him know why she did what she did. That was her last thought before succumbing to the cold.

“I love you.”

#airi's writing #terraqua #aqua #terra #ventus #eraqus #fanfiction #kingdom hearts #canon divergence

13 notes · View notes