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jbreenr · 4 years ago

Text

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale × Reader

Summary: You wanted to meet Ransom's family, he wanted to make sure you'd never want it again.

Word count: 3k.

Warning: Poorly written smut (+18 only, please), public sex (prompt 11), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that, kids. be responsible), a bit of dirty talk, the Thrombeys being the Thrombeys. And I think that's it.

A/N: So, after finding out one of my stories was stolen an translated in Wattpad, I did not know if I should post this just yet but, what the hell? Let's do it. Anyway, this is for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817 's Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge so, happy belated birthday! Yaaay. 🥳 Hope you like this at least a little and that it's not as bad as my paranoid brain thinks it is. Also, I just love how the prompts fit perfectly together, don't you? As always, lack of vocabulary and grammatical mistakes abound. *apologizes in español*

Wheel results (just attaching evidence):

ᴹʸ ᵍⁱᶠ

Draining, tedious, exasperating. Those were some of the adjectives Ransom associated with Thrombey family reunions. He'd arrive late, have some sort of conversation with his grandfather and leave early to do whatever that took him away from that big house.

Today though, he had a reason to stay for more than half an hour.

If it was up to him, you two would have stayed at home, happy, relaxed, and most importantly, naked in his bed, having a more pleasant time than the one you were most likely about to have.

He tried to persuade you. Of course he did! But your insistence and puppy eyes made it impossible for him to say no to your request.

So, here you were, getting out of his car, cake in sweaty hands and an excited smile on your lips, an expression so different from Ransom's, who seemed to be ready to get back behind the wheel and drive straight to Canada.

He didn't knock; he simply opened the door and held it for you to enter. If the three floor house was imposing from the outside, you felt impressed by the inside. Extravagant sculptures, apparently expensive paintings and other kinds of pieces of art were scattered everywhere, telling you just how wealthy and eccentric Ransom's family were.

“That's Harlan Thrombey! ” You exclaimed as you stood in front of the portrait of your forever favorite author holding a knife and a book.

“So?” Ransom asked, unconcerned.

You turned to him open-mouthed, the cake almost slipping off your palms as you went to playfully slap him in the arm.

“How come you are related to Harlan Thrombey and you didn't tell me?” Your question was more of a shock than an accusation.

The carefree gesture he did with his shoulders only accentuated his next words. “I did not think you would be interested in knowing.”

“I wouldn’t be interested?” Incredulity, flowing out of your lips. “He’s the best thriller author of all time! He’s like today’s Edgar Allan Poe!”

To say that you didn't believe him was an understatement. He knew for a fact that you liked Harlan Thrombey's books, just taking a look at the bookshelf in your apartment was proof enough of that.

“We call him grandpa here.” Said a femenine voice. A brunette walked in your direction, her pretty features hardening as she looked at your boyfriend. “Don't we, Hugh?”

He seemed to be ready to say something but decided not to. Instead he inhaled and placed his hand on your back.

“This is Y/N, the only reason I’m not telling you what you need to hear right now.”

Her eyes rolled in irritation and then turned to you. “I’m Meg. Let's introduce you to the rest of the family, shall we?.” And she dragged you to the room where more people were gathered together, discussing something, not before sending a deadly glare at Ransom.

Given the distance between you and him, you didn't listen to the heavy sigh he let out before waking behind.

“Everyone!” Meg called, making everyone leave whatever they were doing to look at her –and you, in consequence. “Meet Y/N, Hugh's new friend.” She then proceeded to introduce every single member of the family, including the housekeeper and the nurse, except for the grandfather, who apparently had a moment of inspiration and left them momentarily to put his ideas on paper.

None of them left their seat to go and shake your hand except for Meg's energetic mom, who hugged you and expressed how much she loved your coat even though it was soooo last season.

Sitting on a couch next to Ransom, you half expected someone to ask you about how you two met or how long had you been dating or what was it that you did for a living. Nothing. As fast as their attention was on you, it fell from you to their previous discussion.

You now understood why Ransom jokingly suggested deep cleaning the house instead of attending that reunion.

What you weren't aware of, Ransom thought, was that all of them were behaving wonderfully compared to previous times.

You didn't know if you felt more disappointed or uncomfortable. Ransom had left your side to go to the studio for a second and you had barely had any interaction with his family. All of them, dipped in their own matters to even notice your presence.

Fran, the housekeeper, was kind enough to take the cake to the kitchen and offer you a glass of water, but after giving it to you, she disappeared along with Meg and the nurse.

“So,” All at once, the room went quiet as Ransom's uncle spoke. “Have you read any of dad's books, Y/N?” Only until you heard your name was that your head snapped up.

“Oh, uhm… yeah. I'm a big fan.” Taken by surprise, you simply answered.

“Really? Which one have you read?”

And to that question, you felt suddenly included in the conversation since you had knowledge of the topic.

“I'm like fifty pages from finishing 'The Needle Game' and intrigue is eating me alive.” As you heard the excitement in your voice, you tried to compose yourself and said “Though 'Nick Of Time' is my favorite.” You smiled at him, hoping that your answer was a good one.

The woman that was introduced to you as Ransom's mother nodded as she licked her lips. The light of the fireplace, reflecting on her glasses as she moved her head up and down.

“Have you read 'Ultimatum' or 'Drop In The Pocket', dear?” Her tone was curious, but the look on her face said differently.

You responded anyway. “They're not bad. I feel like the ending of 'Drop In The Pocket' was a little vague and out of line but it can always be interpreted as an open ending so…” The change in their expressions told you that you had to add something else to that answer. Maybe it was not time for literature humor yet. “But I enjoyed both.”

She hummed and took her drink, detaching from the talk that continued with courtesy questions until it morphed into a heated discussion between Ransom's father and uncle, who would repeatedly ask for your opinion to back up his own.

The discomfort you felt, dispelled to be replaced by the disturbance of being bombarded with dozens of questions at a time, each louder than the other until they changed to a completely different topic to which you were occasionally included as a neutral point of view.

“She knows what she's talking about!” Said Richard at some point when you confirmed one of his arguments. “Thank you, dear.”

Ransom came back from his obligatory argument with his grandfather to find you nowhere to be seen.

“She's using the bathroom.” Informed Jacob, who did not take his eyes off of his cellphone.

Thinking that you went there to hide, he started his way to your potential direction until an overheard observation from his mother stopped him halfway through.

“… Did you hear how she talked about dad's work? Oh, I assure you she won't make it to next week with Ransom.”

Her and Richard's backs were to him, both of them unaware that their son was listening to their share of opinions.

“And did you see her hands?” Joni joined the criticism contest. “She could use some moisturizer, I tell you.”

As usual, they ignored her attempt to fit in and kept going.

“I know it's contradictory to say this,” Richard paused, as to make his point clear. “But he could do better.”

Despite their whispering, Ransom heard every single word and was glad that you were not there to see what was about to happen…

Ransom's words stuck on his throat when he saw you making your way out of the bathroom, fixing the skirt of your dress, with such niceness and warmth directed to him as you smiled, oblivious to the fact that the people you were trying to get to like you weren't going to.

His parents were right. He could do better. He could determine to not see them ever again and it would be the best thing to happen to him… Besides you, obviously.

“What's wrong?” Your concern was evident, just as his annoyance was undeniable.

Cold hands caressed his cheeks and Ransom thought of going back to Joni and tell her to fuck off. Your touch was soft, comforting, and gave him the greatest idea he'd ever had.

“I want to show you something.” Was his answer. It was better if you were the one who decided to never step on that house for the rest of your lives. It didn't matter if it was out of embarrassment.

Taking your hand in his, he guided you up the stairs to the first landing. The creaking sound of the old structure, probably alerting everyone in the other room that you were going to the next floor.

“Are you okay?” The sweet giggle that you let out when he abruptly stopped, almost making him feel bad about what he was seconds away from doing.

“Better than ever.” And he stamped his lips to yours.

Taken aback, it took you a second to respond. Hands on each side of his face as his own explored your body. When his fingers lifted your dress to caress your ass cheeks was when you ended the kiss.

“What are you doing?” You asked in a breathless whisper. “Not that I'm complaining.”

You were cornered against the wall with Ransom towering in front of your smaller frame.

Trying to escape from whatever he had in mind was useless, you knew that much. Though, you were not sure if you really wanted to escape.

“What I've been wanting to do ever since you got a shower without me this morning.” His lips found your jaw and descended to your neck where he sucked to create a bruise. Your eyes closed to the sensation.

“Wait. No, wait.” His fingertip that had started rubbing your still clothed bud paused it's motions as his eyes focused back on your face. “We can't do it. Not here.”

Ransom's finger went back to work, bringing a soft moan that you tried to suppress. “Why not? No one's gonna come here.” His other hand moved up your thigh to lift it. “Even if they did, they wouldn't notice.”

With an expert swing of his wrist, he moved your panties aside, letting the cold air that wandered inside the house hit you before his skilled middle finger entered you while still managing to rub your clit in circles with his thumb.

Adrenaline ran through your veins, fuel activating every nerve in your body and shaking away fear from your brain, replacing it with lust and boldness.

“I'm blaming you if we get caught.” Your hips jolted forward wanting to feel more of his hand, the contradiction between your words and actions, making him smirk.

He added a second finger. Knuckles deep and his cold ring slowly warming against the inside of your thigh, he said, “I'll take responsibility, sweetheart.” Pumping his fingers in and out, he felt your slick running down the back of his hand to his wrist, wetting his overly expensive watch and the cuff of his cozy sweater .“But I can't assure you we won't get caught.”

His words, instead of working as a bucket of cold water as one would expect, increased your need to be touched by him, the yearning for him to take you right there and then.

“Damn it, Ransom.” One of your hands flew to his shoulder to hold onto him for dear life. “I'm close.”

“You're not cumming unless I'm inside you, pretty thing.” At what point did he unfasten his belt and unzipped his trousers, you had no idea. The friction of his digits was gone in a second but the feeling of his already leaking tip rubbing against your most sensitive parts was enough to make you forget about those trifles.

Your lips opened, ready to tell him to keep his voice down when he suddenly thrusted home, stretching you out so deliciously that you had to cover your mouth to muffle the moan that threatened to inform everyone of your current activities.

Ransom's breathing hitched. Being inside you was a dream come true, feeling your walls enveloping his cock so fucking good… it was like you were made for each other, and he was going to prove it, even if his family didn't really get to know.

His hips started moving. Back and forth, back and forth. Delicately at first, letting you adjust to his size but the second he felt you throbbing around him, he increased the pace. Little by little his pounds gained power and energy.

Your whimpers –stuck in your throat, leaving only soft snuffles that crashed against Ransom's cheek, soon became more rapid, erratic and as his fingers dug in the flesh of your thigh to keep you still while he accommodated to go even deeper you heard a creaking noise.

Your boyfriend's blue eyes met yours, his movements never faltering despite the alert given by the dark wooden floor under your feet.

There was a conflict in your head, and Ransom could tell. The way you tightened and the pleading look on your face told different stories, yet Ransom knew they had the same ending.

Shaking your head, your eyes asked him not to do it, but you knew Ransom well enough to be sure that not even begging could stop him.

“You love it, don't you?” His smile grew bigger as his change of position allowed him to hit your sweet spot on and on, ripping high pitched whines from you and obligating you to close your eyes. “The thought of getting caught. The image of someone seeing how good I make you feel.” The placement of his foot, making the landing creak repeatedly each time he pushed up accompanying every word. “Fuck, you're talking me so well. Such a dirty girl, uh.”

His big hand yanked the strap of your dress down, exposing your left boob. Your already hard nipple was soon attacked by Ransom's fingertips. He'd pinch and twist it slightly, just enough to make your back arch in search of his touch.

Pleasure was overflowing your senses, you could feel your heart thudding in your ears and your legs losing strength. Your hand left your mouth to grip at the back of Ransom's neck to keep you from falling.

The sight of your lower lip trapped between your teeth didn't please Ransom. In other circumstances, he would've let you stay that way, as quiet as possible so no one would walk on you. This time though, it was his intention to rip the most delicious sounds from your lips so you thought of the possibility of his family listening.

And so, he lent to kiss you, passion and desire transmitted through his breath. His tongue asked for a permission that was not really required, but as you let it in, Ransom took the opportunity to bite down your lip.

With your lips forcefully parted and Ransom's restless hand traveling back to your bundle, you had no other option than to moan with each quick circle his digits drew.

A series of laughs and undistinguished words were heard from a distance. Both Ransom and you turned to see what they were about, stopping in your tracks with him still buried deep inside your needy cunt.

“Guess dinner's ready.” Unbothered about the information he just gave, he hid his face in the crook of your neck and resumed his movements.

A shaky oh, fuck fell from your lips as you felt the familiar knot in your stomach forming. Your head flew back, hitting the wall with a soft thud.

“Careful. We don't want to be obvious, do we?” You knew you were about to explode, and by the way your walls were clenching and your trembling body tried to separate from him, Ransom knew as well. “Let go, sweetheart.” A roar erupted from him as he felt you tightening around his length. “Cum for me.”

With a last, powerful thrust of his hips, you let out a silent scream. The coil snapped, making you see a kaleidoscope of colors behind your eyelids and listen to a loud ring in your ears.

Ransom followed right after, cursing as he finished inside of you, coating you with every last drop and making sure everything would stay there.

He slid out, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness as he zipped his trousers and took a step back to let you fix your appearance.

You managed to accommodate your dress just in time for Ransom's family to walk out of the room they were in to see you. Your agitated breathing and blushed cheeks, getting everyone's attention.

“Are you okay, dear?” Ransom's dad asked.

“She's fine.” Your boyfriend answered for you. “She's feeling a little sick. I better take her home.” He took you by the hand and helped you down the stairs to the door, which you thanked. Had he not done it, you would have tripped taking the first step.

“But she hasn't met grandpa yet.” Meg noted, furrowing her brows.

“It'll be next time.” And with that, Ransom took you out of the house and in the passenger seat of his car without giving anyone the chance to say goodbye.

When you were at a considerable distance, you sighed, letting out the air you didn't know you were holding.

“Just so you know, there won't be a next time.” You informed him, against your want to meet his grandfather.

“Why not?” He asked with a chuckle, already knowing the answer.

“Cause embarrassment won't let me come back in the near future.”

Behind an eye roll and a tap on your thigh, Ransom hid the triumphant grimace his perfectly carried out plan gave him.

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rist-ix · 4 years ago

Note

only because it’s one of my all time favorite sparxshipping tropes and I can’t resist—

prompt list title: some soft-ish dialogue prompts

41. “Is that my shirt?” “Is… is that okay?”

aw, such a classic! Loved this one

Not sparked compliant? I think? I left things vague, so you guys can interpret is however you want.

One could accuse Valtor of many, many sins, but sloth is not one of them. He thrives off of his work, placing whispers and rumors where they can grow like poisonous ivy, dutifully reaping the resulting chaos.

It may take him weeks, months, years even to harvest his just rewards, but he has time. And he knows, the most precious reward is not one he can find in the Royal courts anyway.

His transportation spell pulls him from Eraklyon's palace swift as the wind, gently dropping him in the place he calls home. Glaring sun replaced by starlight and the sound of crickets, a mild summer night's air. He exhales in relief, the lacking noise of the capitol more than welcome.

His stay at court had been far too long, far too busy. Rest isn’t something he bothers with, once he is caught up in the euphoria of his manipulations, but now he feels its lack like a physical weight on his shoulders.

Shedding his coat, he steps into his bedroom and closes the balcony door with a wave of his hand. He doesn’t indulge in sleep that often often, but he's certainly earned it now. The sooner he has recharged, the sooner he will be able to visit—

His bed moves. Or rather, the blankets move. In less than a second his hand is blazing with a spell and every muscle in his body tenses, anticipating an ambush from every direction, eyes searching for potential reinforcements lurking in the shadows. He closes in on the source of the movement, ready to end the threat in a heartbeat… when the threat in question yawns. Turns around. And reveals a familiar face, hidden behind messy red curls.

He blinks, adrenaline fading, and lowers his hand.

“Bloom?”

Blue eyes peek at him through heavy lids as she wakes up, snuggling into his palm when he moves to brush her hair back.

“…'re late,” she mumbles, covering his hand with her own so he doesn’t pull back — a ridiculous idea. He grins and leans closer instead.

“Forgive me. If I had know what awaited me here, I would have never kept away so long.”

A half-truth. He does like the idea that she missed him, yearned for him. It seems only fair.

Her hair is cool and damp to the touch, smelling faintly of his soap, and the idea that she had been in his shower sounds even better. He sits down on the bed and pulls her to him, breathing her in. Kissing her temples.

“Did I keep you waiting?” he murmurs, “My poor, sweet fairy, did I make you miss me?”

Her small form is curled into itself, looking so lonely in his oversized bed. So warm and soft in his arms.

She pouts, an expression that looks even funnier on her when she is sleepy, but wraps one arm around his waist all the same.

“'s just worried,” she gets out, voice croaking with sleep. “For the dimension. Y'know?”

She yawns again and hauls herself somewhat upright so she can drape herself over his lap.

“Can’t leave you unsupervised.”

She sounds entirely too satisfied for her words. And he feels far too satisfied by her actions.

Smiling, he brushes her hair behind her ear and leans back against the headboard. Discards his vest so she doesn’t cut herself on the buttons, and pulls her fully into his arms. The heavy blankets fall away, then, revealing her previously hidden torso.

He pauses.

“Bloom,” he says. Surprise raising his eyebrows. “Is that my shirt?”

She stops moving as well, the slow rising and falling of her chest ceasing. Opens one eye to look at him.

“Is…” she swallows, “Is that okay?”

Okay. Ha. Turning Faragonda into a tree was 'okay'. A glass of solarian Sundrop after a successful coup would be ‘okay’. Ruining her once-lovers reign is ‘okay’.

Seeing Bloom, asleep in his bed, waiting for his arrival, clad in barely more than his shirt—

Oh, that’s fucking amazing.

“More than that,” he replies eagerly, drinking in the sight of her. Committing every detail to memory, in case he doesn’t catch her like this again. The way she is swimming in the fabric, far too big for her, the way it isn’t fully buttoned up. Breathtaking.

Content, Bloom closes her eyes again and rests her head in the crook of his neck.

“Good,” she hums. “'s soft. Think I’m keeping it.”

He'll send her the entire wardrobe if she wants. Stars, he'll dress her in it himself.

Wallowing in fantasies, he wraps his arms around her and sinks back into the pillows. Just enjoying this rare, peaceful moment.

Bloom isn’t usually one to ask for permission. She prefers to waltz in and take what she wants, to act like she doesn’t care about his approval before her fear of rejection can catch up with her. It’s an amusing quality of hers, this obvious overcompensating. Though it does fill him with a certain, seeping anger to think of the one who instilled it in her.

Now, however, she seems too tired to bother with her brazen act. And the result is… quite adorable.

He could get used to this.

“I missed you too,” he says, his eyes falling closed. She smiles into his shirt, hiding her face against his chest. A quiet happiness radiating out from her.

“I know.”

#prompts #sparxshipping #fluff #I loved the 'I love you' 'I know' exchange from HanLeia in case you couldn't tell #their dynamic could be very similar

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jacksgreysays · 2 years ago

Note

60) things you said as the bottom dropped out; for your OCs or whatever you feel like

I’m gonna be honest anon, I think this prompt fill will actually be more of an outline/planning/ideation.

Because I’m gonna be even more honest, I did have to look up what “bottom dropped out” means. Like… I had a vague idea I knew what I meant but then I second guessed myself and looked it up to make sure because it’s not a phrase I use/hear often. But, for those who are also not sure, the bottom dropping means something ends/goes awry 1) suddenly and with the option of doing so 2) worse than it has ever been before. So not just abruptly hitting rock bottom but also maybe plunging straight through to the crust of the earth.

Which is hilarious.

I also appreciate you for requesting one of my OCs and/or whatever whim may take me which does make this… very open ended on who gets absolutely destroyed and what they say while being so but also means it’s so open ended that I have to ideate what I would write about.

I was also thinking that the particular phrasing evokes the sense of falling, which should be obvious, but… how do I put it… while the bottom of a boat disappearing would put its passengers in a bind the idea of them falling into water doesn’t seem as abrupt. Or, like, doesn’t evoke falling necessarily. Then I was thinking, a step to the side, what about an airship? But that involves a good chunk of world building which isn’t where I’m at for the moment.

And also, I shouldn’t take it so literally.

So, what do you say the moment of the worst thing suddenly happening to you? Let’s see…

If I go through my OCs, my usual go to is, of course, Tetsuki but weirdly enough nothing bad happens to her so suddenly and that she can’t mitigate/recover from. After that is Leanne, but in an equal and opposite problem, bad things are happening to her almost constantly, and also nothing is the absolute worst she’d be subjected to because the purgatory that is her existence is already the bad ending (in as much as a time traveler can have an ending)

And of course I have other OCs but…who has their entire world ripped out from under them all at once…

Ohhhhh, oh noooooo, I know who it is: it’s Curtis/Apex from Twelve Sessions.

It would be about the fight that effectively wiped out the rest of the team—Brian/Griever is dead, Alvin/Silverfang is not dead but definitely unable to continue vigilantism somehow, Leanne/Anachron is lost to time (again), Joy/Jaguar’s fate is uncertain she’s probably not dead but definitely not going to continue vigilantism.

The problem is, while I do know what he says before the fight I don’t know what he would say during the fight and I also don’t actually happens in the fight since the point of Twelve Sessions is the more human/vulnerable side of superheroes having to face consequences of being a superhero. Anyways, he would definitely say something encouraging like “We got this” before the fight and then everything goes bad and it becomes a horrible irony that haunts him forever even when he does eventually heal and forgive himself.

So then is there anyone else?

In the same superhero trend, I was thinking of maybe a Tim Drake fic because he is one of my faves and he truly did have one of the worst years of existence if I’m remembering right in which basically everyone he loved died and then Robin was taken from him, but that’d basically be the whole fic and that’s just retreading old ground?

My brain did then jump to DoS since I had already crossed the fanfiction line even though you had specifically mentioned my OCs, but Shikako so very frequently is hit with extremely unfortunate events that she then so often adapts and lands on her feet if I go back to the falling interpretation as a metaphor. BUT THEN, I remembered I do have my own DoS OCs: specifically Shikako’s genin students. And while they’re learning to be as adaptable as her and as casually irreverent about the most bizarre situations, I think that largely depends on her being there. So for them, the bottom dropping out would be something that removes Shikako from the equation.

But wait, didn’t I just say she always lands on her feet? And yes, she does. At this point I would say recursive fic of her almost always has the implicit agreement that she wins/lives/survives/succeeds/protects the people she wants to. Which I do love and would love to hold to. But then I harkened back to ask box fake fic title prompt, Edge Of The Stars in which Shikadai tries to solve the mystery of his missing aunt and it turns out it was aliens/a Stargate.

Which… I still don’t know anything about the Stargate franchise. But the concept still holds: everyone is still alive and I’m sure she’s kicking ass and taking names wherever in the wide universe she got sent to, but as far as the people who love her are concerned Shikako disappeared and never came back.

So a fic in which her students—whether or not they’re still genin (probably not, tbh, considering their sensei’s fast tracking)—cope with her disappearance and really dig down to the core of what she taught them. Because another literal interpretation of the bottom dropping out is that the foundation is what fails or disappears even before the falling even happens.

But I’m also realizing that fic would just be me rambling about those OCs going from students to adults in the absence of their teacher when the more interesting story would be… where the hell IS Shikako and what is she doing?

Like… maybe I’m just overanalyzing the prompt, but I’m trying to figure out which is the most fun part: is it the foundation disappearing? Is it the person falling? Is it the person hitting rock bottom and then dealing with that?

#jacksgreyson #anonymous #ask box advent calendar #prompt response #brainstorm #twelve sessions #edge of the stars

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alienaiver · 4 years ago

Text

Half the Battle, pt. 1

Kuroo Tetsurou x gn!reader

find part two here!

warnings: slight angst about childhood/parents fighting/divorce, one (1) bottle of wine is opened, someone is betrayed in Mario Party, NOT beta-read! apologize for any mistakes! (lmk if there’s any warnings i missed!)

wordcount: 5.5k

content: soulmate AU, mild angst, fluff, post-timeskip but slight canon divergence (i haven’t read the manga yet so this is loosely based off of their canon timeskip lives), gender neutral reader, reader is a video editor, reader is bad at eye contact but the details as to why are vague/up for interpretation!

notes: this was made for @gg9183 ‘s wonderful birthday event, a soulmate collab! (go read the other wonderful works!) happy birthday once again, gray!! this was meant to be a 2k one shot but.... plans and inspiration changes sometimes, right? 🥺 so this ended up as a 5k part ONE lmfao i hope thats alright w u!!! part2 will be up asap, i promise!! i hope you enjoy this!!!!

—————————

Not meeting his soulmate was fine, Kuroo often found himself thinking. The odds of finding your soulmate’s way too low to be realistic anyways, he supported the thought. It’s illogical to spend so much time fretting about it, he finally added for good measure.

Soulmates were a natural part of life, always had been. But with the big wide world filled with over seven billion people, meeting yours wasn’t completely unheard of. But given the powers of soulmates even existing, it wasn’t unrealistic to also believe that some kind of fate would pull you towards each other throughout your lives so that you would meet each other. Kuroo however, prided himself in not caring about soulmates. His life was rich enough. People explaining their feelings about “something being missing until they finally meet them” was incomprehensible to him.

Kuroo had lived for 29 years without being able to see color. And you know what? His life was damn well fulfilling enough. He had a beautiful apartment, an economy that flourished, an adorable cat named Cucumber and good people around him. What would he really need a soulmate for? He could ignore his friends comments on how wonderful the world was in color, if only he would just start looking for his soulmate, how much meaning it gave life. Just because the people in his closest circle had all magically met theirs – not to mention how many of them had already met in Goddamn high school, Kuroo scoffed and was always able to move on.

Even though a lot of people actively made eye contact with everyone they met, even people on the street, to make sure they would meet their soulmate, Kuroo kept his eyes down. He wasn’t insecure, come on, he was perfectly happy! He just didn’t need to be late for a meeting because he got eye contact with some stranger, you know?

His life was in perfect balance as is.. Until yesterday, of course. It had turned out there was mold in his apartment complex so they had to evict it for a month while a crew would go through everything to remove it. He didn’t want to go to his mother’s place, that was too far from his work, but he wasn’t in the mood for a hotel, that was way too expensive, so he turned to his best friend of many years with the biggest set of puppy eyes he could muster and the prospect of making every dinner while he lived there.

“Fine… but don’t get in the way,” was all Kenma had to say.

And so Kuroo spent his last weekend in his own apartment packing things down to make it accessible to the cleaning crew. Cucumber hated other cats with a passion so he couldn’t bring him to Kenma’s, where three cats already happily lived, so his mother would pick him up tomorrow afternoon.

He sat on his couch, scrolling his phone mindlessly with Cucumber on his lap who had been stressed with all the packing down, sensing something was up. He was being extra cuddly towards Kuroo who, honestly? Didn’t mind at all. He loved when Cucumber was in mood for cuddles, though it wasn’t very often. He had been told his cat was orange and while he didn’t have a measure for what that color actually looked like, he was happy with his gray cat.

His mother was supposed to arrive any minute now, so he should have gotten up and put the cat in his carrier but it was easier to get him in it if you had two pair of hands. He scrolled through Instagram, reaching a photo put up by Tsukishima of his soulmate, the light-haired manager of their high school volleyball club, with a tooth-eating grin on her face and proudly showing off a ring on her finger, the caption said, This smile makes me wanna brag. Kuroo could physically hear the provocative tone of his voice, knowing he was one of the first in his circle of friends to actually plan a wedding. Kuroo clicked his tongue with a smile on his face and double-tapped to like the picture.

He didn’t know if it was the combination of that post and the fact that his mother was on her way but memories of his parent’s wedding flooded his mind. For a lot of people, weddings felt obsolete in the face of the whole “you already got your soulmate and you know this” thing, so a lot of couples were happy not getting married but just being together. But there was also the benefits of marriage in the practical sense, so some people did anyways, some hosting parties, some not. His parents weren’t married when he came to, but after he turned five they decided to do it so he would be protected by both of them, in case of any emergency.

It had been a small wedding, only the closest family and friends but Kuroo was vivid, so excited about being part of that whole romantic ordeal, even helping his mom find a dress and everything. He had been a huge and important part of the wedding – if he did say so himself. Everyone had been glowing at the day, the food was delicious, there was laughter, song and cheers and everyone had brought so many presents – even some for little Tetsurou, who had been very excited about his new train tracks.

But when Kuroo was seven years old, it wasn’t as romantic anymore. His parents were fighting a lot, he wasn’t entirely sure why or about what because they would never tell him about it, no matter how much he asked. When he tried to listen in, the words he heard didn’t explain anything to him because even though they were yelling at each other, the important words were always whispered, as if they knew Kuroo was listening in.

When he was eight his mom had come into his room, hugged him and with tears in her eyes and said that they were going to move away.

“Where are we going?” he asked simply, no emotion to be read on his little face. He was exhausted from his parents being this way – they were soulmates, right? Why did they fight like that?

“To Tokyo, just you and me, my love.”

That’s when he met Kenma. He had been very closed-off and shy back when they met, he reminisced. He had been a regular kid when he was younger but the way his parents split up – his soulmate parents – had closed him off pretty bad, so it was a miracle he met Kenma and started opening up again.

Kuroo smiled to himself bitterly before scratching Cucumber’s ear. He supposed this was also why he wasn’t interested in his soulmate. So many people had romanticized the whole soulmate ideal so a lot of people forgot that relationships still took work, took effort and just because they were made for each other, didn’t necessarily guarantee that they would stay together. His mom and dad didn’t officially talk anymore, but when he asked his mom as a child whether or not she still saw color, she said that she did. He also found long letters in her bedroom when he was nine, letters from his dad, so he supposed they still talked together, though Kuroo wasn’t let in on it – nor was he particularly interested. And he definitely we wasn’t interested in ending up in a relationship with someone who would end up not wanting to put in the effort for the relationship to flourish.

After Cucumber had been picked up by his mom it was time to leave for Kenma’s place. He carried the last boxes of valuables down to his basement and locked them in before trekking down to the subway with his suitcase and sports bag.

_____

You were late for work, so you scrambled to pack your things. It was Wednesday afternoon and you were supposed to meet in at 3PM, because that was around the time that Kodzuken had planned to finish his recording, he told you yesterday. You were a video editor and had met Kenma through your old part-time job in his favorite convenience store quite a few years back, back when he had first bought his house when he was 24. You remembered talking to him about video games in the store since you also played some, and after a good while of polite customer service and talk about new games, you had started hanging out outside of work as well. When you had then told him you were actually a freelance video editor but just didn’t get many jobs, he had almost instantly hired you to do his YouTube videos for him and general editing and set-ups of his streams. I know video games, not recording equipment, he had told you so many years ago.

Your original thought had been wary, because working for a friend might get messy but Kenma cared a lot about keeping it professional when you were on the clock, which you appreciated very much. In his house, down by his game room, there was a room next door with screens and all the best editing software just for you to play with. Your pay was higher than average for such a “simple” but regular gig but when prompted about it, he simply shrugged and told you it wasn’t up for negotiation and no one was being treated unfair – and who were you to go against such a good pay for a job that you loved doing and wanted to do full-time? With Kenma being a famous streamer and gamer, he often made lots of different videos for various sites so your job hours resembled a nine to five job, easy, even if the hours were off from the more conventional jobs and you usually came in later in the day and sometimes finished off late in the evening – some of his videos had a time limit for a release date of a game, so there was also days where you were extremely busy and scrambling to get the video done right for a release of a game.

As you closed your bag and ran out the door towards the subway, you checked your phone for any updates. If he’d finished early, he would’ve texted you about it, so you put your phone in your pocket and hurried towards his house.

When you arrived you immediately rang the doorbell before catching your breath, you were used to Kenma spending a few minutes before reaching the door and opening it, so when the door opened almost instantly you took a step back before looking up. The one opening the door was taller than Kenma and in a loose dress shirt that was unbuttoned at the top - that’s all you saw before your eyes darted down to your feet.

“...Hi! I’m uh… Where’s Kenma?” was all you got out while fidgeting with your purse strap, it certainly wasn’t his boyfriend Hinata opening the door today.

“Oh, hey! You must be his video editor, right? He told me about you!” The man said, pointing to himself with his thumb,

“I’m Kuroo Tetsurou! Kenma’s childhood friend! Sorry to intrude, I’ll be living here for the next month, I promise not to get in your way!” As he finished his introduction, he moved aside so that you could enter. As you took off your shoes you heard Kenma’s feet shuffling towards you, “oh hey, welcome, you’re early,” Kenma said with his usual deadpan expression but you could clearly hear the teasing in his voice.

“At least I’m here now, right?” You smiled back, instantly relaxing at the sight of your boss and friend. You turned to Kuroo again, bowed and introduced yourself before taking off your coat and putting it on a hanger, while Kenma and the guy named Kuroo seemed to bicker a bit about whether or not Kuroo should answer the door while he lived there.

“I’ll go set it up, have you transferred the video files to the hard disk?” you asked Kenma as you moved towards ‘your’ office, sending Kuroo a polite smile while keeping your eyes on his neck.

Eye contact was hard for you, it always made you extremely uncomfortable and you didn’t really have any before you felt comfortable with the person. Your mother had often scolded you, saying you’d never find your soulmate at this rate, which you always acknowledged with a hum or a simple yes without starting a discussion.

You honestly weren’t sure whether or not you cared for a soulmate. Your biggest argument to wanting to find one was so that you could see colors, because it’d help your career. Kenma already had his soulmate, so he was the one deciding the color scheme for his videos and helped with the color-related editing, which worked fine as of now, but you would probably appreciate to be able to do it yourself. You had also spent some years coming to terms with your struggles with eye contact and accept that this was just how you functioned. If you missed your soulmate in a random supermarket thanks to it one day, well, you’d be none the wiser, so you felt sure you’d survive without one, but you also couldn’t deny that the sound of a soulmate sounded really nice and comforting. That someone out there existed to fit you, that you were born to love someone who was also meant to love you. You were sure that finding your soulmate wasn’t a dance on roses, it was sure to still be hard, frustrating and maybe even painful sometimes, but you also couldn’t just have all the good, there was a balance that was sure to exist within soulmates as well.

After hours of going through the raw footage from his video game play and slowly editing while watching it, you popped your shoulders and stretched your arms for a moment, yawning as you did so. Your hours were always a bit intense, but that couldn’t be helped when you had six hours of raw footage to work with. Looking at the clock you saw that it was 5.30PM which meant that soon Kenma would wake up from his pseudo-sleep (which was more like a nap in your opinion) to look at your process and ask what you wanted for dinner.

Soon after a soft knock was heard followed by the door opening slowly, Kenma standing in sweats and a hoodie with bags under his eyes, “do you like hotpot?” he asked, and you smiled at him, “sure, are you cooking tonight?” he yawned while he shook his head, “Kuroo is. He insists on a ‘fulfilling meal’, whatever that means.”

You giggled before beckoning Kenma in to see some of what you’ve done so far and making minor adjustments along the way. “Now, something smells delicious and I’m thirsty,” you stated after the two of you had talked a bit about the rest of the video’s plans. As you went towards the kitchen you could hear the sound of of a nameless tune being hummed, pans sizzling from something being cooked and kitchen utensils being used.

Inside, the table was already set with plates and prepared ingredients lying ready for the pot that Kuroo was just about to put on the table. It seemed he had made an endless supply of different side dishes and really put in a lot of work for it, so you looked really forward to eating it and it smelled delicious. You grabbed a glass from the set table and went to the sink to get some water and just as your hand reached it, Kuroo had extended his hand as well to the sink and you accidentally touched.

You both recoiled as if you had been burned and you couldn’t stop the gasp that accidentally left your lips. A feeling was rushing through your body you hadn’t experienced before and you immediately apologized to Kuroo and went back to the table, foregoing the water. You didn’t notice how Kuroo was frozen in place from when he touched you before Kenma called out to him and he immediately started moving again.

You ended up eating shortly after, Kuroo serving the food and talking animatedly about him and Kenma’s childhood, making you laugh quite a bit at their (or more, Kuroo’s) antics and their volleyball days. Kuroo was the type of person to make you relax in his presence and have fun which you didn’t even notice until you got home later that evening and really thought about what a great time you had had. You found yourself surprised by how easily you clicked with Kuroo, a total stranger. It must be his charm, you thought to yourself before going through your night routine. You had to come back tomorrow and finish work, after all. You estimated the video would take you a few more days to finish but that would end up fitting well with the weekend coming, so as you went to bed you felt yourself more relaxed than you had in a while.

_____

“What are they like?”

It was Friday and it seemed you had finished Kenma’s video and therefor you weren’t here for dinner – for the first time in a few days, which did let down Kuroo just a tiny bit. He had talked a lot with you during dinner preparations when you came out from the office and during dinner as well and while you did answer all his questions (which, he admitted, there were quite a few of them) and follow up with your own for him, it still felt… off… talking to you – and Kuroo didn’t like not knowing why. “What do you mean?” Kenma asked, taking another bite into his mouth.

Kenma swallowed a piece of meat before looking up at Kuroo who was stabbing his plate with his fork in what seemed like a useless purpose. He knew he was being a little weird but meeting you was weird, even though he had no reason to explain why.

“I mean, is this how they usually act?” He didn’t even know what that question meant or why he was even asking it, nothing made sense! But he had a desperate feeling that he needed to get to know you – he was afraid of what that implied and what suspicions he needed to hold onto, but he was sure it was his gut telling him you were dangerous for Kenma to be around – that had to be it! Kenma was his best friend, his childhood friend, it had to be a gut feeling meant to protect him!

“Who knows, they’re being more polite than usual, I think. But that makes sense,” Kenma replied calmly before adding, “I mean you are a stranger who’s really intent on being social with them over our dinners, they were a bit shy as well when I met them,”

Kuroo nodded and finally took a bite of his own food. He didn’t notice Kenma’s raised eyebrows or the questioning look that was sent his way, so Kenma decided to let the subject rest.

Not seeing you today felt weird to him too and he couldn’t help the irritation building up inside him – you had just met a few days ago and only in the evenings when he was done with work and ready to make dinner – and yet, the thought of you kept invading his mind. He had gotten through work today thinking you were going to be there for dinner so when he came home and found out you wouldn’t be there, the first seed of irritation had been planted – why was he suddenly looking so much forward to seeing you? Had it been like this yesterday too? Why was it suddenly important that you weren’t there? He ended up sitting in front of the laptop in the guest room for the rest of the evening, the document left open and completely untouched.

Kuroo, however, didn’t let the subject rest in his head for the rest of that evening. Hinata was in town, having time off after a big game yesterday so Kuroo was left to his own devices – which really wasn’t a problem considering he had to make the paperwork for a promotional deal for a meeting Monday morning that he had procrastinated making – which wasn’t like him at all, he usually never pushed assignments to last minute and he then realized the reason he wasn’t done yet was because he had spent so much time over the dinner table with Kenma and you, talking even after dinner had been done for a while. You always offered to help him with the clean-up so you also spent some time talking there, drifting off to various subjects far passing the cleaning duties and sitting down again with a glass of water.

He enjoyed your company, it felt... easy, somehow, the sensation that something was off was there but it didn’t really settle in his stomach until every time after you left, as if it was left to grow a bit from a small sensation to a problem, which worried him – Kuroo prided himself as an impeccable people-reader, he was captain for both the volleyball team in high school and college, he knew how to act around business relations so well because he could read them so flawlessly – so the feelings he got from you was unsettling and unreadable and it took some control away from him – and Kuroo always felt uneasy when he wasn’t in control.

____

Kuroo heard your name and almost got whiplash from how fast his head moved towards Kenma, “what?”

“I asked if we should invite them? To game night? Being three is a little annoying in Mario Party.”

“Oooh, that’s a good idea! I’d love to see them again!” Hinata happily exclaimed before taking another bite of the lasagna Kuroo had prepared tonight. It was Saturday and Kuroo had been in a daze the entire day, first at the office for a quick meeting with his boss about a potential partner he might be able to reel in soon and then doing his laundry at Kenma’s and continuing to try and make the stupid paperwork but ultimately failing before he had to make dinner.

“Isn’t it a bit late to invite someone? I mean, they could have plans already...” Kuroo tried, knowing what a pain it could be to be asked to something an hour before it happened and he didn’t want to let you go through that – that’s what he tried to tell himself, at least. In truth? He was a bit afraid of seeing you again, afraid of his potential reactions, since he had spent his entire Friday in a stupor just thinking about you. His thoughts didn’t mean much for Kenma and Hinata though, who was already texting you to ask. “Oi, no phones at the table, have you parents taught you no manners?” Kuroo chided and Hinata immediately shrank back and apologized – Kuroo smirked, yea the Chibi-chan still had respect for his seniors. But he was quickly pulled back to thoughts about you by Kenma’s phone lighting up again, “they’ll be here in an hour. They’re asking if they should bring anything?” Kenma looked up to gauge Kuroo’s reaction, having noticed something about his friend had been off the past few days. He immediately made a funny grimace before turning it into a smile. “Yea, they can bring a bottle of white wine, if I have to beat you all at Mario Party, I would very much like to be a tiny bit buzzed,” Kuroo said, and Hinata looked at him with wide eyes, “you drink wine!? So grown up!” Hinata exclaimed, to which Kenma just muttered, “or just an old man…” Kuroo didn’t hear that though, too busy to fidget with his hands under the table, suddenly feeling nervous that you were showing up.

Hinata plopped down between Kuroo and you with a controller in hand, “I’m gonna beat you all in this Mario Kart!” to which you laughed loudly, “good luck since we’re playing Mario Party.”

“Huh? Is there a difference?” Hinata asked, making Kuroo belt out a loud laugh as well, holding his stomach, “you just told us you’d beat us but you don’t even know what we’re playing!” Kuroo couldn’t contain his laughter for a bit until he noticed how you were looking at him and instantly retracted his laugh, sitting up straight with a cough, and apologizing for being loud, which confused him to no end. He had never been self-conscious of his own laugh! He knew it could be obnoxious and loud, but he also liked it himself, and-

“That’s a really cute laugh.”

The comment earned you the stares of the century from the three other people in the room, with Kenma in genuine shock – he wouldn’t say he disliked Kuroo’s laugh, just that it was… special.

“Uhm… Uh. Thank you?” Kuroo could feel that his blush went all the way to his ears but he hoped that the light in the living room wasn’t bright enough to catch it. “Yeah uh! Sure! Mhm,” you awkwardly coughed a bit as well before reaching for your glass of wine.

You had brought a bottle of white wine for Kuroo on the promise that you’d get a glass too, saying he was your first friend who also liked wine. The word ‘friend’ had dumb-founded him and he’d just answered “you can have it all,” to which you had laughed and said it’s fine with half, you weirdo.

The game was about to begin but Kuroo was still sitting stuck on the fact that his laugh was cute – cute? Had anyone else found it cute before besides Bokuto and his mom? He wasn’t sure – he sure couldn’t pinpoint them right now anyways. He tried to shake it off and focus on the game, though quite a bit of time was spent explaining the rules to Hinata who apparently had thought they were just playing Mario Kart.

When you were 12 laps into it, it seemed that you were set to win with your four stars and 121 coins. Kenma was right behind you with three stars and Hinata and Kuroo had been left in the dust with zero stars. You had stolen Kuroo’s first (and only) star early in the game, so he was plotting his vengeance in quiet but was getting afraid that the game would end before he could do anything to you – but just as his hopes were at the smallest during the last round of the game, you were put in the same team as him in the last mini game.

Kuroo had a wide smirk when you cheered and said, “this’ll be easy then!” because no, it would not be easy for you. If he had to go down in order to take you down a notch, then so be it. He’d rather Kenma win than you did with stolen goods!

The last mini game was “Tow the Line” where two players were put in a sewing box shaped with nine dots as a grid and two players tied together with a string and the objective was to make the shape with the string as shown in the middle of screen. As soon as the whistle sounded, Kuroo lowered his hands and stopped using his controllers, all with a big grin on his lips.

“Kuroo, what the fuck! Get moving, we’ve started!” you yelled at him as Kenma and Hinata won the first round, signaling the next round began, Kuroo started whistling and looking away from the screen, to which you got up from your seat, “fine, I’ll just take your controller and do it myself!”

Kuroo put his arm with the controller behind him, “nah-ah-ah! You’re not winning this, fiend! That’s what you get for stealing my star!” He grinned up at you with his eyes closed as you stood with your hands on your hips, “come on man! I stole that star in the fourth round! Kenma stole a star from me as well!” you tried, “maybe he stole the one that was yours, who knows! Get over it so we can win!”

But as soon as you’d said that, the third round had just been won and you sighed and flopped down on your seat again, “not cool Kuroo, not cool. I’ll remember this!”

You both laughed as the game made ready to announce the winner, Kenma and Hinata entertained by your antics.

“You can’t avenge something that I avenged in the first place! I only did it because you did me wrong, you know!”

“You can’t use logic on me, it doesn’t apply!”

To no surprise, you won the entire game, even winning one of the two bonus stars given at the end of the game.

After the last sequence and a bow from you there was a quick break before you decided to play some Mario Kart for Hinata’s sake, since his argument was that he lost due it being Party instead. You played quite a few hours and after another toilet break you had switched places with Hinata so Kenma could cuddle up against him. You yawned, drinking the last of the wine in your glass and said, “I should head home, I have a friend coming over for lunch tomorrow.”

Hinata and Kenma both started to get up to say goodnight but you waved at them with a smile, “I can walk out myself, it’s fine!” But Kuroo had already gotten up from the couch as well, so you walked with him towards the hallway where you put on your shoes. There was a comfortable silence between the two of you, which Kuroo noted and scowled a bit - he might have only known you for less than a week but for some reason he felt like it had been a lot longer, like you were old friends – it felt strange, to be so close with a stranger. He didn’t know anything about you, really. He knew your name, your job and how you liked some of your vegetables and which meat was your favorite, he knew you also loved cats but didn’t have one (he couldn’t remember if he knew why) and he felt pretty sure he would recognize you in a crowded area – why it was so intense, he was unsure of, he hadn’t tried meeting someone this way before. It had also seemed like having this game night had made you considerably more relaxed in his presence, even joking around with him instead of being polite, which made Kuroo somewhat giddy, though it didn’t really make sense to him as to why.

“I hope you had fun,” Kuroo said awkwardly, as if he had been the host and scratched the back of his head.

“Yeah, I did! I’m sorry I stole your star, though,” you laughed, buttoning your jacket.

“Nah, no worries, as they say, all’s fair in love and war, right?”

You giggled and picked up your bag from the dresser while Kuroo opened up the door for you. As you exited, you turned around with a bright smile, “well, thanks for toni-”

Everything ended up a blur, too bright, too much, too noisy, too… colorful? Kuroo was still looking into your eyes as all that went through him, completely blindsided. As he took a proper look, he could see that you looked just as surprised as him, your eyes wide but still never leaving his either.

“Is… Is this? Are you? Is…” You asked after what felt like both days and milliseconds, I could stare at them so much longer, he thought to himself, the colors only making your face more clear to him. Had you really not had eye contact at all? Had you seen each other for several hours – more than a few times, without looking each other in the eyes at all? Kuroo was more baffled by this happening so late than the fact that it was happening.

He was about to say something, anything, when you promptly turned around, nervously yelling, “I-I uh, I gotta go! Goodbye!” as you hurried out of the driveway and down towards the subway.

“W-wait!” Kuroo belatedly and unhelpfully yelled out as you turned a corner, too late. You were gone. A hand was dragged down his face as a sigh left him, what the fuck had just happened? He obviously needed to talk to you about this, but he also needed to gather his thoughts about all of this, so he slowly closed the door and went back towards the living room, greeted by Hinata and Kenma who looked up at him curiously, “why did you yell?” Hinata asked with his head tilted.

“I think I just found my soulmate.”

#haikyuu!!#kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo tetsurou x reader #hq x reader #waaaaah im so nervous about this!!!! i basically cranked it out in less than 24hrs ngl.... i had 1.5k of beautiful words before i came u #P WITH A WHOLE OTHER PLOT!!!! :-)#if any of u get the ref of the title i love u and we need to play mp together lmao <33333 #also kenhina and tsukiyachi is mentioned!#both reader and kuroo r A MESS #stay tuned for part 2!!!!!!#nohr.writing #half the battle series #im gonna dig a hole real quick to hide in hehehe #honestly im not sure this is entirely coherent i had so much.... i wanted to force into it im afraid some of it feels out of place but!!!#here we go!! face the fear lmao!!!!

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morganaspendragonss · 4 years ago

Note

I wish you would write a fic where tk has a bad day with his depression and can’t even get out of bed and is so anxious and carlos helps make sure he’s okay and takes care of him :)

holly's august extravaganza day 12: let me love you when your heart is tired

anon i sincerely apologise for turning your prompt into a personal therapy session. i want to put an extra warning on this fic because it deals heavily with themes of depression and there are a couple of lines that could be interpreted as suicidal. it's taken from my own personal experiences of depression, and i do not claim to speak for anyone else suffering from this.

if you think this fic could trigger you in any way, please don't read. stay safe folks 💚💚

ao3 | 1.1k | depression, mental illness, implied suicidal thoughts, hurt/comfort

TK knows it’s going to be a bad day from the moment he opens his eyes. Exhaustion settles heavy into his bones, his entire body a dead weight, like he’s chained to the mattress with a hundred tonnes piled on top of him. This pressure, this tiredness—it’s all he can feel, all he knows; it’s all-consuming, and far too familiar.

Slowly, slowly, each twitch like he’s moving mountains, he inches his hand blindly across the bed to reach out for Carlos. If he can just feel his boyfriend, if he can just see him—

But, of course. Carlos has a shift today. TK has a vague recollection of him getting out of bed at five this morning, rousing him with a shift to the mattress and a gentle kiss on the forehead.

If this were a normal day, he might smile at the memory.

He can’t remember if he’s supposed to go to work today. He thinks, maybe, it might be a day off, but he honestly doesn’t know. And… He’s not sure he cares. No, he knows he doesn’t. His chest feels like it’s gaping and empty, but still there’s no room for anything inside. They’ll be better off without him anyway, if he does in fact have a shift; there’s no way he could competently insert an IV or bandage a wound when lifting a finger is a near impossible task right now.

Rolling onto his back takes two minutes longer than it should, the sheets getting trapped under his body in a way he can’t bring himself to fix and his arm bouncing freely when it lands on the mattress. The weight tying him down has shifted now, sitting squarely on top of his chest, turning even breathing into a chore.

He can breathe, it’s just… It would be so much easier not to. It would be so much easier if he could just close his eyes and drift away from it all for a little while, and maybe when he next woke up things would be different. Better.

Get up, his mind tells him, unbidden.

And TK would love to, truly. His eyes fix on the door, but it may as well be a million miles away for how easy it seems to get to.

Get up, again, get up, get up, get up.

TK sighs, a long exhale that makes the weight feel that bit heavier.

Get up.

He scratches his nails along the bottom sheet.

Get up.

His arms tremble as his muscles work against their will to push him semi-upright.

Get up.

He almost falls back down, but somehow he doesn’t. Somehow, he manages to get his legs over the side of the bed, back bent with the weight of the effort it’s taken to get here. Standing takes even more time and walking is another matter entirely, his brain, just as slow as the rest of his body, having to coach him through each and every step.

When he finally gets downstairs—

(and, god, the stairs. tk had stood at the top of them for too many minutes to count, staring down and resisting the urge to give up then and there. he thought he’d fall on the way down, then thought that maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. by the time he got to the bottom, the whole ordeal was already starting to fall into a distant memory, like it had happened to someone else)

—When he finally gets downstairs, he doesn’t bother with a bowl, or a spoon, or any of the normal breakfast requirements. He carelessly pulls a box of cereal from the cupboard and digs into it with his hand, but it tastes like dust on his tongue and sticks in his throat, and he barely manages to chew twice before realising that this, too, is more effort than it’s worth.

He’s not even sure why he came down here. He’s not hungry, or he doesn’t think he is.

The box gets abandoned on the counter, and TK begins the arduous process of dragging himself back upstairs, his entire body aching for bed.

The next few hours pass in a haze, TK alternating between scrolling mindlessly on his phone and staring blankly at the ceiling, or whichever spot is within his eyeline. He’s not picky. No messages come through from his dad or Tommy or the team, so he guesses he didn’t have a shift, which is probably lucky. One does appear from Carlos, letting him know that he’s going to be back later than expected due to a massive pile-up.

TK sends a thumbs up back, but his heart sinks even further.

He must fall asleep at some point, because after what feels like a blink, the room is significantly darker than he remembers it being and there are noises coming from somewhere in the house. TK’s brain is on a lag, so he barely registers the sounds as something to potentially be worried about before the bedroom door opens, revealing Carlos on the other side.

“Hey,” he says, smiling softly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

TK blinks at his boyfriend, taking a second to remember how to work his tongue, then responds, “S’okay.” The words are little more than a breath, and his eyes drift shut almost as soon as they’re out, his energy back to zero after the exertion.

He hears Carlos coming closer, then the sound of something being placed on the nightstand, near his head. A hand strokes down his face and lips brush his forehead, the touches light and feeling like both too much and not enough all at once.

“I got you some water,” Carlos whispers. “Think you can drink some, sweetheart?”

TK forces his eyes open again, catching sight of a glass, a granola bar sitting next to it. Carlos helps him to sit up, and TK takes the water in a trembling hand, managing a few sips, though a couple of drops spill over onto the sheets. He flops back down as soon as the glass is safely back on the nightstand, spent, but the smile Carlos gives him makes it worth it.

The granola bar goes ignored, but Carlos doesn’t push the issue. Instead, he walks round to his side of the bed and sits, propping the pillows up and settling himself so that TK’s head rests against his waist. A second later, there’s a hand in TK’s hair, brushing gently back and forth, the rhythmic motion doing what words can’t and settling something inside him.

The weight isn’t gone, but it has lessened, if only by a tiny bit.

Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #lone star #911ls #tw depression #holly's august extravaganza #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #anonymous #so sorry for how delayed this is!

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robininthelabyrinth · 5 years ago

Note

My prompt is just more trans au. Various people reacting to baobei. Just i love trans au so much thank u for this gift.

Baobai Pt 1 - on tumblr, on ao3

“Oh, hey, you have a kid,” Wei Wuxian said, out of lack of any other conversational topics that weren’t ‘so are you here to kill us all?’. Kids were usually a good, neural topic, especially when they were that small. “Look at her, she’s so tiny! Her parents know you brought her out here?”

“She’s da-ge’s,” Lan Xichen said with a smile and a nod towards Nie Mingjue, who as tall and terrifying as always. He was glowering at the half-grown radish fields as if he was personally offended by them.

“Congratulations, Chifeng-zun,” Wei Wuxian said to him, hoping to stave off any impending violence. The baby was young enough that the mom was probably still in isolation recovering, and maybe hadn’t consented to said baby being brought to the Burial Mounds of all places - certainly Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have agreed to cart a small infant all the way from Qinghe, and he’d thought mothers preferred to remain near their children in the few months after birth - but Wei Wuxian was not really in a position to object.

Certainly not after the quick work Nie Mingjue’s saber made of all of his defensive arrays. That man was scary.

“Thank you,” Nie Mingjue said, and it was awkward for a moment until he added, “Pain in the ass to acquire.”

That made everything better: Wei Wuxian knew how to deal with snark. “Oh yeah? Carried her yourself, did you?”

“Ten fucking months,” Nie Mingjue said, and Wei Wuxian laughed and shot Lan Xichen a wink, figuring that his stupid joke about having given birth to A-Yuan had made the rounds. Funny, he wouldn’t have pegged Lan Wangji to be the sort of person to pass on jokes…

At that point, Nie MIngjue twisted his head around to look at Wen Ning and Wen Qing, who were hovering nearby, trying to hide A-Yuan behind their legs, and said, “She’s your cousin three times removed, if I have my family tree down right, so stop being queasy and let the kid come see her.”

“Fuck,” Wen Qing said, and abruptly sat down. “I’m sorry.”

Wei Wuxian had the distinct feeling he was missing something, especially when Wen Ning’s expression shifted from equally puzzled to outright horrified.

“It’s not exactly your fault, you’re not soldiers,” Nie Mingjue said, and glared at the radish field again. “But in all seriousness: let the kid see her.”

Wen Qing waved a vague hand at A-Yuan, who correctly interpreted it as permission and zoomed over to the baby as fast as his little legs could carry him. He was in that another-kid-how-cool phase that all kids had, and babies were a particular fascination.

“You’re cousins?” Wei Wuxian asked Nie Mingjue, feeling a bit weird about. Three times removed wasn’t close, but still…of all people...“With the Wen sect? You?”

Nie Huaisang made a strangled noise that from anyone else Wei Wuxian would have said sounded a bit like he was going to imminently stab someone.

Nie Mingjue just gave Wei Wuxian a look like he was an idiot.

“No,” he said very slowly. “I’m not.”

Wei Wuxian continued not to get it, right up until he glanced at Wen Ning who mouthed a name at him and – wait, but no, that’s impossible – but he’d have to be – wait, he was from Qinghe –

Wei Wuxian suddenly noticed that he had sat down on the ground as well at some point.

“Pain in the ass,” he said blankly. “Right.”

Nie Huaisang was glaring at him like he really was going to pull out his never-used saber to start chopping Wei Wuxian into bits, and honestly that might be a preferable option to the sheer awkwardness of having just put two and two together like that in front of so many people. Maybe he could use demonic cultivation to open the ground up beneath him? It’d never been done before, but then again, that was most things he did…

“Why are people so weird about babies?” Nie Mingjue complained, picking up the baby in one arm and a giggling and blissfully ignorant A-Yuan in the other, swinging them both around a bit. “They’re like – lumps of little people. We were all babies once. It’s not that weird.”

“You heard him,” Jin Guangyao said to Wei Wuxian with a smile that looked like it had daggers in it. “It’s not weird at all. Right?”

“Right!” Wei Wuxian said hastily.

Apparently scary people flocked together. Though, did that mean there something he was missing about Lan Xichen..?

Lan Xichen smiled at Jin Guangyao, who smiled back. That was really the only good thing about these discussion conferences, he thought – they were long and draining and he had to meet a lot of people he didn’t want to see (Sect Leader Yao ranked highly), but he got to spend a great deal of time with his sworn brothers, which he didn’t often manage. And, really, that made everything worth it.

“How are things going?” he asked in an undertone, scanning Jin Guangyao with his eyes. Madame Jin did not have the reputation for being a kind woman, especially not about her husband’s affairs, and he couldn’t help but worry.

“Manageable,” Jin Guangyao assured him, though it wasn’t really that comforting. “It helps that this conference isn’t at Jinlin Tower – less to arrange, less work to fall on my shoulders. It’s positively easy by comparison. When did you arrive? We’ve been here for a shichen already, setting up.”

“Just now. They’re still moving our things into our rooms –”

“Er-ge! San-ge!” Nie Huaisang’s voice rang out, sharp and clear and murderous; they both turned to look at him at once to try to determine if it was the sort of murderous that meant someone had bought out a painting he’d liked before he got there or if it someone had actually offended him. He had a fixed smile on his face, which boded no one any good. “I was just looking for you. I want to chat.”

“What happened?” Lan Xichen asked, looking around – they were more or less alone, and a quick hand-seal made it so that they wouldn’t be easily overheard. “Did someone do something to Baobei…?”

He couldn’t believe they still hadn’t named her, the poor thing.

(Jin Guangyao had briefly been lobbying for them to name her A-Shi, but then Nie Mingjue told him that if he wanted to have a girl named Nie Shi he ought to man up and sire her himself, and ever since then Jin Guangyao had been proposing different names entirely. Possibly he was concerned Nie Mingjue would take back the offer if he used up the name.)

“Surely not,” Jin Guangyao said. “In the middle of the Lotus Pier…?”

“Not Baobei,” Nie Huaisang said. “But your father just figured out who carried her, and he just – he put his hands – he said he had the right to check on account of da-ge having misled them –”

Lan Xichen observed, a little distantly, that he’d previously thought that the phrase ‘seeing red’ was an exaggeration, rather than a perfectly accurate description.

“Did da-ge rip him to pieces?” Jin Guangyao asked, sounding as if he was very much in favor of that result.

“He did not,” Nie Huaisang said. “You know how he is during these conferences; he’s far too reserved. Slapped his hands away but didn’t do anything else about it.”

“Surely that would put an end to it…?” Lan Xichen suggested, mildly hopeful, but the expression on Jin Guangyao and Nie Huaisang’s face did not fill him with much expectation.

“He’ll try something,” Jin Guangyao said flatly. His voice tremored briefly, full of rage even he couldn’t hide, and he gripped his hands together tightly. “He will try something.”

“Sect Leader Jiang will help us keep them separate for the conference,” Nie Huaisang said. “He still hasn’t figured out the details of Baobei’s parentage, I think he’s convinced himself that men just bear children – in some way that man is as dumb as a rock, same as when we were teenagers, I don’t know how anyone is that gullible – but he’s offended on da-ge’s behalf anyway. But when the conference is over for the evening…”

“It would be unfilial of me to plan my own father’s assassination,” Jin Guangyao said, and his eyes slide towards Lan Xichen, questioning. “But if you wanted to have a theoretical discussion regarding the security system at Jinlin Tower, and the weaknesses thereof…”

“Yes,” Lan Xichen said, putting aside all concerns regarding the morality of assassinations, and found that he didn’t regret the decision one bit. He’d barely tolerated that lecher when he had no choice, when he was Jin Guangyao’s father and a powerful sect leader. But putting his hands on da-ge – thinking of doing more – “Let’s have that...theoretical discussion.”

“I knew I could count on you two,” Nie Huaisang said with satisfaction. “So here’s what I was thinking –”

One of the worst days of Nie Huaisang’s life started quite normally – waking up when his brother lifted him bodily out of bed and slung him over his shoulder.

“Da-ge!” he yelped. “Da-ge, no – it’s too early –”

“If you stayed up late, that’s your own problem,” his brother said with the sort of purposeful cheerful sadism that only a person who actually enjoyed waking up with the sun to go train could employ. “I told you yesterday that we were going to be training this morning.”

“But da-ge –”

“You missed the last three days. You’re not missing today.”

But it’s so fucking early, Nie Huaisang thought despairingly, drooping into dead weight over his brother’s shoulder – not that that helped, of course. His brother was too damn strong.

“Are you sure you’re not taking out your feelings about getting fat on me?” he asked, poking at his brother’s somewhat-rounder-than-usual waist. “That peacetime bulge of yours hasn’t gotten any smaller, you know…”

In all honestly, Nie Huaisang was delighted by the small swell of his brother’s usually flat stomach. His brother wasn’t vain – his body was a tool shaped for purpose – and the idea that his brother had finally let go enough, whether by eating more or resting more, to actually gain some weight…

“Whatever you say, pork bun,” his brother said, and Nie Huaisang yelped and hit him because he was not a pork bun! No matter how pale or chubby he might become!

It was a hot day, which of course made going through the steps of training even more miserable than usual. His brother was patient as always, showing him the steps and then making him repeat them a few times before starting up his own morning training routine; after a while, they both got into a nice rhythm, swings and chops.

Training wasn’t that bad, especially when it meant he could spend more time with his always-busy brother. He still didn’t like it, and obviously he had a reputation to uphold, and yes, it was obnoxious to get up early...but it could be worst.

And then, just as Nie Huaisang was turning to tell his brother a joke he’d heard the day before, he saw his brother abruptly turn pale and fall over.

He even dropped Baxia.

“Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang screamed, a thousand ancient fears rearing their heads at once, and he rushed over at top speed. “Someone get a doctor! Quick!”

Not a qi deviation, not a qi deviation, don’t be a qi deviation, he prayed, dropping to his knees next to his brother, who was already waking up – eyes clear, not red, and looking more confused than anything else. He’s too young, I’m not ready, I can’t lose him, not him, not yet, please –

On Nie Huaisang’s instructions, some of the nearby retainers helped Nie Mingjue back inside, even though he was insisting that he was fine.

“You collapsed,” Nie Huaisang snapped at him. “In morning training. You are going to see a doctor, and that’s final.”

Nie Mingjue held up his hands in surrender, looking amused at Nie Huaisang’s uncharacteristic fierceness. His amusement faded into sympathy when he realized why Nie Huaisang was so tense – their father’s death had hit them both hard – and he pulled Nie Huaisang into his arms for a hug.

“It’s not that,” he said confidently. “Not yet. The doctor will tell you.”

The doctor’s face did something funny, though, when he listened to Nie Mingjue’s pulse. Not the oh-no-it-really-is-a-minor-qi-deviation sort of funny or even a nah-total-fluke-you’re-overreacting sort of funny, more of a what-the-fuck sort of funny.

“What is it?” Nie Huaisang demanded. He knew enough medicine – the entire Nie sect knew enough medicine – to understand most basic diagnoses, as well as what they might mean for future health. “What type of pulse?”

The doctor hesitated.

“Well?” Nie Mingjue said. “Spit it out.”

“…a joy pulse,” the doctor said. “About five months, I’d guess.”

For a moment Nie Huaisang didn’t understand. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what a joy pulse was – he did have female friends, some of whom were now mothers – nor that he didn’t know that his brother was capable of carrying, he’d known that forever.

It was just that his brother was an antisocial misanthrope. He didn’t have any lovers, as far as Nie Huaisang knew, which meant he shouldn’t have a joy pulse.

Besides, five months ago they were still at war! His brother took his duties far too seriously to waste time on a battlefield dallying with someone, anyone, and especially not if there was a major battle around that time. Five months ago there must have been one – which one was it?

Five months…the main force of the army had gone up from Xingtai to Shijiazhuang six months ago, and then there would have been – Yangquan.

Yangquan.

When his brother had been duped by false information into leading an attack on what should have been a mostly abandoned outpost, but which turned out to be in the middle of being reinforced by Wen Ruohan personally – when his brother had been captured – tortured – and even -

“Shit,” his brother said, presumably realizing at that exact moment that Nie Huaisang was capable of math and also dates and possibly even logic. “Doctor, you can go, thank you.”

Nie Huaisang didn’t even hear the doctor leave.

“Huaisang…didi…” His brother was trying to pull him into a hug, but Nie Huaisang didn’t want one, struggling unsuccessfully to get away. He didn’t want to be any closer to – to that – to the creature sitting his brother’s stomach, weighing him down; to what he’d thought was a sign of peace and good times and what was actually nothing more than yet another scar left by the war.

He’d actually been happy about it, and the thought twisted his stomach.

“Can you get rid of it?” he asked, voice strangled. “You can, right? It’s still early…”

“Five months is pretty close to quickening,” his brother said, wincing. “After quickening, the medicines don’t work as well. It might not be that easy.”

“Do you know how dangerous childbirth is?!” Nie Huaisang demanded. His mouth was moving on automatic; he wasn’t even thinking about what he was saying. He wasn’t thinking of anything, anything at all, because if he was thinking he’d have to think – he’d have to – his brother – “What if it kills you? You can’t let them kill you! Not after everything we did to avenge A-die!”

“I’m not going to die,” Nie Mingjue said, holding him tightly, his chin on Nie Huaisang’s head the way they always where when they hugged. “I’m a very good cultivator, Huaisang. My golden core will keep me healthy, even if I start bleeding…it won’t be like your mother. I promise.”

Nie Huaisang started shaking. “Da-ge,” he whimpered, pressing his face into his brother’s shoulder. “Da-ge, tell me…”

“Anything,” his brother promised, and he’d regret that promise in another moment, Nie Huaisang knew, the question would only cause him pain, but he needed to know. The second they were out of this situation his brother would clam up, pretend that nothing had happened and that it was all fine, so if he had questions – and he did – then he needed to answer them now.

“Was it – who was it? Was it him?”

His brother stilled.

“You said you’d tell me,” Nie Huaisang reminded him.

“…I don’t know,” his brother said. “I don’t – it could be. But it might be – someone else.”

There had been more than one, then. Nie Huaisang swallowed back bile, wanting to be sick. His father’s murderer had forced himself on his brother, and he’d let others do the same, and now they had to deal with the fallout.

“I want to kill them,” he whispered. “I want – I want them dead – all of them –”

“If it’s anything, I’ve made a pretty good head start on that already?” his brother offered, and of course his brother was trying to find some levity in a terrible situation. “We broke them, Huaisang. Even if some individuals remain, there’s no Wen sect left. If I do end up keeping it, the child won’t have a paternal family to lay a claim – they’ll be surnamed Nie. Another Nie, like you and me. You’ll be their uncle; you have to forgive them, it wasn’t their fault...you have to spoil them rotten.”

His brother’s thumb wiped away some of Nie Huaisang’s tears.

“You’ll be a good uncle, didi,” he murmured, pressing his lips to Nie Huaisang’s brow. “If the child is surnamed Nie, that’s all that matters.”

“People will know,” Nie Huaisang pointed out. “About you, about…I’m not the only one who can do math. We won’t…it can’t be kept quiet, can it? People will know. About you, about - what happened.”

“Let people know,” his brother, brave as ever, said with an indifferent shrug. “What do I care? In the end, it’s just another way to show that even when they threw everything they had against me, I still won.”

“What a charming child you have,” the young man from the mountain – Xiao Xingchen, he said his name was, and he was already famous despite having only been around for a few months – said, smiling down at her. “She’s beautiful.”

Nie Mingjue was not currently feeling especially kindly disposed towards human reproduction at the moment, being currently heavy with his second – the world needed more Nies, he wanted more Nies, children to keep Nie Huaisang company if that qi deviation he was promised ever actually turned up, and he had a very good list of cultivators with various pros and cons willing to help him introduce some more diversity into the Nie bloodline to try to minimize the chance of future qi deviations for his descendants, but at the same time he hated waddling around like a stuffed hippo with a bunch of people insisting that he not even think of physical exertion – but he nodded his thanks regardless.

At least for once someone wasn’t going to comment about the child’s parentage, he reflected wryly. There was only so much purposeful playing dumb a man could do, and the first year or so of his little baobei’s life – by the time they’d finally gotten around to trying to name her, the nickname had stick so firmly that they’d succumbed to reality and made her given name A-Bao, though of course, it being Qinghe, no one actually called her that – had really strained his tolerance in that specific regard.

It was the quickest way to avoid awkwardness, to pass along the information while avoiding conversations he didn’t want to have, but still…

Nobody brought up on a celestial mountain would know about Wen Ruohan, though. He was pretty sure of that.

“And I see you’re expecting another? Sometime soon..?”

“I am,” Nie Mingjue said. “Soon enough.”

Not soon enough. He wanted to go back to training – why did he keep getting high blood pressure no matter how much medicine he took?

“I see,” Xiao Xingchen said. “You’ll have to let me give you a gift of some sort. Do you have a favorite form of cloth?”

Nie MIngjue blinked at him. “Cloth?”

That was a strange gift. Did Xiao Xingchen think that his sect was so poor that he couldn’t cloth a child?

Xiao Xingchen – who was really quite young – blushed red, the color going all the way to his ears.

“I’m sorry for my presumption,” he said, then hesitated, before saying, very delicately, “Have you finished preparing the nest for the egg, then?”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #wen qing #wen ning #jin guangyao #lan xichen #xiao xingchen #my fic #my fics #baby dage #thevasthonk

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mypoisonedvine · 5 years ago

Text

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 2)

read Chapter 1 here

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 2.3k (exactly the same as last chapter, i’m proud of myself lol)

warnings: just fluff and ~pining~ for now

thanks again to @evnscvll for making this moodboard-- and this series is for her 3k celebration challenge so def check out her writing!

You should’ve known that you wouldn’t be able to force yourself to write, but after a quick shower to wash off the day’s journey, you decided there was nothing better to do but sit at the desk and hope for inspiration.

Your husband had never been very supportive of your writing, which is why you had struggled to complete your latest novel. He, like your publisher and many of your readers, wanted a sequel to your last book, in spite of the fact that you were adamant it was impossible. It was a complete story, even if the ending was ambiguous. There was no room for growth in the characters or the world of the story; just because readers wanted more didn’t mean that they would actually enjoy a forced product.

The publisher and your husband, however, shared a very strong opinion: the fans won’t care if it’s forced, and neither should you as long as it sells. But, they weren’t writers. You were. And you knew there were different stories you needed to tell… if only you could find the words for them.

You were a few pages in when you heard the stairs creaking outside your closed door. There was a quick knock at the door; you answered with an offer to come in.

“I was just wondering if you wanted some coffee,” Mrs. Alberti explained as she crossed the room, standing beside you at the desk. You nodded with a quick thank you as she set the cup and saucer down onto the wood. “Oh heavens, he’s working on the house again,” she suddenly groaned, motioning out the window.

You leaned over and nearly spit out your coffee when you saw Sebastian outside. He was only wearing some much-too-tight jeans, driving a hammer down onto wood as the sun cast orange light over his body. He was glistening with sweat, which was probably pretty uncomfortable for him but he looked damn good anyways.

“Is he always… like that?” you shuddered.

“Maybe I didn’t just hire him because he was cheap,” she shrugged, handing you a cloth. “Go soak this in cold water and bring it to him, he looks overheated.”

You should’ve questioned why she was giving you chores, but you just took the rag and did as she asked. He didn’t notice you walking out to him at first, but stopped when he did see you, waving quickly and setting down his hammer.

“For the heat,” you explained as you handed it to him.

“Ah, mulțumesc,” he nodded, accepting the rag with a smile.

As he wiped the sweat from his face, you found your gaze trailing over his arms, down his chest and abdomen. Jesus, how could this guy eat Mrs. Alberti’s cooking every day and still have washboard abs? When you looked back up to his face, he was looking right at you with a grin-- oh shit, had he caught you ogling? But then again, maybe he wanted you to ogle. Why else would he be doing housework so… shirtlessly?

“Wh-what are you working on?” you asked him to break the silence. He gave you a puzzled look. “Er, the wood,” you motioned to the work he was doing, “why?”

His face softened with understanding. “Construiesc un cadru nou pentru fereastră,” he explained, motioning vaguely to the house, “în partea de est a casei.”

“Right…” you nodded, realizing that you had no idea what he’d said. Clearly you hadn’t thought this through.

“Aici, permiteți-mi să vă arăt,” he said, grabbing a board and walking past you, motioning for you to follow him as he slung the rag over his shoulder. You figured you looked like a lost puppy trailing behind him like this.

He stopped when you reached the wall of the house, and grabbed part of the window frame; it creaked and moved as he wiggled it, clearly on the verge of falling off. Then, he held up the new board he had been hammering and you realized that it was going to replace the rotting portions of the frame.

“A intelege?” he smiled.

“Da!” you answered, and he laughed.

“Cred că asta contează ca român,” he shrugged.

“It’s good you’re fixing the window. I’m sure Mrs. Alberti appreciates everything you do.”

“Bătrâna îmi plătește rahat, dar sfârșesc trăind aici gratis.”

“Well, I should let you get back to it,” you decided as you stepped back with an uncomfortable smile.

“Nu te voi mai ține, sunt sigur că ești ocupat,” he said, and though you had no real way to interpret it, his tone didn’t seem to indicate that he was trying to stop you from going.

With a little wave and a heavy sense of god why am I such a dork?, you left him and returned indoors.

First nights in new places were always sort of surreal, but this was definitely less weird than the sleeper car of the train. You’d felt like a proper stowaway then, but you had a stronger feeling of belonging here… even if you didn’t quite feel like you had any place to call home at the moment.

As you laid in bed and looked at the room turned on its side, you found yourself missing your room. Your real room. It had been designed and decorated somewhat meticulously, but most of all you missed the things about it that you hadn’t put that kind of thought into: the random earrings on your bedside table, discarded casually before you went to sleep; the layers of blazers and skirts draped over the chair in the corner; the still-slightly-visible coffee stain on the corner of the rug, even though you’d spent hours trying to get it out.

Meanwhile, this room was so obviously not a space that people lived in, but just a space people passed through. Though nowhere near as sterile as a traditional hotel room, it had the same emptiness even with its personality-- specifically, a reflection of someone else’s personality rather than your own.

All that said, sleeping was pretty easy once you got yourself comfortable in the fluffy mattress, even if you were aware all through the night that you were not at home. So aware, even, that you weren’t surprised at all when you woke up in the new space for the first time. What you were surprised by was the sounds of heavy rain against your window, immediately dashing your plans for a morning jog. As much as it seemed apropos to type by the window instead and soak in the moody weather, you decided to head downstairs for a cup of coffee first. Already having forgotten where you had left off, you grabbed the pages you'd already written to reread with your breakfast as you slipped on some comfortable clothes and made your way down the creaky steps

Passing through the living area, it was impossible not to notice Sebastian sitting in one of the chairs, staring intently at a half-played chessboard. Stopping for a moment to try to determine what he was doing, he moved a piece and you realized he must be playing with himself.

Against himself, you interrupted your own thought, he's playing against himself… important distinction.

“You play chess?” you asked, pointing to the board.

“Şah,” he replied.

You pointed to the chair across from him. “Can I join you?”

“Luaţi loc,” he offered as he gestured to it as well, nodding in approval. You smiled and sat down as he reorganized the pieces back to the starting position.

“Negru?” he asked, pointing to the black pieces-- “Sau alb?”-- he pointed to the white.

“Um, black,” you decided, pointing to them since they were already on your side anyways.

“Tu primul,” he prompted you, and you moved your pawn. He moved his, and after that, it was long stretches of silence between moves. It didn’t feel awkward anymore, though; even between two people who share a language, chess is usually a silent affair.

“Check,” you announced as your bishop came into range of his king. He looked up from the board and gave you a puzzled look. “The bishop, see?” you demonstrated, tracing a line through the air over the diagonal squares which led from your piece to his.

“Ahh,” he nodded, stroking his chin as he considered his next move. It called additional attention to the shadow of stubble which dusted over his jaw.

He maneuvred a rook in the path of your bishop, and you settled back into your chair and you pondered your options.

The next hour went by oddly quickly. Not in a rushed way, just in a way that made you wonder how it had already been an hour.

“Şah,” he informed you as his knight threatened your king. You weren’t sure if it was supposed to mean ‘check’ or ‘checkmate,’ but since you were able to capture his knight with a pawn, it was definitely just a check.

Instead of mourning his knight, he grinned and moved a rook forward, capturing the aforementioned pawn and trapping your king for good. You gasped a little as you realized you’d fallen right into his trap.

“Şah-Mat,” he declared triumphantly. That definitely meant ‘checkmate’; you could tell by the smug look on his face as he crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair.

“You got me, man, that was sneaky,” you smiled. Offering your hand for a shake, you looked up at him: “Good game.”

He grabbed your hand and shook it, squeezing just tight enough that you wondered if you were the only one noticing a certain energy to the air. “Bun joc,” he replied with a nod and a smile.

He let go of your hand after lingering just a little too long, his fingers brushing over yours for an electric moment.

Now the silence was awkward again, as the two of you sat in the high-backed chairs, staring across the table at each other.

“So, you really don’t speak any English at all, huh?” you considered aloud. He looked back at you vacantly. “English? Even one word?” you lifted one finger as a symbol.

“Halloo,” he replied-- apparently a broken attempt at ‘hello.’ You laughed a little.

“Yes, that counts! Did you learn any English in school?”

“Televiziune,” he replied.

“Ah yes,” you nodded, “I know what that is. Television; I’m a big fan myself.”

“Puteți vorbi un singur cuvânt de limba română?” he asked you, raising one finger as well. Turnabout is fair play, after all.

“You mean other than ‘da’? Or ‘salut’?” you asked with a laugh.

“Pentru a fi corect, acestea sunt cuvinte,” he shrugged.

“Teach me,” you requested. “Just one word.”

You looked around the room, settling on a lamp. “What is this? In Romanian-- română?”

“Lampă,” he replied.

“Okay, well, that one isn’t very exciting,” you frowned. “Um, what about this?” you bent down from your chair, picking up one corner of the rug.

“Covor,” he answered, leaning down with you to run his hand over the soft shag.

“Covor,” you repeated, surely butchering it.

“Da,” he smiled. Okay, maybe you didn’t butcher it so bad, or maybe he was just being nice.

“Can you teach me more?” you asked, hoping it wasn’t too demanding.

“Uhhh,” he stalled, looking around the room. Finally, he pointed to the fireplace. “Vatră.”

“Vatră, fireplace,” you tried to memorize it as he said it.

You pointed to the window. “What’s the window called?”

“Fereastră.”

You pointed to the stairway. “Scară,” he informed you, smiling a little. You hoped this wasn’t boring for him, because you were actually having a bit of fun.

You pointed to his feet. He furrowed his brow a little and lifted one, grabbing his shoe. You nodded; “Pantof,” he explained.

You grabbed your blouse and shook it a little, appreciating the puffs of cool air that rolled down your chest; “Bluză.”

You pointed to him; “Sebastian.”

You already knew that, but it was interesting to hear the way he said it versus Mrs. Alberti’s pronunciation. “Yes, that’s an English name too,” you told him, “but pronounced differently…”

You wondered if your name had another pronunciation or translation, so you pointed to yourself; “Frumoasă,” he said, a little slower, a little more thoughtfully.

“Is that the Romanian equivalent to my name-- or does it mean ‘woman’?” you asked. He just smiled vacantly.

“This,” you pointed to the book, “what is this called?”

“Carte,” he answered. “Engleză?”

“Book,” you replied.

“...book…” he said slowly, contemplatively.

Suddenly inspired, you grabbed the loose pages of manuscript that you’d laid on the small table beside you. “Book,” you repeated, flipping through the pages. He seemed confused. “My book,” you clarified, pointing back and forth from yourself the papers. “I’m writing this-- that’s why I’m here.”

“Ah!” his face lit up with recognition. “Ar trebui să scrii o carte!”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I’m a writer; or, I’m trying to be. My last book did… better than my first, at least.”

“Ce fel de carte este?” he asked. You looked at him with confusion to indicate you weren’t sure what he was asking. “Uhh, book… este--” he made a sad face, rubbing under his eyes like a cartoon character’s weeping-- “sau--” he fake-laughed.

You laughed, actually, at his charades. “It’s a thriller, it’s crime--” you thought for a moment, then made the motion of stabbing someone with a knife.

His eyes got wider. “Este… erotic?”

You choked a little, realizing that your hand movement was… more ambiguous than you originally intended. “No!” you blurted out suddenly. “No, it’s… crime, mystery--”

You looked around and saw a magnifying glass resting on the side table by your chair; grabbing it, you held it to your face and gave your best quizzical look.

“Oh! Crimă!” he grinned. “Detectiv?”

“Yes, yes, there’s a detective,” you sighed satisfactorily, “and absolutely no handjobs.”

shamelessly tagging the people who liked chapter 1! @mariahthelioness29 @navybrat817 @navegandoaciegas @mandalorianspace @2smittinkittin @maizyistrash @honeygingergemini

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan fic

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doctors-star · 4 years ago

Note

lister/rimmer for “Oh no, I feel bad- SYKE, no I don’t.” pretty please

“You’re being weirdly helpful today. What do you want?”

Rimmer opens his eyes parodically wide, fingers splayed against his sternum in an elaborate moi? gesture. It is an appearance of surprise and hurt so manufactured that Lister almost wants to applaud the performance, bow at their audience of stars, and abandon the bastard to his machinations. But unfortunately, Lister has been granted prophetic visions of the future and knows with deep and terrible certainty that, were he to do so, he would spend two minutes wandering the empty decks, trip over Kryten’s best mop, slide on one of Cat’s abandoned silk cravats, and go and find Rimmer to bitch about it and hope that he’s doing something more interesting. So, given that interstellar travel is remarkably exhausting, it’s far better to cut out the middleman and instead lie here on the sofa and watch Rimmer direct scutters to haphazardly clean the living quarters inch by mind-numbing inch. They’ve even got little white glove-fingers on their claws, so that Rimmer can demand that they swipe something to test for cleanliness and then bawl them out for miniscule specks no-one else can see. Once, Rimmer had conjured up a white glove for himself and gone round doing the same thing, but when Lister had pointed out that he couldn’t pick up dust and therefore was imagining things, Rimmer had only doubled down harder - so hard that he’d worked himself into a real tizzy about going video-blind, or being permanently stuck with dust on his finger for all eternity, or dying, again, and had needed to go and have a lie down in the dark for a bit. So this is - debatably - an improvement.

Normally, Lister wouldn’t give a toss about Rimmer bossing the scutters about on yet another mad powertrip, but he’s going too far. He’s thrown out all Lister’s mouldering dishes, professing concern for Lister’s health but probably just trying to irritate him, and he’s cleared out the space in the corner of the bunkroom that Lister had hesitantly earmarked for the crib - and in doing so, had thrown out Lister’s third-worst t-shirt, the one with the curry stain vaguely resembling Maggie Thatcher, and which he likes to keep around in order to spit at it every now and then. The final straw, however, had been when Rimmer had nasally informed him that he was getting in the way of the scutters’ gruelling floor-cleaning regime, and that he had better go and put his feet up instead - to keep out of their way, of course.

“When have I ever tried to manipulate you to get what I want?” Rimmer says with a voice which he probably thinks is sweet and just makes him sound like a particularly jammy and unpleasant used-car salesman trying to get off with the seventeen-year-old girls coming in for their first Fiat 500.

Lister narrows his eyes. “Do you want that alphabetised or chronological?”

Rimmer blinks at him balefully, still very much putting it on. “Can’t I just do something nice without an ulterior motive?”

He considers this. “A person could, even if they never have before. You, though, I genuinely think the shock of it would kill you.” Lister spreads his hands invitingly, obligingly lifting one foot out of the way of a scutter before letting it once more dangle over the side of the sofa. “So, out with it.”

Rimmer shifts nervously from one foot to the other, inventing something at speed as though he never expected Lister to call him out on this - in which case, he’s a moron. More so than usual. “I don��t want the twins sleeping in our room,” he blurts out all in one rushed go, and Lister raises an eyebrow. “They’ll - they’ll cry, and keep me up, and I’m not giving up my Learn Esperanto discs for rodent-sized versions of you.”

Lister makes a game show-style incorrect noise and blows a raspberry, just to watch the left side of Rimmer’s face twitch in irritation. “Nope, not happening. They’ll cry so’s I know they need me, so I gotta be here to hear ‘em. Anyway, I wouldn’t make you give up your Esperanto discs - they’ll be better at it than you in a few months.”

Rimmer makes a sucked-lemon face at him. “Your spawn is not piggybacking my learning, the little parasites,” he says sternly.

Lister cups a hand around his ear exaggeratedly. “What was that, little-Listers? Ni estas tre lertaj? Yes,” he says to his still flat stomach in a very gooey voice that makes Rimmer clench and unclench his fists like a prize fighter, “you are very clever!”

Rimmer wrenches one hand up and points at him viciously, the other fingers curled in so tightly that his knuckles go white. “I forbid it.”

Lister sticks his tongue out. “Move out. Anyway, that’s not the reason - you cleared the space for their beds yourself. So, what is it?”

Rimmer narrows his eyes. The scutters start inching towards the door and effecting their escape. “I want to pick the film tonight, and it won’t be Fast and 14ious again,” he says carefully, feeling his way into the lie.

Lister pulls a sympathetic face and makes his game show noise again. “Oh, too bad,” he says, “you know well it’s Cat’s shout tonight so helping me won’t do anything. Anyway, 14ious is the best one.”

“It’s scratched to hell,” Rimmer points out. “We have to make up our own dialogue for the entire second act - last time, Kryten had the central car chase pivot around a shipment of mopheads and got disturbingly into the sex scene immediately following.”

Lister winces briefly at the recollection, but shrugs. “Exactly, it’s the best one. Right, contestant, last chance, remembering that you still have your lifelines: ask the audience, fifty-fifty, phone a friend-”

Predictably, Rimmer frowns. “Phone a friend?”

Internally, Lister pumps his fist. “Sorry contestant, that’s wrong too - you don’t have any friends.” Rimmer offers him a truly poisonous look and Lister nearly falls off the sofa snorting with laughter.

Rimmer folds his arms. “Well, if you know so much,” he sneers. “Work it out for yourself.”

“Nah, ‘cause you’ll just say yes to anything in the hope I’ll shut my gob,” Lister says without taking offence, and Rimmer looks vaguely exhausted. “Come on,” he wheedles, “tell me what’s eating you.”

“Nothing!” Rimmer snaps, unfolding his arms in a jerky motion and stalking off to fold himself into his bunk so that Lister has to awkwardly lean his head over the back of the sofa to see him. “Maybe I just want to live somewhere with basic standards of cleanliness.”

“Yeah,” Lister allows, watching Rimmer rub at the webbing between thumb and forefinger obsessively, as though seeking comfort. “But usually you yell at me until I do it. This,” he says, gesturing at the hard work of the scutters, “could be interpreted as nice, Rimmer, so you’d better do something selfish before the Playboy cover designers get in touch and make you every Miss July for the next century, or something else equally unlikely happens.”

“You’re an unbearable goit with all the standards and appeal of a mangy, leg-humping jack russell.”

“That’s the spirit. Now, explain yourself, you uptight lunatic.”

Rimmer makes a face at his own knees, then looks up, sees Lister watching him, and makes an even unhappier face. “Well,” he says, and then Lister has to wait and listen to nothing but the noise of deep space and Red Dwarf slowly falling apart around them for a good minute. “We ought to be ready for the babies, when they arrive,” he says suddenly, addressing the starched creases in his trousers.

“Which will be in about seven months,” Lister prompts gently, turning around to lean his chest against the back of the sofa and watch Rimmer better. He rubs the back of his neck carefully, tugging at the baby hair under his dreads. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be prepared, but - seven months is a long time, in the depths of space with sod all else to occupy them. Rimmer seems oddly hung up on it. The thought occurs to him like a lead weight in his stomach. “Look, man, I know we never asked for ‘em, but they are coming, so even if you don’t want them around you’ve-”

“No!” Rimmer says sharply, and when he meets Lister’s eyes he knows Rimmer is entirely serious, even though he still doesn’t understand literally anything else about the situation. “It’s not-” he waves a hand at Lister dismissively. Then he fixes his gaze on his hands, and addresses his remarks to those. “Pregnant people are supposed to rest,” he says sternly, “and be undisturbed by - by mess, and noise, and small children.”

Lister feels a frown settle on his brows, and a worry settle in his gut. Rimmer swallows hard, adam’s apple moving like a yo-yo. “Why’s that?” he murmurs gently, as if - if he could only be quiet enough - the question wouldn’t spook Rimmer out of his honesty.

Rimmer shrugs one shoulder. “Stops the baby growing up strong,” he recites oddly. “Mummy said she’d spent so much time running after my brothers that she was worn out with me, and that’s why I was slow.” He sniffs. He looks horribly lonely, and a hundred thousand miles away, and it’s like there’s a fist around Lister’s heart slowly constricting. “And that she might as well keep focussing on them, since I was never going to catch up.”

Lister shakes his head slowly. “Rimmer,” he says, “you’ve got more hang-ups than Elton John’s feather boa rack. I’m not raising the kids like your parents did you, and I’m not going to lie on the sofa for the next seven months doing sod all.”

“Whereas normally you’re such a ball of energy,” Rimmer snipes, but his heart’s not in it.

“Yeah,” Lister agrees calmly, “I’ve a strict schedule of slobbing about in different places and I’m gonna stick to it. Rimmer.” Rimmer flicks his head up guiltily and Lister offers him an exhausted look. “You can’t just decide to only care about my health when it suits your trauma and really annoys me, alright?”

Rimmer frowns. “Why not?” he whinges - which is a surprise, because Lister was anticipating him latching onto the caring thing, and not getting much further.

Lister spreads his hands. “All or nothing, baby,” he says firmly and with cheer, and then shoots Rimmer a wink - which reminds him of the aforementioned caring thing, and sets him off sputtering.

“And - and I don’t care,” he manages in the end. “Watch me not caring, you odious toad.”

“Uh-huh,” Lister says, and then, when Rimmer chances a glance his way, blows him a kiss to make him go all red and cross. It’s really ridiculously endearing.

“This,” Rimmer says, pointing at him, “is a manifestation of my dreadful upbringing, and, and Stockholm syndrome, anyway.”

Lister manages a grin, and lets it go. As he slumps back into the sofa, he can’t help but wish that Rimmer wasn’t probably right - and not just because the man is obnoxious and intolerable on a good day, when he’s wrong - and failing that, that this Stockholm syndrome, this resolute and unbending care that humans apparently manifest for one another despite literally everything when there is nothing else in the universe except a few creeping lifeforms and the persistent love they put out like radiation from a life-destroying nuclear incident, touching everything and making it all complicated - he cannot help but wish that it wasn’t there, or that it was there more, or something. That Lister loved him less, or that Rimmer loved him more, or that there was anything, anything at all, that Lister could do to change that.

But there isn’t, and he hasn’t got a hope in hell of Rimmer ever acknowledging affection without yelling got you afterwards, so he’d better just - stop bothering, really. Lister sighs, and smoothes his shirt over his stomach. He doesn’t care that Rimmer doesn’t want to care. He’s fine about it.

He hears his own brain make the game show noise. In a fit of pique, he removes one vile sock and throws it into the cleared space designed for the cots, and tries not to think about the hair-pulling sense of satisfaction he gets from listening to Rimmer yell at him.

#apologies for the delay! as ever i am working on it all slowly #thanks for the prompt anon! hope u enjoy this slightly loose interpretation thereof #red dwarf #rimster #this is your captain speaking

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kurtstinypurse · 5 years ago

Note

for the prompt meme thing: 18. celebrity!au + 9. strangers to lovers + “i’m rambling again, aren’t i?” pretty pls. for the rambling of it all and us etc

so this is way longer than that prompt post had in mind, but. I needed to give this the length it (and you) deserved!!

Kurt shouldn’t be checking his Instagram comments, and he knows it.

In fact, he makes a point not to, usually, because he knows what he’ll find - a sea of half-assed compliments and ass-kissing that, as nice as they are, all run together, and a scattering of rude remarks that will inevitably stick out to him and ruin his day.

And so he doesn’t check them, simple as that.

Well - until now, apparently, and he isn’t even really sure why he’s doing it as he opens the app, goes to his own page, clicks his most recent post.

Maybe he’s a masochist looking for reasons to feel insecure and beat himself up, or maybe he’s a narcissist and looking for an ego boost, or maybe he’s bored, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s home alone on a Friday night, two glasses of wine deep - but that part of it is pretty much business as usual.

But regardless, there he sits, scrolling through the comments on his latest picture - a snapshot of a model wearing his newly finished suit, floral and understated, a design he’s content with every stitch of.

As to be expected, the comments run together. There’s a lot of them these days, a larger following than he ever expected to get, back when he was an up-and-coming designer.

He’s not so up-and-coming anymore, though.

He’s established, made a name for himself and kept it, a big name, actually, becoming one of the most sought-after designers to create custom suits for events in New York - and, ironically enough, for most events in the Broadway world, for premieres and awards shows and the like.

It’s a small connection to the very world he once thought he’d be immersed in, but at the end of the day, he’s happy with what he has.

Kurt is scrolling, and he’s scrolling, and then- he pauses.

A blue verified check mark sticks out to him next to one username, and so he stops to read the comment, finding a name he recognizes, one he hadn’t expected to see.

blaineanderson ✔️ this is incredible! your designs are always great, but this one really captured me. fingers crossed I can wear one of your pieces one of these days!

Oh.

It’s interesting, actually, that Blaine hasn’t worn one of Kurt’s pieces before.

Kurt’s been aware of Blaine for a while now, vaguely tracking his progression from a stand-out off-Broadway to an understudy on Broadway to, finally, a full-fledged lead role.

He’s a hot topic, having been labeled as one to watch more than once, and Kurt knows Blaine attends the events and premieres Kurt often designs for, but they just...never crossed paths.

Or apparently they had, and Kurt’s just been missing it.

He blinks, and he reads the comment again, and he takes a long drag of wine, and he swallows, and he blinks, and he reads it again.

He realizes he’s smiling, down at his phone all alone in his apartment, no one to see it, no real reason to be doing it.

There’s no real reason why he clicks on Blaine’s profile, either, and there’s definitely no reason to explain why he clicks to follow Blaine, but if that wasn’t enough -

He clicks again, and he pushes away all room for logical thought, and he composes a message.

kurthummel: hi! this is really random, but I thought your comment on my post was really sweet, plus if you meant it, I’d love to design for you. anyways, just thought I’d say hello and thank you.

He presses his phone onto the couch cushion beside him, and he drains the rest of his wine, and he goes into the kitchen to refill his glass, and when he’s back - there’s a message there waiting for him already, much to his surprise.

blaineanderson: hey, kurt! this message was really exciting to see! I’ve actually been following your work for a long time now, and...wow. do YOU mean it? I’m not sure I’m worthy of wearing one of your designs, but at the very least, I’m so glad you said hi!

Blaine’s gracious, and he’s sweet, and Kurt already knows he’s handsome, and-

Kurt has had far too much wine.

And he has been single for far too long.

But Blaine… In a single comment and a single message, Blaine has managed to make Kurt feel more special than he’s felt in a long time, and he’s not sure why.

It’s probably the wine.

The wine is also why he writes back again - and another time, too.

kurthummel: of course I meant it! and why wouldn’t you be worthy? I actually happened to see the falsettos revival on opening night, and yours might be my favorite interpretation I’ve seen. I’m a big fan of the show, of course, and being such a lover of broadway, too… I’ve seen quite a few boots at this point, but your whizzer might have tugged at my heart the most. and your voice!

And your eyes, and your face, and your smile.

Shit.

The wine, the wine, the wine.

kurthummel: sorry, I’m rambling...

He wants to apologize for a lot more than that, but he manages to stop himself.

blaineanderson: no need to apologize! I...wow. again. you’re so kind, and it means even more because you’re so talented, too. your visions for your designs are just so thoughtful and original, especially that last one, and so I’m sure your ear is just as well-tuned so…yeah. wow. now I’m the rambling one! anyways, whizzer quickly became such a personal role for me, and I’m so happy to hear that shines through even a little bit.

And they kind of go from there.

They keep complimenting each other for a while - there’s probably a ridiculous amount of compliments traded, actually, but they’re both doing it, and it feels like a creative exchange, almost, on topic and essentially business-related. It’s meant to be a precursor to business, actually, hopefully culminating in a project for Kurt and an attention-grabbing, show-stopping outfit for Blaine.

But then they just...keep talking, about their careers and how they like the city, about how they got to the city and where they were prior, about the songs they like and the shows they’ve seen and the movies they’d managed to miss.

It turns out they have a lot in common.

They keep talking, as Kurt finishes off his bottle of wine, as he moves to the bedroom and crawls under his sheets, burrowing into the pillows and blankets with no light but his phone screen illuminating the dark room.

At some point, he realizes he’s smiling, and he’s been smiling, to the point where his cheeks hurt, actually, but he just kind of lets himself.

Just for tonight.

But then it’s the next morning, and Kurt wakes up to a message from Blaine, and the conversation continues, direct messages scattered through the morning, during Kurt’s commute to the office, at work when he has the chance to sneak a moment on his phone.

And he finds himself looking for those moments to sneak a read of a message or a reply to one, kind of whenever he can.

Which is exactly what he’s doing when his boss, Isabelle, pokes her head into his office.

“Why are you smiling at your phone?” she wants to know, raising a curious, knowing eyebrow when Kurt shoots his head up to look at her, phone clattering onto his desk. “A new guy?”

“There’s- There’s no guy,” he stammers, because there isn’t, at least not the way she means, and he’s not sure why his face is getting hot.

Blaine is nice, and Kurt is nice back. That’s all it is, really - it’s nice to have someone new to talk to, to get to know, especially when they’re so- well, nice.

Isabelle hums like she doesn’t believe him, and Kurt suddenly isn’t completely convinced he believes himself.

Blaine posts a new picture of himself on Instagram that night, a classy shot from behind as he watches the sun set over the city from a tall skyscraper’s balcony, and if Kurt falls asleep thinking about the narrow lines of Blaine’s waist and the way his ass looks in those pants, well.

Kurt’s only human, after all.

He’s not sure when things start to change, exactly.

He can’t pinpoint the moment, but their conversations go from friendly and sweet to something more - deeper, first, a gentle delve into Blaine’s complicated family, a brief conversation about Kurt’s mom and his stepbrother, and then just- just more.

He’s sitting at his desk at work, poking at his salad with his fork and grinning at a silly picture Blaine sent him when he realizes - he feels light, and he feels giddy, almost, and he feels towards Blaine a sort of way he thought he couldn’t feel, not anymore.

But he’s feeling it, and he’s been feeling it, and he realizes, too, that he just kind of knows Blaine feels the same way.

It’s in Blaine’s messages, and it’s in the compliments that reappear when Kurt least expects it, and it’s in the emojis he uses, and it’s just-

It’s everywhere, and Kurt sits there, and he blinks, and he blinks, and he chews thoughtfully for a moment, and he decides, yeah.

He’s not going to question it.

It’s that night that Blaine asks for his phone number, and it feels like a step, and Kurt can’t help but wonder if maybe Blaine’s going to ask him out for coffee or for dinner or for drinks - they live in the same city, after all, and they know a ton of the same people and essentially run in the same circles, and it would be so easy, so easy to just take another step forward and make this real.

Kurt should be scared of that - and in the past, he would be, with a string of brief failed relationships and over three years of being fully single in recent history. He has no reason to think - well, anything.

But he’s just...not scared.

He’s cooking dinner when his phone vibrates, and he reaches for it with his free hand, expecting to find some sort of question or invitation, but instead he finds-

A video.

Unknown Number: Hey, you. It’s Blaine. I know I haven’t told you about this, but it’s only because I haven’t really told anyone about it. But besides just singing on stage, I like to try my hand at arranging my own songs, too, and I felt like sharing this one with you. xx

The attached video is just about three minutes long, and it’s of Blaine on his couch, dressed down in a sweater that screams cozy, and he has a guitar in his lap, and he smiles shyly at the camera before starting to play and to sing.

It’s an upbeat sort of song, and Blaine sings about being a king, about thinking he has it all worked out but figuring out he’s wrong, about his kingdom falling apart but being okay, about being foolish and unexpectedly falling in love.

Kurt knows it’s not for him - he isn’t stupid.

But his heart is stupid, and it’s racing in his chest, and his mouth is stupid, too, because he can’t force away his grin, and his hands are worst of all, because when the song is over, he presses to replay it, and then he replays it again.

And then he picks up his phone, and he types.

From Kurt: Blaine, that was… I don’t know what to say! The lyrics were so clever, and you’re so wonderful at guitar, and you know how I feel about your voice. I listened to it a few times, honestly, and I already want to listen to it again. Sorry, I’m rambling again, too, aren’t I? I...guess I tend to feel kind of foolish around you, actually.

From Blaine: It’s funny, I wrote this song almost a year ago with nothing to apply it to. But it’s starting to make more sense, I think. Or maybe I’m foolish, too.

From Blaine: Besides, I love to listen to you ramble.

Kurt breathes out shakily, and he blinks, and he reads the message again, and he blinks, and he smiles.

He doesn’t hesitate, and he knows he won’t regret it.

From Kurt: Are you free tomorrow night?

Blaine’s reply is near instant.

From Blaine: For you? Anytime.

It’s only been a week, Kurt realizes the next night as he fusses over his hair in the mirror, picks an invisible string of a thread from his vest.

A mere week since he messaged Blaine, a mere week since Blaine messaged back, and yet-

It feels like so much longer, so much more than that.

Blaine has agreed to meet Kurt at a cozy, low-lit cafe a few blocks away, one of Kurt’s favorite spots that’s coincidentally one of Blaine’s favorites, too.

It’s funny, really, how connected they’ve always been, even when they didn’t know each other yet.

Kurt isn’t used to not wanting to cancel at least a little bit. On every first date he’s been on in the past handful of years, he’s had to practically force himself out the door, force himself to try, already knowing nothing will come of it.

But now, he has to force himself not to leave for the restaurant too early.

Of course, time moves forward as it inevitably does, and it comes time, and so Kurt heads out, and he walks down the street with a rush in his chest, pulling his jacket close around himself, ready.

A breath catches in his throat as he sees Blaine waiting outside the restaurant, rocking slightly up and down on the balls of his feet in an impossibly endearing nervous motion, a bouquet of colorful flowers in his hand.

Kurt can tell the very moment Blaine sees him, too, eyes locking with Kurt still about a block away, and Blaine positively beams, radiant and happy and beautiful, and wow, Kurt made him do that.

Once he gets close enough to say hello, close enough to see all of the colors and the softness and the warmth in Blaine’s eyes, close enough to touch, Kurt is pretty much done for.

He isn’t the type to kiss on the first date, particularly not before actually having the date, but he’s not the type to pay so much attention to his Instagram comments or send someone a direct message out of the blue, either.

As he pulls Blaine close and presses their lips together, Kurt finds he’s never been happier to surprise himself.

(A handful of months later, Blaine wears a Hummel Designs original to the premiere of the Waitress revival, an adaptation of the very suit he commented on the picture of - with Kurt on his arm, too, there to stay.)

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sledgefuweek · 4 years ago

Text

Each year we take a close look at the prompts for Sledgefu Week, for those who may be stuck for ideas or not quite sure about what the prompts could entail. Below the readmore are all seven prompts, as well as a short write-up exploring what they mean and some ideas to help get the creative juices going. Enjoy!!

Sickfic

This is a really popular and well-known fanfic trope that I feel probably needs little explanation, but I’ll write a little bit about it anyway! It essentially covers fic where one character is ill and the other cares for them -- it could encompass any kind of illness at all, (including chronic illnesses) and there’s a lot of room to get creative with it. You can go for angst, hurt/comfort, or fluff: it’s just a really good general prompt that I think works nicely to kick the week off!

It suits for Sledgefu pretty well, considering Snafu’s canon mild hypochondria, as well as the fact that Eugene’s dad is a doctor. It could be fun to lean into it: make Eugene play doctor for an actually-sick Snafu, and it could be just as fun to subvert it! There’s really endless options for canon fic: shrapnel wounds turned bad, heat-sickness, seasickness, illness from bad food or bad water or any kind of tropical disease you can think of (malaria is a big one!). You could make one of them (or both) a medic; you could genderswap them and write the gay field nurse fic this fandom sorely needs. And of course if you choose to branch out into modern AU you can begin to think of what might afflict them outside of a war setting: has Eugene been working too much and come down with a cold? Are they hungover, and need mutual care (and lots of takeout)? A lot of the time sickfic focuses on one character doing the comforting and the other character feeling unwell, but there’s nothing to say they can’t both be feeling shitty! I think we say this every year but there’s really no rules at all, you do whatever you feel inspired to do. With Sickfic, just be mindful to tag anything that others might be affected by eg. vomiting, blood, needles, etc.

Tarot

I feel like Tarot is pretty well-known to the Sledgefu fandom, or at least to those who like to write Snafu or his family a little witchy. In case you just have a vague idea of what Tarot actually is and what its purpose or origins are, I’ll explain it as concisely as I can! Tarot decks started life in Europe as playing cards, but eventually began to be used for divination. It’s made up of four suits, or the Minor Arcana, (Wands, Cups, Swords, and Pentacles) as well as a twenty-two card Major Arcana (the imagery of which you’re probably very familiar with). Commonly, tarot decks and tarot reading is used as a means of communicating with the higher self, deities, or with the universe. They can be used as a way to see the future, answer questions, or to give/receive advice. There are different ways of reading them too, depending on how one lays out the cards: I don’t want to make this too wordy, but if you’re curious I encourage you to check out this site to learn more!

For writers, there’s a lot of places this prompt could take you! Probably the most obvious will be fortune teller fic; a classic. Lean into Snafu’s Louisiana roots and have him telling fortunes in the depths of the French Quarter, or go against the grain and have Eugene reading cards and palms and tea leaves as a practice passed down through his family. Or maybe more casual: modern AU Sledgefu flirting through amateur tarot readings with a deck picked up from a junk shop. If you read Tarot and have a connection to it, you can express that through writing! It’s a pretty open-ended prompt, especially if you consider some of the meanings of the cards; you could even write a story inspired by that! The Hermit: Snafu withdrawing, leaving Eugene on the train to spend the next few months in solitude, working through things. The Moon: Snafu and Eugene hitting a rough patch, hiding things from each other. The opportunities really become endless once you start taking the readings of the cards into account! And for visual artists, this must be such a fun prompt: I feel like it’s so a visually rich, whether you’re re-drawing the cards to encompass Snafu and Eugene within them, or making a collage based around some of the things mentioned above: fortune tellers shops, witches cottages, etc.

Trinket

Every Sledgefu Week we tend to have a couple prompts that are a little more open to interpretation, and this year’s ‘Trinket’ is one of those. It might be difficult to try and think of something to base a whole fic or piece of art around, but we really encourage you to let your imagination run wild! There’s already some great trinkets in the show itself: Eugene’s ring, the lighter that Gunny Haney gave him, Snafu’s stolen gold teeth, or their dog tags. Think of small, special objects that you might have: what imbues them with comfort or meaning? What makes you love them? You could have Eugene giving Snafu his ring, or have Eugene musing over war and death and loss while smoking a cigarette lit by his lighter. If you’re into Modern AUs, how could these objects carry through to modern day? Once you start thinking about it, the ideas start rolling in. Feel free to invent special trinkets for them: or maybe trinkets that they hate and want to get rid of, trinkets that remind them of bad times. Trinkets that remind them of each other, or family, or war. So much meaning can be held in the things we own, and I think it’s such a lovely concept to explore!

Crossover

So this prompt was born from the sheer number of suggestions we had for various movie, TV, and book AUs. We didn’t want to put them all to the poll and risk a lot of you feeling disappointed over the one you wanted not being selected, so thought it’d work best to condense them into a ‘Crossover’ prompt so everyone could do whatever they liked. So this is a very very broad one! It would be impossible for me to really go through the prompt and highlight some things that you could do for it, because you can really do anything you want to! Anything! It encompasses movies, video games, TV, books, musicals... if something tells a story, you can do a crossover. So if there’s ever been a film/book/etc. AU you wanted to do for Sledgefu Week but couldn’t quite get it to match the prompts, now is the time!

Vacation

A pretty self explanatory prompt, and one that I think can appeal to people who prefer canonverse and those who like modern AU too! Do you want to send Snafu and Eugene on the holiday of their dreams, or are they gonna be bickering in a gas station over who gets control of the map? Is Snafu gonna drive across a couple states to surprise Eugene by visiting? Is Eugene gonna do the same? There’s a lot of scenarios you can apply to the backdrop of them vacationing, and a lot of emotional journeys you can take them through! And for the canonverse crowd, you have the extra addition of letting them go have fun on an R&R, or taking a road trip post-war, visiting 1950s Paris... you can really do whatever you like!

Historical

This was another prompt like ‘Crossover’ that came from a lot of various suggestions that all boiled down to a similar thing: different historical events or periods. So like Crossover, I won’t linger too long on it (this post is long enough already) except just to say again: do whatever you’re inspired to do! There’s no rules here, you could even take everyone out of the Pacific and put them over in Germany: give them a different experience of war. In fact, you can do that with any war if you wanted to! Wanna do a M*A*S*H AU but made something else for Crossover? You could do it here! Want to put them in the 1920s? You got it. In the 1850s? Yeehaw, they’re cowboys now. 1969, Summer of Love? 1600s, make Snafu a prince? Literally the world is your oyster!

Horror

Past Sledgefu Week prompts have included things that could come under the horror umbrella (Supernatural, for example) but didn’t necessarily have to be made 'horrific’. For the ‘Horror’ prompt this year, we want to see frightening! Disquieting, uncomfortable; creations that either cross over with existing horror franchises, or lean on horrific things you come up with yourself. Horror movies, or TV shows, or books or podcasts or pieces of art all seek to elicit a sense of fear: this can be done by tapping into common phobias, or nightmares, those things which are universally and almost instinctively scary. We want to see things which lean into that, in whatever way you want to do it!

I’m no horror media expert (not by a long shot) but the opportunities for this prompt are really vast simply because horror has so many subgenres to work with. You could go gothic horror; Dracula, Frankenstein, Wuthering Heights (a personal favourite AU -- Eugene soaked out on the moors, searching for Heathcliff-Snafu? Divine). Or you could go to the opposite end of the spectrum: Jennifer’s Body AU, Final Girl AU -- there’s no set way to do horror, in fact you could even bring horror into canonverse if you don’t like AUs. Think the Terror: some unknown beast lurking beyond the borders of their camp on Pavuvu, or Okinawa. Or you could even take the prompt entirely literally and explore the horrors of war and the toll it takes on them both. Please don’t feel stuck into needing to do Scary: horror is about fear and revulsion and dread, and these feelings don’t necessarily need to come from a haunting! (This is also a prompt ripe for monsterfucking, just FYI).

- - - - - - - - - -

So that’s the prompts for this year! They’re all really really great, and have a lot of potential to make some fantastic stuff :~) And to reiterate something I said right at the start, there are no rules here! I think every year we normally get at least one person unsure whether their idea will be okay for the prompt they’d like to make it for, so I just wanna say here: don’t second-guess yourself! As long as it can be linked back to the prompt in some way or another (can literally be the vaguest way possible) you’ll be absolutely fine. We don’t vet submissions at all, especially not for their content relating to the prompts. All we ask is that you remember to stay respectful in what you’re writing, and when the time comes to post it, you tag and warn appropriately :~)

On the subject of writing respectfully, we’d like to just take a moment to link the document on mindful writing re: race and gender that was made last year. Please take a look at it, even if you read it last year! It’s always good to keep these things at the front of your mind, as fandom is a community sport and we want to keep it fun and safe for everyone involved! So thank you if you’ve made it this far through this whole post, check out the doc, and enjoy the rest of the run-up to Sledgefu Week!

#sledgefu #sledgefu week #mod talk #info #if you saw this post before yes you did no you didn't <3 it has the horror prompt on it now lmao

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goodlucktai · 4 years ago

Note

63 for the angst it brings when combined with natsuyuu if that's still open, this prompt really reminds me of one you did a second ago called "for a moment i was warm". honestly that one shot me point blank but that's besides the point here

PROMPTS LIST

63. “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?” “Actually he’s right in front of you.”

let’s make it a companion piece to for a moment i was warm, just for fun :)

Nyanko-sensei says it’s nothing too alarming. That since it happened once before, it’s perfectly reasonable that it might happen again.

“He got knocked loose, that’s all,” the lucky cat says, sounding entirely unbothered.

“Uh-huh,” Kaname replies faintly.

Natsume is-- well, his body is laying on the floor of Kaname’s sitting room. Kaname is so anxious he feels like he’s about to have an out-of-body experience.

He’s grateful his father is gone for the weekend. He wouldn’t know how to explain this. He’ll call Touko-san and let her know Natsume is staying the night at his house. He already called Taki, who left her house at a run and promised, over the sound of her front gate crashing closed, that she would be there in fifteen minutes.

Now he’s just sitting here, mechanically feeding his lunch to a spirit cat, staring at the lifeless shape of his best friend on the floor.

“Um,” he says, feeling vaguely as though this is a bad dream he might wake up from if he thinks about it hard enough, “I should call an ambulance, right?”

“Nah,” Nyanko-sensei says. “He isn’t hurt. No bump on the head this time. Think of it like tripping and losing a shoe.”

Kaname nods like he gets it, even though he doesn’t get it at all. His hand is shaking as he passes the cat another bite of egg. He thinks maybe he should call Natori, too. He has the number saved in his phone in case of emergencies. Natori had told him, very seriously, not to be afraid to call.

And Kaname still is afraid to call, a little, but he’s more afraid of this. He’s terrified of this, actually.

“Alright, already,” Nyanko-sensei snaps so abruptly that Kaname jumps. The chopsticks clatter to the floor, but the cat only shoves them aside. “I’m getting an earful over here from this brat of mine. You’re lucky you can’t hear him, Tanuma.”

Kaname blinks. For the first time since they showed up on his doorstep, he tears his eyes away from Natsume and meets Nyanko-sensei’s keen gaze.

“He’s here?”

“Where the hell else would he be?” Nyanko-sensei gripes. “I told you it isn’t like last time. He’s not off wandering Yatsuhara without an idea of who he is. He just lost a shoe.”

Oh, Kaname thinks, and he’s so absurdly relieved he feels like he might cry.

“You didn’t tell me that,” he says, pressing the heel of his hands against his eyes.

He was thinking about those long, frightening days spent combing the forest, searching for his comatose friend’s restless spirit. Those long, frightening evenings in the hospital room, sitting at Natsume’s bedside and praying that he would come back.

“I would have if I’d known I’d have to listen to this otherwise,” the cat mutters. But maybe he sounds a little rueful. One ear twitches, down and back up again. He adds, “Guess I’m stuck playing messenger for you brats until that girl gets here with her seeing circle.”

Kaname casts a glance around the room. The yokai fish are swimming up the walls and across the ceiling, faint shadows of those vibrant creatures he can’t actually see.

Natsume doesn’t cast a shadow. That doesn’t stop Kaname from looking for him.

“Where is he?” he asks, eyes trailing. He tries to make a joke. “Right behind me?”

“Right in front of you, actually,” Nyanko-sensei says.

There’s nothing in front of him. Kaname faces it anyway. He smiles a little, even though he doesn’t really feel like smiling. It’s different now that he knows his friend is watching.

“Even if you had nowhere else to go, I’m glad you came here,” he says. “You’re always going to be safe here. So don’t wander off again, okay?”

The front door rattles open with force somewhere behind them. A very winded Taki is calling out a greeting while she stumbles out of her shoes, five minutes sooner than she said she’d be. She really must have run the whole way here.

At the same time, while Kaname’s attention wavers between the sitting room and the entry way, he catches a flash of color in his periphery. It’s only for an instant, but he’s sure of what he saw.

Natsume’s silvery hair. His head resting on Kaname’s shoulder like a pale cloud.

“He says not to worry,” Nyanko-sensei interprets grudgingly. “He isn’t going anywhere.”

#natsume yuujinchou #natsuyuu #tanunatsu #tanuma kaname #natsume takashi #nyanko sensei #my writing #prompt #anonymous #natsuyuu fic

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threeletterslife · 5 years ago

Text

Resonance

→ summary: your college art final prompt is so unbelievably broad that you might just flunk it because you have no idea what you’re gonna draw. luckily, there’s a cute guy who’s totally into you that might just help you out. even better: he’s a merman.

→ pairing/rating: taehyung x reader | PG-13

→ genre: 80% crack, 20% fluff | mermaid!au & bullet point fic

→ warnings: profanity

→ wordcount: 9.4k

cr.

well

this is just

great

you are a creative person

you ARE a creative person

ok maybe if you keep saying that in your head, it’ll come true

but fat chance

because you're still drawing a blank

your university professor JUST released the art final prompt

and it is the most broadest and vaguest prompt you've seen in your whole entire nineteen years of life

it sucks!!

like what the fuck?

how are you supposed to draw something that "calls to you"

what's that supposed to mean???

your best friend yoongi tries to help you interpret the wack prompt

but you really shouldn’t be trusting a guy who uses art sketchbooks as scratch paper to solve batshit crazy math problems for fun

it’s a no brainer that yoongi’s a no-nonsense chemical engineering major

in conclusion, he wouldn’t know aRT

not like you do anyways

he can barely draw a stickman. and he even has shitty handwriting (that’s so barely legible that he always gets called back after finals to translate his writing for the prof)

enough roasting your best friend though

especially when he’s actually trying to lend you a hand

“what calls to you…” yoongi trails off thoughtfully

he lets out a snort

“ha!” he says triumphantly. “y/n, i got it!”

“really?!”

“just draw a phone with your mother coming out of it!”

you frown. “i don’t get it”

yoongi sighs, shaking his head disdainfully

“because your mother literally calls you on the phone, y/n”

“i hate you”

yoongi is no help

“prof would flunk me if i turned a drawing like that in”

yoongi snorts. “or she’ll give you extra points for thinking literally. artists these days are so into thinking outside of the box. maybe you’ll be unique for being literal”

god no

being literal won’t fly with your professor

she’s the fucking queen of abstract art

if you hand her a painting of your mother coming out of a fucking phone, she might just burn the piece in front of your face

besides, you can’t draw something that doesn’t stir some sort of inspiration in you

no offense to your mother (but she’s also a no-nonsense physician)

yoongi’s just back at it again with his nonsensical advice

you’d expect better from the dude who does math for fun

“you know what?” you huff. “i can’t trust a guy who uses a freaking sketchbook to solve advanced calculus problems”

yoongi grins. “just tryna help, y/n”

“my god”

“wanna help me since i helped you?” yoongi teases

he holds up a stack of paper riddled with numbers with one too many digits and foreign symbols from the greek alphabet

you feel like you’re gonna puke

“aaaaand goodbye!” you say, standing up from your seat at the campus cafe. “i’m gonna go to the beach!”

“right now??”

“yeah why not?” you laugh, shrugging. “i need some inspiration!”

“but then i’m gonna look like a loner sitting here all by myself,” yoongi pouts

“then come with me, duh”

yoongi gives you a look of repulsion

“i hate the beach,” he grumbles

“fine,” you snort. “just call hoseok or something. i don’t know. but i’m leaving! bYe!!”

you can hear yoongi cursing at you under his breath and you laugh

he’s got such a mouth of a sailor that he honestly belongs on the beach—if not, the ocean

you pay his cursing no mind as you rush out the cafe and across the school campus

the literal reason you chose to attend this university was its close proximity to the beach

you’ve always been drawn to the waters

yoongi, on the other hand, only came here because of a scholarship

smart bastard

but he’s a good friend

it’s kinda sad you’re always hanging on the beach alone though

you don’t particularly fit in with the rowdy party crowds on the sand

and you don’t go there to flaunt your summer body in a bikini

you just go for

~inspiration~

by the time you reach the beach, it’s nearly empty

when it’s nearing finals, no one dares to step foot on the warm sand because once you go in, there’s no way in hell you’re going back

some students learn the hard way

and then end up flunking their finals

it’s you

you’re ‘some students’

(to be fair, that was freshman year and you’re a sophomore now, so you won’t make the same mistake again!!)

okay… maybe

you’re on the beach and it’s nearing finals so maybe you haven’t learned your lesson

but in your defense, you’re only here for

~inspiration~

the salty ocean breeze caressing your face

the smell of open waters

the brisk air

you would live on the beach if you could

there’s a small little rocky ledge at the far side of the beach that serves as your little private area you’ve been using since you got here

no one ever comes this far

so you just claimed the rocky ledge as yours

it’s where there are cute little crabs roaming about

where the bright orange starfish and sea anemones attach themselves to the rocks in the shallow tide pool and (maybe) watch you watch them

(you don’t exactly have extensive knowledge about ocean life lol)

omg there was even this one time when you saw a fish in the tide pool

granted, it was dEaD so you had to make yoongi carry it in a plastic bag and give it a proper burial ceremony

anywho

you love sea animals and plants!!

for a brief second as you crawl onto the rocky ledge you contemplate if you should draw a fucking fish for your art final

technically, it calls to you… right?

the late afternoon sun warms up your cheeks and you sigh, out, leaning back to admire the waves of the ocean lapping at the wet sand on the beach

if you just lie like this, basking in the sun… you’ll come up with an idea… right?

two hours later, you’re still stumped

“well, fuck,” you curse

the tide’s starting to come in and your feet are already underwater

it looks like you should just go back to your dorm at this point

you’ll find your ~inspiration~ tomorrow

you sigh

why can’t you think of a cool idea for fuck’s sake

what calls to me??

the only thing you can think of is a flobbering fish and your mom coming out of a phone (a tribute to yoongi)

you end up accidentally staying until the moon’s high in the sky

the waters have turned into a black oblivion and the tide’s so high, you have to shift up the rock to avoid making it look like you wet your pants

if you were a werewolf, you could draw the moon

because haha, get it? the moon calls to them!

but unfortunately, you are not a werewolf

“this sucks,” you huff

usually, you’re quick to come up with good ideas and it’s frustrating that for finals you can’t do the same

right when things actually matter

you look down from the sky to stare at your feet

maybe you’ll just stay here until you can come up with an idea

you aren’t gonna give up so soon

besides, the quiet sound of the undulating waves is so soothing

you stay a little longer, gazing at the twinkling stars and daydreaming of simpler times when your art teachers would tell you exactly what to draw without giving you vague-ass prompts to interpret

that’s when something catches your eye in the dark waters

illuminated by the starlight… you see… a…

HUMAN???

“hey!” you shriek

okay now you’re 1000% sure there’s someone in the ocean right now

they have a head of bright turquoise hair and pale but toned arms

yet the person has their back turned to you so you can’t quite see their face (though you assume they’re attractive just based on the back of their head)

“hey!” you shout again

come to think of it,,,

are they skinny dipping in the fucking ocean???

freshmen these days!! they’re nuts!

“you’re gonna die of hypothermia!” you yell. “or a shark’s gonna bite your limbs off!”

slowly

very slowly

the kid turns around

and you nearly choke on your breath

because he is beautiful

not in a conventional tiktok boy way but in a mysterious manner

his alabaster skin glows in the starlight

his turquoise-colored hair is styled perfectly on his head, just swept gracefully across his forehead

his deep sea-green eyes sparkle as he cocks his head and stares at you

oh god

he’s definitely shirtless

“h-hey!” you call again, hoping you don’t sound desperate. “what are you doing??”

the boy doesn’t answer though

he just stares at you curiously, eyes glancing back and forth at your bare legs and your shocked face

normally, you’d be creeped out if a random guy decided to check out your legs, but for some reason, the boy doesn’t stare at you like he’s a predator

he just looks… curious

you gasp when he suddenly disappears underwater

“hey!!” you shriek

damn. maybe he just wanted to be alone

no biggie

you’ll just sit on the rock or something until he decides to talk?

or you can be like any other sane person and just go back to your dorm

a sudden splash of water jumps you out of your thoughts

you nearly fall back when the strange boy stares up at you from the ledge of the rock

he’s still submerged under the water up to his shoulders, but he leans against the rock and smiles at you

it’s as if he’s saying ‘hey, loud person, who won’t shut up. how are you today? nice to meet you’

at least you think that’s what he’s trying to convey to you

“hi?” you say, raising your eyebrows. “isn’t the water cold?”

the boy shrugs his shoulders then shakes his head

he seems friendly enough that you decide to continue talking to him

he has a strange alluring aura that makes you want to get to know him

before you know it, you’re scooting closer to the stranger

he doesn’t flinch when you’re close enough to touch his strangely dry head of beautiful hair

“woah,” you deadpan. “how’s your hair dry?”

the boy shrugs again, smiling mischievously

can he even talk??

or maybe he’s just being polite and he wants you to leave

maybe he’s naked?? and he actually is a skinny dipper

and he wants you to get the hell away from him so he can get into his clothes??

“do you want me to leave…?” you ask cautiously

the boy shakes his head

ookkayyy…

“oh… it’s just that you’re not talking to me so i just thought…” you trail off, uncertain

the boy laughs and it’s the only kind of sound you’ve heard from him since you first saw him in the waters a few minutes ago

and his laugh is just like the rest of him—beautiful

the boy touches his throat with one hand and shakes his head

you frown

what?

the boy repeats the motion again and again until it finally clicks in your head

oh!!!!

“wait, you can’t speak?” you say. “i’m sorry… i didn’t know!”

the boy smiles as if saying ‘it’s all right. you’re fine’

“i haven’t seen you around campus…” you start. “do you live around here?”

the boy shakes his head

“you just like late-night swims, huh?” you giggle. “i’d swim too but something about swimming in the ocean at night is super scary for me”

the boy laughs good-heartily. he points at you curiously, then gestures at the surroundings

“oh, why am i here?” you say

the boy nods his head

“i’m just trying to get inspiration,” you say. “i’m an artist”

the boy smiles widely. he raises his eyebrows and points at you

“yes, really!” you laugh. “wanna sit on the rock with me?” you say, patting the spot next to you. “you don’t have to be stuck in the ocean to talk to me”

the boy hesitates

he looks at you through his beautiful eyes and parts his pink lips

it’s as if he’s asking, ‘can i really sit next to you?’

“i don’t bite!” you laugh. “at least, the last time i checked”

the boy giggles

he reaches out and lightly touches your hand

you’re shocked when you realize his hands aren’t wet from the water

come to think of it, you are covered in more water droplets than the boy

well

something is a bit fishy around here

you slowly look up at the boy’s face

he shrugs but a mischievous, all-knowing smile plays on his lips

“what are you, a mermaid?” you snort

the boy looks offended, placing a hand against his chest and letting out a silent scoff

“sorry. i meant merman,” you roll your eyes. “better?”

you were only half-joking

but when the boy waves what looks like a fucking tail towards you, you nearly fall back

“WAIT!” you shriek

that better be a fucking costume

the boy laughs and he swims a bit away from the rock, only to do a backflip

that’s when you see that this boy is not really a boy

he’s a mythical mermaid???

with a sparkling turquoise tail and everything?? (on a side note, you have to appreciate the way it matches his hair)

okay

well

deep breath in

deep breath out

you were never one to say that mermaids existed

but you weren’t one to say that they didn’t exist either

okay

either you’re still dreaming or you just kinda befriended a mermaid—er, merman

“please tell me this is real!” you squeal, scooting closer to the waters so that your knees are submerged

when you were a kid and adults asked you what you wanted to be when you grew up, you said a mermaid

as you grew older, society drilled in your head that mermaids only existed in disneyland

so that was that

until now, of course

the boy pops up from the ocean again and he hoists himself up on the rock right next to you

he’s shirtless as mermen go, but that’s the least of your interests now

his tail comes up with him and he gestures towards it, allowing you to touch the shiny scales

“it’s beautiful!” you breathe, running your hands over the surprisingly silky tail. “i better not be dreaming right now”

the boy laughs. he points at your legs curiously in response as if to say, ‘i better not be dreaming too’

“you’ve never met a human??”

the boy shakes his head. he looks at you like you’re the most special person on the planet. and it makes sense too because you’re the only human he’s probably communicated with in his life

“wow… i guess there’s a first time for everything…”

the boy nods enthusiastically

“are you even allowed to approach people?”

the boy grins as if to say, ‘mAyBe’

“poseidon or some dude with a trident’s not gonna zap me with lightning for talking to you right??”

just a safety precaution!!

the boy laughs boisterously, head thrown back and eyes squinted

“well… i guess not,” you smile

you’ve never really been friends with someone… not human…

if yoongi heard you talking about this merman, he might call the psych ward on you

or you’re just batshit crazy and you’ve been imagining this in your head

the boy points at you politely, cocking his head

“my name?”

he nods vigorously

“i’m y/n!” you tell him

‘y/n…’ he mouths with his lips but you can’t hear it

“what’s your name?”

the boy presses his lips together, then as if a light bulb went off in his head, he grins

he mouths his name to you, lips pursing and parting with exaggerated movements

you squint

“daeyoung??” you guess

the boy snorts, shaking his head

he mouths his name again but this time with more emphasis in the beginning

“ohhhh! i got it!” you say excitedly. “taeyoung!”

the merman holds up a number one and nods but shakes his head when he holds up two fingers

“the second part’s wrong??”

he nods

“uhhhhhh, tae… young… young… something that rhymes with young…”

“oh!!” you shriek, “TAEHYUNG!!”

the merman claps his hands together gleefully

“am i good or what??”

taehyung pats you on the back as if to congratulate you for figuring out his name

“thanks,” you grin. “hey do you come here often? you know, on this rocky ledge”

‘yup,’ taehyung mouths. ‘i’ve seen you before,’ he mouths slowly so you can understand him

“woah. you watched me?”

taehyung bashfully looks away

“it’s okay! it’s okay!” you say. “i just hope i wasn’t doing anything embarrassing… like picking my nose or something. i’m always alone here”

taehyung grins, wiggling his eyebrows. it’s as if he’s saying that yes, he did see you picking your nose that one time

“well it’s a human thing,” you argue. “you wouldn’t understand!”

taehyung giggles. ‘sure, sure,’ he seems like he’s saying

you huff. “in my defense, i didn’t know anyone was watching!”

taehyung gives you a look as if telling you that was the lamest excuse ever

“whatever, tae,” you scoff. “i’m just flattered that you thought i looked interesting in the first place”

the merman grins wildly, making it quite obvious he likes the new nickname you had given him. he shrugs his shoulders and pokes your arm playfully. ‘friend!’ he mouths enthusiastically

“you wanna be my friend?”

taehyung rapidly nods his head

“hmmMm…” you pretend to think. “i’m a bit swamped with friends at the moment…” you fib. in reality, you only have like two best friends (yoongi and yoongi’s bestie, hoseok). but it doesn’t hurt to lie a little to tease tae

the merman’s lips pull down in a slight frown

but you snort and slap his bare shoulder

“kidding!” you giggle. “why would i say no to being your friend?”

taehyung rolls his eyes but he grins happily. he looks at you expectantly, almost as if he’s asking when he can see you next time

damn

you’re starting to get the hang of reading taehyung’s expressions

“when can you see me next time?” you ask

taehyung nods

“well… finals are coming up… i reckon you don’t have mermaid school or whatever?”

taehyung shakes his head, grinning. ‘no school!’

“lucky,” you sigh. “but fuck finals!” you pump your fist in the air. “i’ll see you tomorrow!”

‘same time?’ taehyung inquires

“sure!”

the two of you shake hands to seal the deal

you would’ve spent hours on end talking to taehyung but he’s the one who points to the direction of the beach and mouths ‘you should sleep’

“i don’t need sleep!” you declare but unfortunately, that follows with an embarrassing yawn

taehyung gives you the look

“okay… maybe i do need sleep…”

taehyung giggles. he pushes your shoulder slightly, nudging you away from him

“and i can visit you tomorrow…” you reason

taehyung nods

“so maybe i should get sleep”

‘that’s it!” the merman laughs

so you say your lasting goodbyes and watch as taehyung dives away from the rock

when he’s gone, shining tail and all, you’re left dazed and confused

maybe you’ve been hallucinating???

welp

if you were hallucinating, you’ll figure it out tomorrow when a cute merman doesn’t come to meet you at night

for now, you just need sleep to digest everything that had just happened

okay

you just woke up

and now you’re more unsure than ever that this… taehyung exists

what if you were so stressed out yesterday

that you were literally… seeings things

yoongi keeps asking you if you’re okay because you spaced out TEN times in ONE conversation

you keep trying to convince him that you’re fine

but yoongi knows you so well that he knows you’re definitely NOT fine

“i’m just tired!!” you tell your best friend

yoongi sCOFFS “so am i but you don’t see me spacing out like i saw a unicorn last night”

eRrrr…

how do you tell yoongi that technically you did see something like a unicorn last night???

well

you won’t

because yoongi is a no-nonsense-old-fashioned-traditional-by-the-textbook-chemical-engineering-loving-student

he would never believe you

“wEll i’m sensitive!” you protest, crossing yours arms. “plus i’m still stressed about my art final”

“i thought you went to the beach to get inspiration!” yoongi points out

“errrrr…” you scratch your head. “i got distracted”

yoongi sighs. “aRt mAjOrs”

“excuse me, how dAre you???”

but yoongi just laughs it off, patting you on the back before announcing that he had to go study for his finals

you should be studying for your other finals too

but you end up doodling all over your notes

doodles of tAeHyuNg

every ten minutes, you force yourself to sTOP doodling to actually read your notes

but it never works

by night time, you’ve gotten nowhere

oh well

now you can go meet taehyung!!

if he exists…

what if your brain was actually playing games on you??

regardless, you swallow all sense of doubt and march out to the ocean

the beach is completely empty and you make use of the privacy, skipping along the sand and towards the rocky ledge

and sure enough, there’s no one there

hMph

okay

maybe taehyung’s late

no, wait you’re early

so you’re gonna wait for the merman

and if he doesn’t come in… ten minutes, you’ll just leave and deem yourself absolutely bonkers

waiting is really boring

you keep thinking at least five minutes passed every time you look at your phone for the time

but, in reality, it’s always been less than forty seconds

you go back and forth between looking at the time to looking at the dark waters

FOR FIVE WHOLE MINUTES

you’re starting to get ANTSY

and doubt starts to settle in

if yoongi knew what you were doing right now, he’d laugh at you

oh god…

should you just… leave?

THAT’S when you see a familiar bob of turquoise hair in the waters

you let out a little shriek, scooting closer to the edge of the rock

“taehyung??” you call out

the figure leaps in the air like a gracious dolphin and dives back down into the opaque waters

two seconds later, the familiar merman leans against the rocky ledge and grins up at you

‘hey,’ he seems to say with his sparkling eyes. ‘missed me?’

“UM, YES!” you say. “i was starting to think i was going crazy”

taehyung chuckles deeply, the sound reverberating against the calm ocean waves

“i was worried you wouldn’t be here”

taehyung raises his eyebrows as if to say, ‘why wouldn’t i be here??’

“i don’t know! self doubt? maybe you have some underground castle you wanna hang around with your friends and family rather than come up to the surface to hang with me!”

taehyung shakes his head, laughing. he points to himself and mouths the word, ‘solo’

“really?” you raise your eyebrows. “no family or friends?”

taehyung nods. ‘SOLO!’ he declares silently, grinning

“are all merfolk like that??”

the merman shrugs. ‘never seen another’

“oh gosh, you must be lonely,” you say. “here.” you pat the place next to you. “sit on the rock with me”

taehyung obliges but he protests he’s not lonely by shaking his head

“what do you do by yourself all the time, then?”

taehyung grins mischievously

out of the corner of your eye, you see bubbles of water rising up from the surface of the waves. you gasp as they begin to float in the air

“bubbles!” you reach out to pop one, laughing when the remnants of the water splash against your cheek

the merman nudges you as if to say, ‘but wait! there’s more!’

the next thing you know, a huge floating water bubble splashes above your head, drenching you from head to toe

“vEry funny!” you scoff, trying to shake the water off yourself

taehyung gives you another one of his cheeky grins. ‘sorry,’ he mouths, but he does not look apologetic at all

‘but look! i can dry it!’

he waves his fingers at you and instantly, your sopping wet hair and clothes are dried. there’s even a ocean breeze smell that lingers on you now

“do you go around splashing people with water bubbles and drying them right after?” you accuse taehyung teasingly

he laughs boisterously, shrugging his shoulders. ‘mAybE’ is his answer

“you spend a lot of time on the surface, huh?”

taehyung shrugs. ‘maybe’

“not much of a fish dude?”

‘they’re creepy,’ taehyung answers

you howl with laughter. “and scary! like sharks, viperfish, hatchetfish… oh god,” you shiver. “i hate them. i can’t swim in the ocean. and i know most of the scary-looking ones don’t even live in the same ocean zone”

taehyung pokes at you. ‘scaredy-cat,’ he mouths

“am not!! how are you creeped out by fish when you’re half fish??”

taehyung scoffs. ‘my tail…’ he gestures majestically at his sparkling tail, ‘is not a fish tail’

“sure… fishboy”

taehyung raises his eyebrows and raises his hand as if to threaten to splash you with a water bubble again

“i was only joking”

taehyung laughs, poking at you then pointing to the waters. ‘wanna swim, though?’

“are you serious? i just told you i’m terrified!”

taehyung pouts, his pink lips pulling down into a sad frown

“that’s not gonna make me change my mind, tae”

‘just for a little bit!’ he protests

“i don’t even have my goggles, i can’t swim without them! and i’m not going in water that’s pitch black”

taehyung sighs. ‘fine!’

“i’m really good at swimming in the pool though,” you say. “i mean, they used to call me a mermaid. because i was really good at dolphin kicking. but then i watched a few underwater documentaries… and nope. never again. i am not going in the same waters that goblin sharks live in”

to your surprise, taehyung teasingly pokes your cheek. ‘cute,’ he mouths. ‘scaredy-cat,’ he adds

“show anyone a goblin shark and they wouldn’t be able to get in the water for a year!” you huff in response

‘never seen one,’ tae sings—if you could hear him, you imagine his voice would sound as soft as lavender with just a drizzle of rich honey

“doesn’t mean they don’t exist!” you argue. “maybe one day i’ll swim with you. but definitely not today”

technically, you just met the man—er, merman

you’re not so sure if you can trust him to console you of your great fear of the ocean

maybe once you get to know him a little better

you see

you’re very quick to make friends

you probably have a lot of acquaintances

they all know your name and you know theirs

but you probably could not name three facts about any of them. and they probably couldn’t think of three facts about you either

so yes, you tend to have shallow relationships with many

but if you find people you like, you cling to them

like yoongi and hoseok

you just hope taehyung won’t be one of your acquaintances

he better be one of your best friends

how cool is it to say your best friend is a merman????

very cool

‘cool’ is just not a word to describe you as yoongi often likes to point out

but you’ll show him

you visit taehyung every day

for seven days

it’s been a full week

finals is closer than ever

you have like… five days to get your art final done

and you still haven’t gotten an idea

yikes

okay well you have an excuse

actually, you have excuses. plural.

because 1) you’ve forced yourself to fOrget about finals and 2) taehyung is wAy more interesting than any final you will ever take in your life

besides, all the time you spend on the beach is absolutely worth it

you and taehyung sometimes even meet before night falls, just before the sun’s setting so the two of you can prank the seagulls

(tae hates those little monsters-with-wings so he enjoys it a whole lot to dump water bubbles on their heads)

you help him prank the stupid birds by giving him moral support! that includes cheering him on when he successfully attacks an unsuspecting seagull and feeding him some cookies from your school cafeteria to keep him well-nourished

taehyung loves human food

he says he has to live off of clams and seaweed

which, isn’t all that bad (you love salted seaweed chips and clams), but imagine having a diet solely composed of seafood

yuck

so you bake kale chips for tae one day (nearly burning down the communal kitchen) and he enjoys it so much, for five days, you bring all sorts of good human food for him

by the end of the week, taehyung’s put on some pounds

you think he looks even more adorable with a bit of meat on his bones

taehyung just complains that his abs are starting to disappear

so one day, you bring a yoga mat and the two of you do some ab exercises off of youtube

of course, that led taehyung down the youtube rabbit hole

and once down that rabbit hole, it is very hard to resurface

after tae got ahold of gordon ramsay’s youtube channel, it’s all he watches when you come to the beach

in the end, you have to ban him from youtube because he almost took your phone underwater when you tried to get him to stop drooling over gordon ramsay and his incredible cooking skills

but taehyung prefers talking to you over watching youtube

at least you think

you hope

there is never a day you meet taehyung and it isn’t eventful

there’s always something to do with the fun-loving merman!

which makes it very, very easy to lose sight of iMporTAnt things… like, uh finals

so, today, five days before your art final is due, yoongi sits you down on your desk chair and sighs. “have you figured out your art final yet?”

it is a question that catches you off guard

“er… no”

“iSn’t it due in FIVE days???” yoongi shakes his head disapprovingly at you. “c’mon, y/n, don’t some artists take over a week to finish a painting??”

“well i can take uh, three days without sleeping if it really comes to that”

yoongi sighs. “you’ve been going to the beach every day. still no inspiration?”

“err… i got… distracted”

“do you want me to come with you today or something? so i can whip you back into shape and make sure you get properly inspired?” yoongi offers

“no!” you shout

yoongi raises his eyebrows

“i mean, um, no thank you, yoongs,” you stand up and pat yoongi’s head

he scowls at you

“i’ve got it all figured out!” you tell him very convincingly

but it is a lie

“rEally?” yoongi raises his eyebrows at you

“yes. don’t you worry, my friend.” you pat his head again

yoongi rolls his eyes. “okay, well, worse comes to worst, you can always use my terrific idea”

“never in a million years”

“oh well. wanna skip the beach today? i’m inviting hoseok over to watch a movie. you can come too, if you want”

“no can do,” you say, shaking your head. “i’m going swimming!” you hang your swim goggles in front of yoongi’s face

“in the dark?? in the ocean?? i thought you were afraid of gobbler sharks!”

“goblin sharks. not gobbler. and no. not anymore. i trust the waters now”

er, or, you trust taehyung

he’s been trying to convince you every day to swim with him

and every day you declined or made up some stupid excuse

but today is the day you will accept

you even prepared by wearing a bathing suit under your clothes

and you’re gonna bring your swim goggles

you’re so ready!!

you trust that taehyung won’t let the fish get to you

he promised and swore on his own beautiful tail

so he can’t possibly be lying

“oOokAyyyy…” yoongi says, giving you a strange look. “if you drown, can i have your comforter?”

“oh, shut up. i’m not gonna drown”

“sure”

you huff. “whatever, yoongs. have fun watching that movie with hoseok. i’m gonna get going”

“i will. just don’t drown or something”

“i won’t”

five minutes later, you’re terrified you’re going to drown

as you walk across the beach, you worry that you’re only walking to your death

what if you actually drown???

and taehyung can’t save you because the water’s so dark, he can’t even see you???

what if a jellyfish comes out of nOwHerE and stings you so hard you’re gonna be paralyzed forever????????

EVEN WORSE

WHAT IF THERE’S A GOBLIN SHARK OUT OF ITS HABITAT

WHAT IF IT BITES YOUR LEGS OFF????

ohmygod

you think you might die

taehyung’s waiting for you on the rocky ledge as he always does

but today, he has a shit-eating grin on his face

he looks at your goggles and nods. ‘today’s the day!!’

you grumble. “this is not helping my stress”

taehyung cocks his head

“i’m stressed because of college, tae. lucky you. you wouldn’t understand”

the handsome merman snorts. ‘i wouldn’t’

he pokes at you as if to say, ‘tell me what’s wrong’

you sigh, plopping yourself down on the rock and looking down at your feet

“i have a really important painting i have to finish in five days…” you groan. “and my professor gave me an art prompt, you know, something i need to interpret and draw. but i can’t, for the life of me, figure out what i wanna paint”

‘hMmm,’ taehyung hums. ‘what’s the prompt?’ he mouths

“what calls to me”

‘what calls to you?’

“ugh. yeah. horribly vague, isn’t it? my friend suggested i draw my mother coming out of a phone”

taehyung cocks his head, curiously

“yeah, it’s stupid. so i’m stuck. and the final’s due in five days. but i was totally forgetting about it until yoongi decided to bring it up. and now i’m stressed”

the merman giggles

“this isn’t funny!!” you protest

but the merman giggles again

when you give him a disdainful look, taehyung dives into the ocean and pops his head out, waving at you to come in

you sigh, staring at your goggles. reluctantly, you put them on

once you strip down to your swimsuit, you stare hesitantly at the opaque ocean. you crouch down just before the water, contemplating and contemplating

suddenly, something grabs your arm and you’re tugged into the ocean

you sCreAm bloody murder and voila, now salt and fish feces water is up your noise

how wonderful

but two strong hands hold your waist and you’re able to resurface

the water’s cold, but not freezing cold at least. and taehyung’s actually really warm against your skin

“you fucking dragged me in!!!” you shriek after coughing the water out of your lungs

you hit tae’s bare chest in agitation

the little shit just shrugs and grins at you

you huff, wrapping your legs tightly around taehyung’s hips. “if you let me go, my friends are going to find you and roast you. literally”

taehyung chuckles. ‘i won’t let you go,’ he seems to tell you with a meaningful look on his face

“you better not!” you tell him

he laughs at you, softly touching your forehead with the back of his hand. instantly, you feel much, much warmer. even cozier in the supposedly freezing waters

even the water weighing down the hair on your head feels lighter. when you reach out to touch it, you realize it’s completely dry

“woah,” you breathe. “that’s so cool…”

you forget that you’re even supposed to be mad at the merman

taehyung grins at you, petting your hair. ‘i know, right?’ he seems to say with his twinkling eyes

he motions at you to take your goggles off

“what?? are you crazy? i can’t survive without these! i am not opening my eyes in salt water, tae”

the merman shakes his head, laughing. ‘it won’t sting your eyes’

“why? did you put a magical charm on me or something?”

taehyung shrugs. ‘mAyBe’

you sigh, skeptical

‘i’m trying to help,’ tae mouths. ‘it’s for your art final’

you raise your eyebrows doubtfully

‘i’m serious’

“why, is there something cool underwater?”

taehyung nods. ‘you need your eyes open’

you wrap your legs tighter around the merman. “so… you’re gonna show me… something underwater… that will help me with my art final??”

the merman nods enthusiastically

he ruffles your hair and pinches your cheek. ‘trust me’

ohhHHhhh if you didn’t trust him, you wouldn’t be clinging onto him for life right now

“promise you won’t let me go??”

‘promise’

you hold out your pinky for taehyung

he cocks his head. ‘what is that for?’

“pinky promise??”

‘hmm?’

oh man

that might just be a human thing

silly you

“oH uh, nEver mInd th—”

you try to retract your pinky but taehyung stops you

he slowly pulls up his own hand, his pinky jutting out awkwardly

‘like this?’ he questions, poking at your pinky with his

you have to stifle a laUgh

“um, not quite,” you say. “you have to wrap your pinky around mine. yeahh, like that. and then it’s a pinky promise! it’s practically illegal to break a pinky promise”

taehyung nods. ‘i won’t break it’

“okay good! uh…” you look warily at the dark waters. “what is it that you wanted to show me?”

taehyung grins. suddenly, you’re submerged underwater again and you let out a scream

but you can’t hear yourself

not because you’re choking on the water, no

it seems like… you can breathe????? UNDER THE WATER????

you hug taehyung tighter and try to scream at him to stop plunging you in the ocean without a warning

but no sound comes out of your lips

‘taehyung!” you shriek soundlessly

“open your eyes, y/n…” a deep, resonate voice tells you

you nearly gasp in shock

was that… was that taehyung’s voice? his speaking voice????????

“it’s okay… you’re protected under a charm,” his mellifluous tone soothes you. “you’re able to breathe underwater, y/n. but you won’t be able to speak.” he laughs, which sounds very familiar to your ears. “how the tables have turned!”

‘taehyung!!!’

“how good it feels to finally speak to you!!” taehyung laughs. “you don’t have to hold me in a vice grip anymore,” he snorts. “i won’t let you go. we pinky promised, remember?”

you groan in your head. ‘i-i can’t. i can’t do it, tae’

“aww, y/n…” you hear taehyung softly pet your hair. “take your time”

‘i can’t open my eyes. i-i’m sorry’

you can see the blackness through your eyelids. and there is no way in hell you’re going to open them

fine, you trust taehyung. and sure, the water may not sting your eyes

and on top of all that, you can fucking breathe underwater thanks to tae, but no

you’re still scared

you’re scared of what you’re gonna see

or what you won’t see because the ocean is probably pitch black

you just try to focus on taehyung’s beautiful, deep voice. it seems to reverberate through the ocean waves even after the sound hits your ears

“it’s okay,” he says. “don’t be sorry.” he holds you tighter against his bare chest. “you don’t have to see what i wanna show you anyway”

you make a confused grunt sound in the back of your throat

“you can hear it”

‘what???’

but of course taehyung can’t hear you. nor can he see you with your chin resting on his shoulder

“what calls to you, huh?” taehyung says in his syrupy voice. “i have a good idea”

then, to your utmost shock, he begins to sing

“where the sea breeze whispers

past your listening ears

and gently caresses your lips

there lies a great ocean

the waves undulate under the dark sky

under these waters

is a lonely merman

he longs, waits for a friend

a lover,

anyone who will save him

from his solitude

where the sea breeze whispers

where the great ocean lies

where the waves undulate under the dark sky

where the lonely merman waits

under these dark waters”

your insides melt

taehyung’s honey voice entrances you and you squeeze you eyes shut even tighter

a rush of inspiration washes over you

you shiver

oh god

you didn’t have to open your eyes after all

you don’t have to see it to feel the immense amount of emotion, love, sincerity interwoven to taehyung’s song

it’s the most beautiful music you’ve heard in your life

and it pains you that taehyung’s stopped singing

you’re speechless, pulling away from taehyung so he can read your lips. ‘that… that was so beautiful…’

“thanks,” taehyung chuckles deeply. “i sing that song a lot when i’m bored”

‘your voice…’

“i know. too bad i can only sing underwater, right? if i could do this on the surface, i’d serenade you all day every day”

‘i’ll come underwater with you,’ you mouth before you can stop yourself

then you pause

well

you suppose being underwater isn’t so bad

it’s just dark since your eyes are closed

but you’re warm in taehyung’s arms

and you can even breathe too

if you can hear taehyung’s voice and hear him sing, then surely, that is a tiny sacrifice you can make

“you’re gonna come underwater with me?? again??” taehyung seems in disbelief. “you already seem uncomfortable now!”

‘no i’m not!’

and to prove it, you force your eyes open

immediately, you’re so taken aback, your grip on taehyung loosens

the merman catches you before you slip away

‘o-oh…’ you breathe

the ocean is not as dark as you had imagined it

in fact, there is a halo-like light that surrounds taehyung

it illuminates his face, his hair, his whole body

he is like a walking—er, swimming—star

the light shines further out into the dark seas, making the water sparkle

‘oh…’ you breathe again

“nothing to be scared about right?” taehyung snorts. “scaredy-cat”

he bops you on the nose

you’re so in awe, you don’t even mind

“are you inspired now?”

oh!! right!! your art final!!

you were almost distracted again (even after taehyung just dangled the answer in front of your face!!)

RIGHT!

TAEHYUNG JUST HELPED YOU SOLVE YOUR ART FINAL FIASCO PROBLEM

YOU’RE SO INSPIRED YOU COULD PAINT FOURTEEN HUNDRED PAINTINGS RIGHT NOW

your fingers feel tingly

and your head whirls with ideas

taehyung’s voice, his song, his whole being…

it calls to you

omg

he just saved your ass

in one single song!!!

‘god, i’m so happy i could kiss you!’

and you’re not even joking

“kiss me??” taehyung seems taken aback, but he grins. “kiss?”

the way he seems curious about it, you’re not quite sure he even knows what that is

‘do you… do uh, merfolk kiss?’ you ask cautiously

taehyung smiles. “let’s find out”

his eyes sparkle as both of you begin to lean into each other

you take it slowly, admiring his alabaster skin, pink cheeks and rosy lips

he stares into your eyes and gently tucks your hair behind your ear

right before you move in to kiss his lips, he leans in to rest his forehead against yours

taehyung’s eyes flutter close and he sighs as you stay still in his arms, confused

but you decide to go with the flow, keeping your foreheads together as you close your eyes too

it’s an intimate moment

you, resting your forehead against his while under the same ocean you were once so scared of

you, feeling emotionally attached to a merman

you, dreaming of kissing taehyung. properly. you know, on the lips and whatnot

when taehyung finally pulls away, he grins

“wasn’t that a nice kiss?” he whispers, touching your cheeks and giggling just at the thought of it

yikes

how do you break it to him

that forehead touching is not really… the kissing you were thinking of

‘well…’ you giggle. ‘in the human world… um…’

“in the human world…?”

‘we kiss with our lips’

“oh!” taehyung exclaims. he scratches his head. “lips????”

‘like this!’

with that, you tug him into a kiss. a proper one this time

he melts in your arms, sighing as he leans forward and instinctively closes his eyes

you let yourself relax too

and god what the fuck

his lips feel so soft

is there a special ocean chapstick he uses???

does he use some special sand as a lip scrub??????

and even though he probably hasn’t kissed the human way before,,,

man he knows what he’s doing

it makes you think for a hot second

damn

you’re making out with a merman

… under the sea

?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

this is what your life has become

and honestly, you can’t complain

taehyung’s the first to pull away, panting slowly. “i didn’t think my breath could ever be taken away,” he grins cheesily

‘you’re welcome,’ you grin back, slightly breathless yourself

“so… now that i’ve given you amazing inspiration… don’t you need to write it down somewhere?”

‘oh!’ you gasp. ‘right!’

you need to get started on painting as soon as possible!!! you can’t ever forget the feeling of taehyung… singing for you. but something about painting it when the memory’s fresh promises the best results

what calls to you…

you smile

a goddamn merman!!

literally

you’re so gonna ace this art final

you paint nonstop for four days

although you want to, you can’t even visit the beach

because you absolutely HATE it when your workflow is stopped

so you have to keep on painting until you finish

you force yoongi to go out on the beach and lay some cookies on your special rocky ledge. he frowns at your strange directions

“i dOn’T thInK yOu sHouLd fEeD tHe sEaGuLlS, y/N. iT’s gOnNa iNtErRuPt tHe eCoLoGicAl bAlaNce,” yoongi says very knowledgeably

oh god

you tell him to shut up

he pats your head and walks out toward the beach with the cookies

at least he doesn’t ask questions

you just hope taehyung takes the cookies as an apology

you don’t want him to think after you kissed him, you ditched him!! you’re just busy with your art final!!!

so you also make yoongi sneak in a note and a slice of cake the next time

except yoongi comes back in ten minutes and aSks: “WHO’S TAEHYUNG???”

you gulp

but you pretend you can’t hear yoongi as you continue painting on your canvas

the perfect, bright turquoise color was very hard to recreate with paints, but you somehow managed. you just need to add some finishing touches and your beautiful painting of your merman friend will be finished

you know yoongi secretly admires your art skills, but he laUghs when he sees you painting a merman

“is that a siren???”

“no—”

“a mermaid, then?”

“a merman,” you say. “and he’s singing the most beautiful song in the history of songs”

yoongi laughs. “sure, sure. looks nice, though.” he steps closer to the canvas. “really like what you did with his facial structure or whatever. and his hair color. pretty tail too. i did not know you had the capacity to imagine that hard”

you huff. well, technically… you didn’t imagine that. but you’re not going to admit it with yoongi

“i’m more talented than you think,” you snort, stretching back and picking at the paint dried to your fingers. “if i close my eyes, i can almost hear him sing to me”

“um, i think you fell in love with your own painting,” yoongi snorts

“oh, leave me alone”

yoongi raises up two hands in defense. “okay, well, the final’s due tomorrow, right? are you done?”

“well…” technically, yes. but… “i’m gonna go to the beach”

“wait a minute, with your painting??? dude, what if a seagull snatches it away? what if the paint chips? leave your painting! that’s your final”

“i’ll be careful!”

“your idea of careful is reckless”

you sigh. “well, i’ll be extra careful!”

yoongi can’t argue with you after that. 1) because he knows you’re stubborn and won’t give up and 2) because when you say you’re gonna be extra with anything, you go all out

you take nearly twenty minutes getting to the beach because you walk very slowly with your painting in both hands. you hold the painting above your head so sand won’t fly onto it

and you check out for those nasty seagulls because sometimes they decide to shit on people’s heads

if they decide it’s a good day to shit on your final, it’s over

nevertheless, you need to show your masterpiece to taehyung

when you get to the rocky ledge, you call for the merman

in just a few seconds, taehyung pops up his head from under the water

“were you waiting for me?” you laugh. “did you get the cookies and cake i sent?”

taehyung nods, grinning as he begins to swim toward you. he points curiously at the canvas in your hands

“it’s my art final,” you explain to him. you turn it around so taehyung can see it

he gasps

‘that’s me???’

“yup”

‘you didn’t draw my abs!!’

“well, can’t draw what you don’t have,” you giggle, teasing the pouting merman. he huffs

‘i like it, though’

“reallY??” you gush. “that’s all i wanted to hear!!”

you set the painting down carefully to the side and scoot closer to the rocky ledge

taehyung rests his hand on your forehead before cupping your cheek. he grins before cocking his eyebrows and pulling your head underwater

‘taehyung!!!’ you shriek

“i just wanted to tell you how beautifully you drew me,” taehyung laughs, booping your nose. “i mean, i’m much, much better looking in real life, but the colors. you’re very talented, y/n”

you smile. ‘well, i did try really har—”

taehyung interrupts you by kissing you. he misses your lips the first time and gets the corner of your mouth, but the second time, his lips meet yours perfectly

the heavenly moment would’ve lasted wayyy longer if it weren’t for the:

“Y/N, WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU STICKING YOUR HEAD IN THE WATER???”

you let out a silent shriek and taehyung’s eyes widen. both of you break apart from the kiss and taehyung suddenly dives deep down into the ocean

and right when the merman is out of your range, you can’t breathe nor see clearly in the ocean anymore

when you get your head out of the waters, you’re a choking, coughing mess

you wipe away the droplets of water streaming down your face before you look up to see yoongi

“are you bobbing for fish in the ocean?” yoongi snorts. “for fuck’s sake, y/n, you can’t just leave your art final around like this!”

your best friend picks up your precious painting of taehyung and sighs. “what were you doing?”

“i, uh…” you touch your lips. “i was… uh… i dropped my ring in the water”

yoongi narrows his eyes. “you don’t even wear jewelry”

“okay fine. i was just trying to meet the merman of my dreams underwater”

at that, yoongi raises his eyebrows. “cool,” he says

“cool??” is that all he had to say?

“well, yeah. mermaids are cool”

“merman”

“whatever”

yoongi’s so chill with it that you’re unchill

“are you sure??” you say.

“am i sure that it’s whatever?” yoongi snorts. “yes? c’mon, let’s go watch a ocean life documentary with hoseok or something. finals is gonna be over soon, so we should celebrate starting now”

okay well

cool

this is chill then

yoongi is chill

you suspect he doesn’t believe you, even though you told him the truth

you could probably tell him that you kissed taehyung, a merman, but he would probably laugh it off

your best friend is quite strange. no-nonsense. sensible. rational.

but you love those things about him

yoongi helps you carry your art final back to the dorms. but just before you step off the rocky ledge, you turn around

taehyung’s waving at you very discreetly, so you smile and wave back

yoongi never notices a single thing

welp

it’s over now

finals is over

which means,,, IT’S BEACH TIME

unfortunately, everyone in the whole fucking school think’s it’s beach time too

even late at night, there are still a few idiots on the beach drinking the last of the beer they stashed away

it’s hard to meet taehyung just because the lack of privacy

you wait and wait and wait on the rocky ledge, but you know, with so many people, taehyung probably wouldn’t want to come out of hiding

it’s one thing for a merman to trust one girl

it’s another for a merman to trust fifty rowdy college students

but you have a feeling taehyung is always close by

you visit the rocky ledge every day, singing some of your own little songs (though you’re not a very good singer, you try)

you even talk to taehyung like he’s there, listening to you

but it starts to get lonely

there are so many people on the beach, but the one being you want isn’t here

you sigh, wiggling your toes that have become pruned due to the salty water. “i never thought i’d be saying this,” you say. “but i miss finals week”

taehyung would have laughed if he was with you now

god, you miss him

“or maybe you’re in the water right now, waiting for me to jump in…”

you sigh again. “or maybe you’ve migrated or something. do you even have to migrate? i have no idea…” you trail off, looking at the blue waters lapping at the sides of the rock

cautiously, you dip one foot in

the water’s cool, but not completely freezing

you dip the other foot in

okay

you can do this

you’ll just…

jump in

and if taehyung’s not underwater, you’ll just… leave for the day

you’re supposed to hang out at a computer cafe with yoongi and hoseok anyway

okay deep breath in

deep breath out

goblin sharks don’t even live near the shallow part of the ocean… right?????

so you’re safe, right????

unless there’s a lemon shark or something

oh fucking god

you shouldn’t have watched that ocean documentary with your friends

but the need to see taehyung surpasses everything

you close your eyes

pinch your nose with your fingers

and you JUMP

and immediately you gasp because fuck the water’s cold

lowkey, your heart nearly stops because of the sudden rush of cool water surrounding your whole body

and right when you think you should swim back to the surface, a pair of strong arms hold you, and a soft hand taps at your forehead

“hello, you”

‘TAEHYUNG!’ you open your eyes and see your favorite merman staring at you

“the beach is crowded these days, isn’t it?” he grins

‘i know! pesky people!’

taehyung laughs. “i made another song while you were gone. nice singing, by the way. i heard you a couple days ago”

you flush. ‘i can’t sing! but um, can i hear your new song?’

taehyung nods, clearing his throat

he holds your hands to his chest and begins to sing

“where the sea breeze whispers

past your waiting ears

and gently kisses your lips

there lies a beautiful ocean

the waves ripple beneath the awakened sky

under these waters

is a happy merman

he’s found his friend,

his lover,

his treasure that has saved him

from his solitude

where the sea breeze whispers

where the beautiful ocean rests

where the waters ripple beneath the awakened sky

where the happy merman lives

under these sparkling waters”

‘you changed the lyrics!!’

taehyung nods. “i think it’s much more fitting, don’t you think?”

the two of your resurface from the waters, gripping each other tightly

your hair is completely dry and it blows in the light breeze

the sunlight warms your face and turns taehyung’s cheeks even rosier

oh god

your heart skips a beat

but you try to calm down before you wrap your arms around taehyung’s neck and pull him close

the moment your forehead touches his, you close your eyes and it feels like there’s nothing else in the ocean, on the beach, except you and taehyung

the two of you may never speak out loud in the same place as you’re kept silent in the ocean and taehyung’s kept silent on land

but...

sometimes, you don’t even need words

gazes, actions, little touches here and there

they speak in louder volume than words

you don’t even have to say you love taehyung. he doesn’t have to say it either

it’s as if both of your hearts, your actions proved it

masterlist

#ficswithluv #btswritersnet #btswriterscollective #bangtanfairygarden #bangtanidx #tae #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung imagine #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #bts #bts fanfiction #resonance #the way this was supposed to be posted in october #➖👄➖just gonna pretend it was supposed to be posted in nov all along #anyways #something new! a bullet fic 😳

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