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goodluckclove · 3 months

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Hey so I got tagged in that OC interaction thing by my colleague @illarian-rambling! I've been wanting to play this for a long time but I was too nervous to jump onto the tags of people I didn't know. Thank you for including me, and introducing me to Elsind. Below the Read More I describe a day spent with her and my boy Scott in Bluerose, Oregon in the setting of Migration Patterns, book two of Songbird Elegies. So minor spoilers not in terms of plot but, like, character development? Maybe?

I tag my dear ones @mushroommanchanterelle @aroaceghosties @lychhiker-writes @ivaspinoza and @cssnder because I feel like literary fiction writers don't get enough love in games like these.

Let's get started!

Elsind Cavernsight is a 20 year old changeling with a nervous disposition and a romantic heart. They can take on any humanoid form they've observed before. In his true form, Elsind is a skinless-looking humanoid with no face, a long tail, and petal-like fins that ring the back of his head. They use the pronouns of whatever form they're in, while using they/them in their true form. When referred to in abstract, she gets Shrodinger's pronouns.

Until she was thirteen, Elsind had a happy childhood and was raised by a single mother in a book shop. However, changelings are a valued commodity in Skysheer. They were kidnapped to be used as the court freak of one Marquis Sunflight - a cruel man who forced Elsind to do many abhorrent things for his 'entertainment.' After five years of this, Elsind managed to run away with a rebel group seeking to overthrow Skysheer's nobility. He now acts as an infiltrator and assassin.

As a person, Elsind might’ve suffered greatly, but she never lost her kind spark or huge capacity for empathy. They love to help people and even if they tend to be really nervous and awkward about it, they seek to make everyone's day better if they can. She's a bit of a chatterbox, especially when things are tense, and cries easily. Though she doesn't necessarily enjoy it, she is a great liar and infiltrator. This, combined with his easily underestimated bravery, makes him quite the spy. Their greatest passion are romance novels. Elsind is an avid reader of all things steamy and decadent. Out of all my characters, they'd be the most likely to have a blog on this site.

Scott Skylark Kaufner is a 31 year old human birthright from the Bluerose Refuge Hub, a witch town on the coast of Oregon. He is intersex, born with Kleinfelters Syndrome, and chose to undergo a masculine puberty and identify as a man. Scott is Greek-Romanian and I think German on his dad's side? I haven't established that yet. But he's a shorty at 5"5, with long and wild black hair and large, dark blue eyes. He identifies as a man, but prefers to dress in loose dresses in fun colors and soft materials. No shoes.

At his best Scott is friendly and talkative, though he tired quickly socially - as much as he tries to hide that fact. He loves the ones closest to him deeply and passionately and he has a tendency to get weird and overdramatic about it. There is an undercurrent of some manic intensity to him that most choose not to bring up and he doesn't seem to notice.

Scott is a bipolar variant birthright, which means he once had the ability to reflect his emotions onto those around him. But after travelling for years to find Eddie, he used his powers so often to get through social situations that they were infected, forcing him to inadvertently control the intentions of anyone that made eye contact or extended physical contact with him. Usually this ended with the person wanting to sleep with him. As a sex-repulsed asexual, this resulted in a rough few years for Scott. The fact that he was unable to see human faces due to the torture of the Eldritch horror trying to possess him did not help.

He's an obsessive piano player since infancy that can't read music but can learn anything by ear if you give him time. He also has perfect pitch but pointing that out embarrasses him. Scott loves the library and thinks that librarians, service workers, and anyone in the medical field are the most important members of society. Especially librarians. He loves reading books of Greek mythology but has a different relationship to them since his upbringing in magic causes him to think most mythological/supernatural things could maybe be true. He also loves a good snack and he's not great with technology but he's really good with Excel.

Their interaction!

So Scott is from a Refuge Hub, which is a type of witch town that houses and supports social services cases and anyone who needs harbor (abuse victims, runaways, children), so his first impression would be regret that they weren't able to help Elsind when they needed it.

She wouldn't need to mimic any human shape if he didn't want to. As long as Elsind could explain that he naturally doesn't have a face and Scott didn't just revert suddenly for unknown reasons, the concept of changelings would be perfectly reasonable to him. Birthrights are naturally nonjudgmental, but he is probably one of the most nonplussed of his kind.

He would definitely show him the library. Very kindly ask the librarians (some of them have known him since he was a child and adore him) where "the most erotic stories were" and smile calmly when they balked at him. Scott would take her to the small bakery in town where they make little cakes and pastries. He would be very insistent on feeding her the tastiest treats he could find, just to make sure Elsind felt taken care of.

They'd talk a lot in the mustard fields outside his childhood home or by the beach. Scott would ask Elsind if she ever got sad pretending to be someone else. If she still had an awareness of who SHE was. He would ask if she knew any fairies or cryptids.

Elsind would probably go home with a lot of books and carefully wrapped treats. Scott would offer him a friendship bracelet. I do not think it would be made well. He's still learning.

Haha that was fun!

#writeblr #writing community #writers on tumblr #authors of tumblr #on writing #writing #queer writers

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jarienn972 · 4 years

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La Sirena - Chapter Nine

Captain Swan Supernatural Summer

We're nearly to the completion of this little @cssns tale but we’re not quite there yet. This chapter started to get really long so I decided to break it up and create a bonus epilogue chapter that will wrap everything up! Writing my first complete AU has been quite the challenge, as well as quite a learning experience. Thank you, @kmomof4 for all of your encouragement and beta assistance along the way! And thank you, @courtorderedcake for the beautiful artwork that has graced every chapter.

So here we are at huge turning point. Poseidon sided with Emma and intervened to stop Regina's evil "test" but is there a future for our heroes or did rescue come too late for Killian this time? Catch up from the beginning at AO3 or FF.net or on Tumblr: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight

*********

The immediate threats may have gone away, but Emma knew the ordeal was still far from over. Regina's menacing presence no longer lingered over the bay as a pleasant breeze ushered away the remaining dark clouds and the dulcet melodies of the songbirds returned to the trees, yet she couldn't relax. She scarcely noticed the school of colorful fish darting to and fro around her as she swam for the shore. Her attention was singularly focused.

Gentle waves lapped at Killian's motionless form as he lay prone in the damp sand. Morphing back to human legs, Emma clambered awkwardly out of the shallows, crawling her way up to the shore to reach the injured human. Her eyes were welling up with tears as she feared her efforts may have been for naught.

Please, let him be alive, was the only thought on her mind as she reached for his arm, tenderly caressing bare skin exposed beneath the torn black silk. Angry red welts covered his upper arm where the kraken's suckers had latched onto their victim, and while Emma was apprehensive about moving him, she also feared that if he were still breathing, he'd suffocate if she didn't turn him over.

She placed her right hand behind his head and gently cradled it against her palm as she used her left hand to lift his torso slightly and roll his limp body toward her, allowing his back to rest upon her knees. His eyes were closed and barely fluttered when she brushed away the sand that marred his face, noting quickly that the sand was covering up the bloody evidence of his reopened head wound.

"Stay with me," she pleaded. "Stay with me, Killian…"

A weak moan and a dribble of sea water escaped his throat, reviving her hopes as she lowered her head over Killian's and pressed her lips against his bloodstained cheek. Her golden tresses draped across his face as if to shield him from the world as she momentarily forgot that they were being watched by the god of the seas.

"Can you save him?" she implored the deity who'd remained offshore. "Please don't allow all of this to be in vain! Please don't allow Regina's hatred to win!"

"Emma, my realm is the sea, you know this," Poseidon reluctantly reminded her. "Nothing I do can save the life of a human if it is their time. Only my brothers, Hades, ruler of the underworld, and Zeus, supreme ruler of Olympus, could intervene, but I am fairly certain that neither is likely to be interested in the fate of a single human."

A despondent Emma wasn't about to take his deference as an answer.

"But it is not fair! If not for Regina's interference, Killian would have been fine. He would have survived and…"

"And?" Poseidon interrupted her. "He would have survived to be trapped here on this cove with you. How long before he longed for his own world again? Would he have felt imprisoned here with only an immortal siren for companionship? I'm not trying to be unkind, but truthfully, what is best for this young man?"

"Certainly not death," Emma rebutted angrily, her emerald eyes staring intently at Killian's unconscious visage as she challenged the deity. She didn't understand why this one human's fate was so important to her, why he held such a tight hold on her after so short a time… "Why would he be allowed to escape the sirens only to die from Regina's awful conduct?"

The god sighed and shook his head as he lowered his trident to his flank. "Ah, Emma… You remind me so much of my Ursula…" He tread a little further into the shallows before pushing himself up atop a large boulder, curling his glistening platinum tail around the rock and scratching at his beard as he formed his next words inside his head. "Like you, she possessed a compassion towards the human race that I failed to understand for many centuries. It wasn't until that fateful day that the first human sailed beyond the isle of the sirens that I ever had reason to converse with one. I confronted that man, trying to determine what ruse he'd employed to get past my protections and what I discovered was a young man who was simply trying to return home to his ailing mother.

"That man had fought through attacking enemy ships and fierce sea creatures until he was the sole survivor on his vessel. He'd tried in vain to return to his homeland, but he wasn't yet a skilled sailor and had navigated himself in circles before crossing into our realm. He knew who I was the moment I appeared before him, and I could sense his fear and reverence. He was a humble man with a good heart, and it was that humble, pure intentioned heart that my daughter sensed and eventually fell in love with. She urged me to aid the man's return to his land but after being gone so long, there was little left for him to return to. He banded with a few survivors and formed a new village on an island near our realm, eventually marrying my daughter.

"The reason I'm telling you all of this, Emma, is that you clearly felt that same compassion because, like Ursula, you sensed this man's good heart. I never believed it would be possible for a siren to sense such emotion, but from the day you separated yourself from the council, I have known that you were different. A creature birthed to enchant and entice humans to their death wasn't intended to possess compassion - let alone the emotion you're feeling right now."

"And what might that be?" she asked with a sniffle while shifting her position ever so slightly so that she could see Poseidon's face.

"You've fallen in love, Emma, and that is a most powerful emotion."

"Love?"

"It's what is driving you to want to protect him. It may perhaps be part of the instinct that compelled you to rescue him in the first place. But I say that with the warning that I can not promise whether the emotion is reciprocated. Only he can answer that question."

"Is that the reason for these tears? Are sirens even able to cry?"

"You may be the first."

"Is love the reason I feel like a piece of myself may die with him?" she questioned as her fingers unconsciously laced through the matted, scraggly dark hair at the nape of Killian's neck. "If Regina's treachery has taken him from me, I swear, I will find her and…"

Poseidon cut her off before her anger overshadowed her present dilemma. "I promise you, Regina will be dealt with, swiftly and surely. Once I determine my brother's role in this debacle, Regina will likely be stripped of her powers and if I see fit, banished to the Forbidden Isles."

"Banishment to the Forbidden Isles seems harsh, even for what Regina did…" Emma sighed, hugging Killian even closer to her breast until she recalled the damage the kraken had presumably inflicted upon the man she loved and loosened her embrace. "If I am to be truthful, all I really want is whatever is in Killian's best interest."

"If only all sirens were blessed with your wisdom," Poseidon smiled. "Perhaps it is time to grant all of your kind the full range of emotions?"

"Or perhaps it is simply time for us to mend our ways? All humans are not evil, and some of them out there are still your descendants - maybe even Killian here."

"It has been so many generations since I've kept track of my descendants," the deity lamented. "I'm afraid that there is so little trace of my lineage left that it would be nearly impossible to determine. Being a descendant of an Olympian god doesn't necessarily grant that good heart that makes a man immune to the siren song either. Many of my grandchildren's grandchildren succumbed to greed, avarice and other sins of humanity, but as you've said, there are many good ones out there. Perhaps you are right that it is time for the gods to amend our perception of humanity, but I fear the likelihood of that happening is negligible."

"I was afraid of that," Emma responded as her gaze cast downward.

"However," Poseidon continued, "while I cannot directly heal this human, I do have an idea that could expedite his return to his own ship, where he belongs."

"May I go with him?" Emma asked impulsively, her query catching the god off-guard as she raised expectant eyes to meet the god's gaze.

"Emma, are you certain?" the flabbergasted Poseidon inquired.

"I am quite certain. If there is a way to return Killian to his ship and to his family, I wish to go with him."

"To do so, you would have to give up your immortality and all of your magic," he explained.

"Lord Poseidon, I have spent centuries alone. I never desired any companionship until I spoke to Killian. If there is a way to save him and for me to accompany him, I will gladly surrender my immortality."

"I can arrange that, but I do remind you that I cannot guarantee that your emotions will be returned by him. There is no way to make someone love you…"

"It is a chance I will happily take, Your Majesty. My instincts are telling me that he shares my feelings and I can no longer imagine spending an eternity here without him. If he is to return to the land where he belongs, then I know I belong there at his side."

Poseidon nodded as he raised the trident, pointing it skyward. "Then so it shall be," he stated as clouds gathered once again above the bay, swirling into a mighty vortex before the god vanished in a blinding flash of lightning.

*********

A warm, tropical breeze tickled his cheek as Killian shifted his aching body. He could feel the sun on his back as he felt around, grasping and then releasing a fistful of sand. His memory was sketchy as he struggled to lift his head and force his eyes open, not yet certain if he was alive or dead. Maybe somewhere in between?

His head was throbbing too much to hold up so he slid his forearm beneath it and just let it rest there. The simple act of drawing breath was agonizing. Did the dead still experience pain in the afterlife or was this his purgatory? Left broken and abandoned on a deserted beach with the sea just beyond his reach?

Bits and pieces of memories (or maybe, hallucinations) came and went when his eyes would fall closed. Pirates and sinking ships. Palm trees and some subterranean lagoon. A mermaid with long, golden hair and a tail that shimmered like pearls in the sunlight. A huge sea beast with tentacles that were as long as the Jewel from bow to stern. He even pictured a gigantic trident reaching out of the waves.

How hard had he struck his head? he wondered as the fingers on his left hand gingerly touched the open laceration at his scalp, noting the crimson stains on his skin as his hand fell away. Sucking in a deep breath that he immediately regretted, he almost wanted to laugh at his unbelievable situation. What a fine mess you've gotten yourself into, Killian Jones, he thought.

His gaze drifted back to the bay, staring out at the horizon as his vision began to blur and he found himself fighting to remain conscious. He squinted in an attempt to make out a faint blob off in the distance and assumed he was imagining the peal of a ship's bell and approaching voices when he succumbed to the pain-free peace of the darkness.

*********

The familiar bob and sway of the sea was a welcome sensation as Killian began to come around. Breathing was still a chore but even before his eyelids began to part, he knew something was different. The recognizable scents of musty books and linens filled his nostrils along with some sort of strong alcohol - although definitely not the drinking kind. The creaks and squeaks of wood battered by wind and waves was a familiar reverberation in his ear.

He threw his eyelids open and lurched upright, only to be halted and eased back onto the bunk by a large, calloused hand adorned with a single, hefty, carved silver ring.

A ring that even in his discombobulated state, he noticed and identified instantly.

"Liam?" he choked out, his throat dry and burning as though he'd swallowed much of the sand back on that beach.

"Aye, little brother," Liam smiled broadly as Killian's eyes finally focused on his elder brother's bearded and clearly anguished face. Liam's typically perfectly pressed uniform was rumpled, wrinkled and as deeply creased as his face, but Killian didn't yet know that it was the product of days searching for, and then worrying over his younger brother. "Now, will you please lie back down? Doc says you still need a lot of rest to recuperate."

"Liam, I can't believe it is really you. It has been an eternity, it seems… I thought I'd never see you again…," Killian excitedly babbled as clarity slowly returned. The comforting sight of his own first officer's cabin, paltry as it might be, helped him relax as he settled back into the pile of feather-stuffed pillows propped against the stateroom wall. Scratchy as it was, Killian didn't even protest as Liam draped the Royal Navy-issued charcoal grey, woolen blanket over top of his heavily bruised chest. "It is really you, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is really me, brother," Liam replied as he fretted with the bedding, trying to make the narrow bunk as comfortable as possible for his only sibling who had seemingly just returned from the dead. "I was warned you might be a little out of sorts for a couple of days from your injuries, but yes, I am really here and yes, I am beyond happy that we located you alive. It took us days to locate you on that tiny island. You were bloody lucky that the other survivor was one of the prisoners and not one of those pirates."

"Prisoner?" Killian repeated with his face scrunched in confusion and obvious discomfort.

"You really need your rest, Killian, and I need to go make my rounds. We can talk more later…"

"Brother, I don't understand… There was no survivor from that ship, save for myself." Killian became increasingly agitated and shook his head at the wrongness of it all. That motion, of course, only made his achy skull hurt more and loosened some of the bandages Doc had wrapped around his cranium to cover the jagged wound and the uneven stitches he'd used to hold it closed. "I was the only one who survived… I failed all of our men…" Killian squeezed his eyes closed as his wavering voice cracked with melancholy. "I'm so sorry, Liam, but I'm hardly fit to be your First Mate…"

"Brother, please just rest. You're spouting such nonsense. I'll send Doc right in to examine you. Your head injury must have been far worse than he thought to have affected your memory so severely."

"My memory is fine," Killian stated bluntly. "Far better than my performance as an officer…"

"For allowing yourself to be captured so your wounded crew could escape? That's hardly a failure, brother. I recommended you for a commendation for your bravery and I truly feared I would never have the opportunity to pin that medal on your uniform myself."

Liam's words made no sense. No one awards a commendation to a man who failed his mission and lost his entire landing team. He knew he must be dead and this purgatory was a cruel end to his fantastical journey.

"I'm sorry, I've been such a failure, Liam. You do not need to cover for my sins. I am only alive today through the mercy of the gods who sent down an angel to rescue me…"

"Bloody hell, Killian…," an exasperated Liam sighed. "Whatever are you rambling on about? I sincerely hope that either Doc or the lass can talk some sense into you…" Liam snatched up his plumed uniform hat from the writing table as he rose from his chair at his brother's bedside, doing his best to straighten his overcoat to look proper and authoritative, as a Captain should be.

"Lass?" Killian asked in bewilderment. What lass? He could only picture one lovely lass with flowing, blonde hair and emerald green eyes, but she could hardly have followed him here…

"The other former prisoner of those cowardly pirates that we rescued from the island with you, you git," Liam muttered, flopping his hat back atop his head as he shoved aside the heavy canvas curtain that provided Killian's quarters a semblance of privacy from the rest of the crew berths lining the narrow corridor that dissected this deck. It was far more crowded and noisy than his own quarters which were a deck above, spanning the width of the stern, not that he had occupied them for the past few days.

Liam's footsteps resounded heavily on the oak planks beneath his feet as he lumbered down the passageway and rapped on the wall outside of another curtained compartment. The ship's doctor, who's face looked nearly as haggard as the Captain's, drew the curtain open and immediately straightened his posture at the sight of his superior officer.

"At ease," Liam grumbled, letting the doctor know with a casual wave of his hand that military decorum wasn't necessary.

"Sorry, Cap'n. Taking a break from your vigil over the young Lieutenant Jones?"

"More like taking a break from Killian in general."

"Has he awakened?"

"A short time ago - yes. He isn't making a bloody lick of sense, babbling on about being a horrible officer who failed his crew and was saved by some mythical angel. How severe was the injury to his head?"

"How wonderful to hear that he's come around, but his head injury appeared largely superficial. I'll happily give him another once over now that he's awake. Maybe those pirates poisoned him or something that is affecting his mental state?"

"I hope it is something easily remedied or I fear his career may be in danger. I'm going to go fetch the lass we rescued along with him. Perhaps hearing her tale will help sort his head out…"

"Sounds like a very good idea, sir," the doctor responded as his troubled captain departed without another word, trudging tiredly towards the ladder to the upper deck.

*********

The visit by the ship's doctor only left Killian more irritable and baffled by their blatant dismissal of his miscarriage of his duties. They must all be daft, Killian thought. Or they think I am? Maybe he was merely imagining all of this?

Had any of this been real?

As the doctor had replaced bandages and prodded him in every tormenting and unpleasant place imaginable, Killian saw the very real evidence of his injuries. He was peppered with cuts, scrapes and contusions in various stages of healing. Some of the more painful ones were deep purplish while others had begun yellowing. There were red welts on his arms and across his torso that Doc couldn't identify, suggesting they might be burns or some manner of rash, but Killian's mind recalled a vastly different source. He'd been quickly shushed at the mere mention of encountering a kraken.

Doc offered him medicine to ease his discomfort which Killian knew meant the potion they'd sourced in the Far Eastern realm. He didn't know much about the substance, but he declined, preferring to keep what remained of his wits about him. The exasperated doctor muttered something unintelligible under his breath and shook his head at the young lieutenant's stubbornness, but Killian did overhear him mention that Liam had gone to fetch the supposed other prisoner from the pirate ship before departing Killian's quarters.

Killian knew with absolute certainty that no one else had escaped that ship with him, whatever had led to its sinking. Whomever this mysterious woman was that Liam had mentioned, she must be the key to unraveling this insanity. He was anxious to meet her, although he was also embarrassed to have a lady see him in such a disheveled state.

He also couldn't get the image of an ethereal presence to depart his head - one with flowing, pale blonde hair, porcelain skin that nearly glowed in her state of undress, and a supple, shimmery tail fin that playfully flicked water towards him.

No, he scolded himself. She didn't exist. Just a dreamy figment of his overactive imagination…

The sound of hushed voices in the corridor beyond the curtain snapped his attention back and Killian strained to hear what they were saying.

"Seems to be healing well, but his head's a bit out of sort…" Killian heard Doc telling someone that he soon realized was Liam when he heard his brother respond.

"It's unorthodox…," he heard Liam say, but he could only make out portions of the rest. "Doesn't remember… Miss Swan, we're hoping… We realize this is a highly unusual request, but given your time together…"

Miss Swan? Killian knew no one by such name, but why would Liam bring a stranger to visit him in his convalescence? Perhaps he should just pretend to be asleep and they'll go away, not that the ruse had ever worked to fool Liam. He closed his eyelids anyway as he heard the rattle and squeak of the curtain being drawn, determined to ignore his unwanted guests anyway.

"Should I return when he isn't asleep?" a feminine voice asked shyly.

"I swear, he was awake a moment ago, Capt'n," Doc said with an echo of concern in his voice, although Killian wasn't certain if it was directed toward him or if Doc feared the Captain's ire.

"I apologize, Miss Swan," Liam muttered with an audible sigh. "I thought it would do him good to see you - that it would aid his recollection, but he's a stubborn arse…"

"No apology necessary, Captain," the woman replied. Her voice was tantalizingly familiar to Killian, but he couldn't place why. He almost wanted to secret an eye open to catch a glimpse but he didn't dare. "Would it be alright if I sat with him for a spell?"

Oh, bloody hell, no! Killian screamed internally. Liam would never permit such a thing. Having a woman onboard was scandalous enough…

"I'm hesitant to allow that since this deck is less secure than my quarters, milady," Liam answered, only Killian could hear the but coming. "But since this is an unusual situation, I'll allow it. I'm sure I can find enough chores to keep my crew occupied for a bit and keep them away from this deck."

"Thank you, Captain," she responded and Killian could hear her smile in her voice. He was disappointed in his brother and was nearly betrayed by the frown he fought from forming on his own lips.

"I shall check back in a short time, lest my brother or any other sailor here attempt to take advantage of you."

"I am sure your brother will be a perfect gentleman, as he was while we were awaiting rescue. He could scarcely glance at me without blushing…"

Wait… What did she just say? Killian's brain was swirling with new questions as Liam bid the mystery woman farewell for the moment. He wanted so much to look upon her face, but he must wait until he heard Liam's heavy footsteps trailing away.

Could this really be…?

#cssns #captain swan supernatural summer #cssns20 #cs ff #cs au ff #siren emma #sorry to break it there #but there was a reason for that

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softtransbf · 2 years

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Do I know how to write endings or really anything that isn't dialogue? No. Have I been able to think about anything other than this concept for the last 24 hours? Also no.

So yeah, here's an 1100 word Quint/Seo-woo ficlet, T for light swearing.

idk i just needed to get it out of my head and into the universe lol

-------

"And the Grammy goes to... Kang Seo-woo!" The crowd erupted into applause as the singer made his way onto the stage, quieting as he spoke.

"Just being nominated was such an honor, I can't believe this is real. None of it would mean anything without my amazing boyfriend by my side every step of the way. Quint, I love you!" He paused for the briefest of seconds and all but ran off the stage. The applause resumed, more hesitant and confused than before. Not that Seo-woo noticed a single thing beyond the adrenaline of the win and the repeating thought of oh shit what did I just say?

"Quint, I love you!" It was just after midnight, and the words were still echoing in my head. I checked my phone again; still nothing. I could text him. I should text him. The ceremony's been over for almost 2 hours. But what the hell do I say? Congratulate him on the win and pretend like he didn't just come out and say those three damn words for the first time? I certainly can't just text them back...

The doorbell rang, followed shortly by a text notification.

If I know you at all, you're still awake. Please, come to the door, songbird.

Our relationship has been many difficult and uncomfortable things. It's not easy for a homebody with an anxiety disorder and a closeted global superstar to be in a relationship. But it had never been awkward. Not until that moment, standing in my doorway in the middle of the night.

"Hey."

"Hey. Congrats on the win, you totally deserved it."

"Oh, uh, thanks, I really didn't think I was gonna get it." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking down.

"Please, come in, it's cold out." He's been here so many times, what the fuck was that?

I stepped back and led him to the couch. We sat, half facing each other, knees not quite touching. The silence was deafening, but I couldn't think of a single thing to say. Especially since he wouldn't look at me.

A minute or so later, he started talking. "So, um. I said some things. I didn't mean to say them, but I did, and they're things I can't take back. Not that I'd want to, that implies I didn't mean them. Shit, I can't say anything right tonight." I took his hands, which had been fidgeting restlessly since the moment he sat down, and he finally looked up.

"Hey hey hey, take a breath. It's okay. I know what you meant. You knew I'd be up, I know how your mouth gets ahead of your brain sometimes. Let's start with the less weighty part of this, yeah?"

"W- which part is that?"

"You just took a pretty big step out of the closet. How are you feeling about that?" His shoulders visibly relaxed, and he smiled slightly, that half-smile that never fails to make my heart melt.

"Pretty good, actually. You know I've been wanting to for a long time, and it feels good to have that weight off my shoulders. And so far, according to my manager, the response has been overall positive."

"That's fantastic! You know damn well I'm gonna be full on keyboard warrior starting tomorrow against anyone talking shit." I nudged his knees with mine, and he laughed.

"I'd expect nothing else from my number one fan." He leaned forward and ruffled my hair, and we both laughed harder.

"Wait am I technically a sasaeng? I know where you are all the time and know more than any fan should."

He scooted closer, put his arm around my shoulders, and kissed the top of my head. "Given how much time I've spent trying to convince you to come to more of my shows, you definitely aren't stalking me, and there's nothing to know about me that I'm not happy to tell you. You are most definitely not a sasaeng."

"Okay, I feel better." I laughed, and silence fell again. Not as heavy as before, but still very loaded.

"You broke the silence last time, guess it's my turn. I don't... first thing is, was it a heat of the moment thing, or a Thing thing? I know it wasn't a planned thing, but like. Hyperbolic, I guess? There's not a wrong answer, to be clear. I just want to know where you're coming from on that before I say anything else."

I felt, rather than heard or saw, him take a deep breath. He let me go, took my hands, and looked me in the eye. "It's not how I was going to tell you, but yeah, I meant it. I love you. You don't have to say it back, of course. I just... you should know that I mean it. It's not gonna be easy, with my schedule and all, but I will always be there and fight for you and us, whatever happens."

"That's good to hear, because once your fans learn that I love you, too, it's gonna get ugly."

"Hey, I'm sure it won't be that ba-" The smile that grew across his face when the full weight of my words set in was nothing short of the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. It only lasted for a moment, though, before he took my face in his hands and kissed me.

Eventually, I pulled away. "Not how you were going to tell me? Implying that you did, in fact, have a plan?" The joke was undercut by my breathlessness, but he blushed and looked down anyway.

"Yeah, um. You know how I'm going into the studio later this week to record the last track for my next album?"

"The mysterious title track you refuse to play for me, unlike every other song you've written since we met?"

"That's the one. I didn't want you to hear it until it was finished and perfect, and then, well... I had a plan. Dinner, roses, the whole nine yards."

I scooted back a little bit and ran my hand through my hair. "Kang Seo-woo. You're telling me right now that the first song the world is going to hear on the follow up to an album that literally won a Grammy a few hours ago is one you wrote just to tell me you love me? You sappy, over the top, dramatic fucking musician. I love you so much."

"Songbird, you're sending very mixed signals. Are you saying that it was a good plan, or...?"

"Let me put it this way. Tell your manger to cancel anything that was on your calendar. It's gonna be at least 24 hours before either of us leaves this house."

#otp: confession

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