#im in a considerable amount of pain. i do not miss this feeling from my days of cashieering | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hongism · 4 years

Text

give and take - k.ys, j.wy, k.hj 18+

pairing; wooyoung x yeosang x hongjoong genre; angst, smut, 18+, the angst isn’t bad i swear it’s temporary wc; 16.8k summary; watching the two people he has feelings for come together in a relationship that holds some of the greatest moments of intimacy. and sure, yes, yeosang acknowledges that it could be something purely physical for them, but that doesn’t negate the fact that the two people he has feelings for are fucking and have been fucking right under his nose for the last several weeks. warnings; explicit smut, fingering, oral sex: m, dirty talk, praise, lil degradation, slight exhibitionism and voyeurism, explicit smut, multiple orgasms, come sharing, masturbation, handjobs, threesome, sub woo, sub yeo, dom joong, yaknow the works an; happy belated valentine’s day! i hope you all enjoy muahmuah xx also this is grossly unedited im sorry but my internet is gonna go out again at any second and i just wanna post this ;;-;

﹊﹊﹊

It starts, as many things do, with a little bit of jealousy. And honestly, Yeosang could not for the life of him tell you what exactly that jealousy was in the slightest (at least that is what he tries to convince himself on nights where his thoughts all but consume him). He was not the first to notice the sudden dynamic shift between Hongjoong and Wooyoung, and he was positively certain that the others would catch up soon enough. He was the third to detect the shift in their demeanors around each other; Seonghwa obviously being the first since he’s so close with Hongjoong and apparently has to vacate his own bedroom whenever Wooyoung disappears inside. Jongho, the ever-observant and perceptive youngest, was the second to notice, and he is actually the one who prompted Yeosang to take a deeper look into what was going on.

At first, Yeosang thought nothing of it. Hongjoong and Wooyoung had been getting closer, moving past those first fumbling awkward moments they had in the beginning and blossoming into a closer relationship. It seemed only natural for the two of them to spend more time together. Then Jongho pulled him aside one day after Wooyoung quite deliberately turned down the opportunity to play games with San and Yunho.

“What’s going on with Wooyoung-hyung and Hongjoong-hyung?”

Yeosang had blinked dumbly at the younger and made some sort of dumb noise asking why Jongho would be bringing the question to him of all people, then it sunk in that of course he would bring it to Yeosang. Yeosang is both the one who has known Wooyoung the longest — and is subsequently the closest with the younger brunette — as well as Wooyoung’s roommate, so he spends a considerable amount of time with the man.

“He’s not mentioned anything to me?”

Yeosang cursed himself then for sounding so dumb and unsure, but it was the truth in the very least, and Jongho gave a slight shrug before walking away with a shady ‘maybe you should pay closer attention, hyung’ that left Yeosang glaring at the spot where the youngest just stood.

Pay closer attention to what?

Yeosang didn’t have any idea what exactly he was supposed to be paying attention to, so he just did what he thought he did best, which was observing from the sidelines. One good thing about being quiet by nature was being able to examine conversations and interactions with greater care, as well as listen in on things that perhaps he should not be listening to but sometimes the others are just too loud for him not to overhear.

After Jongho mentions it to him though, Yeosang truly does start picking up on things. How Hongjoong snaps at Wooyoung in practice only to give him a twisting smirk afterward, how Wooyoung side-eyes the leader before dipping into the bathroom on movie nights, and especially how Hongjoong always waits three minutes and forty-five seconds before getting up to head down the hall proclaiming to need ‘sleep’. Yeosang is positive the two are doing something behind everyone’s backs — well everyone except Seonghwa, because the eldest always stares after Hongjoong’s back as the man departs with a look in his eye that Yeosang is incapable of placing.

The most important thing is that Wooyoung is spending less and less time with Yeosang, and consequently, Hongjoong too is spending less time with Yeosang. And the visual truly didn’t think there was anything wrong with it at first. He wasn’t bothered or bent out of shape about the increase in their shady encounters or whatever it is they’re up to because he didn’t think it was too out of the ordinary.

Then Wooyoung asked for a raincheck on their typical Thursday evening ramen stop. Yeosang saw him darting off to the studio moments after, and he didn’t return to their shared room until Hongjoong did. (Yeosang definitely did stay up waiting for either man to return; he didn’t need the confirmation, of course, he could have just assumed, but what’s several hours of lost sleep to him now?)

And after that, Hongjoong canceled one of their producing sessions together saying that he was simply too busy that day to check in on Yeosang’s progress. He had promised to look over his work and listen to his song when they returned to the dorms, but when Yeosang packed his things and left the studio for the day, he saw a very distinctly Wooyoung-shaped figure dipping into Hongjoong’s studio behind him.

Yeosang thought he wasn’t one to get jealous. He thought he had learned that lesson the painful way when Wooyoung started casting him to the side to spend time with San instead of him, then when Hongjoong and Seonghwa called him out for the behavior, the issue had been resolved and Wooyoung returned to giving him ample amounts of attention. So truly, Yeosang cannot understand why he feels the small stirrings of jealousy in his gut whenever he sees Wooyoung running to Hongjoong. And even worse are the nagging jealousies that come when the leader is the one to seek Wooyoung out. Yeosang cannot for the life of him rectify that one, because why is he jealous of his best friend for simply spending time with Hongjoong?

He cannot admit it out loud, but in the nights where he finds himself staying up late and waiting for Wooyoung to return with Hongjoong, he thinks deeply about those curling tendrils in his gut.

Yeosang has come to the conclusion that for once in his life, he does not like this because it makes him feel like he is missing out on something. That is a startling realization in and of itself because Yeosang has never been one to care much about those sorts of things — it just isn’t in his character or personality — so at first he denied that possibility and tried to look to other sources. When nothing else could ever make sense in his mind, Yeosang just had to accept that this was a new and growing feeling to work through. And perhaps it has something to do with the other emotions swirling through his gut that he refuses to name.

Which lands him where he is now: outside Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s door with hand raised and ready to knock on the wood. It isn’t Wooyoung and Hongjoong inside though, not at this time of day, but rather Seonghwa, the one who has the most amount of contact with Hongjoong and also the one who vacates the room whenever Wooyoung comes running over. So if anyone is going to be able to cure Yeosang’s illness that is Not Knowing What the Fuck is Going on, it will 100% be Seonghwa. Yeosang dares to bring his knuckles down on the wood and raps against the door several times before he hears Seonghwa make a noise from inside the room.

“Hey, Woo, he’s not here right — oh, Yeosang!” Seonghwa blinks several times at the man before him as though he cannot believe that it is Yeosang and not his best friend standing in front of the door. “Are you looking for Hongjoong too? I’m afraid he’s still holed up in the studio right now.”

“W-What? No, no, hyung, I was looking for you,” Yeosang says with a quick shake of his head. Seonghwa’s eyes remain wide in surprise as he speaks, but once the words process, the older steps to the side and beckons for Yeosang to enter the room.

“Don’t be a stranger, of course, sit wherever you’d like. I was just reading a bit.”

Yeosang has no earthly idea how long this conversation might take. For all he knows, it could take a whopping two minutes or perhaps thirty minutes that falls into a lecture about jealousy and all that. So he resolves to perch on the edge of Hongjoong’s lower bunk, nudging one of the stray plushies to the side to make room for himself while Seonghwa pulls the chair from the desk to sit across from Yeosang. It already feels like something of an intervention, and Yeosang makes a note to choose his words very carefully to avoid sounding too upset or jealous about the situation.

“Has Wooyoung mentioned anything to you recently?” He starts, but perhaps that isn’t the best place to start at all, he realizes once the question is already out.

“Is there something he is supposed to have mentioned?” Seonghwa asks, tilting his head further to the side.

“No, like — that’s not what I mean. Has he said anything—” This is the moment of truth for Yeosang. Either Seonghwa picks up on his jealousy in an instant, or he receives a straightforward answer and moves on with his life with at least a bit of understanding. “—anything about why he’s spending so much time with Hongjoong-hyung these days?”

“Hm?” Seonghwa seems genuinely perplexed by the question for a considerable amount of time, eyes darting down to look at a spot on the floor as he mulls over the question. Then, he shakes his head a few times and draws his lips into a tight purse. “Not to me at all, no. Has something happened between you two? Is he not speaking with you? Did you have a falling out? If something happened the—”

“No, no, hyung, please,” Yeosang interjects in a rush. Seonghwa cuts his thoughts short with a small frown, and Yeosang knows he is going to have to offer more of an explanation than that to ease the older’s worries. There is a bit too much shame burning at his gut presently though, a nagging and lingering feeling of embarrassment as he realizes he will inevitably have to admit that he is jealous of all things. And that is going to be another issue because Seonghwa knows him almost better than Wooyoung does, and the older for sure knows that Yeosang is never one to be jealous.

“It’s okay if the two of you are having issues, Yeosang. It happens to everyone, especially people who have known each other for as long as you and Wooyoung have. I’m not trying to insinuate anything of course, but I just want you to know that there’s nothing to be ashamed of if that’s the case.”

God, Yeosang wants to crawl into a tiny hole and die more than anything else right now because fuck this feeling.

“I’m just — I’m only asking because h-he turned San down the other night to spend time with Hongjoong. He has never done that. He and San are th-the closest and they never turn down the opportunity to spend time with each other, and it seems so odd that he would deny San so that he could spend time with‌ Hongjoong instead, and that’s just weird. It’s weird, and he doesn’t talk about it with me, he doesn’t mention it or anything like that, then he goes off and forgoes our plans together to be with Hongjoong too. And that’s fine, yeah, like they should spend time with each other, I don’t mind that part. Just… Hongjoong did it too and rain checked one of our producing lessons because he was apparently too busy with his own work and — and...”

Yeosang’s voice dies in his throat when he finally brings his gaze up to look Seonghwa in the eye, and the expression staring back at him is so raw and understanding that Yeosang cannot physically force any words out at that point. A small smile curls at the edges of Seonghwa’s lips, he huffs out a quiet laugh, and then his chin dips closer to his chest as the laugh overwhelms him. Yeosang, on the other hand, feels positively childish and stupid now that the admission is out there.

“I told them people would start noticing,” Seonghwa mutters more to himself than to Yeosang, but the younger picks up on the comment nonetheless. So he does know what’s going on between them. “Listen, Yeosang, yes, Wooyoung and Hongjoong are spending lots more time together. Yes, they are being a bit inconsiderate when it comes to the other members, but they are… at a phase in their relationship with each other where it’s easy to get caught up and spend unearthly amounts of time together. I have talked with both of them before about being a bit less persistent and intense, as well as prioritizing other people before themselves. But I am more than happy to talk with them about it again if it would help satiate your hurt feelings a bit?”

At least Seonghwa didn’t call him out on his jealousy. He should be grateful for that much. Why isn’t he grateful for that much? Oh, because of whatever the fuck Seonghwa’s rant is supposed to mean. ‘At a phase in their relationship with each other where it’s easy to get caught up and spend unearthly amounts of time together?’ What the hell is that supposed to mean? Seonghwa is still smiling like he knows, and Yeosang is fully aware that Seonghwa does truly know because there is that lingering odd emotion behind his eyes again that Yeosang despises so much.

“I — wait, what?” Yeosang’s brain is running on pure fumes at this point. The confusion has mounted into something immense, and he hardly remembers why he was so upset at this point now because of the bewilderment rushing through his system.

“I can talk with them again if you’d like?” Seonghwa repeats his previous offer, eyes wide as he blinks at Yeosang and awaits an answer.

“No, the — the part about their relationship?”

Seonghwa glances off to the side, and he seems to think over what he’s said before his eyes widen a bit in shock.

“A-Ah! Um, no, don’t — I don’t mean anything crude, of course!” Anything crude? Yeosang’s mind certainly wasn’t going down that path before but now that Seonghwa has mentioned that, it is now. And frankly, that throws him off more than anything else because he never would have assumed that that is what was going on behind those closed doors or anything. He has known Wooyoung swings both ways with little care since well before Wooyoung knew himself, and well, Hongjoong told the whole group that he’s pansexual when they chose him to be the leader because of transparency and honesty or some shit like that but... still. Yeosang would expect something like that to happen between Wooyoung and San but with Hongjoong? He can’t even imagine that — not that he wants to imagine it! He would never do that!

Yeosang’s cheeks flush a deep red when he realizes what Seonghwa means, and the older in turn figures out that Yeosang’s mind was indeed not traveling down that path and he has just caused it to. It’s a disaster, truly, and neither of them seem put together enough to even try to recover the situation. All Seonghwa does is push up from his chair and move towards the door. Yeosang doesn’t have time to wonder what the hell he’s doing or if he’s preparing to kick Yeosang out because when Seonghwa opens the door, it’s Wooyoung who stumbles in with a huff.

“Hyung,” he whines through a pout, not even taking notice of Yeosang’s presence on the edge of Hongjoong’s bed. “He sent me back here and said to wait another hour for him to come home. A whole hour!”

Seonghwa bears a strained smile, and he must look over in Yeosang’s direction because only then does Wooyoung shift and take note of the other presence in the room.

“Oh shit, were you guys — do I need to leave?”

“No, Woo, we were just having a chat,” Seonghwa insists, waving the younger man in. Wooyoung regards his best friend with a wary stare that has Yeosang’s stomach turning in knots several times before he swallows the feeling down. “Um, but since you’re here, this is the perfect opportunity to chat! Between the two of you!‌ So why don’t I step out and—”

“No, hyung, it’s okay.” Yeosang is the one to utter the words, and he does so as he pushes to his feet and away from Hongjoong’s bed. This is not what he came here to do, and yes, Seonghwa is right: they should talk, Yeosang should be honest about his feelings, but he also knows Wooyoung. He knows Wooyoung will whine and complain about Yeosang being too clingy or pointless jealousy or roll his eyes and unintentionally make Yeosang feel even worse about how he feels because that is just the way the other man is. It’s not from a bad place or a toxic place, merely Wooyoung’s way of handling issues, and inevitably Wooyoung will come crawling back to Yeosang’s bunk and cuddle him for a week straight before even thinking to hang out with another member. But right now, that isn’t what Yeosang wants. Mostly because he does not want to acknowledge his jealousy or the fact that it isn’t solely directed at Hongjoong spending time with Wooyoung. It is also directed at Wooyoung who is taking away from Yeosang’s time with the leader. Yeosang needs to work out those feelings before even thinking to discuss the issue with either man.

Seonghwa fixes him a startled glance, one that flits back to Wooyoung’s form several times, but Yeosang ignores it in favor of walking towards the door and replacing Wooyoung’s spot in the doorway. The oldest doesn’t seem pleased with his avoidance, as evidenced by the way he clamps a hand down hard around Yeosang’s arm before he can fully step out.

“I don’t want to have to play the parent and mediate between the two of you here,” he hisses more to Yeosang than to Wooyoung, but the youngest of the trio hears the words nonetheless and blinks over at his best friend with a bewildered expression. It’s then that Yeosang knows with full clarity that he is completely and utterly caught. Even if he tries to escape now, Wooyoung will come running after him and demand an explanation. “If he hears it from you then he’ll be more like to pull his act together and realize that I’m being serious.”

“Is something going on?” Wooyoung inquires at last, voice much fainter than it had been before. Yeosang manages to slip one glare in Seonghwa’s direction before he dares to face Wooyoung head-on.

“I just came to ask hyung why you seem to be spending so much time with Hongjoong these days.”

And Wooyoung has the nerve, he has the audacity, to actually look startled by that statement. Like he cannot believe that someone has caught on and realized how much time he’s spending with the leader, and he cannot believe Yeosang would go to Seonghwa of all people for answers. When Wooyoung shifts to look at the oldest, Yeosang doesn’t miss the way he sends a panicked expression of ‘what the fuck did you say to him’ and that’s when Yeosang’s mind really spirals.

At this point, he just wants to know what the fuck is going on so he can push his mind away from the gutter, but Wooyoung’s flushed cheeks and nervous glances are doing nothing to deter Yeosang from having the thought that perhaps Hongjoong and Wooyoung are spending their time together in a more intimate manner and he really needs to —

“He’s bothered by the fact that you keep shrugging him off for Hongjoong,” Seonghwa states, bringing Yeosang’s rampant thoughts to a screeching halt in an instant. “Which I told you both about before but you insisted th—”

“Hyung, it’s really okay, I just meant it as a harmless question, I’m not — it isn’t a big deal.”

“Is this about me rain checking you on Thursday?” Wooyoung asks. He points an accusatory finger in Yeosang’s direction, and the older of the two is certain that he doesn’t mean it in an accusatory way but he feels pinned and cornered by the gesture either way. “Yeo, I’m really sorry about that. I just wasn’t feeling up to going out that day and—”

“But you went to hyung’s studio right after and didn’t come back until Hongjoong-hyung did,” Yeosang counters before he can stop himself. That lingering bitterness returns to his gut as he mentions the memory, along with the subsequent memory of Hongjoong pushing him to the side for time with Wooyoung.

“In the studio?! Are you two out of your minds?!” Seonghwa hisses and reels on Wooyoung, who blinks back like a deer caught in the headlights.

“It’s — Yeosang is right there, hyung! Can’t you save the lecture for later? Or go chew hyung’s ear off instead of mine? It was his idea!”

“His idea? His idea! Of course it was. Let me guess: he felt bad for pushing me out of the room so much?” Seonghwa scoffs none too quietly. The bigger picture is started to come together, the puzzle pieces are slotting into place, and Yeosang is edging dangerously close to what he believes to be the truth.

He can’t stand the suffocation that comes in the air a moment later, almost like his own throat is trying to choke him and end him right then and there. So, he does the only logical thing he can think of and slips out of the open bedroom door as Seonghwa snatches Wooyoung’s ear and tugs mercilessly on the cartilage. The content of their argument is no longer important, not with the knowledge Yeosang has gotten so far, and it’s frankly stupid that he is even feeling so… whatever he is feeling right now. He wanted an explanation, he wanted to know what secrets they were hiding behind closed doors, and all the signs are pointing to one thing Yeosang doesn’t want to imagine.

Yeosang unfortunately doesn’t make it even a foot outside the door before he is running face-first into someone, and judging by the height of the person he nearly just clobbered to the floor, it has to be none other than Hongjoong. Yeosang steadies himself on the other’s shoulders to keep them both from tumbling, and he brings a shaky gaze to the person’s features in search of a confirmation.

Sure enough, it’s Hongjoong, alright. Beanie squishing his mop of hair down, thick black-rimmed glasses sitting atop his dainty nose, and a bag slung over his shoulder that must contain his producing equipment. Yeosang says the only thing he can think of, which seems to be a common trend with him today.

“You’re back early.”

Hongjoong regards him with an expression of confusion and bewilderment, then Yeosang realizes that Hongjoong only told Wooyoung that part so he shouldn’t really have that knowledge, but then again, what’s the big deal? Why should it be odd for Wooyoung to tell his best friend something about their leader? Is that a secret for just the two of them to know as well? Or can Seonghwa be included in their little secret circle too?

“Yeah, I — I thought I would be able to focus but I kept getting distracted so I just packed up and came home to work on stuff instead.”

Yeosang dares to ask.

“Can I come by and work with you on some stuff then?”

“A-Ah, maybe in a bit? I’ll text you and let you know. I really need to hunker down on these…” Hongjoong trails off and rubs at the back of his neck. Yeosang doesn’t miss the way the older man glances off towards the door to his and Seonghwa’s bedroom.

“Yeah, of course, hyung, no worries,” he forces out, adding a tight smile that he hopes will ease Hongjoong’s stress a bit. The older nods as Yeosang steps out of the way, heading into the bedroom without further ado.

There is no real reason for Yeosang to stick around so he doesn’t; he merely heads for the living room and makes himself at home on the couch, perching on the cushions in a way that gives him a clear view directly down the hall. He has one more lasting curiosity, and he’s determined to get the answer right now rather than waiting god knows how long for the next opportunity. Thus, he waits. Two minutes pass, then ten, along with some slightly raised voices and Yeosang is sure that Seonghwa is chewing them both out in there, but he can’t make out anything of what they’re saying. Then after twenty long minutes, Seonghwa slips out of the room with a huff and a grumble, eyes rolling nearly to the back of his head, and he snaps the door shut behind him. He doesn’t even glance Yeosang’s way as he dips into the kitchen, although that’s probably because he’s covering his eyes with one of his hands and mumbling about always getting a headache because of those two.

Still, Yeosang waits. Another two minutes meld into ten. Wooyoung still hasn’t left the confines of Hongjoong’s room. It’s odd and peculiar in his mind because Hongjoong insisted that he needed to focus, he needed to work, but Wooyoung has to be — and Yeosang says this as lovingly as possible — the most distracting human being on the face of the planet.

It is enough to grab Yeosang’s attention by the horns and drive him to push up off the couch. He doesn’t think twice about what he is doing, that twisting and churning in his gut is the only thing on his mind right now, but he doesn’t stop his warpath until he reaches the end of the hallway where Hongjoong’s door sits on the right. A few seconds of precious silence pass, then he leans towards the wood and presses his ear to it.

For a moment, he feels entirely too foolish because he doesn’t hear a thing other than the quiet clicking and tapping of what must be Hongjoong’s computer. He turns to leave with his chin tucked to his chest in shame at the thought of how certain he was they were doing something… something in there. Then there’s a quiet moan, followed by an airy giggle that can only be Wooyoung, and a sharply hissed ‘stop that’ from Hongjoong.

“But I’m having fun, hyung. Aren’t you having fun?”

“The only thing I’m supposed to be having is you sit still while I work. You promised to be good if I came home early.”

“And you promised to make me see stars with how hard you’d fuck me. That’s not happening right now either, is it? So why don’t we…”

Yeosang’s brain turns to radio noise. Television static. Microwave beeping. All three at once. Or is that an actual microwave beeping? Is Seonghwa cooking something? He has no clue. He can’t see straight either honestly, mind too overwhelmed with what he has just heard, and shaky legs carry him back to his own door before pushing him inside with as much haste as he can muster.

Fuck me.

Wooyoung said the words with undeniable clarity. Yeosang shakes against the door, hand still clasped tight around the knob as though it will do him any good.

Fuck. me.

It really shouldn’t be a big deal. Yeosang should not be bothered. It’s only natural and expected for men of their age to have pent-up sexual frustrations, and of course, they have every right to exercise those urges however they want. Given their orientations, they would slot together perfectly too so why, why, why is Yeosang so bothered right now? It’s shameful the way his jealousy twists further in his gut, and he slides down the door until he’s planted firmly on the ground with knees drawn up to his chest.

He feels so fucking foolish. Thinks back to all the times he and Wooyoung have cuddled and been in close proximity over the years. The way he tried to be daring and bridge the gap between them. The lingering curiosity of blossoming emotions in his chest. The moment he realized where he sat on the spectrum when Wooyoung’s laugh sent such intense feelings of pure love through his chest that Yeosang couldn’t look him in the eye for well over a week after. Hands searching for Wooyoung’s in the dark, clasping tight together, and the fleeting sensation of lips dragging over Yeosang’s knuckles. Breathy laughs exchanged in the dark, soft admissions of love that Yeosang refused to amount to anything more than a friendship but secretly — oh so secretly he wished for more. Wooyoung’s touchy affections that came in the form of sloppy kisses on the cheek and teasing bites to the neck and shoulder. Then came San. Wooyoung stealing away from him. Hands finding San’s instead, hugs and cuddles going to the other man as Yeosang fell further and further away without even trying to pull Wooyoung back. He watched him go without putting up a fight.

What did he do then? The only thing he thought was logical: seek out the member he has the most in common with, the one who seems to understand him better than anyone, one of the view who understands and appreciates his need for quiet moments of peace.

Hongjoong.

Late nights in the studios, backs hunched and aching as they bent over a computer and Hongjoong showed him the steps to his artistic process. Compliments shared in amazement and wonder because Yeosang could not fathom how incredible Kim Hongjoong could be, yet still the older managed to exceed any expectations like it was the easiest thing on earth. The pride that would swell in Yeosang’s chest when Hongjoong congratulated him on a job well done, when he would mention the younger on his lives, the excitement in his hyung’s eyes whenever Yeosang would pop his head into the studio late at night. Hongjoong clasping a hand over Yeosang’s own shaky ones as he practiced for a cover. Whispered praises and reassurances when Yeosang would miss a note or slip up. Slow patience that waited for him without fail. Yeosang hates that he was foolish enough to let those feelings of admiration morph into the desire to be close to Hongjoong all the time, to cling to him, kiss him, have him for himself.

And he especially hates that he was never able to bury those dwindling emotions of love and affection he felt towards Wooyoung, because now? Now it’s like he is living a nightmare. Watching the two people he has feelings for come together in a relationship that holds some of the greatest moments of intimacy. And sure, yes, Yeosang acknowledges that it could be something purely physical for them, but that doesn’t negate the fact that the two people he has feelings for are fucking and have been fucking right under his nose for the last several weeks. He wishes he could be heartbroken or something along those lines because that would be a normal reaction. That would be typical and explainable and easier to manage than the sensation in Yeosang’s gut. In that moment, he gets some clarity that it is, in fact, not jealousy of either party. It’s a desire to be involved, a want to be there with them, and a need to be involved. Did he mistake it for jealousy? Every time he saw one running to the other, he thought it was merely envy that twisted his gut, but now… now Yeosang is coming to realize that it wasn’t envy or anything like that. He just wanted to be another piece in their puzzle because those two are the ones he’s closest to (and effectively has all too real feelings for), and it pains him so much that his eyes burn.

There are tears on his cheeks now surely, but his body has entered an odd state of numbness that he can’t piece together and cannot bother to piece together either. He doesn’t think twice before pushing himself back up to his feet, hands shaky and unstable as he moves for the dresser and pulls out a fresh set of clothes, dead set on taking the bathroom and washing his feelings away in the shower. What Yeosang doesn’t account for, however, is someone being in the hall at the same time he is, and he runs face-first into a chest.

“Yeosang?”

Fuck, and it just has to be Yunho of all people too. The one who probably won’t let Yeosang get by without drawing all his worries out of him and making sure he’s alright. And no, he’s not alright, and he doesn’t really want to be right now, but Yunho doesn’t need to know that. So Yeosang shrugs off the hands that find a home on his arms and tries to step around Yunho to get to the bathroom that is so so close yet so far away because of the wall standing before him.

“Are you alright? What happened? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, leave it alone, Yun,” Yeosang mutters through his teeth. But apparently, he can’t have a moment’s peace because Seonghwa must have heard the litany of questions and gotten concerned as well, his voice coming up behind Yeosang like a cruel shadow.

“Yeosang? Is something wrong?”

Yeosang doesn’t turn around but he doesn’t need to because Seonghwa closes the distance between them and steals a glance around his shoulder nonetheless. Yunho seems to be in the dark still in the very least, but Seonghwa will most certainly be able to figure out the source of his tears.

“Yeo… this — how bad is it? This is why I wanted you two to settle it then and there!”‌ Seonghwa exhales. His brows draw together to form a tight line that pains Yeosang to look at.

“Settle what?” Yunho inquires, blinking between both men, and his grip on Yeosang’s arms finally relents in that moment of shock. Yeosang takes the moment of freedom like a lifeline and pushes past Yunho to dart into the bathroom without further ado. Neither man behind him can catch him before he snaps the door shut in their faces, twisting the lock and trapping himself in the small room.

“Yeosang!” Seonghwa calls through the door, and he brings his fist down on the wood as though it will do any good.

“Maybe we should give him some space, hyung…” Yunho’s voice fades into the static running through Yeosang’s mind, and he no longer processes their conversation as he cranks the handle of the shower to let the water heat up. The pain in his chest also dulls, but only when he lets hot water run over his bare back, forehead pressed to the tiled wall.

Things are catching up to him now. Reality is seeping in and he is realizing all the things that have been happening behind their backs for the past several weeks. He blames his own imagination for the flashes that come through his mind as he tries to wash the feelings away. Wooyoung pressed under Hongjoong’s weight, fervent touches and lingering kisses. The same hands that held Yeosang’s dragging over the contours of muscles and skin, filling in the gaps that Yeosang wishes he could have filled. Or perhaps Wooyoung would curl himself into Hongjoong’s lap and hold the leader as close as possible as he so dearly loves to do with the others.

Perhaps it is more intimate and special with the two of them, however, and maybe Hongjoong fucks up into Wooyoung like that, holds him close while he works in the studio, and maybe that’s what they do when Yeosang is turned away. He bets that Hongjoong praises Wooyoung too as he loves to give all the members a litany of praises whenever they do something well, and Yeosang’s desires turns ugly when he thinks of Wooyoung being praised for being good for Hongjoong, nice and pliant and perfect for him, and fuck Yeosang wants to be part of it so badly it hurts. He wants Wooyoung to stand off to the side and watch, wants his own best friend to see him fall apart under Hongjoong’s touch. Wooyoung is such a brat that he probably acts that way in bed as well, and Yeosang feels nearly light-headed as he imagines himself being the one to receive Hongjoong’s attention and subsequently Wooyoung’s as well like he would be some example for Wooyoung to follow on how to be good.

Yeosang doesn’t feel disgusted by the thoughts but rather the way his own body responds to the images floating through his mind, the way his member reacts to it, and the temptation to reach down and stroke himself to completion is intoxicating. He cranks the water instead so that it’s nearly icy on his skin to keep his mind from wandering too much into the inappropriate territory even though it’s already there.

The cold is barely enough to stave off Yeosang’s churning gut because the sound of that quiet moan and Wooyoung’s delicate giggle are in his ears again even as he steps out of the shower and wipes the droplets away with a towel. It persists even when he leaves the bathroom, darting into the hall to make a break for his room in case anyone was outside waiting for him, but thankfully this time he has the hallway to himself and can make it to his shared room with Wooyoung without much issue. Yeosang only says ‘much’ because just before he opens the door, a noise carries down the hall and to his ears. One that is unmistakable but most likely only audible to someone like Yeosang who is standing in the hallway.

Another moan. This one is much more high-pitched and strung out than the last, bordering on the territory of a squeal, and based on the all too loud thud that follows, Yeosang can picture what’s going on with too much clarity.

“Hyung!” Yeosang’s heart surges forward in his chest, and he whips around like someone else has spoken the word, but it’s very clearly Wooyoung’s tone. Nonetheless, Yeosang shoves himself into his bedroom and snaps the door shut behind him as quickly as possible, flipping the lock for good measure because his cock is too hard to be ignored now. Part of him wishes he had more willpower to avoid this, and yet he’s too weak in the end.

Less than five minutes later, Yeosang finds himself curled under the sheets of his bunk, eyes blown wide open and staring at the ceiling above his head as he drags the flat of his hand over his cock. The friction is delectable at best but still not enough to satiate the arousal blooming in his gut. Arousal that only deepens when his mind recreates the images from earlier. This time he’s with them, imagining himself sitting off to the side as Hongjoong works on‌ Wooyoung’s body.

“Sit still and watch me punish him.”

Curse his imagination for being so potent that he can practically hear Hongjoong’s words on his ears.

“Touch yourself for us, Sangie, you know you want to,” Wooyoung would purr, still giggling even though he’s in trouble and about to be punished.

Yeosang presses his palm down harder against his cock. He won’t last more than two minutes like this; he’ll probably come like a teenager in less than that if he jerks himself with too much haste. So he forms a tight ring around the base of his cock and squeezes just hard enough to stave off the heady sensation in his veins. He debates going down to grab the small bottle of lube from Wooyoung’s end table. That’s too much effort right now, he needs his release soon, and he frankly doesn’t have enough patience in his body at the moment to finger himself open.

“You’ll be good and come when Wooyoung does, won’t you, Sangie?”

He wants to so badly. He knows he would be so good under Hongjoong’s control, he would take anything given to him because he wants that so badly, he wants someone to take the control from his hands and be at their mercy. He wouldn’t fight it or talk back, he would be so good it hurts, and a weak mewl tumbles from his lips before he can stop it.

Yeosang flings his free hand up to cover his mouth as though someone is going to hear the quiet noises, and when he presses the butt of his hand down again, more whimpers fall out. He can’t stop the noises nor does he try to any longer. The desire for a release is too overwhelming, mixed voices touching his imagination and seeming too real for Yeosang to handle as he ruts helplessly against his palm for that delicious bit of friction. And when he comes, he comes hard and fast, eyes rolling back in pleasure as his hips continue to cant up into his hand. He moans out Hongjoong’s name as he comes and doesn’t stop to think about quieting the noise this time in his fog of pleasure. Come spills over his palm only to be smeared over his skin when he can’t stop the movements of his hips. If he thought that would end the vision in his head, he was quite wrong, because after the haze covering his thoughts disperses a bit, it comes rushing back.

“I thought you said you’d be good for us, Sangie. You came before me.”

“I told you to come with Wooyoung, baby. Why couldn’t you do that simple task?”

“You always say that you’re going to be good for us, Sangie. Yet you can’t even seem to live up to those words.”

The tears that hit Yeosang’s cheeks next are ones that come from pure overstimulation and eustasy. Heat swarms his skin, a pretty pink blush that causes his whole body to flush, and his hips just don’t stop moving even as his mind cries out for a release from the self-inflicted torture.

“Pl-Please, Woo,” Yeosang whimpers to the air above him. “I’ll — I’ll be good. I’ll be so good, p-please.” It is all too much for him to handle right then because the next thing he knows, he is coming yet again, but it’s a painfully dry orgasm since he didn’t give himself any recovery time. He releases a choked sob that breaks into a strangled moan instead, then his hips finally rest and give his poor leaking member a break. The only thing that can leave his lips for several minutes is a series of gasps and pants, chest heaving desperately as he tries to catch his breath.

When he finally recovers, Yeosang pulls himself down from the bunk and strips once more now that he’s gotten the fresh set of clothes dirty and soiled. It’s as he is pulling a shirt over his head that the door handle jiggles to no avail.

“Sangie? Did you lock the door?”

Fuck. Wooyoung. He won’t have any knowledge of what Yeosang has just done, or that Yeosang knows what he was just doing himself, but the red hot shame burning in Yeosang’s gut. He just jerked off to the thought of his best friend and his hyung including him in their personal business. Yeosang doesn’t even know if either of them would be okay with such a thing, and yet —

“Yeosang? Are you in there or not?”

“S-Shit,” Yeosang exhales to himself, tugging his shirt the rest of the way and rushing to get to the door. He flips the lock and swings the door wide open to greet Wooyoung with wide eyes and mussed hair. Wooyoung’s hair is damp and clinging to his forehead; he looks fresh out of a shower, and Yeosang has no doubt that he and Hongjoong showered together after their… activities. “Yeah, sorry, S-Seonghwa-hyung wouldn’t get the hint that I didn’t wanna talk to him right now.” It’s only a partial lie, enough to cover what Yeosang was actually up to, and Wooyoung seems to buy it by the way he shrugs his shoulders quickly and brushes past Yeosang to get in the room. He doesn’t stay long, however, coming in simply to fetch his phone before darting back out of the room. Yeosang wants to ask where he is going, but at the same time, he can probably guess that it has something to do with San or Hongjoong again.

Yeosang doesn’t stay to watch him go. Instead, he dips back into their shared bedroom and shuts the door, intent to sleep through the rest of the day and push these lingering thoughts out of his mind. It’s only when Wooyoung returns hours later whining to himself about how San never lets him win a game that Yeosang dares to speak. He waits until his friend curls up in bed and gets comfortable, throat lodged with emotion.

“I…”

Wooyoung doesn’t offer even a noise of acknowledgment. Maybe he’s already fallen asleep. Perhaps Yeosang shouldn’t say anything or he should say this for another time, but right now he just wants to see. Test the waters. Gauge his reaction.

“I know about you and Hongjoong-hyung, Woo.” Curse him for stuttering when he did, and curse him for not having the balls to say it outright. How hard should it be for you to say to your best friend “I know you’re fucking our group leader under everyone’s noses”? Saying something cryptic like “I know what you’re doing with hyung” sounded too scary in Yeosang’s mind, but maybe he could have had a better approach. Especially since the bunk under his creaks and the sheets jostle, then a Wooyoung-shaped shadow darts across the room. The door swings open, Wooyoung slips out, then it slams shut, causing way too much noise for the hour.

Yeosang isn’t sure what he was expecting. He knows Wooyoung avoids confrontation. This should have been expected, yet as Yeosang curls onto his side and faces the wall, the tears that slip out his eyes are more painful than before, and he thinks vaguely in the back of his mind that Wooyoung doesn’t want him to have anything to do with the relationship he shares with Hongjoong.

Morning is awkward and stilted. Wooyoung most definitely went to Hongjoong’s room and told him what Yeosang said; Yeosang can see it in the way Hongjoong’s gaze slips between both boys throughout breakfast. He is a bit thankful that Hongjoong doesn’t look towards him with the same amount of fear and shame as Wooyoung did earlier, and there is no disgust or embarrassment in his stare either — only concern. Seonghwa is still worried about Yeosang’s crying in the hallway yesterday, as is Yunho because the dancer got Yeosang coffee and a plate of food, staying by his side all throughout breakfast with a hand placed over Yeosang’s thigh the entire time. The tension is palpable, and there’s no doubt that everyone knows something is wrong in some way.

Seonghwa keeps sending Hongjoong looks across the table, even as San and Yunho try to bring some energy back to the table and dispel the awkwardness. Those glances are probably the thing that prompt the leader to speak. And so, Hongjoong is the one to breach the subject, but he does it in a way that Yeosang could never have expected, and based on the way Seonghwa chokes on his syrupy coffee, the older had no clue this was Hongjoong’s plan either.

“Some of you have noticed that Wooyoung and I are spending a lot more time together these days.” Yeosang dares to look over at his friend, but the man is staring down at the table with cheeks so red and flushed that he’s nearly purple. “It’s because we’re fucking.”

There goes Seonghwa choking on his coffee, Mingi gags around a mouthful of rice, Yunho’s hand squeezes painfully on Yeosang’s thigh, San bites back a laugh and cheeky smile, and Jongho drops his spoon on the edge of the table in shock. Another clatter follows as the same spoon hits the ground, but Jongho doesn’t even move to pick it up and instead stares directly at Hongjoong like the leader like he’s just kicked a dog or something.

“Does anyone have a problem with that?”

Hongjoong’s gaze finds Yeosang immediately. Oh, so the question is targeted at him. Yet even as everyone else at the table denies there being any issue with such a thing, Yeosang can’t bring himself to shake his head or deny it. It’s not that he does have a legitimate issue with it, he merely wishes to slot himself in their space and be part of it. He can’t very well admit that over breakfast with the rest of the group though, especially not with how Wooyoung reacted last night. Hongjoong doesn’t wait for a response.

“Just because we have this relationship now doesn’t mean any of the group dynamics should or have to change. We are by no means exclusive or closed off to just each other. Understood?”

A chorus of affirmations greet Hongjoong, and Yeosang actually joins in this time despite the clench of his heart.

If Hongjoong expected the conversation to fix everything on a whim, then he would be sorely incorrect.

Wooyoung continues to avoid Yeosang. He won’t come into the room at the same time as Yeosang, only comes to sleep if San or Hongjoong kicks him out of their rooms, and is always either sleeping or gone by the time Yeosang gets up. Despite Yeosang constantly looking over at his friend, Wooyoung almost never looks back, and when he does, his expression twinges with something Yeosang would almost call guilt. He tries not to think about that bit too hard or too much.

Hongjoong, on the other hand, actually makes an effort to do things differently. He invites Yeosang to the studio much more often, asks him to accompany him as he picks up food for the rest of the group at least two times a week, and Yeosang finds himself frequenting Hongjoong’s room to work on producing practice a lot more as well.

Yeosang can’t complain because it’s what he wanted and missed so dearly, and he should be content that at least one of his crushes is giving him such devoted attention, but he is loathe to admit that part of his heart is dedicated to Wooyoung and Wooyoung only. That part is shattered in a thousand pieces every time Wooyoung sees him and turns to go in the opposite direction. He doesn’t last longer than a week with Wooyoung’s behavior, and the breaking point is a Saturday evening when Yeosang steps out of his room to see Wooyoung leaving Hongjoong’s with an unreadable expression. Hongjoong steps into the doorway right after, hand chasing Wooyoung’s and catching hold of it before the younger can dip out of his reach.

And now, Yeosang suddenly feels like he’s watching something that he shouldn’t be because Hongjoong places his free hand on Wooyoung’s cheek and leans his forehead against the other man’s, lips moving quickly and quietly as they speak to each other. Wooyoung nods several times before stepping back and turning around. His body tenses a bit as he sees Yeosang standing at the other end of the hall. They regard each other with equally wide eyes and lingering stares for several seconds before Hongjoong prompts Wooyoung to move by slapping the flat of his hand down hard on his ass. Wooyoung releases a startled yelp, cheeks flushing a dark red before he rushes to San and Yunho’s door and enters without even bothering to knock.

Hongjoong finally looks at Yeosang. The younger can’t describe the feeling that swoops through his gut, but Hongjoong is smirking at him and making him feel like that infinite space between their bodies is nonexistent. It’s like the man is standing right before him and cascading warm breath over his lips and neck, then he tilts his head to the side and motions towards his bedroom.

“Did you still wanna get some work done?”

Yeosang responds with a quick nod and dips back into his own room to snatch his phone up off the dresser before fully stepping into the hall to meet Hongjoong by his door.

“No laptop?” The older regards him with a curious stare even as Yeosang shakes his head a bit.

“Just wanna watch you work some, I think. If that’s okay?”

Hongjoong’s lips twist into a gentle smile, and warmth fills his gut.

“Of course, Yeo, come on.”

Yeosang half-expects the room to reek of sex and debauchery, or for the bed to be a wreck, but that’s not the case. Everything is almost too perfect by Hongjoong’s standards, like Seonghwa came through and raided the room before Yeosang stepped in. In fact, he’s almost certain that Hongjoong went the extra mile to change the sheets, but he doesn’t comment on it even as Hongjoong settles down in the bed and pats the empty space next to him. Yeosang climbs up beside him, heart in his throat and threatening to choke him out.

“I think I’ll be able to finish this one either today or tomorrow so I can submit it for the next album,” Hongjoong mutters. Yeosang watches with wide and careful eyes as he tugs his laptop into his lap, pulling the music file up to pick up where he left off. Yeosang is frankly not paying any attention to what’s happening on Hongjoong’s screen. He’s too busy looking at the man’s side profile, the way his brows draw together in concentration. Hoodie drawn over his head with headphones pressed over one ear and the other pressed further back on his hood.

“Hyung…” Yeosang trails off, unsure of how to voice what it is he’s after, and Hongjoong’s lingering stare only makes him more nervous. But then, the older shifts in the bed and presses his back further against his pillows. He lays his laptop to the side, for the time being, throwing his legs out, and Yeosang inhales sharply at the way Hongjoong motions to the space between them. Is he asking Yeosang to —

“Do you wanna lie down?”

Oh. Of course. Why would he think Hongjoong wanted something else when he and Wooyoung have each other for that? Still, Yeosang slips between Hongjoong’s legs and presses his head to the man’s stomach like it’s glass. Once he’s fully situated and comfortable, Hongjoong pulls his laptop back, placing it atop Yeosang’s stomach without missing a beat. The angle is a bit awkward on his neck, but Yeosang doesn’t complain because he gets to be this close to Hongjoong and in his arms like this. It’s practically intoxicating, and Yeosang almost feels light-headed by the time Hongjoong shifts their position to tug Yeosang further up on his chest, letting the younger drop his head into the crook of his shoulder.

Hongjoong doesn’t speak; he merely lets Yeosang rest against him like that with the familiar beat of his track playing faintly through his headset, and Yeosang watches on with less interest than usual as he drags things across the screen and into place. Then, after some unknown amount of time, Hongjoong decides to pipe up.

“When I talked to the group last week about Wooyoung and me, you were the only one not to say you were okay with the arrangement.” He murmurs the words softly, and Yeosang nearly doesn’t pick up on them at all. The moment they process though, he stiffens in Hongjoong’s hold. Although the man isn’t holding him there against his will, Yeosang feels somehow trapped and unable to escape.

“W-Wooyoung — he ran away from me.” Maybe that’s an exaggeration but the man did straight up bolt out of the room when Yeosang brought it up.

“He’s afraid that you hate him.”

That has Yeosang pulling himself forward, knocking Hongjoong’s hands away from where his laptop sits in Yeosang’s lap. Yeosang has enough decency to snap the laptop shut and push it to the foot of the bed before shifting to face Hongjoong. The look in the leader’s eyes is unreadable when they finally look at each other.

“Why would I hate him?”

Hongjoong merely lifts a brow in response. He seems to weigh his next words on his tongue and teases the corner of his lips a few times before deciding to speak.

“Do you not?”

“Of course not,” Yeosang mumbles. “I don’t hate either of you.” He dares to look towards Hongjoong once more, eyes finding the leader’s and searching for any sort of reaction but there isn’t much there.

“Then why didn’t you come talk to me as well?”

“I figured…” Yeosang doesn’t really have a response for that. He was cowardly more than anything else and afraid of what sort of conversation they might end up having. “I thought you would want the conversation at breakfast to be the last of it.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to bring it up for the past week.”

“What?” Yeosang didn’t even have the slightest clue that Hongjoong was wanting to talk about it. Since everything fell back into their usual routine, he simply assumed that meant everything was fine.

“When you told Wooyoung that you knew about us, what were you referring to?”

Yeosang’s cheeks heat up a bit, and he has to drop his gaze to the bed.

“I heard the two of you… I heard — y-yeah.”

“Heard what?” Hongjoong presses again, and this time Yeosang releases an exasperated sigh.

“Christ, hyung, do I need to spell it out? I heard you both moaning a-and it didn’t take much to realize what you were doing!” That pulls a loud laugh from Hongjoong’s lips, and he throws his head back with the sound.

“That’s not what he thought you heard, Yeosang,” Hongjoong says through the laugh. Yeosang swallows hard in response, sitting back a bit more and straightening his back. “He thought you heard what came after that, which is why he’s been so avoidant with you.”

“What came after?” Yeosang echoes, instinctually gripping the sheets in his fists. Hongjoong’s lips stretch a bit further into a smile.

“He also didn’t hear the noises coming from your room after because he was in the shower.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Yeosang is so fucked. Hongjoong heard that? What all did he hear? Yeosang remembers moaning Hongjoong’s name a bit too loudly, but he also said Wooyoung’s name, so which did he hear? Or did he hear both? How could he not say anything about it for an entire week?

“But frankly, I didn’t hear it either since I was with Wooyoung in the shower.”

Yeosang can hardly breathe at this point, eyes stuck and fixated on some point on the mattress, and that’s not what Hongjoong wants apparently because a single finger curls under the base of his chin. Hongjoong lifts his head until they can look each other in the eye again.

“Seonghwa told me that you had been crying before taking a shower yourself. Then after you came out, he went to check on you but your door was locked, and… he heard you inside moaning my name.”

“I-I can ex-explain. It’s not — it’s not what it looks like and I—”

“And Wooyoung’s.”

“Hyung, I…” Yeosang is fumbling to figure out what he can say to get himself out of this situation. This is probably the worst thing that can happen right now, and if Hongjoong knows, then Wooyoung most likely knows too and maybe that’s the real reason behind his avoidance these days. Maybe he’s so disgusted by what Yeosang did that he doesn’t want to even look at him again. But the look in his eyes has never been disgust — only some odd mixture between guilt and sadness.

“I didn’t tell Wooyoung that part honestly. I figured… he wouldn’t take my word for it. So I think it would be better to show him, don’t you?”

“Show him what?” Yeosang exhales. Hongjoong presses forward so far that his breath ghosts over the younger’s lips, and Yeosang chokes on thin air.

“That you want him just as much as he wants you.”

“He… he wants me?” The disbelief is palpable, but Hongjoong is patient as always, releasing a small hum and shifting behind Yeosang to grab hold of his laptop and headphones again.

“The thing he thought you heard that day — I enjoy riling him up maybe a bit too much, and I kept teasing him with the thought of someone walking in and catching us. The only person he wanted to interrupt was you, and he kept saying your name over and over like a prayer, so loud that he thought you heard him. And thus your reaction… or rather your confrontation scared him and made him think that you were disgusted by it.”

Yeosang feels like he’s been thrust underwater, ears ringing and head clogged with a myriad of thoughts that refuse to make any sense whatsoever. He understands the basic gist of what’s going on in the very least. Hongjoong knows he jerked off to the thought of him and Wooyoung, Wooyoung wants him to some degree, and Hongjoong is pressing closer and closer now that he has slid his laptop off the bed and tucked it under the bunk. And while Yeosang certainly doesn’t want him to stop, there is the nagging thought in the back of his mind that while Hongjoong said that Wooyoung wants him to some degree, Hongjoong never said whether he wants Yeosang in the same way or not.

“B-But what — what about you?” He whispers, too scared to raise his voice any further than that. Hongjoong hums as he leans a bit closer, and Yeosang falls back onto his elbows. “Do y-you want me too?”

“I certainly wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t,” Hongjoong says in response. He pauses in his push forward, giving Yeosang precious time to think and breathe easy for a few minutes. “But I won’t do anything that you don’t want to do, and I won’t push you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. Meaning that… if you want this but are uncomfortable with the idea of having an audience, we don’t have to have one.”

Audience?

When the realization sinks in, Yeosang draws his hands up to cover his face and hide the rampant blush that takes over his cheeks. Hongjoong is quick to respond, hands coming up to join Yeosang’s and gently clasp around his wrists.

“It’s okay, Sangie, baby, you don’t need to hide.”

Baby. Kim Hongjoong is positively trying to kill him on the spot.

“You’re so pretty, so so pretty especially when you blush like that,” Hongjoong continues. His voice comes out in a soft murmur, coating Yeosang’s ears like honey and dripping down to his gut where the threads of arousal begin to coil.

“Hyung,” Yeosang exhales in a tone so breathy and whiny that it nearly doesn’t come out at all.

“I need a firm yes or no on whether you want this before anything else, Yeosang.” Hongjoong begins to pull away, and that is the breaking point for Yeosang’s sanity practically because he lurches forward and snatches Hongjoong by the collar of his hoodie, wrenching him back down to hover mere centimeters over Yeosang’s lips.

“Yes, hyung, the answer is yes, please, for the love of all that is good in this world, please just—”

Thank god Hongjoong cuts him off or else he would have just kept on babbling for an eternity. Yeosang falls quiet with a startled gasp as Hongjoong plants his lips atop the younger’s, and the arm that holds him up buckles under the sudden weight on his body. The both of them tumble down to the mattress at an awkward angle, Yeosang’s arm trapped behind his back and Hongjoong’s foot tangled in the sheets, but neither of them pay much attention to those issues. The priority seems to be each other’s lips, not that Yeosang is complaining about the way Hongjoong rushes to swipe his tongue over Yeosang’s lower lip. He grants entrance to his mouth with perhaps too much ease. The moment Hongjoong’s tongue breaches his lips and begins to explore his mouth, Yeosang chokes out a wanton moan that reverberates through the older’s mouth and pools heat in his gut.

It’s only then that Yeosang decides to resituate their position some, and he kicks at the sheets to unravel them from Hongjoong’s feet before pressing up harder against the leader’s body. Hongjoong seems to get the hint and leans back as well, letting Yeosang have a few precious moments of control as he eases Hongjoong back onto the pillows and straddles his hips like this is what he was made to do. Yeosang is already panting and out of breath, cheeks alight with embarrassment still, but he looks an absolute vision in Hongjoong’s eyes with blond hair enveloping his forehead like a halo and lips glistening with spit. He finds a shred of sense left in him to ask one more question before he lets Yeosang dive back in for more.

“Do you want Wooyoung to watch?”

And this admittedly is not a fantasy Yeosang ever pictured or imagined. He figured he would be the one doing the watching, he would sit on the sidelines while the two fawned over each other and fucked, but this? This is something tantalizing indeed, and Yeosang would be damned if he didn’t take this golden opportunity now. Especially with the knowledge that both Hongjoong and Wooyoung have thought about him in the throes of passion.

“Is that what you thought of when you were jerking off, Sangie?”

Yeosang can only whimper in reply, hands drawing up from where they sit atop Hongjoong’s chest to cover his blazing cheeks again, but Hongjoong is quicker this time. He keeps Yeosang’s hands right where they are by clasping his fingers around the other man’s wrists and watches on with pure admiration as Yeosang writhes a bit atop him.

“Hm? Is it, darling? Does dirty talk make you shy? We don’t have to do that if it makes you too uncomfortable. Give me a safe word as well just in case we need to stop.”

“No! No, no,” Yeosang denies in haste. “I… um, we can u-use red because that’s easy to remember.” Hongjoong offers a hum in approval, and Yeosang has to swallow his nerves before admitting the next bit. “I l-like being embarrassed a bit.”

“Do you, Sangie? Tell me what else you like.” Hongjoong is practically purring the words, and Yeosang thinks it will send him spiraling over the edge. The teasing glint in the older’s eyes is lethal too, turning Yeosang’s insides to mush and his limbs to jello, and he can’t think of anything he wants more right now than for Hongjoong to utterly wreck him on this very bed with Wooyoung watching on.

“I like — like being good a-and hearing that I’m doing well.” Yeosang slips his hand around Hongjoong’s. He slowly tugs it upwards, guiding the man’s hand to his neck and measuring his reaction the entire time with wary eyes. Hongjoong seems to forget what breathing is for a moment, and when he finally does breathe again, it’s merely a sharp and painful inhale of air because Yeosang is closing Hongjoong’s own fingers around his neck and blinking at him with wide and innocent eyes. “Being choked feels really nice too. And I want Wooyoung to watch… to watch you ruin me.”

Hongjoong’s fingers twitch around his neck, and Yeosang knows that his words have a visceral effect on the man just by that reaction. He also feels the way Hongjoong’s cock twitches in the confines of his pants, right against the curve of Yeosang’s ass, and that brings a swell of pride to his chest.

“Do you want to ruin me, hyung?” He asks, batting his lashes for good measure, and fuck, it’s so worth it. It’s so worth it because Hongjoong growls in response and pushes Yeosang down so that he’s flat on the bed once more.

“Fucking hell, Yeo, how can you be so — holy fuck, you’re so perfect.” Hongjoong maps a path from the tip of Yeosang’s nose down to the collar of his shirt with his lips, leaving a wet trail behind, and once he reaches the space hidden behind Yeosang’s shirt, he uses two fingers to tug the material down just enough to expose more of the milky skin underneath. Yeosang doesn’t have time to ask what he’s doing despite the confusion rushing through him because Hongjoong latches his lips around the spot, teeth nipping at the skin until red blooms under his touch. And god does it feel euphoric to be marked by Kim Hongjoong, to be claimed by him and wanted by him, and Yeosang is certain that all reason will leave his body before Wooyoung even gets involved.

Hongjoong chooses that opportune moment to pull back. First, he admires the way Yeosang’s chest heaves, the way sweat beads his brow and causes his hair to cling to the skin there, and the way Yeosang already somehow looks so fucked out and beautiful that it’s unimaginable. He weaves his hands down the expanse of Yeosang’s chest to catch hold of the hem. Ever so slowly, Hongjoong tugs upwards, and it’s so painstakingly prolonged that Yeosang loses his patience before the shirt even reaches his sternum. He yanks the fabric from Hongjoong’s grasp and pulls it up over his head on his own, throwing it off to the side haphazardly without even bothering to check where it falls. He knows how to play Hongjoong so well, just what he needs to do to get under the man’s skin, and he does it with such ease that it’s laughable. Because the second Yeosang leans back to the bed and flutters his lashes up at Hongjoong, the leader is hissing through his teeth so loudly that the air comes out in a whistle.

Then he grips his hoodie but the hem and tugs it over his head, but he leaves the plain undershirt underneath on for the time being as he twists around and catches hold of his phone. Yeosang’s arousal deepens as he watches Hongjoong tap furiously at the screen. Then he has an idea that is probably far too risky but also far too alluring to pass up on.

“H-Hyung, could you…” Yeosang loses the confidence to finish the question, hand stretched midway to Hongjoong’s. Still, Hongjoong pauses and looks directly at him. His dark eyes are glazed with lust and arousal, and they bear such a seriousness to them that Yeosang has to swallow around nothing to get his next words out. “Send him a picture,” he tries again, pushing more willpower in this time. “With your hand around my neck.”

“You’re unreal.” Hongjoong’s tone bears a quake this time, audible proof that Yeosang is having such an effect on the man, and the younger revels in it as he tugs Hongjoong’s hand down to the column of his throat.

That’s all the incentive Hongjoong needs to bend over the other, and his hand squeezes a little bit around his throat. Yeosang’s cock twitches between his legs, right where his hyung’s crotch rubs atop his, and the sensation is so heady and thrilling that Yeosang dares to rut against Hongjoong again. He pushes his tongue out just a little bit, catches the tip between his teeth, then shows off the somehow innocent for the camera when Hongjoong angles it above his face.

“For fuck’s sake, Yeo, I’m not gonna be able to wait for Wooyoung to drag his ass in here if you keep that up.” Hongjoong snaps the picture as quick as he can before tossing his phone off to the side in a huff.

“Keep what up?” Yeosang asks before sinking his teeth into his lower lip. The pair spend about two seconds staring at each other, Yeosang with a playful gleam to his gaze and Hongjoong with a more looming and dangerous one that has Yeosang’s stomach doing small backflips in anticipation. They’re interrupted by the sharp slam of a door somewhere in the dorm, and that’s followed by a skid and another smack of what sounds like a body on the wall. Another three seconds pass before the door to Hongjoong’s bedroom swings wide open, hitting the wall so hard that Seonghwa yells down the hall about disregard for common decency.

“Can you at least pretend to be civilized, Wooyoung? You don’t need to act like an animal just because you’re about to get boned! And keep it quiet this time!”

The newcomer comes in a blur of dark hair and tossed garments, and Wooyoung doesn’t even wait for the door to be closed completely before he’s stripping down to his underwear.

“I’m here! I’m here, hi, fuck, oh my god, I’m here. Why didn’t you get me sooner, hyung?” Wooyoung hisses as he shuts the door in a rush, flipping the lock before stepping further into the room.

“I didn’t tell him he’d just be watching,” Hongjoong whispers into the shell of Yeosang’s ear. It draws a blush out of the younger man, one that persists as he and Wooyoung make eye contact. Hongjoong drags the flat of his tongue across Yeosang’s cheek and presses a sweet row of kisses to the same line of skin a moment after. “Why don’t you break the news, darling?”

“Break the news? The fuck, hyung? Did you invite me just to kick me out?” Wooyoung protests.

“I told you to trust me, you brat,” Hongjoong counters, passing a half-hearted glare towards the younger with a small sigh. “You’re here to watch the show.”

“Well, I’ll do that fucking gladly,” Wooyoung huffs. He makes for the bed, moving to join Hongjoong on top of the mattress, but Hongjoong slings his legs over Yeosang’s body and steps onto the floor to block Wooyoung’s way instead. Yeosang scrambles to push himself up onto his elbows. With wide eyes, he glances between the pair, swallowing around nothing when Wooyoung rakes his eyes over Yeosang’s bare chest leading down to the bulge in his sweats. Hongjoong places a hand over Wooyoung’s chest, and slowly but surely, the leader backs him up until he stumbles back into Seonghwa’s desk chair. “Hyung?”

“I said you get to watch. Not touch.”

“What? Hyung, you can’t seriously—”

“Per Yeosang’s request. Can’t you do it for him, my baby?”

Wooyoung sucks his lower lip between his teeth and inhales sharply at the small pet name. Yeosang watches on with wide and curious eyes, from the way Hongjoong drags his hands over Wooyoung’s tan skin to the way Wooyoung’s hips tremble in an attempt to stay on the chair.

“Good boy,” Hongjoong hums when the younger doesn’t budge after a few moments. He slips back to the bed, still smiling from ear to ear as he moves, and he greets Yeosang with a wet and sloppy kiss. It’s a mess of teeth and spit, something inherently dirty in the best way possible, and Yeosang can’t hold back the light groan that rumbles through his throat when Hongjoong brings a hand down to palm at his erection. “You still want me to ruin you, darling?”

“Always,” Yeosang exhales against his lips. At that, Hongjoong leaves him with one more chaste kiss then dips lower, not wasting any more time before pulling something out from under his mattress. Yeosang’s body tenses in anticipation at the sight of it, and even more so when Hongjoong curls his fingers around the band of his sweats.

“Be as loud as you wish. Wooyoung is such a sucker for pretty moans,” Hongjoong teases, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Hyung!” Wooyoung protests in an instant, and he nearly bolts up from his chair. Hongjoong levels him with a glare though, the power dynamic slipping through and baring itself to Yeosang’s eyes, and it would taste a lie if he said he doesn’t want Hongjoong to dominate him in such a way as well.

“Today is all about Yeo, but I’ll be kind enough to let you touch yourself too. But you can only come after he does.”

Wooyoung doesn’t voice his protests, but Yeosang can see the disapproval in his eyes. There is no opportunity to dwell on it for long because cold air suddenly hits his crotch and he feels his cock spring loose without warning. He draws his legs together to hide himself, a sudden bashfulness taking over him within seconds. Hongjoong drops his clothing off to the side, and it hits the floor with a soft thud before Hongjoong is back between his legs and easing his knees apart.

“Don’t hide yourself, darling,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of Yeosang’s knee. “You’re so beautiful for us—” another kiss, this time higher on the inside of his thigh “—so precious and perfect. Next time I’ll let Wooyoung worship every inch of you, I promise.”

Next time. That insinuation has Yeosang preening, hips canting upwards towards Hongjoong’s body, and the older man stills him with a deftly placed palm on his cock.

“A-Ah, hyung,” Yeosang chokes out. The pressure increases a bit, drawing another louder moan from Yeosang’s lips. Hongjoong takes the opportunity to spread his legs once more, although this time he makes sure to press them wider than before, and Yeosang has never felt more exposed in his life. Hongjoong is still kissing a path up his bare leg when he reaches for the bottle of lube. The click of the cap sends a jolt through his nervous system, cock twitching weakly on the vee of his hip.

“Hm, are you that excited, baby? You’re doing so well already. Wooyoung always complains about how slow I am when we do this.” Yeosang can do nothing but blink down at where Hongjoong is perched between his legs. Wide eyes meet his and maintain a steady sense of eye contact even as he pours some lube onto his fingers. “Am I going too slow for you, Yeosang?”

“A… a little bit,” Yeosang admits, shifting his elbows on the mattress.

“But you’re doing so well for us, darling. Being so good and patient, hm? What more could you want?” Hongjoong trails a finger from the head of Yeosang’s erect cock down to the base. Even the slight touch has Yeosang whimpering in need, and he tries to rut his hips up into the older’s hand, but Hongjoong doesn’t let him. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll ruin you good and nice, okay?”

“Please,” Yeosang pants. Hongjoong traces down further with his lubed fingers, using his index finger to rub small circles around Yeosang’s hole. With his other hand, he takes hold of Yeosang’s cock, then without warning, he encircles the entirety of his member in the wet heat of his mouth. “Oh m-my god, hyung!” Yeosang throws his head back against the bed. His back arches painfully with the sensation, but Hongjoong doesn’t let up until his nose brushes Yeosang’s crotch. It is vastly impressive but Yeosang is far too engulfed in the feeling of Hongjoong’s mouth around his length to think too much about it. What he does know is that Hongjoong takes him all the way to the back of his throat without gagging in the slightest, and Yeosang wouldn’t call himself small by any means, so if that’s not the hottest thing he’s ever witnessed, he isn’t sure what could top it.

Yeosang squeezes his eyes shut as Hongjoong ravishes his cock, taking in the feeling of the man’s tongue tracing along the underside of his length. Hongjoong certainly sucks dick like it’s his last meal on earth and his only purpose in life. Though the number of blowjobs Yeosang has received are few and far between, he knows this is going to ruin all blowjobs in the future for him unless Wooyoung is the one to give them. Hongjoong keeps circling that index finger around his rim. It’s teasing and prodding, like he’s trying to get Yeosang to cave and beg for it, but Yeosang is too lost in the heat of Hongjoong’s mouth to even think to ask for it. Ironically, it’s Hongjoong who grows impatient as time passes on, and he at last slips one finger past Yeosang’s tight ring and buries the digit two knuckles deep in him.

Yeosang blindly reaches down to grab Hongjoong’s wrist. He desperately tries to push his finger deeper, to prod further and find that elusive spot that feels oh so good, but Hongjoong keeps him from doing so. The leader slips off his cock with a lewd pop, leaving a trail of spit to dangle between his lips and the head of Yeosang’s cock. The effort of having Yeosang so deep for such a long period of time shows on his face: his eyes are a bit puffy and red around the edges, tears glisten in his waterline, and the tip of his nose gleams just a little brighter now. Yeosang could get drunk off the sheer sight of him like this.

“Be patient, darling,” Hongjoong reminds him as he pushes Yeosang’s hand away from his own. “You’re so tight that I wanna spend some extra time prepping you, okay?”

And yes, Yeosang is touched by the gesture in the very least but he’s also quite annoyed because he wants Hongjoong deeper and deeper with each passing second. He only gets part of his wish when Hongjoong descends back on his leaking erection, scooping up the trail of precum and saliva with the flat of his tongue and diving back down on him. Somewhere in the haze of his thoughts, Yeosang thinks that having his dick sucked by Kim Hongjoong is a wholly spiritual experience.

That point is proved further when Hongjoong pushes a second finger into his hole and gently settles it into his heat without moving for several seconds. Then, he twists his digits to the side and begins to fuck those two fingers in and out of Yeosang’s tight ring as slowly as possible. That has Yeosang’s moan devolving into choked mewls and whimpers, and his thighs tremble under the repetitive double stimulation that never stops even for a second.

Hongjoong has a talent at taking people apart it seems because he does it with Yeosang so easily that the younger is already seeing stars without having come a single time yet. Wooyoung is thoroughly enjoying the scene before him with rapt attention, and for once he actually remains rather quiet as he watches on, aside from the occasional moan and groan. The feeling of Wooyoung’s stare firmly planted on his body, from his face down to where Hongjoong’s face meets his crotch, leaves Yeosang feeling even more light-heated. He’s fairly confident that this with either send him spiraling into unknown territory or he will just straight up pass out after coming once.

There is no time to worry about those minute details in the coming moments: Hongjoong works a third digit into his hole, and when he does, he pulls off Yeosang’s tortured cock with a lopsided grin.

“Isn’t he so good and pretty for us, Woo baby?”

“Y-Yes, hyung,” Wooyoung answers quickly.

“Are you getting close, angel?” Despite Hongjoong’s stare being directed at Yeosang, the latter is vaguely aware that the question is meant for Wooyoung, but still, he nods a few times for good measure. That draws a laugh from Hongjoong’s chest. The noise resonates in Yeosang’s body, leaving him with a steady thrum of pleasure, and Hongjoong speeds up the pace of his fingers as he pumps them in and out of Yeosang’s hole. “You look so heavenly like this, Yeosang. Panting and mewling as I fuck your hole with just my fingers. You’re so desperate for something bigger, aren’t you?”

Yeosang is losing control over his own inhibitions and slipping into a place he rarely goes.

“Y-Yes, yes, hyung, I’m — want more. Want more, please, give me more,” he babbles back, too lost to think about piecing full sentences together. Hongjoong is quick to pick up on the shift, especially in the way that Yeosang’s body turns to jello in his touch and becomes fully pliant under him. The leader snakes a hand up Yeosang’s side and finds one of Yeosang’s own hands on the bed. He laces their fingers together, clasping tight at the younger’s hand while offering a sweet and gentle smile.

“Hyung has you, darling,” he murmurs. “I promise.” It’s the reassurance Yeosang needs to let go, and he lets himself rut down on Hongjoong’s fingers. They find a rhythm like that — with Yeosang’s half-hearted and shaky bounces and Hongjoong’s timely thrusts — and each jab to his prostate has Yeosang crying out for more. He wants to hold off, wants to make it last longer, come while Hongjoong is balls deep inside him, but Hongjoong seems determined to draw at least one orgasm out of him before they go any further.

And that’s exactly what he does.

Less than three minutes later, Yeosang has his free hand wrapped around his shaft as Hongjoong fucks into his hole with three fingers and a sense of reckless abandon. It’s purely euphoric, and the quick jabs to his prostate are what sends him fully over the edge. Come spills over his hand, coating his knuckles and fingers in the sticky white substance, and Yeosang lets the steady jerks of his arm come to a rest. Hongjoong, however, just continues to pump his fingers in and out of Yeosang’s hole, not waiting for the man to recover before he is back to toying with his prostate.

“Hyung, t-too much, ah — ah, hyung, I can’t!” It is a delicious bit of overstimulation, and one that leaves Yeosang exhausted and panting for air. Hongjoong stops before it begins to hurt thankfully, slipping his fingers out of the younger before mapping a path with his lips up to Yeosang’s neck.

“Are you with me, darling?” He hums into the crook of his neck. Small love bites enunciate the words, and Hongjoong drags his tongue over each little mark he paints on Yeosang’s skin.

Yeosang honestly feels like he is floating on a different plane of existence. He doesn’t process any of what Hongjoong said, only the touches and cool sensation of air hitting the path of spit Hongjoong left on his chest. It’s concerning enough to make Hongjoong sit back and look Yeosang directly in the eye.

“Yeosang, baby, are you with me?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, yes, hyung. I’m — I’m here, yes,” Yeosang replies this time as Hongjoong pulls him out of the state of delirium.

“What’s our color, doll?” Rather than responding, Yeosang preens at the name Hongjoong calls him, a lopsided smile covering his lips.

“I like that, hyung. Can you — can you call me that again please?”

“I need your color first, Yeo. Is it too much? Do we need to stop?” Hongjoong cradles the younger’s face in his hands, caressing the soft skin of his cheeks and trying to make the younger look him in the eye. Even the smallest touch sends Yeosang spiraling, like he’s swimming through dark water and can’t figure out what’s going on around him.

“I don’t want to stop. I’m… I’m okay,” Yeosang insists through a nod. “I just need a few minutes to recover a bit. ‘m still green, I promise. I’m too — t-touch is too much right now.” Hongjoong nods and retracts his hands from the visual’s face, and Yeosang instantly inhales a deep breath of air like he’s been starving for it all this time.

“Have you come yet, Woo baby?” Hongjoong shifts his focus over to the other man in the room, and Yeosang follows his stare over to land on where Wooyoung sits. Said man shakes his head quickly, fingers loosely wrapped around the base of his cock. “Can you last a little while longer?”

“Y-Yeah, of course, hyung.”

That has Hongjoong smirking again, and the leader slips off the bed to stand up straight.

“Good because I’ve changed my mind,” he hums, stepping closer to where Wooyoung sits. He steps around the back of the chair. Yeosang makes brief eye contact with the man as he lays his hands down on Wooyoung’s shoulders, eyes glinting a bit under the fluorescent lights. “Yeosangie is going to ride your pretty little cock, and I…” Hongjoong curls his fingers around Wooyoung’s jaw and shifts the younger to look at him. He pushes two digits past Wooyoung’s lips, pressing down so hard on his tongue that Yeosang can hear the way Wooyoung gags around him. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth just the way you like. Understood?”

Wooyoung mumbles around Hongjoong’s fingers, taking them deeper into his mouth without complaint, and that seems to be answer enough with the way Wooyoung blinks up at his hyung through his lashes.

“Good boy,” Hongjoong praises before pushing his fingers further down Wooyoung’s throat. “Yeosang, darling, take your time. There’s no rush, okay? Woo could sit here with my hand in his mouth for hours and be satisfied.”

Yeosang spends the next several minutes just observing the scene before him. It’s oddly euphoric to simply stare at them in this state, Wooyoung still seated in that chair and Hongjoong standing behind him with an arm curled around the front of his body. Wooyoung seems to be working his tongue over Hongjoong’s fingers based on the dripping trail of saliva that pools at the corners of his lips every few minutes. And Hongjoong was correct: Wooyoung seems perfectly content like that, happily lavishing the older’s fingers as Hongjoong cards his other hand through Wooyoung’s dark hair.

By the time Yeosang finally pulls himself to his feet, his legs are somewhat wobbly and shaky, but he drags himself to where Wooyoung is seated with little issue. While his own cock has softened down to a semi-hard state, Wooyoung is still rock hard and twitching between his legs, hands clasped tight around the arms of the chair. Yeosang drops himself to Wooyoung’s lap without warning, and it startles the man so badly that he bites down hard on Hongjoong’s fingers. Hongjoong takes it without complaint, only letting out a soft hiss and yanking Wooyoung’s hair until the younger moans around his hand.

“Are you feeling alright, doll?” Hongjoong leans over Wooyoung’s head to get in Yeosang’s space. The visual greets him with a quick and daring kiss, then places both hands atop where Wooyoung’s sit on the armrests.

“Perfect as can be.”

Hongjoong smiles into the kiss. He pulls off too soon for Yeosang’s liking, but Yeosang understands why he does so after a moment because the leader slips his fingers out of Wooyoung’s wet mouth and takes to stripping himself of the rest of his clothes like the rest of them. In the break of touching from Hongjoong, Yeosang and Wooyoung finally look at each other — Yeosang with teeth sunk deep into his lower lip, and Wooyoung with eyes glazed in lust.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this,” Wooyoung admits after a second.

“Well, you don’t have to wait any longer,” Yeosang replies with a smile before taking Wooyoung’s face into his hands. Their lips meet in a shy kiss at first, one that is testing and exploring the waters around them before they let themselves get caught up in the thick air of arousal in the room. Wooyoung shifts his hands to Yeosang’s delicate hips. He presses his thumbs to the pale skin there with enough force to bruise, but the pressure is heady and delicious in Yeosang’s mind.

Yeosang blindly fumbles around between his legs in search of Wooyoung’s cock, and once he finally has a hold of it, he pushes up on his knees to make space for Wooyoung to slip his cock between the cleft of Yeosang’s ass. They both release a shaky sigh into each other’s mouths, and Yeosang is ready to fully drop his hips on Wooyoung’s cock if not for Hongjoong stopping him at the last second.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, darling, you need more lube.” Hongjoong disappears behind his back, and Yeosang doesn’t bother to see what he’s doing until he feels something cool hit his backside. His whole body jolts forward against Wooyoung, hands latching onto the younger’s shoulders as the chilly lube slips lower. That feeling thankfully doesn’t last long because Wooyoung presses back into Yeosang’s hole with much more ease this time. Yeosang sinks down onto his heels once more, taking the younger’s cock deeper and deeper until Wooyoung’s thighs are flush with his ass.

He looks up from Wooyoung’s chest, intent on kissing the man under him, but Hongjoong has occupied his mouth in the meantime. And if Yeosang thought seeing Wooyoung with fingers between his lips was a sight to behold, the image of him with a cock filling his mouth is even better. So good in fact that Yeosang goes a little breathless at the sight. Hongjoong has a hand wrapped around the back of Wooyoung’s head, tilting the younger towards his crotch where Wooyoung slurps messily around his member with no shame. Hongjoong coos soft praises down at the man all the while, and it spurs Yeosang to start moving his hips. He desperately wants to hear that praise as well, he wants them to tell him that he’s doing a good job and being so good for them. He is so needy for it that he works his thighs as hard as he can, bringing a pleasant burn to the muscles.

Yeosang’s erratic movements have Wooyoung releasing a litany of moans around Hongjoong’s cock, hands fumbling to grasp at his hips so he can buck up into Yeosang’s tight heat with little sense of rhythm. There’s no real point in trying to find a rhythm with Wooyoung, Yeosang learns that quickly because every time he tries to build a steady pace, Wooyoung jerks up with a thrust that throws Yeosang off-balance. So, instead, Yeosang just focuses on his small bounces and grinding his hips down when there’s a break in Wooyoung’s thrusts. Wooyoung loses his control on Hongjoong’s cock soon as well, and his timed bobs turn into letting his jaw go slack so that Hongjoong can simply thrust into his mouth instead. The sounds in the room are purely erotic, too loud between the wet slaps of skin, Yeosang’s mewls, and Wooyoung’s gagged moans around Hongjoong’s member, but Hongjoong manages to be relatively quiet himself with only a few sporadic moans here and there.

“Look at you, doll.”

Yeosang cracks an eye open, panting through a whimper when he sees the way Hongjoong is currently staring at him.

“You’re doing so well for us. Look at him, Woo, look how good he is on top of you like this.” Hongjoong stretches his free hand out towards Yeosang. He reaches for the younger’s face, but Yeosang twists his neck at the last second and catches Hongjoong’s thumb between his teeth instead. He maintains a piercing stare with the leader as he sucks the digit into his mouth, effectively muting his noises. Hongjoong’s hips lose their rhythm, and he freezes with cock halfway down Wooyoung’s throat to just stare at Yeosang in absolute wonder for so long that Yeosang thinks he truly broke the man. Wooyoung slips off Hongjoong’s cock.

“Hyung,” he whines, tone so hoarse that Yeosang would be surprised if he could talk at all tomorrow.

“S-Shit,” Hongjoong exhales, and it’s the first time that Yeosang has seen the man’s composure break in the slightest since this started. That causes his chest to swell with pride, heady arousal filling his veins, and he squeezes hard around Wooyoung’s cock. It’s all the younger needs to come, apparently, because Wooyoung releases a startled yelp that is so loud that Hongjoong has to rush to muffle him with his cock before someone comes rushing to the door. Yeosang isn’t expecting to come as soon as he does, but he is quick to follow Wooyoung in coming, hot spurts of come painting Wooyoung’s stomach and Yeosang’s hands where they rest atop Wooyoung’s sternum. He can’t stop moving, nor does Wooyoung let him with the grip he maintains on Yeosang’s hips, thus the two of them ride out their orgasms together like that until their bodies give out to the pleasure.

Yeosang collapses forward, smearing the cum between their bodies further as he drops his head to Wooyoung’s right shoulder. Hongjoong is still working hard to come himself, and Wooyoung returns to his senses enough to assist him. Yeosang can only watch on from where he’s perched. Every muscle in his body aches and burns, but the lingering haze of his orgasms leaves him feeling warm and fuzzy inside.

“S-Shit, Woo, gonna come on you like this,” Hongjoong warns, fingers tightening around the man’s hair. Wooyoung pulls off his cock and replaces his mouth with a hand. He splays his tongue out before the head of Hongjoong’s dick, somehow managing to giggle as he strokes his hyung to completion. Hongjoong releases onto Wooyoung’s tongue and face, and Wooyoung takes every last drop until he’s milked Hongjoong dry.

When he finally lets go of the man’s cock, Wooyoung turns back to Yeosang, twisting a hand through his hair and pulling his face up until they’re eye level, then he plants his lips atop Yeosang’s. The come is still there, sticking to his face and tongue, but Yeosang sinks into the kiss without complaint. Wooyoung thrusts his tongue into the visual’s mouth. Hongjoong’s come is salty and warm, so bitter that Yeosang almost chokes on it, but Wooyoung fares much better, although that’s probably because he has a lot more practice swallowing come than Yeosang does. Yeosang takes it as best he can, swallowing every drop that Wooyoung pushes between his lips, and he even goes so far as to clean the come off Wooyoung’s face between soft kisses.

“Hyung,” Yeosang exhales, and he looks up to where Hongjoong stands beside them. Hongjoong seems to guess exactly what he wants with little trouble, bending at the waist to give him a sloppy kiss, and Yeosang hums into the touch.

“What about me?” Wooyoung whines the moment they detach, and Hongjoong has enough mercy to offer a kiss to him as well.

“I’ll give you more in the shower,” he promises after pecking the younger’s forehead. “I’ll go get the water running. You two come join when you’re ready, yeah?”

Hongjoong leaves the two of them there, still seated in that damn chair with Wooyoung’s softened cock deep in Yeosang’s ass. They don’t move right away, and frankly, Yeosang is more than okay with that because his body feels weightless and unreal at the moment.

“Want me to carry you to the bathroom?” Wooyoung offers through a smile. Yeosang only hums in response and tucks his head further into Wooyoung’s neck.

“I really… Wooyoung, I really like you. More than just sexually,” he admits, watching a bead of sweat trickle down the side of Wooyoung’s face. “You and Hongjoong both.”

“I like you both too, so I don’t see why that would be an issue.”

“Really?” Yeosang murmurs. And maybe it’s just the afterglow of the sex or the pent-up emotions rolling through Yeosang’s chest, but the corners of his eyes prick with unshed tears and his heart clenches in his chest.

“I thought it was obvious this whole time, yeah. And I know… I know Hongjoong feels the same even if he’s not always good at voicing his feelings all the time.” Yeosang squeezes his arms around Wooyoung’s midsection at that. A soft kiss lands on his forehead, then Wooyoung shifts their weight and tucks his hands under Yeosang’s thighs.

“Are you two dolts coming or not? I’m wasting hot water over here, hurry it the fuck up!”

“He loves us!” Wooyoung laughs into the shell of Yeosang’s ear, carrying him off to join Hongjoong in the bathroom before the leader complains again.

“Yeah, I think he does,” Yeosang murmurs more to himself than to anyone else.

﹎﹎﹎

308 notes · View notes

astrojoong · 4 years

Text

Hongjoong - Migraine Comfort

Hongjoong x Reader

Genre: Comfort, Fluff

Length: Bullet Pointed, sort of a Reaction

Warnings: Mentions of pain? nausea?

AN: okay so this was originally going to be a full blown drabble, BUT I am very depressed and can’t seem to complete it, so I think I’m going to be posting them as bullet points/reactions for rn and then I’ll plan on fleshing them out and probably posting them to ao3. I say them bc this is part of a bunch of comfort fics that I’m writing, one prompt per member, one fic for each member! anyways lmk what ya’ll think!

Ok so you and Joong have been dating for a while

They very recently ended promotions for a comeback and were BEAT

so when Joong texted you letting you know that they had their first free day in a while you were Excited to say the least

Work had been rough the past week and you really missed Joong during promotions

and to a lesser extent, the boys

you arrive like a bit past one, just like you said you would, and were disappointed but not surprised, to find that half of the members were still asleep

At least Joong was up, that's all you could ask for tbh

Because you missed the boys as well as Your Boy, you and the awake members (read: Hwa, Yeo, and Jongho) decide to watch a movie together.

You all settle in the living room, getting all comfy and cuddly to watch a movie together

It starts off calm.

but

BUT

it is Ateez

even when the other members start to make their way into the living room around the end of the first movie and the start of the second, it doesn’t get crazy YET

but it was only a matter of time

you think it started with Wooyoung’s questions and commentary during the start of the second movie, but its hard to say how exactly you got to this point

u and joong are still on the couch, u leaning against him with his arms around your shoulder, holding you to him while he rests his chin gently on your head

yeo is on the other end of the couch and all three of you are watch the Shit Show go down

The innocent act of eating popcorn while watching a movie has devolved into a full blown battle of spitting kernels and flicking popcorn at one another

Its woosan on one side, yungi on the other

Seonghwa was in the middle, acting as both a shield and a target as he attempted to get the boys to ceasefire in the hopes of mitigating an already disastrous mess

jongho had abandoned the chaos in favor of napping in his room now that it was free of any distractions

as amusing as all this was, you were a little distracted.

you were getting a headache

well, at this point, you HAD a headache

you weren’t sure when exactly it had started but at this point you Certainly felt it

you hadn’t been too concerned, thinking it was probably just a tension headache since you had been all tensed up for the past month due to work

but now

now you were feeling nauseous

which is a Bad sign

as nonchalantly as you can, you extract yourself from joong shooting him an apologetic look and make ur way to the bathroom

the farther u got from the cacophony, the less nauseous you became

which gave u a Theory

a theory that you tested when you entered the restroom and didn't turn on the light

just as you suspected

your headache ebbed just a touch and the nausea lessened

it was a migraine

you had a little experience with migraines before, you knew yours didn’t present with an aura so you never got a warning before one hit

you were thankful to have gotten yourself to a dark, quiet room before it hit full stride, which it was doing right now

all you could really do was curl up in a ball on the cool tiles and softly groan in pain

which is exactly how joong found you

when you had gotten up originally he noticed you seemed a little off but decided to say nothing and planning on seeing how you looked when you returned, maybe checking in then

after a couple minutes you could hear your phone chime, recognizing Hongjoong’s assigned text tone, but you were in far too much pain to do anything

plus you knew how painful the light from your phone would be

so after a few more minutes, with his text remaining unseen, he came to check up on you himself

he knocks on the door and all you can really do is moan pitifully in response

which does NOT comfort the poor boy

he was already worried before but now you sound like you’re in pain

when he opens the door you wince and retract from the light and now the faint sound of the rest of the boys’ distant antics

noticing your reaction, he crouches down to softly push some of your hair out of your face and stroke it lovingly

his voice gets really soft and he asks what's wrong

you explain the best you can which is really just whimpering the word migraine at him

he sighs and gives your head a few gentle pats before saying “wait here” in the same, soft tone, and standing up

he gently closes the door behind him

through the door you can hear him use his “Leader Voice” as he speaks to the members

you aren’t really aware enough to catch any specific words, all u know is that you’re for sure glad that the noise had died down a considerable amount

some time later

it could’ve been anywhere from 3 to 10 minutes, you aren’t really in a place to note the passage of time, joong returns.

as he slowly opens the door, you brace yourself, but it doesn’t hurt like it had before

he had the lights in the hall way turned off

joong helps you up off of the floor and guides you toward him and hwa’s shared room

there he has the lights off and the curtains drawn

on his bedside table there are two icepacks, a glass of water and a bottle of over the counter pain meds waiting for you

he helps you sit down and hands you the water and deposits two pills into your palm

you were getting ready to settle down when you heard wooyoung’s voice cut through the silence, yelling about something that mingi had done

you wince and the gentle expression falls from joongs face, morphing into “Leader Mode” as he quickly but quietly left the room to scold Wooyoung, but not before placing a gentle peck on your temple before disappearing

He returns with a remorseful looking woo who softly apologizes from the door, you silently wave off his apology and in return shoot him a finger heart with as much playful energy as you can muster

he returns the gesture as Joong turns back from talking to Seonghwa, who also apparently had followed him back.

you shoot hongjoong the best questioning look you can and he whispers back that Hwa will be making sure the rest of the boys keep the dorm quiet until you feel better

he tucks you into bed, placing ice packs on your forehead and neck respectively

he pulls up a chair next to his bed and softly strokes your hair and whispers soothing words to you until you are finally able to fall asleep

ok tbh this is my first time ever writing so like... hopefully it wasn’t Total Shit, im not Super happy w it but we all have to start somewhere so whatever. also! hopefully this is a somewhat accurate description of a migraine! I’ve only had about four in my life and they were all essentially the same as what the reader has. So I have limited experience and research to go off of but hopefully it was sufficient enough. Anyways pls let me know what you thought, or if you have a request (no promises tho lmao) or ideas. I’m pretty much open to anything.

thank you for reading!!

#hongjoong fluff #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #ateez x gender neutral reader #hongjoong x gender neutral reader #ateez x gn reader #hongjoong x gn reader #ateez x gn!reader #hongjoong x gn!reader #hongjoong comfort #ateez comfort #ateez reactions #hongjoong reaction #im tagging it reaction bc it fits that category #at least better than a drabble i think #hongjoong migraine #i am Soft and would like a pretty boy to take care of me #is that so much to ask

175 notes · View notes

ickle-ronniekins · 4 years

Text

my absolute favorite person, III

A/N: hi everybody! (i’m going to put my longer a/n at the bottom because i've a lot to say!) i want to thank you all so much for all of the incredibly kind feedback on MAFP, parts one and two. the banter in italics at the end are a flashback to the scene of them at the lake during their sixth year, which you can find in part one. if i may make a suggestion: whilst reading this, listen to “we keep in touch, okay?” from the love, rosie soundtrack to evoke ALL of the emotions. if you’re new here and need the other parts, you can read part one here and part two here, loves x

pairing: george x reader

word count: 2k something

tag list: tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @waschbiber @dreamer821 @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @purplefragile @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hollands-weasley @andromedaa-tonks @bbstrawberry0421 @princessof-theuniverse @cappsikle

other tags: @jenniweaslee @thelittlewritingcorner @siriusblackisme @they-reblog-once-in-a-blue-moon @chaoticgirl04 @mytreec @potterverseimagine @emcchi @godricsswords @tallyovie @msmimimerton @the-shattered-tea-cup @mischi3f-manag3d @quillsareforwriting @imseeinggred @i-am-kenz @verokela @imholeyfred-geddit @bralessandflawless

You were worried that returning to the place where you’d fallen in love all those long years ago would be a painful reminder of everything you’d lost. You were surprised that instead, it brought to you an inordinate feeling of comfort, and of home.

The golden leaves on the trees were reflecting beautifully off of the very still water in the Black Lake. You heard an excited yelp come from the forest -- surely due to Hagrid’s first Care of Magical Creatures lesson of the year. You were certain. You grinned to yourself.

You shoved your hands into your pockets, half expecting to feel the very worn parchment you knew all too well inside. Except, it wasn’t there. You’d lost it somewhere a few months ago. You’d panicked when you’d first noticed, because how could you have misplaced something that was seemingly attached at your hip? It was just another thing you’d lost, another reminder of what you couldn’t have back. Not that it mattered, not really. You’d memorized every word of it. You could recite it in your sleep. Everyone at his engagement party had heard everything on it, anyway. Well, everything except for what was written on the other side.

You’d fallen into a very deep type of misery following his wedding. Following your divorce. You’d ignored George’s constant letters asking you to grab lunch or dinner, to come stop by the shop. You’d pretend to not be at your flat whenever he’d stopped by and knocked on your door; you’d hide behind your curtains or underneath the covers of your bed. You’d begun to pick fights with Fred for no reason at all, except to evoke some emotion other than despondency. You’d wanted to feel anything other than discouragement. You’d yelled at him one day in your flat, If you knew how I felt all those years ago, why didn’t you tell me you knew? Why didn’t you do anything about it? Why didn’t you bloody tell him? And he’d yelled right back, I tried! I tried telling him, Y/N, and I tried telling you, but it was pretty bloody difficult to break the promise you’d forced me to make when we were young, to never reveal the very best of you to anyone. Did you really expect me to betray you like that, even when it came to my own brother?

The arguments were pointless, you’d found, because Fred wasn’t to blame. Neither was George. They weren’t mind-readers, no matter how much you wished they could be. The only person to blame was yourself, and yourself alone. You’d made this awful mess; now you had to live in it.

And yet, even through your brokenness, somehow, you still found yourself going back to to your story at the party -- when you’d said all you could say, you swore there had been a type of glimmer in his eye you’d never seen before. But were you being daft? Was it your eyes and mind playing tricks on you? He was in love with her, not with you. You were just seeing what you’d wanted to see.

There was one particularly horrid day, when you’d hadn’t moved from your bed and it was nearing four p.m.; you weren’t exactly sure what number sleeve of jaffa cakes you were on but you’d certainly eaten enough of them. Your hair was greasily plastered to the side of your face, and you desperately needed to change your socks. Actually, you’d desperately needed to change your entire life.

And so you’d taken up your prior Deputy Headmistresses’ offer, packed your bags, and moved to Scotland. Which is how you ended up here, now, on the Hogwarts grounds near the lake, having just finished your first ever Charms lesson with a rather exuberant class of second years.

The sound of students calling you ‘Professor’ hadn’t really given you the same warm feeling that one of George’s sparkling grins had always given you. But it would do. It would more than do. It was a new beginning, wasn’t it? One you’d never asked for, but didn’t know how much you needed.

And then a crunch of a leaf came, pulling you from your thoughts, and you whirled around, expecting to find a young, measly student skipping out on their lesson, or a fellow Professor coming in to check on you and how your first day had been. Except it was neither of those things. It was him.

His red hair was shorter than it was from the last time you’d seen him; it looked like he’d just gotten it freshly cut. He was clean-shaven with perfect posture. He was dressed in a pair of dark-wash jeans and a grey sweater, one that had most definitely been sewn with love and care by Molly -- it nothing compared to his dragonskin suits. There were slight bags underneath his eyes, and yet, he was still the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

Years ago, if this had happened, you’d have run into his arms, and he would’ve lifted you completely off of the ground and spun you in circles until you both fell to the ground, dizzy, and laughing. But now, you didn’t even know exactly what to say to him.

He started.

“Hi,”

You had to clear your throat a few times before any words were able to come from your mouth. “Hi,” you echoed him.

He placed his hands inside his pockets and glanced around the grounds, and you noticed a small grin lift his cheeks a bit. “Bloody hell -- Charms professor, eh? Who’d have thought?”

“Who’d have thought,” you echoed him again, carefully choosing every word to escape your lips. There was a considerable amount of distance between you both, and it felt strangely uneasy.

He met your gaze and furrowed his brow, as if to keep himself from crying. His lips were a thin, firm line. “Been a while, hasn’t it? I’ve missed you.”

The truth was, you didn’t know exactly how long it had been. Days had melted into weeks, weeks into months...you’re not entirely sure when the last time you’d spoken to him was. Not for lack of trying on his part, though. You knew this was all your own doing. You felt a sharp twang in your heart at the thought. “I -- I know. I’m sorry. Been really busy, as you can see --”

God, you were so daft. That sounded so bloody pretentious in your own ears, and you shook your head in hopes of erasing your words as they hung in the air between you both. No such luck. He walked toward you now, and stopped a few inches from you. You were certain that your feet were frozen solid into the soil and the leaves of the Earth. You were about to apologize again, when he beat you to it.

“Found something of yours,” he started, and you furrowed your brow in confusion. “Well, actually, Fred did. Somewhere in his flat. But he gave it to me.” George looked down and pulled from his pocket that piece of parchment you knew all too well, and you were certain your heart had skipped a beat. Maybe two. It looked strangely at home in his hands, as your eyes scanned the words that were engraved in your mind.

He fiddled with it delicately in his fingers, and your breath hitched in your throat as he gently turned the parchment over to the other side, to reveal those other words you’d written, but never, ever dare spoke aloud.

You swore you saw his lip wobble as you sucked in a breath. “Is -- is this how you’ve always felt?”

He handed you the parchment, and you traced your pointer finger gingerly across the words you could hardly see. The words you’d wanted so desperately to say that day, and other times, too, but couldn’t. Shouldn’t. But even so, you could still make them out, faded as they were:

I truly love you.

How utterly and painfully embarrassing. Here you were, life still somewhat in shambles, divorced, patching together the broken pieces of your mistakes, confronted by the man you’d been in love with for years about your own feelings you’d bloody written down on a bit of scrap parchment, and all you could bring yourself to do was trace your fingers over the words. You couldn’t even look at him. Ridiculous. But you shut your eyes tight, gritted your teeth, then looked up into his light brown eyes, and nodded.

You seemed to have lost your voice; but it was no matter, because George was fiddling with something else in his pocket. “Can’t believe you’ve kept it all this time,” he said, more-so to himself than to you, and he laughed lightly. He shook his head slowly, and then pulled out another bit of parchment. It was a bit yellowed, and more faded than yours, but he held it out to you. “I’ve kept mine, too.”

Of course. The speech he’d written for your wedding. An involuntary laugh escaped you, for you were immediately brought back to exactly that night, when he’d stood up and told one of the most embarrassing stories of your entire life, drunk on whiskey and friendship and fondness.

You chuckled lightly to yourself and sniffled a bit. “I remember,” you said softly, running your fingers across his handwriting. “How could I possibly forget when my best mate had embarrassed me in front of my entire family?”

A bright smile split your face for the first time in.. you didn’t even know how long, but when you looked up into George’s eyes, he wasn’t sharing that same brightness in his own grin. His was soft, and tired, and tears were glistening, glazing over his eyes. He took a deep breath and stood -- patient -- waiting for you to realize. He glanced down toward the parchment, and back up at you.

Something came over you in that moment; something from the look in his eye told you there was more you needed to know. And so you gingerly turned the delicate piece of parchment over in your hands, half expecting to see the same four words you’d written on your own, and half expecting to see nothing at all. What you didn’t expect, though, were the four words he’d written down:

Will you marry me?

Your heart stopped. You couldn’t feel your toes. Your tears froze in place and you looked quickly from the parchment to him, and back again. The ink was so beyond faded, so it’s not like he’d just scratched it down. Had he really written it down all that time ago? Had that truly been what he’d wanted to say to you before your own wedding? What he’d wanted to ask?

He took your hands in his then, your lip quivering more than you would have liked. His voice was a bit wobbly as he spoke, “It was true then,” he breathed, interlacing his fingers with yours, “and it’s true now. How I feel, I mean. And the question, I -- I wanted to ask you, after we’d finished school, even though we hadn’t ever really..” his voice drifted off, and he was swallowing down his own vulnerability. He took another deep breath before continuing, “And then the war happened and life got in the way and other people came and went and.. time got away from us, I’m afraid.”

And then he gingerly got down on one knee, and your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him kneeling in front of you, with his bright red hair and freckled nose and boyish charm that would never, ever fade. You noticed the tears in his eyes as he traced small circles onto your hands with his thumbs. “I shouldn’t have let you go that first time, and I’ll be damned if I let myself do it again,” you both began to laugh a bit, and you noticed his bare finger, void of his own wedding ring. You couldn’t believe this, you couldn’t possibly believe it. His voice was so beautifully broken and soft, “Marry me, and I promise to always bother you, always embarrass you, and to only ever help you with your work if you truly need it.”

A hearty laugh broke through your tears, and somehow you managed to say yes, and he placed a sparkling ring on your finger. And when, for the first time in all these years, his lips touched yours, it was a perfect piano piece resolving it’s melody, it was the quintessential blend of colours in a rainbow after a rainstorm, it was the incredibly nerve-wracking and freeing feeling of flying on a broomstick for the very first time and absolutely everything in between; there was nothing in this entire world that felt better, or more needed, or more right than the feeling of his lips moving slowly against yours.

You both parted, but you found it incredibly difficult to remove your hands from him. The colours of the leaves reflecting off of the water transported you back immediately to that day during your sixth year, when you’d realized how you felt..

“And to think,” you began to tease, sniffling slightly and pulling gently on the sleeves of his sweater, “all these years later, and somehow I still let myself hang around with the likes of you.”

He threw his head back in a laugh. He wiggled his eyebrows jokingly and said, “It’s because you love me.” He peered into your eyes now, and again around at the gorgeous autumnal grounds of Hogwarts, and shook his head. “I couldn’t live my life without you, no matter how bloody long it took us both,” he placed a piece of hair behind your ear before pressing his forehead gently to yours. He breathed, “I never stopped loving you,” and closed the gap between you both once again.

“Hey, George?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you always go around bothering people and distracting them from the work they’ve got to complete?”

“Almost exclusively.”

“Then promise me something.”

“For my absolute favorite person? Anything.”

“Promise to always bother me, for the rest of our lives. Take me away from my work and my thoughts and tell me stories and jokes like you did that night at the Yule Ball a few months ago, and make me laugh for as long as you’ll have me. Okay? Promise me.”

“Okay, darling. I promise.”

-- -

A/N (cont’d): aayyyyy my peeps! so idk how y’all feel but i like to imagine that after the ending, she and george stay at the lake, reminisce over all of their memories together, laughing and joking about all of these moments how many times the stars just hadn’t aligned for them both.

thanks again for reading, guys! i hope you feel completed and whole by the ending like i do. i didn’t realize just how much i was going to put into this -- i really came up with the idea on a whim and didn’t really expect to make it so emotional or even make it three parts, but hearing your incredibly kind words and responses to each part of this mini series has reminded me of why i ADORE writing for this fandom. I ADORE IT.

anywhoooo, please leave feedback, comments, reblog and share with your friends if you enjoy, and i'll be sure to link all of the pieces together :) thanks so much! x

#george weasley #fred weasley #fred and george weasley #weasley twins #weasley twins imagine #weasley twins fanfic #weasley twins fanfiction #george weasley x reader #george weasley reader insert #george weasley imagine #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #hp imagine #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction

203 notes · View notes

teamhappyme · 4 years

Text

my world is grey without you

pairing: nick amaro x reader

warnings: tissues. this is not happy.

word count: 1.7k

a/n: this is pure sadness. i am so sorry, it is all hurt and the smallest pin point of comfort. my first nick amaro fic, and it’s gonna be ~heartbreaking~ but this idea has been in my head for weeks. hope you enjoy some of the pain im serving.

****

You think Mother Nature must be in tune to your emotions, when you wake up that early May morning. The clouds were grey, rain pouring from the sky, collecting in puddles on the cracked sidewalks of New York City. If you had to describe to someone how you were feeling today, you would just tell them to look outside. You felt as gloomy as it was in the city today.

Normally, your walk to the coffee shop was bright and full of sunshine, especially during spring. The flowers were starting to bloom, the sun was staying out longer, and the weather finally started to reach past sixty degrees. Instead it was filled with droopy tulips and black umbrellas covering everyone’s faces.

You got your usual order, and one black coffee to go, hailing a cab across town to your destination. You planned on walking yesterday; the half hour walk would help clear your head and calm your nerves. But today, it would only leave you wet and cold.

Once you pulled up to the brick apartment building, you paid the driver and quickly ran up the stoop and into the entrance. You buzzed apartment 3G, and after a few seconds, you were let in. You rode the elevator up to the third floor, your foot tapping against the linoleum floor the entire time.

You stepped out and took a right down the hall, stopping at the fourth door on the left. After three knocks, the door swung open, and there stood the man of the hour.

“Hey, Nick.” you gave him a small smile, lifting the black coffee you got for him on your way here. “I know it’s early, but I figured this may help you with any last minute packing.”

“I,” he started, running a hand through his hair, “what are you doing here?”

“What, you think you can just leave without a proper send off from your partner? Besides, I’ve owed you this coffee for three years. I had to pay up before you left.”

That got a smile out of him, as he reached for the coffee, and opened the door up a little wider.

“Come on in,” the foyer of Nick Amaro’s apartment usually greeted you with an onslaught of pictures of Zara and Gil, accompanied by many drawings and art projects from the young girl. Now on his last morning here, the walls were stark white, void of anyone ever living here.

“I can’t believe you got this place packed up so fast. It took us a whole day just to get that giant brown couch into the apartment.” You said, as your eyes looked over what was once the living room.

“Well, that’s what movers are for.” He followed in behind you, taking in the apartment he called home for the last two years. He moved in to the first place he could find, not wanting to spend another minute thinking about living without his baby girl. “I would offer you a seat, but my furniture is in a u-haul, probably crossing Kansas right about now.”

You smiled, as you crossed your ankles and sat criss cross applesauce on the hardwood floor. “That’s alright. I prefer the floor anyways, keeps me grounded.”

You were ready for the pointed stare you got from him, only making you laugh harder at your awful pun.

“Three years we’ve been partners, and you still have awful jokes I’ve never heard.”

“Hey, I gotta keep you on your toes, Amaro.” he sat down next to you, leaning back on his hands and crossing one foot over the other. You knew there wasn’t much time before he had to head to the airport; you purposely gave yourself a small window to minimize the hurt. “How long do I have you for until you head for the sunshine?”

He looked down at his watch, letting out a small sigh as he checked the time. “My cab will be here in about twenty minutes.”

“Alright. Then we have twenty minutes to make the best cop movie script out of our careers together.”

And for the next twenty minutes, you remembered almost every moment you spent with Detective Nick Amaro. From the first day you met, which had a rocky start, to the day he turned in his papers to be with his kids. There were stories of stakeouts that always included pizza and blaring rock music to keep you awake, monday morning bets on who would be in the precinct last, and endless amounts of coffee runs to keep the other person going.

There was a lot of trust built between the two of you over the last three years. Nick had been through hell and back in the time you were partnered together, and there was no choice but to trust each other. At work, he needed somebody he could trust without any doubt, and you made it so easy for him. The kindness and empathy you treated him with from the beginning, even when he didn’t deserve it, made a difference in his life. There was no one else he’d trust with his life more than you.

After some time, you two were in sync with one another. You always knew what the other person needed, whether that was a coffee, space, or comfort, the two of you knew what to do. It made work that much easier, it made the bad days that much better, when you didn’t have to tell them how you were feeling; they just knew.

You had just finished the story about your first undercover op together, when his phone lit up.

“My ride is five minutes out.” he said, the trip down memory lane coming to an end. Your smile morphed from a shiny grin, into a small close mouthed line. It was time to say goodbye.

“I’ll walk you out,” you got out, barely above a whisper, as Nick stood up. He held his hand out to you, helping you onto your feet.

You watched as he grabbed his backpack from his room, patting his pockets to double check he had his phone, wallet, and boarding pass. He took one last look around the place before walking out and closing the door behind him for the last time.

The elevator ride down was quiet, you spent those thirty seconds regulating your breathing and swallowing the growing lump in the back of your throat. This wasn’t about you.

Once the doors opened to the lobby, you felt soft fingers inching their way into your palm, lighty holding you together. You looked over at Nick, slowly, but he was looking straight ahead. You saw the twitch in his jaw, and the bob of his adam’s apple, and you knew he was holding back his own tears.

Moving your hand the slightest bit, your fingers fell into place with his. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, before following him out.

The rain had subsided considerably since you arrived, the downpour now more of a spring mist. You stood at the edge of the sidewalk with him for a few minutes, until he got the notification that the car was only five blocks away.

“Well, are you ready to turn into a Cali boy?” you asked, finally turning to see his face.

“I’m ready for no more New York winters. I am gonna miss just about everything else, though.”

“But you’ll have Zara, and Gil, and that’s all that really matters.” you said with a smile, while gently letting go of his hand. “Besides, I’ll make sure to send you endless videos of me shoveling myself out of my apartment building, just to let you know you made the right decision.”

“Please, please keep that promise and send me those videos. There is nothing more amusing than you swearing at snow.” you rolled your eyes, and nudged his shoulder in annoyance.

Instead of bouncing back off his body, you felt his arm snake around your waist. You leaned into his touch, letting your head rest on his shoulder. You felt the exhale of his breath before you heard it, along with the rapid beating of his heart.

“I’m gonna miss you, you know,” he started, as you focused on the way his fingers were moving up and down along your hip. “I wouldn’t have made it through everything without you.”

“I was your partner,” you said, the past tense already tasting like bile on your tongue. “I would’ve done anything for you. And I know you would’ve done anything for me.” You turned your head the slightest bit, just enough to see his face. “I’m gonna miss you too. More than I already do.”

He looked down at you, his brown eyes full of emotion and tears. His eyes flickered to your lips for the smallest moment, and you nodded, giving in to the moment, and the man you cared so much for.

His lips met yours in a chaste kiss, just long enough for you to remember what it felt like to hold Nick Amaro this close.

He pulled away, gently resting his forehead against your own. You let the moment last as long as it could, before the inevitable beep left Nick’s phone. They were here.

You pulled away from him, your waist growing cold without his arm wrapped around you. There was a beep from a blue car a few cars up, and you let out a sigh.

“Your ride’s here, Cali boy.” you said with a smile, wiping away the stray tear that traced your cheek. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“I won’t. Call me, whenever you need me, alright?” you nodded, trying to memorize the smile on his face. He found your hand one last time, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“I will. Now, go, you’re gonna miss your flight if you hit any lunch traffic.” He looked up the street to the cab, before looking back at you.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, and then your lips one last time.

“I’ll see you later, y/n/n.” he said, and you watched him walk down the streets of New York City for the last time.

But you knew you would cross paths with Nick Amaro again one day.

****

tags: @hurricanejjareau @qvid-pro-qvo @crazyshannonigans

#nick amaro x reader #nick amaro fanfiction #nick amaro fic #nick amaro #law and order: svu fanfiction #law and order svu fanfiction #law and order svu #jules writes shit ??

49 notes · View notes

legends-live-in-memories · 4 years

Text

I Have Too Many Opinions. ep. 1

lmao. i got encouragement to post my opinions on fandom things and now i want to make a miniseries doing just that. so here i am. doing just that.

im putting it under the cut cuz this was 4 whole pages including the disclaimer. yes i put a disclaimer and i explain why.

Anyways, here is the first piece in what inevitably will become fandom info dump, this time on thomas astruc’s writing on miraculous ladybug. but only some of my opinions cuz we would be here all day otherwise.

So… a disclaimer before I begin…

I do not hate Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir (yes i'm using their government name). I am quite a fan of the show actually despite its faults. I am also older than the intended audience but was obviously younger when the show first aired which is how my interest was piqued (the fact that its been 6 years and only 3 seasons says more about the show than me being a fan for that amount of time but also i never want to rush content creators cuz they're doing their best) and due to my age, there will be inherent bias in my approach of what i'm about to say as there is in EVERY opinion. The fact that it is an opinion should imply the presence of bias but most people tend to lack the critical thinking skills required to draw that conclusion ANYWAYS…

If I did hate the show I would not have this blog nor would I be even writing this because i tend to not give more than 2 seconds of thought to things i actively dislike (some of yall should give this a try) and i'm allowed to like things that are designed for an audience that i was originally a part of but grew out of. (I don't suddenly stop liking things because I'm older despite what many younger fans seem to believe about older audiences. I also don't need to be ‘allowed’ to do anything cuz i wasn't asking for permission anyways.)

This will not be character bashing, astruc bashing nor fandom bashing cuz, again, that would imply i hate any of those elements and if i did, i would not dedicate brainpower to them. Analyses and criticisms of media are fun and engaging and required if you wish to produce good enjoyable content. Now most of this should be already assumed and self-explanatory but people on the internet like to play morality roulette roll dice on purity culture and I rather have documentation that I am in fact not bullying fictional 14 year olds or a grown man. But alas, people get trigger happy whenever someone has less than 1000000% positive opinions on something they like and will throw out words they can't define (gaslight, baiting, toxic, problematic, gatekeep etc) in an attempt to defend their blind devotion,

which is not needed, if you like something you never have to defend it, even if i don't like it. If you respond to anything I post saying you disagree with me, I will not argue with you. I won't debate back and forth and try to convince you that the things you like are wrong. Unless you are being absolutely tone deaf to what i'm saying, you wont get a negative reaction from me. So don't try to fish for a fight. Please. I got metaphorical hands for days and I'm mean, you don't want me hurting your feelings on the internet. Do yourself the favour. Difference of opinion is how we get diversification in media and is inherently a good thing. Now that that's out of the way, please don't ever let me have to say that again. I beg.

Now onto the fun stuff

I didn't know what I wanted as a first topic so my trusty internet friend @moonlitceleste suggested astruc’s writing…

AND BOI do i got some opinions on ole tommy boi. Again I don't hate the dude. In fact, he has worked on a few shows that had defined my childhood, including but not limited to W.I.T.C.H. (all eps available on youtube for those interested, 2 seasons, general fun time all around).

So I don't think he’s scum of the earth but I do think his approach to writing mlb specifically has more misses than hits.

The first big miss is that he has no idea how to write 14 year old girls. At all. Almost every girl he has ever written feels like some terrible archetype built entirely for marketability and childish projection and pubescent self-insert (kind of). He has never been a 14 year old girl. I have. In fact when the show first aired, I WAS around the (assumed) age of the mlb characters. The behaviour he passes off as quirky or awkward or just the character’s genuine personality tend to perpetuate harmful stereotypes of teen girls found in the media and are never actually addressed as harmful. they just get swept under the rug. Marinette’s exuberant collage of teen heart throb model boi Adrien Agreste and her very painful almost fan worship she has of him (which flip flops like a paper sandal in the rain) being portrayed as a cute school girl crush uwu, Chloe being the y7 Regina George, Alya being the token best friend of colour with her ‘sassy’ personality (i want y'all to imagine me eyerolling so hard i bust a vessel in my eye), Kagami being the very damaging Perfect Asian Child stereotype. And before y'all get on your dusty soap box and defend going on about “BUT IT'S FOR CHILDREN”,,,, know this.

i don’t give a solid fuck.

Not one.

Children arent stupid. Children are always going to remember the richy bitchy blonde who bullies the art kid, and the big kid, and the shy kid, and the non white kids, and was only nice to her equally rich white friend who she probably had a crush on or was only ever civil to her equally white lapdog. They're going to remember the half asian girl who was never allowed to actually be asian or the only black girl who existed solely as a soundboard for enabling bad habits or chastising the main character for the same habits she enables in the first place (boi aint THAT a topic for later). Like do i really need to explain that alya chastising marinette for taking max’s spot in gamer just to play with adrien rings absolutely hollow when she actively encourages her to sabotage the contest she’s in just so Kagami doesn't win?? Like I don't have to explain that right?? Again kids arent stupid and its quite something that Mari gets chastised for proving herself the best video game player regardless of her intentions just cuz it comes at the expense of max’s feelings/ego but is actively encouraged to sabotage not only kagami but herself by extension cuz kagami is ‘competition.’ Adrien is not a trophy to be won. And no I don't expect 14 yrs old to be perfect and to always make good decisions but these decisions are never addressed as being bad decisions. they get swept under the rug cuz those decisions were necessary for the ‘plot’ but astruc can barely keep characterization consistent and his characters suffer for it and it's the same children you preach are watching it that suffer as well. Cuz guess what? I KNOW 14 yr olds aren't like that cuz i've been there done that (this is the last time i'm saying that i promise) so I know astruc is just metaphorically throwing darts to figure out who says and does what without consideration for pre established personalities to drive the stalemate plot along. The same kids you say are watching this don't know that that's not how preteens work and will absorb and internalize those dynamics like baking soda and vinegar. Cata-fucking-strophically.

And I haven't even gotten to the boys yet. Which honestly doesn't require much explanation anyways cuz they suffer the same fate as the girls. Tired archetypes with nothing to give them life. Nino falls into Adrien’s person of colour token best friend who dates the female lead’s person of colour token best friend so they can have cute double dates uwu. Except the plot goes nowhere and we have no inclination of romantic development beyond moments that only act to actively convince me to anti ship the lovesquare (i don't want to do that so i self indulge in fanon that actually cares about the characters and plot. may i interest you in True Sight on AO3?). Max is the residential nerd but it doesn't matter (cuz he and everyone are dumbed down for the sake of ‘plot’), kim is the sports jock (which interestingly subverts the asian comedic relief stereotype but only barely) and luka is cute older guy ™ that wears black nail polish and is in a band. The point of all this is to say there is no depth in the characters. It's especially blatantly obvious with the characters astruc doesn't like (chloe). Again, it being a show for kids is not an excuse to be absolved of putting effort into the characters you make.

This is one of the biggest misses astruc has. I haven't even gone into all the nuances of this particular miss. And i havent gone into how that works against him in the plot either. Mostly because the plot itself hasn't gone anywhere and partially because I wanted to go into the plot (or lack thereof) separately as its own miss.

AND BOI is it a miss.

SO home boy astruc wanted to reap the benefits of a serial show with ‘engaging’ plot without putting in any of the work to make a linear storyline and relying on the episodic format for, again, marketability. You can't have the best of both worlds, you are not Avatar: The Last Airbender. Which btw has a lot less episodes and a desired end goal that didn't involve top dollar. Legend of Korra did but that's not the point and it had its failings with that too. I challenge you, tell me how many episodes actually contribute towards a plot point or introduce new thematic elements to the show? Can you name them? I can and I'm going to include the plot points that moved the story in some direction if only temporarily. Yes only temporarily for some of these and i will explain later. (if you're in the server you already saw this list *wink*)

25/26. Origins- self explanatory, the beginning of the story,

24. Volpina- introduction of the grimoire and Master Fu (kind of) and no, Lila is not a plot point,

28. The Collector- proper introduction of Master Fu,

37. Sapotis- introduction of Rena Rouge,

41. Syren- introduction of new aquatic power ups,

44. Anansi- introduction of Carapace,

47. Frozer- introduction of new ice power ups,

48/49. Style Queen- introduction of Queen Bee,

51/52. Heroes’ Day- introduction of Mayura and mass akumatization,

66. Startrain- introduction of Pegasus,

67. Kwami Buster- Marinette wears multiple miraculouses,

68. Feast- backstory as to how the miraculouses were lost,

69. Ikari Gozen- introduction of Ryuko,

70. Timetagger- introduction of Bunnyx,

71. Party Crasher- introduction of Roi Singe and Viperion,

73. Chat Blanc- alternate timeline that essentially means nothing but got a reaction out of fans anyways (myself included)

77/78. Love Eater/Battle of Miraculous- Marinette becomes guardian and other heroes lose their miraculous,

New York Special- other heroes exist and there is an American miraculous box,

That's 21 episodes. 21 out of a heaping 78 plus 2 specials. Everything else was just your typical akuma of the day episode and everything that happened outside that had no lasting consequences on the plot thanks to the miraculous status quo. Was it entertaining to watch Lila stir the plot of the class dynamic? Hell yeah. Too bad it meant nothing by the end of the episode cuz we were struck with miraculous status quo. She literally doesn't appear again until Heroes Day. that is from episodes 25 all the way to 51, she means nothing and yet she is treated with the severity of a b-villain/rival thing. She means nothing by the end of Volpina if I'm being honest. She is only relevant for 20 mins of episode time she’s in then it's back to magic status quo that undoes any shift in dynamics and relationships. It's like Spongebob who can't get his driver’s license. The worst part is I actually like Lila and I wish the story treated her with the seriousness we as an audience are expected to treat her with. Despite being painfully inconsequential by the end of each of the 3?? 4?? episodes she’s in, it's entertaining to watch a character create drama just because.

Too bad it means nothing.

Astruc is constantly building up suspense to something ‘important’ only for it to not deliver and fans are constantly having the rug pulled out from under us. Oblivio teased us with a reveal only that gets undone cuz memory akuma. Chat Blanc teased us with romantic development but that gets undone cuz time travel bullshit. Feast introduced more miraculous lore and the history of the guardians but that means nothing by the next episode or ever (i'm not including any reference to the season 4 trailer cuz i've been around the block a few times and im familiar with this lil dancy dance). Heroes Day teased us with a possible future team of heroes but that gets undone in Battle of Miraculous cuz ????? why?? (here's why; astruc was having a jolly ole time letting us know how irredeemable Chloe is at the expense of shooting his own stagnant plot in the foot. Again, discussion for later.)

Too bad anything that slightly swerves off course from the akuma of the day gets undone or ignored. Too bad nothing has any lasting consequence. I mean, if anything did, the episodes would have had a consistent order and release schedule so im not scrambling to watch the leaked ep in Portuguese or something while the french dub is two episodes behind while the english version hasnt even been dubbed. I really wonder how he plans to conclude the show when he’s so afraid to step out of the corner he painted himself in.

Again, not going into nuances. If you want you can ask for more specifics (i doubt anyone would) but this is really just a slightly detailed general overview of my opinions on astruc’s writing.

I was going to include another miss in his approach to this show but imma save that for another time.

How’s that for a ‘first’ post?

#mlb #opinions my guy opinions #i dont wanna tag this as salt #but mlb criticisms and analyses #IHTMO #the hashtag for this series #thomas astruc #miraculous fandom #miraculous ladybug #miraculous: tales of ladybug and cat noir #yes the government name again #come get yall juice #miraculous

22 notes · View notes

choisanii · 4 years

Note

wait for the enneagram thing, what are the enneagrams of each type of stans (as you've observed) if you know ? im genuinely curious.

ok so a little disclaimer before i start rambling: i’m by no means an expert on enneagrams i just find them absolutely fascinating and i think they’re really helpful overall! like if you know what type you are and what type someone else in your life is, you are evidently able to better understand yourself, them, and therefore better your relationship with them! also considering i have <15 ateez moots, some of which i unfortunately do not know that well, i’m going to try to keep this pretty vague and i’m also going to mostly base it on what i’ve observed in the members themselves (what types i think they may be, but again, i don’t know them personally so take it with a grain of salt!), as I think that one of the reasons our biases are who they are is because we identify with certain aspects of their personality.

general note about the enneagram system: there are 9 types––one of them is your “basic personality.” this is your “core”, dominating personality, something predetermined partially by genetics and pre-natal factors, but also by your childhood (parental figures, significant events/experiences, etc.). however, since one’s personality is fluid and cannot be confined to just one “box” or “type”, everyone inevitably identifies with other types as well (this is where “wings” come in but that’s too complicated so i’ll stick with the core type). no type is “better” or “worse” than another; it’s literally just an explanation of why you are the way you are and how that contributes to how you see the world and interact with others.

hongjoong stans: type 1 (the reformer) or type 3 (the achiever) -> in the most basic sense type 1s are perfectionists. conscientious and ethical. they are set apart from the other types due to the existence of a self-critical “internal voice/monologue”. one may even call them workaholics due to the fact that they’ll often suppress their personal needs/self indulgence in favor of productivity. high standards. a very very strong moral compass. incessant desire to be “right”. fears corruption. type 3s are also known to be workaholics and they struggle with competitiveness. they’re extremely driven and ambitious though they are often overly concerned with their self image. gets wrapped up in their problems; tends to neglect their personal needs and the needs of others. strives to gain love and approval through performance. usually regarded as popular and well-liked among others, the “class president” or “homecoming king/queen/monarch” type. aims to be a role model who inspires others.

seonghwa stans: type 2 (the helper) or type 9 (the peacemaker) -> type 2s at their best are unselfish, altruistic, and maintain an unconditional love for others. extremely warm-hearted and empathetic. great listeners. kind and nurturing. self-sacrificial and people-pleasing. issues with possessiveness and acknowledging their own needs. bases self worth on what they give to others and what they’ll get back in return. may become overly dependent or manipulative. values relationships above all else. embodiment of the “good parent” everyone wishes they had. type 9s avoid anger and conflict at all costs. the mediator. merges with others and makes sacrifices in order to gain a sense of peace, belonging, and harmony, sometimes at the expense of their own feelings. can be very passive-aggressive when upset. trusting and gets along well with others. tendency to be overly complacent. can be very stubborn. maintains a generally optimistic point of view; likes to see the “bright side” of things.

yunho stans: type 4 (the individualist) or type 7 (the enthusiast) -> type 4s want nothing more than to “find themselves” and create their unique sense of self. inspired and creative, they view themselves as unlike any other human being; not in an arrogant way––in a way that makes them focus on their own personal deficiencies as well as hone in on their personal talents. honest and self-reflective. fears abandonment and loss. struggles with negative self image and low self esteem. type 7s epitomize the motto “don’t worry, be happy.” hate being bored; moves towards excitement, freedom, and a variety of interesting experiences. always willing to try something new. difficulty with commitment. extroverted, optimistic, and playful. struggles with impatience and impulsiveness. aims to maintain their freedom and happiness at all costs, never wanting to miss out on worthwhile experiences. spontaneous, agile, and exceptionally fast learners. book smart and impressive mind-body coordination.

yeosang stans: type 4 (the individualist) or type 6 (the loyalist) -> like i said with yunho, type 4s uniquely talented and expressive. gift for healing and the creative arts. always looking for more meaning in things. intense emotional highs and lows, difficult to find a happy medium. can be moody and self conscious. wishes to connect with people who understand them and their feelings. honest with themselves; do not attempt to rationalize their states, only accept them, which enables them to endure suffering with a quiet strength. easier for them to process painful experiences that may overwhelm other types. type 6s are reliable, trustworthy, and hardworking. when they are internally stable and self reliant, they become able to champion themselves and others. seek security and support from others in order to fight against anxiety and insecurity. friends for life. beliefs sometimes go against the “status quo” but they will defend and fight for them fiercely, more so than they’d do for themselves.

san stans: type 2 (the helper) or type 3 (the achiever) -> maybe this is me just projecting since i’m a type 2 wing 3 but these two types really stand out to me in terms of my san biased moots as well as san himself. as i said with hwa, type 2s at their best are unselfish, altruistic, and maintain an unconditional love for others. people person and people-pleaser. extremely empathetic and give good advice. self worth depends on the love and approval of others. considerate, generous, helpful. fears becoming worthless. does not want to be taken for granted. may become overly involved in the lives of others. energetic, romantic, and sensitive to other’s needs and feelings. and like i said with hongjoong, type 3s believe that only through performance, achievement, and success will they gain love and approval. can be very self conscious and self critical; wants to appear their best. motivated and motivating, constantly on a journey of self-improvement. their unwavering belief in themselves and desire for self development inspires others to do the same. a role model.

mingi stans: type 7 (the enthusiast) or type 9 (the peacemaker) -> like i said with yunho, type 7s are constantly seeking out new experiences. playful, optimistic, versatile, and extroverted. can be “scatter-brained” and end up undisciplined or over-extended. become satisfied when they are able to focus their talents on worthwhile goals. approach to life is not unlike “a kid in a candy store”. able to pick up skills and talents with relative ease, though when confronted with too many, they are unable to choose one to focus on. balance is key. like i said with hwa, type 9s are the mediators, the ones to avoid anger and conflict at all costs. passive aggressive under stress. seeks peace through acquiesce and acceptance. able to bring people together and solve conflicts. very in touch with their inner selves. goal-oriented but not aggressive. do not do well under pressure. struggle with finding a strong sense of identity. “spiritual seekers”, yearns for a connection with the cosmos as well as other people.

wooyoung stans: type 7 (the enthusiast) or type 8 (the challenger) -> like i said with yunho and mingi, type 7s hate being bored; they are constantly seeking excitement, freedom, and a variety of interesting and new experiences. an avoider; they avoid pain and fear by escaping into fun and pleasure. often have difficulty with commitment and following through. easily distracted and can become exhausted from being constantly on the go. do not attempt to control. brain works at a mile a minute, much faster than anyone else is able to comprehend. aims to stay upbeat and look forward to a bright, positive future. type 8s are proud, confident, powerful, and strong. not afraid of confrontation. extremely self assertive and independent, might be intimidating to others. have difficulty with allowing themselves to be vulnerable. quick to anger but easy to appease. fears being harmed or controlled by others. denies weakness or fear. refuse to “give in” to social convention.

jongho stans: type 5 (the investigator) or type 8 (the challenger) -> type 5s are visionaries, able to see the world in an entirely new way. focus on complex ideas and skills, sometimes to the point of detachment from the real world. relentless in their pursuit for knowledge. believe that they will eventually figure things out from the safety of their minds. hate feeling useless or incapable. compartmentalize people and situations. minimalist lifestyle; holds back strong feelings and desires/needs. like i said with wooyoung, type 8s are confident, impulsive, and aggressive. not afraid to go after what they want. difficulty being vulnerable. courageous, make good leaders, and protective of the weak. feel the need to control their environment (people as well) which may end up coming off as intimidating and domineering. want to be self reliant by proving their strength and resisting weaknesses. seek total independence and do not like being indebted to anyone. exercise an enormous amount of will, endurance, and persistence in their day-to-day lives.

#ateez #ot8 #ok to rb #thank u for asking shims <3 but sorry this is such a long post aklsjdfhajs #again i based this off of mostly what i see in the members themselves and a little bit on the one or two moots that bias each of them #so it's definitely not totally accurate! take it with a grain of salt or whatever #just to reiterate: personalities are very fluid! u can identify with some aspects #not always all of them and that's totally normal (which is why there are wings)#i love talking abt enneagrams so if anyone is interested always feel free to come chat w me abt them!!#cute mutuals #atinyphobe #askjess

41 notes · View notes

iridescentides · 4 years

Note

hi again dia! happy first day of december ❤️💚 i wanted to ask you what, in your opinion, are the 5 most underrated dcoms? i remember you saying before that you've watched all of them so i'd love to hear your opinions 😊 - 🎅🎁🎄

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH secret santa you are so good! asking me all the best questions 💜

okay so i literally had to make a list of all the dcoms i consider underrated and then narrow down a top 5. theres lots of dcoms that i love, but that i think got the right amount of attention and care (like lemonade mouth and the teen beach movies, for example), so this list just focuses on ones that deserved more hype for their quality level.

5. The Cheetah Girls: One World (2008)

okay so even as i type this i feel like a hypocrite. i have only watched this movie one time. BUT i can acknowledge that its one of the most criminally underrated dcoms ever, tons of people didnt watch it simply because raven wasnt in it. thats why i avoided it as a child, and i didnt get around to watching it until i did my big dcom binge in 2016. and it was so good. theres a really long post floating somewhere around tumblr full of specifics on why its actually the best cheetah girls movie (my favorite is the second one purely out of nostalgia), so to paraphrase some points from that post:

its a solid example of cultural appreciation, rather than appropriation, as the girls go and learn about bollywood and indian culture together

the indian characters arent treated like props or unimportant sides, they get their own agency and storylines that are important

the songs are good!!!

basically this movie was overlooked and slept on even though in terms of role modeling and social value, and just like the first two cheetah girls movies it was important and impactful.

4. Sharpay’s Fabulous Adventure (2011)

okay so as someone whos very neutral and occasionally negative-leaning towards the hsm franchise (mostly bc its overhyped and not really representative of all dcoms), i was pleasantly surprised by sharpays fabulous adventure. this is another one that i know lots of people skipped right over and dont hold with as much esteem as the main hsm franchise, and that doesnt sit right with me.

i do not agree with the “uwu sharpay was the real victim in hsm” arguments bc in their efforts to look galaxy brained the people who say that overlook the fact that she was a rich white woman who used her power and status to exercise control over opportunities that should have been fairly and freely available for all; they were not “making a mockery of her theater” in the first movie, they were literally just kids who wanted to try out a new school activity that everyone was supposed to be allowed to participate in; and despite allegedly learning her lesson and singing we’re all in this together with everyone at the end of the first movie, she literally showed no growth in the second movie as she fostered an openly hostile environment and favored troy so heavily that it literally cost him his friends, all as part of yet another jealous plan to take things away from people who already have less than her. she was NOT the victim in the main franchise, and she did not seem to exhibit any growth or introspection either.

and that!!! is why sharpays fabulous adventure was so important. in focusing on sharpay as the main character, they finally had to make her likeable. they did this by showing actual real growth and putting her outside of her sphere of influence and control. we saw true vulnerability from her, instead of the basic ass “mean girl is sad bc shes actually just super insecure” trope (cough cough radio rebel), and this opened us up to finally learn about and care about her character. throughout the movie we see her learn, from her love interests example, how to care for others and be considerate. she faces actual adversity and works through it, asking herself what she truly wants and what shes capable of. and in the end, when she finally has her big moment, we’re happy for her bc she worked hard to get there. she becomes a star through her own merit and determination, rather than through money and connections. this movie is not perfect by any means, but it is severely underrated for the amount of substance it adds to sharpays character.

3. The Swap (2016)

okay i know im gonna get shit for this but thats why its on this list!!! just like sharpays fabulous adventure, its not perfect and definitely misses the mark sometimes, but it deserves more attention and love for all the things it did get right!

the swap follows two kids who accidentally switch bodies because of their emotional attachment to their dead/absent parents’ phones. and while i normally HATE the tv/movie trope of a dead parent being the only thing that builds quick sympathy for a young character, they definitely expanded well enough to where we could root for these kids even without the tragedy aspect. we see them go through their daily struggles and get a feel for their motivations as characters pretty well. as a body switching movie, we expect it to be all goofy and wacky and lighthearted, but it moves beyond that in unexpected ways.

the reason the swap is on this list is for its surprisingly thoughtful commentary on gender roles. its by no means a feminist masterpiece, and its not going to radicalize kids who watch it, but it conveys a subtle, heartfelt message that deserves more appreciation. the characters struggle with the concept of gender in a very accurate way for their age, making off-base comments and feeling trapped by the weight of expectations they cant quite put their finger on. we watch them feel both at odds with and relieved by the gender roles they are expected and allowed to perform in each others bodies, and one of the most interesting parts of the movie to me is their interactions with the other kids around them. as a result of their feeling out of place in each others environments, the kids inadvertently change each others friendships for the better by introducing new communication styles and brave authenticity.

the value of this movie is the subtle, but genuine way it shows the characters growing through being given the space to act in conflicting ways to their expected norms. ellie realizes that relationships dont have to be complex, confusing, and painful, and that its okay to not live up to appearances and images. jack learns that emotional expression is good, healthy, and especially essential to the grieving process. one of the most powerful scenes in the movie comes at the end where, after ellie confronts jacks dad in his body, jack returns as himself to a very heartfelt apology from his father for being too hard on him; the explicit message (”boys can cry”) is paired with an open expression of love and appreciation for his kids that he didnt feel comfortable displaying until his son set an example through honest communication. this is such an empowering scene and overall an empowering movie for kids who may feel stuck in their expected roles, as it sets a positive example for having the courage to break the restrictive societal mold. for its overall message of the importance of introspection and emotional intelligence, the swap is extremely underrated.

2. Freaky Friday (2018)

this is my favorite dcom, and probably my favorite movie at this point. ive always assigned a lot of personal value to this movie (and i love every freaky friday in general), for the message of selfless familial love and understanding. i know i can get carried away talking about this topic; i got an anon ask MONTHS ago asking me about the freaky friday movies and i wrote a super super long detailed response that i never posted bc i didnt quite finish talking about the 2018 movie. and thats bc on a personal level, i cant adequately convey all the love i have for this movie. so i will try to keep this short.

first lets state the obvious: the reason people dont like this movie is bc its not the lindsay lohan version. and i get that, to an extent, bc i also love the 2003 version and its one of my ultimate comfort movies, and grew up watching it and ive seen it a billion times. i even watched it a couple days ago. but the nostalgia goggles that people have on from the early 2000s severely clouds their judgement of the wonderful 2018 remake.

yes, the 2018 version is dorky, overly simplistic plot wise, a bit stiff at times, and super cheesy like any dcom. the writing isnt 100% all the time. the narrative takes a couple confusing turns. the song biology probably shouldnt have been included. i understand this. but at the heart of it all, this movies value is love. and its edge over all the other freaky friday movies is the songs.

on a personal level, the movie speaks heavily to me. i cried very early into my first viewing of the movie bc i got to see dara renee, a dark-skinned, non-skinny actress, playing the mean popular girl on disney channel. that has never happened before. growing up, i saw the sharpays and all the other super thin white women get to be the “popular” girls on tv, and ultimately they were taken down in the end for being mean, but that doesnt change the fact that they were given power and status in the first place for being conventionally beautiful. so, watching dara renee strut around confidently and sing about being the queen bee at this high school got to me immediately. and in general, the supporting cast members of color really mean a lot to me in this movie. we get to see adam, an asian male love interest for the main character. we have a second interracial relationship in the movie with katherines marriage to mike. ellies best friend karl is hispanic. and we see these characters have depth and plot significance, we see them show love, care, and passion for the things they value. the brown faces in this movie are comforting to me personally. additionally, the loving, blended family dynamic is important to me as someone in a close-knit, affectionate step-family.

but on a more general level, this movie is underrated for its skillful musical storytelling and the way it conveys all kinds of love and appreciation. in true freaky friday fashion, we watch ellie and katherine stumble and misstep in their attempts to act like each other. its goofy and fun. but through it all, the music always captures the characters’ intimate thoughts and feelings. the opening song gives us a meaningful view into ellie and katherines relationship and the fundamental misunderstandings that play a role in straining their connection. ellie sings about how she thinks her mom wants her to be perfect, and her katherine sings about all the wonderful traits she sees in her daughter and how she wants her to be more open and self assured. this is meaningful bc even as theyre mad at each other, the love comes through. the songs continue to bring on the emotional weight of the story, as ellie sings to her little brother about her feelings of hurt and abandonment in her fathers absence. the song “go” and its accompanying hunt scene always make me cry bc of the childlike wonder and sense of adventure that it brings. for the kids, its a coming of age, introspective song. for katherine who gets to participate in ellies body, its a reminder of youth and the rich, full life her daughter has ahead of her. she is overcome with excitement, both from getting to be a teenager again for a day, and from the realization that her daughter has a support network and passions that are all her own. today and ev’ry day, the second to last song, is the culmination of the lessons learned throughout the movie, a mother and daughters tearful commitment to each other to love, protect, and understand one another. the line “if today is every day, i will hold you and protect you, i wont let this thing affect you” gets to me every time. even when things are hard and dont go according to plan, they still agree, in this moment, to be there for each other. and thats what all freaky friday stories are ultimately about.

freaky friday 2018 is a beautiful, inclusive, subversive display of familial love, sacrifice, and selflessness, and it is underrated and overlooked because of its more popular predecessor.

1. Let It Shine (2012)

this is another one of my favorite dcoms and movies in the whole world. unlike the other movies on this list, it is not the viewers themselves that contribute to the underrated-ness of this movie. disney severely under-promoted and under-hyped this movie in comparison to its other big musical franchises, and i will give you five guesses as to why, but youll only need one!

let it shine is the most beautifully, unapologetically black dcom in the whole collection. (i would put jump in! at a notable second in this category, but that one wasnt underrated). this movie was clearly crafted with care and consideration. little black kids got to see an entire dcom cast that represented them. the vernacular used in the script is still tailored mostly to white-favoring audiences, but with some relevant slang thrown in there. in short, the writers got away with the most blackness they were allowed to inject into a disney channel project.

the story centers on rap music and its underground community in atlanta, georgia. it portrays misconceptions surrounding rap, using a church setting as a catalyst for a very real debate surrounding a generational, mutlicultural conflict. this was not a “safe” movie for disney, given its emphasis on religious clashes with contemporary values. it lightly touches on issues of image policing within the black community (cyrus’s father talking about how “our boys” are running around with sagging pants and “our girls” are straying away from god), which is a very real and pressing problem for black kids who feel the pressure (from all sides) of representing their whole race with their actions. its a fun, adorable story about being yourself and staying true to your art, but also a skillful representation of struggles unique to black and brown kids and children from religious backgrounds.

on top of crafting a fun, wholesome, thoughtful narrative and likeable protagonists, let it shine brought us what is in my opinion the BEST dcom soundtrack of all time. every single song is a bop. theyre fast, fun, and lyrically engaging. “me and you” is my favorite disney channel song of all time due to its narrative significance; i will never forget my first time watching the movie and seeing that big reveal unfold onstage, as a conversation and a plot summary all wrapped into a song. the amount of thought and care that went into the music of this movie should have been rewarded with a level of attention on par with that of other musical dcoms.

if disney channel had simply cared about let it shine more, it couldve spanned franchises and sold songs the way that other musical dcoms have drawn in success. i would have loved for a sequel that explored and fleshed out cyrus’s neighborhood a little bit more, and maybe dipped into that underground scene they caught a glimpse of. i wanted a follow up on the changed church community once cyrus’s father started supporting his sons vision. i want so much more for these characters and this world than disney gave them in just one movie.

for its bold, unabashed representation of blackness and religion, subtle, nuanced presentation of race-specific issues, strong, likeable characters, and complex, thoughtful songs, let it shine is the most underrated dcom.

and because i made a full list before i started writing this post, here are some honorable mentions:

going to the mat (2004)

gotta kick it up! (2002)

tru confessions (2002)

dont look under the bed (1999)

invisible sister (2015)

#this took me embarassingly long to write #i cant help myself i literally think about this all the time #youre doing a great job with these questions secret santa!#dcoms #disney channel #answered asks #anons #gcwca secret santa #Anonymous

8 notes · View notes

goldenlionimagines · 4 years

Note

Hi!! Could you please do “don’t stand up yet” with Claude?? Thank you so much for your hard work and sharing your writing with us all :)

okok listen this isnt angst but it was what came to my head im sorry

also it gets a lil steamy but not NSFW -Mod Bunny

Prompt: “Don’t Stand Up Yet”

Word Count: 2,582

Claude struggled to get to his feet. Where was he? Where were his allies? His friends?

“Don’t stand up yet. You’re still hurt, seeing as that injury on your leg got infected.” He turned himself towards her, seeing what looked to be a bandit. She had an axe leaning against the wall, and hanging from it was… Failnaught? “Your bow and the clothes you were wearing were pretty fancy. What’s your name?”

Shit. He needed a good lie, one that wouldn’t make him desirable to the Empire. “Lorenz Hellman Glouscter.” He stated. His friend from school had become allies with Edelgard. He watched her pick up her axe from the ground, leaving Failnaught where it had been.

“Oh, the Glouscters are allied with Edelgard, right? Then, I can probably sell you to Duke Reigan of the Alliance at high price once you’re healed up. I wanna make an ally of that man.” She began shining her axe, checking the blade.

“Hmm? Why’s that?” Claude pried.

She laughed. “It’s stupid… But I’m from the Alliance. With this war going on, I want a chance to fight in the war for my homeland. Plus, some of our allies in the territory have said the new Duke is pretty attractive, and that’s a sight I’d like to see.” She joked.

Claude had to stop a blush from rushing to his cheeks. Of course, the girl he was talking to wasn’t exactly unattractive. “I wouldn’t say you’re not too pretty yourself. What do you think of me? Think I could stand against what you’ve heard about Duke Reigan?”

She laughed a bit. “Well, I’m sure I’ve seen more of you then I’ll ever see of Duke Reigan from when I put your bandages on. But, from what I have seen,,, I’m sure you could give him a pretty good run for his money.” She smiled. “Anyway, I’m gonna go get a drink before I go to sleep. Want one?”

“No thanks. I don’t drink.”

Funnily enough, Claude and Y/N became pretty good friends. Sometimes, they would make each other laugh and laugh (Usually, more so when Y/N would drink). She was pretty good at treating his wounds, as well as cooking as he came to find.

One night, Claude was having trouble with his back. Maybe it was from the lack of walking, or being forced to sleep on such a hard surface. He saw Y/N come into their tent and told her, “Hey, I’m in a good amount of pain. Don’t suppose you have anything to help me with that?” He asked.

She laughed. “You’re getting brave asking me for extra pain management. I really shouldn’t give it to you.” She went over to her bag, which was in a separate corner from the weapons she was keeping. “This is a bit that I keep for myself, but I figure I can share just this once.” She pulled out a glass bottle, which seemed to contain a viscous, clear liquid.

He sat up, watching her walk behind him. She removed his shirt. “Thank you for this. Is that oil?” He asked her. He pulled one leg closer to him, but kept his infected leg stretched out. He heard the clink of the glass bottle opening, and then heard her rubbing her hands together.

“It is. We got them while stealing from some Noble’s place. He had a whole assortment of them.” She placed her hands on his shoulders, beginning to massage his shoulders and neck. She felt his breath becoming slow and heated, obviously enjoying the sensation. “Now tell me, how is that leg of yours doing?”

“It’s getting better, I’m sure all thanks to you. The attention you’ve been giving me has been nothing short of spectacular. You’re even better than most of the nurses back home, even if you aren’t a nurse.” He expressed. He felt her hands travel down his back, and could feel her use more oil whenever she needed, but only ever removing one hand.

“Thank you for the praise, even if I’m not sure it’s deserved. How are you feeling? Are you doing okay?” She asked.

“It’s incredible, thank you.” He couldn’t help but moan a bit in pleasure as she hit a certain spot on his back. She smirked, sitting forward so that her head was hovering just next to his ear, and rubbing the spot a bit harder.

“Does it really feel that good? You should give higher praise if you’re going to moan like that in front of a lady. Oh, and that reminds me.” She began to whisper. “I heard a little rumor from some Northern Tribes, who do trade with a few Northern Pirates from Almyra.”

He could hear the little noises he was making, not even really paying attention to what she was saying. “Oh, well what did you hear?” He whispered back. What was in that oil?

“I heard that Claude Von Riegan… Looks quite a bit like Crown Prince Khalid from Almyra. But, you wouldn’t know anything about that… Would you?” She moved herself to his front, straddling his waist and beginning to rub his abs and chest, meanwhile making eye contact. “You, with such lovely tanned skin and brown hair. Your eyes are like jewels as well. And that white Wyvern we found while someone was delivering messages to us this morning…”

She pieced it together. She, who had only known him for 2 weeks. She had his wyvern? “I don’t know anything about Claude in that sense, but I doubt he’s from Almyra.” He stated, trying to stay calm as she hung her looseley arms around his neck.

“I’m no fool, Khalid, as much as I’m sure you wish I were by now.” She watched his smile fade. “Don’t worry, I have no reason to out you, and I have no plans to either. Although, I wish you hadn’t lied by calling yourself the name of some Imperial Dog. If I hadn’t known who you were, I would have killed you for being Lorenz, even if we are in Imperial territory.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been called that name…” He trailed. “Why are you so close to me? I know I’m attractive, but usually pretty girls don’t sit in my lap after giving me massages.” He winked at her, causing her to blush and laugh a little.

“I just told you that I know some pretty serious information for you to be teasing me like that.” She looked off. “Do you ever miss your home?”

“Tons. I know I’ll return someday, but I really do miss it seemingly more every minute. I was taken to Fodlan one day, and forced into a Lord role I’m not quite sure I was really meant for. Now I can’t seem to go home until this war is over.” He explained. “Dimitri and Edelgard, even despite their questionable sanity, are much more cut out for leadership than me.”

“Okay Master Tactician, then tell me,” She stood up, and Claude almost missed her warmth as she did. “Why did Hilda and her crew send me a correspondence saying they would pay any amount to have you back? They even detailed that even if it may take several weeks, they’ll get as much money as necessary together for them to be allowed to get you back.”

His eyes widened. “They said that? They wanted me back that much?” He asked.

“Believe it. Of course, I didn’t charge them a thing. Sent a message today for them to send a team ASAP to get you back to the Alliance free of charge.” She smiled at him, as his mouth hung open a bit. “Don’t be dramatic, I just wanna go back to having my own tent. Maybe if you’re lucky they’ll be here in a week. Maybe.”

“Thank you…” He said quietly. She seemed to be telling the truth, even if he didn’t expect her to do something like that. She was someone he couldn’t read, and certainly didn’t understand. Was she actually out for herself? Or was there another motive to everything she did?

She sat down behind him again, and he heard the clink of her glass bottle once more. “You’re going to keep going?” He asked quietly.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

A week later, his leg was basically fine. He could walk, and even run. He found out Y/N had been the one caring for his wyvern when he couldn’t, and it had taken quite a liking to her. She could scratch his neck and he would flip over for her to be able to rub his belly. This was a trick he had only really done for Claude in the past.

He had been caring for his wyvern alone when she came to him. “One of my patrols spotted a pink hair girl with a group headed this way. Is that your crew, or should I get worried?” He stood up to face her. “Those are my people, yeah. I guess it’s time to go then, unless you wanna keep me a little longer?”

She shook her head, laughing. “Nah, I can’t. Besides, you’re too pretty to be in my business. I wouldn’t feel right keeping you here.” She stated, starting to walk away. He pulled her back, holding her close to him firmly.

“You really think I’m weaker than you just because I’m pretty? Because if so, you’ve underestimated me.” He held her arms behind her back firmly. Their faces were so close… it was a strange feeling. They seemed to get this close almost too often now, as though it were a habit. Khalid’s natural flirtatiousness always made her wonder whether he was messing with her or not, which bothered her to a great extent.

“Fine, you’re stronger, can you please let me go now?” She asked. In less than an hour, he’d be gone, and she wouldn’t need to worry about him anymore. Why was she worried to begin with? He was just… Claude Von Riegan. Not Khalid. Not extremely attractive, secretly Almyran, Khalid. He was just a Lord from the Alliance.

He moved his face closer. She could feel his breath on her mouth. “No.” He stated. Why was he doing this? What was his game? Was it just teasing her?

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He asked after a considerably long pause.

“...”

“You’re not saying no.” His voice was low, and his grip was strong. She couldn’t think enough to say anything in the moment. There weren’t words that were coming to her in the moment. She could feel herself blushing brightly as she closed her eyes.

His lips were so soft.

“Claude!” Someone else called. He quickly disconnected from her, letting her go, but still standing next to her. They saw a girl with green hair, and a boy with green hair run towards Claude. “Claude!!” She exclaimed again, jumping up and hugging him.

“Hilda was really worried, and so was I.” Green hair explained. “We spent a while searching the area, but figured something had happened when we couldn’t. We kept sending out scouts, and just when we were about to give up, someone found their leader with your Wyvern. He sent us back a message, and judging by how nice he was, I guess we really lucked out.”

Hilda looked over at Y/N. “And who are you?” She asked.

“I’m the person who found Claude’s Wyvern. I’m sure if you’ve been running the alliance, I’m sure you can do the math.” She crossed her arms. This was not the first time people had been expecting a man there to greet them.

“Oh, apologies. I’m Ignatz, and this is Hilda. Thank you for keeping Claude safe, it’s a debt we may never be able to repay.” He bowed, a bit embarrassed to have misinterpreted her gender right in front of her. She couldn’t make them pay for Claude now, right?

“Wow, you’re really pretty!” Hilda said, walking up to Y/N. “How did you end up here, anyway? Do I know you from someplace?”

“You’re Goneril, right? That’s where I grew up. My dad was from there, my mom did this her whole life. Mom dies and tells these folk I exist, and I get a once in a lifetime opportunity to travel and do as I please. That means with or without the law to guide me.” Y/N explained. “Maybe I went to school with you at some point.”

Hilda nodded. “Ever think you’ll return home?” She asked. “You could come back with us. Fight for the Alliance some? It could be a great thing to, y’know, have another pretty girl around to pick up some of my slack.”

Y/N smiled, looking at Claude. “No. I think I’ll stay here. Keep the fun going, though, Hilda. There needs to be more pretty girls like us to show these men how to operate.” She gave Hilda a pat on the shoulder, before walking away.

There was no one but him. Not now. He had asked his friends to go with Dimitri once he had given him the Alliance. The next part of the battle was his own to bear, not theirs.

It had been so long since he had this quiet. Not good all the time, but he had to admit, his mind kept drifting back to her and her tent. What had she wanted? It wasn’t actually to return home, or she would have. What had he wanted? Why had he gotten so close to her?

He heard the front door open, and the tap of shoes against the empty floor. Who was there? He turned around, being greeted by a familiar face. “You sure bet a lot on his royal Highness. I can’t imagine myself doing that, but I guess that’s what makes you the master Tactician.”

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” He asked. He ran up in front of her. “Everything has been a mess since you left, but it seems to be clearing up now. Dimitri and Teach will make good leaders, and I-”

“You get to go back to Almyra. Is that your big plan?” She asked.

“You guessed it. I’m going home to start struggling all over again. Nader is going to meet me there to help me. I want to make things better for my people, just like I’m sure Dimitri will do here.” He smiled as she hung her arms around his neck.

“Well, I heard that a final battle was happening for Derdriu. I thought I’d make sure you were okay, and it seems like you turned out alright. Of course, now you wanna leave alone…”

“But?”

“You think there’s a but?”

“Am I too hopeful?” He asked, placing his hands on her hips.

“No.” She said. “The but is that I’m coming with you. I’m ready for a new adventure, and I always like to say I’ve been everywhere but Almyra. Besides, someone pretty great is going to start something there, and I’d like to see that vision come to pass. Whatever that vision is, anyway.”

He sighed. “You’re from Fodlan, and I’m not 100% sure that’s gonna fly.” He said. She gave him a look, and he knew she wasn’t taking ‘No’ for an answer. “But, I guess I’ll figure something out.” He got close to her face again, smirking. “Now, about that kiss in the woods…”

26 notes · View notes

freebooter4ever · 5 years

Photo

on the drive home yesterday my friend asked “so how did you like dirt biking?” and my response was “well, now I /have/ to take the harry potter room since I’ll need to live cheaply in order to fund my new dirt bike habit”.

some memorable experiences while riding. first off, remembering to use the clutch is a pain in the butt, my brain and hand coordination took a LOT of mistakes to get it drilled into me enough to do it naturally, but by the end of the day i was shifting gears and starting/stopping with ease. anyone who tries to tell you this shit is hard to learn is LYING to you and probably being a sexist gatekeeping asshole (we ran into a few of those, but for the most part other bikers at the park were super considerate/understanding of my fumbling newbie ass).

The repetitive bumpy bumps are the most fun tbh, like those parts of the track were the worst in mario kart but here its just like "whhhheeEEEEEEeeeeEEEEEEEEeeeeeEEEEEEEEeeeeEEEEEEEeeeeeEEEEEEE!!!!"

SUNSCREEN, cause weird face tan lines are the worst.

The sheer amount of pride for having made it once around a flat ish course, and then going again, but kicking into second gear sometimes, and then again again but taking the alternate path to hit all the bumpy bumps - fucking AWESOME yall.

I rode to the top of a small hill ONCE, stopped, celebrated, and then rode down and DIDNT DIE. Didnt fall either.

I fell so many times. A lot of these were in slow motion. I seemed to lack the ability to stop and stay upright. If i stopped on even the slightest bank or hill the bike would just slowly tip over and take me with it. The two best falls were on the trail my friend convinced me i could try (i failed, but it was ok). At one point i drove into a rut going up a hill too fast, lost control, swerved onto the bank, stopped, bike tipped over, i tipped off it, and somehow my boot got caught. So i was lying there, sprawled on my back, my foot up in the air bleating "im stuck!" and my friend, not seeing the the problem, started to pull my hand up like "i can help!" and i kept being like "no im stuck!" bc my brain was only processing that one thought, and when he finally got it he was like "oh your boot!" and we all laughed about that one afterwards. i also face planted at the bottom of a hill curve. no one saw this but my pride was hurt anyway. On the other hand, poor grace tipped over into a prickly bush after she drove into a ditch, so all in all i lucked out in my falls.

the trail that my friend tried to get me to do turned out to be too terrifying. It was NARROW which for someone who wasnt used to controlling exactly where the bike goes was a challenge. We got about thirty minutes into it and went up a curved hill, and at the top there was a tight turn and then beyond that a cliff (my perception - in reality i think it was a small slope), and i was like "NOPE" so we turned around. he was very nice about it, and im glad he didnt try to push me - or any of us really, to try things out of our comfort zone.

my years spent mountain biking as a kid worked against me. There are some major differences. Like on a dirt bike you do NOT have to be scared of giant rocks / try to swerve to miss those - in fact its easier to not swerve i think. Also, having my muscle memory tell me my brake is on my right hand when that is the hand that if you do a similar motion (rotate downward) makes you GO FASTER resulted in like most of my falls. I often got into a panic state and accidentally made myself speed up instead of slowing down and then freaked out even worse and came to a stop....and then tipped over...

But all in all i feel like i have discovered something that was missing in my life and i didnt even know it...i might be in love...i can see now why my mom worked so hard to keep me off all forms of motorized bikes even though her dad, and her were both motorcycle nuts. I got on that bike and i never wanted to get off, they had to peer pressure me into stopping for lunch. im already scheming for how i can go again. and this coming from someone who as a kid had it subconsciously drilled into me that expensive sports like snowboarding and dirt biking and wake boarding were for rich people, and something i could enjoy with my wealthier friends who provided the equipment, but not something i could ever hope to afford to spend money on because there were way more important things in life like education (a good lesson, but also limiting as i am discovering - if you like something enough, there are ways around funds)

#journal shit

10 notes · View notes

sladedick · 5 years

Note

im just creepin on your twitter (as you do) and i wondering if u would ever write some rastim? bc 👀👀

yes!!!!! sorry this too k so long i love ra’stim owo

noncon/underage/switching/violence/black humor | on ao3

Timothy Drake stares at his American school lunch in the fuzzy security camera. His dark circles are visible under his eyes even from this height, and his hair is visibly unwashed. Equations trail their way up pale arms in smudged ink. He shovels another soggy french fry into his mouth, scratching his armpit with the other hand.

“Are you sure you want that one, Master?” Ra’s’s assistant inquires, standing meekly next to him as he watches the screen.

“You dare question the will of the Demon?” Ra’s booms.

“N-no, master, of course not,” he mutters, looking down. Ra’s turns his attention back to Timothy. He’s facedown in his applesauce, clearly snoring.

“He’s perfect.”

Share the happy news with your detective

“Happy engagement,” Ra’s says. Tim blinks at him.

“To who?”

“To you.”

“I’m not engaged,” he says blankly.

“I am pleased to inform you that you are. To me, the Demon’s Head.”

“No,” Tim declares.

“Yes.” Ra’s’s grin shows teeth.

“No!”

“This is not a discussion,” Ra’s says. “It is the respectful thing to do before I deflower you, Detective.”

Tim makes a disgusted face. “You won’t be ‘deflowering’ me. I had sex with Superboy.” It had been an ordeal. Kon’s Kryptonian dick had gained semi-sentience and tried to lay its eggs in Tim. Turns out Clark hadn’t bothered to give him ‘the talk’.

Ra’s’s lip curls. “How inappropriate.”

“No premarital sex, huh, but rape is a-okay,” Tim mocks.

“Victor’s rights, Timothy.”

“That’s bullshit,” Tim says. Ra’s wags a finger in his face.

“Language, Detective.”

Tim sticks his tongue out. “You can’t marry minors without parental consent. Your marriage is null and void. Ra’s! Ra’s, listen to me, we have to be in Alabama—”

Keep excessive amounts of alcohol away from your detective

The reception is ostentatious, of course.

Ra’s first notices the problem when Tim’s step is slightly halting at the reception, cheeks slightly redder—always red, really, given how pale his skin is even for a European. They’re even red through the several layers of makeup that Ra’s had his servants apply.

Tim gives a lopsided grin, showing off teeth that, until recently, had had braces on them. That’s the second sign something is off. Timothy has been pouting ever since he was kidnapped.

“I want — some more campaign,” he says, quite sincerely. A face, as if he knows that’s not quite right. “Clam pain.” A pause. “Sham veins?”

“Champaign, dear,” Ra’s says softly. Timothy grabs another glass from a passing server before Ra’s can stop it. The reception is ostentatious, and Timothy’s dress is no exception, in lacy whites and pale greens, showing off his body just enough to tell everyone what Ra’s has that they don’t. And how they should be jealous of Ra’s’s high school concubine.

“It’s poor taste to be drunk at your own reception,” Ra’s says.

“Your … fault,” Tim says. He sways slightly. Ra’s catches his arm. “Kidnapped me. Miss my family.”

“You’ll make a new one quite soon.”

“Fuck you. Hate you,” he mumbles. “Don’t wanna get pregnanant. Pregant. Prenengant.”

Ra’s snatches the glass of champagne from Timothy’s hand as the boy slumps slightly against him.

“I insist,” he says coldly, angrily, “that you be conscious for the consummation.”

He takes some pleasure in seeing Timothy’s skin lose its redness for the first time that night, falling away to reveal a pale face. Timothy grabs desperately for the alcohol, but Ra’s whisks it away just in time.

“Absolutely not.”

2. Keep your detective well entertained

“You can’t all be monks,” Tim tries to explain. The ninja sat in a circle around him squint at him through the eyeholes in their masks, heavy armor clinking as they shift. Tim repeats it in Arabic for the two that don’t speak English, and then switches to it for good.

“I wish to be of the shadow subclass,” Ninja No. 3 says.

“As do I,” adds Ninja No. 1.

“The point of Dungeons and Dragons is to be something you’re not. It’s escapism.” The four guards, practically brainwashed into the service of Ra’s al Ghul, stare at him. “Nobody is allowed to be a ninja monk.”

“I will be a warlock,” says Ninja No. 2, waving about the bit of paper that Tim had given him, translated from what Tim remembers of the Player’s Guide. “In service of the great Head of the Demon—”

“This is a fantastical universe. Ra’s doesn’t exist. See? Escapism!” Tim sighs. “If you don’t cooperate I’m going to tell him you were very inadequate and suggest severe punishment.” He stares sternly.

The ninja pale. Tim wouldn’t do that, really, because then they would end up dead. He knows exactly how much influence he has with Ra’s. The threat, however, is still good.

“I will be a fighter,” sighs Ninja No. 2. “In the service of nobody.”

“Perfect!” Tim grins. He feels like he should patronizingly pat their heads, but refrains. That’s the kind of thing they might only accept from Ra’s.

“I will be a sorcerer,” says Ninja No. 4, “who works for only himself, and wields fantastic power.”

Tim nods enthusiastically.

“I will be a rogue,” says Ninja No. 1, “who overthrows his glorious leader and takes his place, murdering his kin and raping his wife—”

“Wait just a second—”

“—and sending all his castles and being to endless ruin, in search of individuality.”

“I mean,” Tim says, “I’ll allow it …”

(Ninja No. 1 doesn’t show up the next week. Neither do any of the others. It wasn’t your fault, Ra’s assures him, though please do not encourage individuality, Timothy.)

3. Be assured your detective is sexually satisfied and interested

Tim sits on one side of the wooden table, idly tracing the patterned texture with one

finger. Ra’s sits stiff and regal as always, a few slips of paper right in front of him. This is obviously a Meeting. Ra’s is always around Tim, but a Meeting is different. Ra’s has something to talk about, and Tim probably doesn’t want to hear it.

“Beloved,” Ra’s says.

“Ra’s,” Tim replies. His voice is considerably cold. More tired.

“I’ve been doing some research,” Ra’s says. “You have been quite uninterested in our sexual activity.”

“It’s because I object to the rape,” Tim says.

“Ah, I think not. I think you’re simply not … stimulated enough. So I found out what you might be interested in.”

“Please don’t—”

The papers are slapped onto the table like a death warrant, and Tim is stared in the face by his last six months of search history.

man turns little brother gay big dick blowjob looks back at him like the antichrist with flaming, doomed eyes. Tim pales. He tries to think of exactly what he’d been searching on PornHero before Ra’s had caught up with him, but his mind is suddenly completely blank.

bears rail twink anal dp rimming glares accusingly at him. Tim knows that Ra’s has a perfectly neutral expression on his face. He always does. But Tim can’t force himself to meet the green eyes, not even on the pain of losing some of his pride.

“And some more enlightening content,” Ra’s adds, putting another piece of paper on the table. Tim can barely bring himself to open his eyes and look.

batman fucks robin hard in the ass, batman and robin blowjob, batmanxrobin—

Tim covers his eyes. He can’t take it.

“You’re particularly understimulated in the bedroom. Would you prefer that I don a suit in the manner of your adopted father? Would you enjoy referring to me as—”

“No!” Tim almost screams. He wants to cover his ears. “Ra’s, please. Please don’t, okay? I’ll be good, okay? I’ll pretend I like getting fucked. Just please stop.”

Ra’s makes a little humming sound. “This is not a punishment, Beloved. I am simply curious.” The rustling sound of papers lets him know what’s going on. “Though perhaps you can explain this? Superboy x reader fluffy love fanfiction?”

Tim turns white.

“I’m going to kill myself,” he declares, and he’s not sure if he’s joking or not.

4. Install safety bars on windows; learn modern youth jargon

“I’m going to kill myself,” Timothy says.

It’s something he says a lot. Quite a bit, really, typically any time something goes even a little wrong. Timothy had explained to him, a sullen glare in his eyes, that it was a joke. Ra’s had eventually been persuaded.

The fact that Timothy is crouched on the window ledge, the mountain wind making long-grown dark hair—tended to with the most expensive shampoos—swirl out behind Timothy, makes the thought of him joking much less likely.

“That is a choice you will regret,” Ra’s says coolly. He could try to grab him, but Timothy would fall out of the window and die anyways. Then when it came time to punish him properly, Timothy could attempt to childishly shift the blame.

Timothy flips him off.

Ra’s raises an eyebrow. “How rude, Beloved.”

“Yeet,” Timothy says. Ra’s assumes this also means I’m going to kill myself because right after Timothy does it, he’s falling through the air. Ra’s doesn’t hear the crack of his bones or see the blood spatter, but he sees the broken body splayed in the snow below, certainly dead.

“How inconvenient,” Ra’s says, to nobody in particular. Except, perhaps, the three guards who monitor Timothy at all times. He makes a mental note to have them executed.

6. Discourage your detective from staging coups

“Fuck,” Tim says.

“Indeed.” Ra’s’s teeth are perfect, pearly white. A wickedly curved sword at his side slowly drips blood into the oceans pooled around his feet, the corpses’ blood eking its way towards Tim’s booted feet.

Tim stomps. Blood splashes, staining the bottom of his robes. “Fuck!”

Ra’s sheathes his sword. The front of his shirt is crimson, showing that he, at least, did not escape unscathed. Tim draws some small satisfaction from that, even though he feels the guards still loyal to Ra’s grab at his shoulders, yanking his arms behind his back and holding him still.

“A valiant attempt, Detective,” Ra’s says. “Next time, I suggest purging your dissenters’ ranks for spies more carefully.” He moves forward, and Tim sags slightly in the arms of the guards.

“I’m sorry?” Tim offers.

“You’re not.”

Tim sticks his tongue out.

7. Properly reprimand your detective

“I’m sorry,” Tim whimpers, head hanging between his shoulders as he stares down at the bed beneath him, fingers curled in the sheets, eyes squeezed shut in pain.

A hand cards gently through sweaty hair. “Shh, Timothy, it will be over soon,” Ra’s murmurs. The back of the boy’s thighs and buttocks are covered in red switch marks, from the birch thing that Ra’s holds in the hand that does not hold Timothy. The skin burns red and pink and parts bleed. Timothy won’t be able to sit down for a month without remembering this.

The next one whips down with a wicked noise. Timothy chokes, spasms, arms shaking. He gasps, tears clinging to his long, pretty lashes like pearls.

“You are free to cry if you like, Beloved,” Ra’s says softly. “Forty out of fifty. You’re almost finished.”

8. Curb attempts to relate to the youth

Ra’s throws his sword. It impales the man through the gut; a wound that will leave him squirming for hours in agony before he finally expires.

“Yeet.”

(Timothy doesn’t speak to him for a week.)

9. Keep track of possessions around your detective

“Is that my cape, Detective?”

Tim wraps the green folds further around himself, his small form almost disappearing inside of it. “Maybe.”

“Are you going to return it?”

The high collar hides Timothy’s face, and slightly muffles his answer. “No.”

10. Take very good care of your detective, and give it nobody else to turn to when it hurts

Timothy’s eyes are wide, blank oceans, full of a sort of pain and sadness that Ra’s knows will pass, but he still almost dislikes seeing in his consort’s eyes. Ra’s’s arm is wrapped around him, fingers splaying dark hair around them, Timothy warm against his chest. His eyes are closed, the two of them wrapped in Ra’s’s cape. Before, Timothy would flinch away whenever he was to be held. Now, he almost begs to be touched with his eyes, even when he is too proud to ask.

A shift of him. Ra’s stays still, doesn’t move, enjoying the fact of Timothy against him. A hand slowly pets his hair.

Something is wet against his chest, where the neck of his shirt is cut down to reveal his chest. Ra’s almost has to pry Tim’s face off of him, and it comes away teary.

“How do you fair, my love?”

A hand rests on Ra’s’s shoulder, pale fingers against dark, tanned skin. The eyes look past Ra’s.

“I hate you,” Timothy whispers. It’s not an accusation. Simply a sad, broken confession.

“I know,” Ra’s says, almost, almost sympathetic.

A pause,

A long, long pause.

“I love you,” Tim whispers, and it’s even softer, barely audible. And then he’s diving back against Ra’s’s chest, Ra’s’s head tucked above Tim’s.

“I know,” Ra’s murmurs.

The look in his eyes is the stare of a man who has killed millions, and will kill millions more.

#Anonymous #asks #ra'stim #ra's al ghul #tim drake #fic recs #freak fic #prompts/requests

69 notes · View notes

haztory · 6 years

Text

forgiveness.

Summary: It’s high time you both swallowed your pride and ripped the band-aid off.

Word count: 4112

A/N: im back in action and am sincerely pleading for forgiveness for my absence. life sucks. but i am planning to make a smooth recovery and an ever more prevalent appearance on this platform. and in the frank tag. also pls comment and tell me how much of a shit writer i am lmao

Pain blossoms along the bones of his hands like a blooming flower, traveling along each nerve and neuron, setting them alight with a burning fire in each movement he takes. The fragile skin on his knuckles splits beneath each brute punch, but he remains unconcerned with the decimating pain—instead, reveling in the feeling alone. He takes it as a sign to continue, fixated under the belief that if he didn't feel the pain in this moment, he wouldn't remember what it was like to be alive. If he couldn’t feel the blood pumping through his veins and his heart thrusting out of his chest, he would never remember the brief instance of humanity surging through his body.

The pain served as the only tether he had to reality; The only reminder that he wasn’t just a ghost of a shell walking through the streets of the burning city.

The gym sat empty and dark, save for him in his corner towards the back of the establishment, enjoying the equipment way past the set closing time. The owner—an older man who claims he is forever indebted to Frank for saving him from a potentially lethal mugging—left the back door open for Frank in the event that, should he need it, he could access the tools necessary to release any stress he could have accumulated.

Frank insisted to the man that he didn't need to do that, that Frank was more than happy to keep paying his membership like everyone else, but the man refused to hear it. He placed a spare key in Frank’s palm with a wrinkly smile, saying, "She's all yours after closing. Just remember to lock the door."

It was a kind gesture, a particularly uplifting one, that left Frank in a better mood than he had been in before. He kept the key close to him, safe inside the pocket of his worn-down gym bag he took to the gym.

He doesn't remember what time he got in or how long he's been there, but he assumes a considerable amount of time has passed since the entirety of his back is covered in sweat and his hands ache beyond belief, but he refuses to stop.

While his muscles ache and burn with each jab he places against the punching bag, screaming in desperation for Frank to just take a break, the haunting images that seem to be incredibly popular this evening drive him to work harder and faster than before. And he won’t stop.

Jab. Jab. Upper cut. Left hook. Jab. Jab.

He won't stop until he can no longer feel anything. Until he can no longer see his kids. Until he can no longer see Maria's face. Until hollow eyes and bloodied skin no longer taunt him. Until--

"Prepping for an upcoming match, Rocky?"

The phrase echoes around the empty gym, the acoustics bouncing the sound around the room, that momentarily stuns him into stillness. He halts his onslaught of punches, outstretching his previously curled fingers to catch the swinging bag he that was flying towards his head. He steadies the piece of equipment, catching it with the tips of his fingers, steadying his panting breaths.

He gently closes his eyes, leaning his head against the bag as he listens to the owner of the familiar voice come out of the shadows of the gym and step closer towards him. The echoes of the shoes resonate throughout the vacant gym. Once the loud clunking of shoes stops, he exhales a deep breath, swallowing the lump that suddenly formed in his throat, more than symbolic of the current situation he was put in.

He didn't need to look to know who was standing before him, nor did he want to look. Looking would only force a resurfacing of memories that Frank would much rather keep hidden.

There was a reason things ended when they did.

There was a reason he never tried to contact you.

Swallowing whatever pride, he lifted his head from the bag, opening his eyes and shifting his head towards the intruder.

He wasn't entirely sure what he was expecting to see; Some twisted part of him wanted to see you looking damaged beyond repair, in a pain deeper than he ever was. The brutal, vengeful part of him wanted to see you on your hands and knees, begging and pleading for his help, as though that would be some sort of step towards mending the deep wound between you two. (It certainly wouldn’t be a great situation for you, but it would definitely be the first thing to be put a smile on Frank’s face.)

But of course, that would never happen. You were always smart enough to know when to jump out of a burning plane, both metaphorically and literally. Something that felt like a brand on his skin; A present reminder of the mark you left.

You stand in front of him, hands deep in the pockets of your pants—which Frank rightly assumes are some luxury brand from a designer whose name he would never remember—standing tall and healthy and clean, in your professional ensemble, leaning against a structural beam with a small smirk on your face. Amusement plays in your eyes as you scan his very taught and sweaty body.

He can feel the anger building up inside of him and the desire to punch something comes back full force.

He doesn't like it.

Frank tears his eyes away from you, his jaw clenching and teeth gritting as he returns his attention back to the blue punching bag in front of him.

"You followin’ me now?" he spits at you, the question drenched in acid, very clearly warning you not to take any step closer as though you were a predator preying on a poisonous animal. It paints a funny picture in your head, one where you were some type of bird and him a poisonous dart frog, circling one another in the undergrowth of a forest.

It wasn't an ill-fitting picture as it represented your current relationship perfectly with little to no exaggerations.

You wished it didn't.

You release a breath of amusement through your nose, shrugging off his cold shoulder with ease, focusing on him as he resumes his reign of anger on the bag, "Don't need to. I'm always keeping tabs on you, Frankie. I've got eyes everywhere."

His eyes narrow in disdain, and if there was any possibility of civility between you two it was out the window now.

He was making it very clear he did not like that idea.

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly at him, trying to hold an unfazed facade in front of him. His punches continue, only this time with much more force and you know he's imagining your face on the bag. "Don't act surprised. I'm an Avenger, I have that kind of power."

"Don't mean you gotta use it," he pants.

"On you? Oh, yes I do. You tend to get in a lot of shit Frankie."

"Yeah?" Jab. Jab. Left hook, "Well that's my business, not yours."

"I'm just making sure you're okay," you tell him, voice gentler than the previous teasing tone. He spares you a glance of uncertainty, his eyes darting from your eyes back to the bag in front of him, then back to you, the second time holding your gaze. He takes a step away from the bag, narrowly missing being hit by the bag when it swings forward at him.

His gloved hands hang at his side and his chest heaves with breaths, the sweat forcing his shirt to stick to his skin and glisten in the fluorescent lights.

It's the first time he's actually looked at you. Not even just the first time tonight, but the first time in years. It feels like he’s staring through you and it brings back a whole wave of feelings that you thought you could handle, but were very wrong. His hollow eyes stare into yours, an angry vengeance deep in his brown irises that sends chills down your spine.

He makes you feel a deep insecurity in the joints of your bones and you couldn’t feel like more of a bad guy than you did at that moment. His fixed look makes you crave for something as sweet as torture. You try to maintain a neutral face under his scrutinizing gaze only for your body to release the awkwardness of the intensity through fidgeting and shifting of your body.

"That so?" he asks, his stare rock solid and unwavering accompanying a deep gruff of his voice that sends shivers down the entirety of your spine. Suddenly, it all makes sense; You now understand the fear that comes with being the enemy of Frank Castle.

You had heard rumors in passing of the type of trepidation Frank could produce in even the hardest of men—the kind of fear that scares people for life, forcing them to constantly look over their shoulders, even when they've moved miles away from him. He instills a distress into his victims that haunts them for years to come, wondering if he remembers them, if he will finally come back and finish the job he started. Frank Castle’s name became synonymous with the Devil.

If anything, he was scarier.

It stirs up a sweat in your body that beads at the top of your forehead and wets your palms. Once upon a time, you had been able to say with confidence that Frank Castle would never hurt you. He would hurt anyone who so much as looked at you the wrong way. Now, you weren't so sure. If given the chance, you’re pretty sure he would pay a good fortune to have someone do more than that.

You take a thick swallow, working quickly to compose yourself in front of him. You returned his intimidating gaze as best as you could, his stone-cold eyes overpowering your sincere ones by a long shot.

"We've had our problems, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you," your voice shakes a bit as you say it, and you curse at yourself. You've faced men three times your size and aliens more dangerous than Frank Castle could ever dream to be and you never batted an eye. Yet, standing in front of him, you feel all confidence and pride leaving your body in one, quick breath. You were not a long-time friend of Frank Castle that could reminisce with him about the good old days in the military. You were not a long-time friend that could happily ask about his family in passing and receive a pleasant answer. You were not who you were five or six years ago. And neither was he.

You didn't know this man—not anymore. He made it damn clear he doesn’t want to know you.

Frank scoffs, and it sounds like one of amusement but his face makes no change to convey that feeling. It stays steady and unwelcoming, with his lips pulled in tight and his eyebrows furrowed.

"What, you think I don't care about you?" your voice raises a few octaves.

His silence answers your question, and you feel offended at the insinuation. How shallow does he think you are?

"What're you doin’ here?" he says rather impatiently. He finally breaks the fixation on you, looking down at the gloves on his hand and ripping the Velcro off. He backtracks towards the back wall and places the gloves on top of his gym bag seated there. You watch him intently, all desire to defend yourself dying at the tip of your tongue. Your damaged ego could pick a fight on that another time.

"I'm here to help." you tell him, gathering whatever morsel of pride you could to make yourself sound more confident than you felt. His back is turned to you as he bends down to his bag, placing the gloves in and taking a towel out. He dries the sweat on the back of his neck.

"Don't need it."

"C'mon, Frank" you groan out, taking a step to him rather excitedly. He sees the quick motion from the corner of his eye and his body whips around to face yours, a defensive stance taking root. It stops you in your tracks, and you can feel your heart crack at the further realization: Not only did he not trust you, or believe that you cared about him, but he was preparing for an instance where you would physically hurt him for God knows how long.

You expected the anger and the distrust, but… that hurt more than it should have.

You softly shake your head, and Frank can barely see the wet film of tears in your eyes, but he sees it. He almost feels guilty—almost.

"Ain't nothing to "c'mon" about. I don't need your help; I don't want your help. Whoever you got keepin' eyes on me, get rid of 'em before I find 'em." He leans back down to his bag, throwing the towel inside and zipping it up roughly, almost breaking the zipper in the process. He throws it over his shoulder, slowly turning himself back around to face your pitiful face. "Don't come looking for me again."

With a final adjustment of the bag on his shoulder, he makes his way towards the back door from which he came in. He almost makes it there, ready to flip the light switch off before he hears your voice call out for him again.

"I know who you're looking for."

He stops in his tracks. Why are you making this harder than it needs to be?

"I know where to find him too."

That piques his interest. It doesn't totally surprise him—of course you would know where everyone is considering your job title. He'd been looking for an underground kingpin that was responsible for the kidnapping of a number of underage kids in the area-- including his next-door neighbor's daughter. Only makes sense that you would have some knowledge of that.

He slowly turns around, glancing rather suspiciously at the file that you've seemingly procured out of thin air in your hands. It's a thick file, much too big for your hands. He can see the numerous clippings and paper clips from the side of it, even in the dim lighting of the gym.

"Turns out that the guy you're looking for is the same guy that I've been tracking for the past seven months," you look down at the file in your hands, a wry smile on your face. "Kidnapping isn't the only thing he does."

Frank places his bag on the floor, letting it drop with an intentional thud. You've got his attention; how long can you keep it?

"Kidnapping wasn't enough to get on your radar?" Frank says rather bitterly, a blatant jab at you and your job. It stings, but it's not like you could disagree. You already put yourself and the other Avengers through a whole load of shit for ignoring the monster that was slowly growing under the sewers of your home, your city.

You could make excuses left and right to those who asked about how your job as "Earth's Mightiest Hero" allowed for mistakes as big as not paying attention to a child trafficker making himself known right under your noses, to which your publicist would say something along the lines of “The Avengers try to pay attention to every situation, both domestically and abroad. But situations that are not of immediate concern are passed down the branches” or something like that. It would pass in the papers, but you would never be able to justify it to yourself. You tended to take every case presented to heart and have already been lectured numerous amounts of times on how that was your greatest weakness. Old habits die hard, and Frank knew that.

He always knew the right ways to hurt you.

You let out a dry laugh, looking at Frank with a borderline shameful expression, "I deserved that one."

"You deserve a lot more than what I'm giving you."

"Yeah, Frank. I know. I got it, alright?" The agitation was apparent, but Frank was never one to back down from a challenge.

"Do you? Do you really?" He replies, his tone only elevating the vicious turn the conversation was taking.

"Yeah, Frank. I do. It haunts me every day!" you yell at him, the file laying forgotten in your hands as you stare at him from a distance away. There was no doubt in your mind that you would have this discussion with him at some point in time. You had hoped it would be under nicer circumstances, where you both weren’t under the constraints of a child trafficker wreaking havoc upon the city.

Frank once again stands silent at your confession, unable to figure out what angle you were trying to play at. Were you trying to get sympathy points from him? Were you trying to get under his skin and manipulate him? He didn't know. He doesn't know you anymore.

"You really think that I'm just okay with the way things happened?" You tell him, a gentle contrast to the previous agitation in your statement.

He maintains his space near the door, reminding himself to be ready to leave whenever this conversation turns down a path he didn't want. Before you managed to convince him to forgive you; Before you managed to weasel your way back into his life with a smile and a temptation of a better future.

But he found his feet glued to the floor, unable to move, unable to plan his escape as you looked at him with pain and suffering in your eyes. In the eyes, he always found comfort in, and the heart he felt the most.

It was too late to leave now; You had already caught him in your hold, even if you didn't know it.

"I let you down, Frank. I abandoned you when you needed me, and I will never forgive myself for that," you raised a hand to your cheek, furiously rubbing away a stray tear that slipped out. You would not break in front of him. You needed to make this up to him. "But I was scared. Too scared to go against a man who did so many bad things to people."

You slowly took a step closer to Frank, showing him you meant no harm. "I couldn't go against someone who could easily destroy my life, who threatened to do that. But, you did. And you paid the price for that."

He knew he should've stopped you--stopped you from talking, from coming closer to him, from coming back into his life. But with every word you said, he found himself remembering his days with you, his happiest memories working alongside you in the military. He found himself slowly melting back into the repressed memories where his trust was easy to come by and your companionship tethered him back down to earth.

His resolve, his anger, his distrust, was slowly wearing away.

"I'm not asking for your forgiveness. I'm not asking you to accept me into your life. I'm not even asking you to like me." He didn't even notice you were standing in front of him, a foot away from his unsteady heart and uneven breaths. "I'm asking you to let me make it up to you. Because I wasn't there to help you take down Agent Orange, but I'm here to help you with this guy. I know how he works, I know what he does, and I know how to take him down."

You shrugged your shoulders lightly, not knowing what else you could say to the man in front of you, how else you could describe the remorse that had been weighing on your shoulders for the past five years. In your moment of fear, in the face of the threat from the formidable Agent Orange as a young agent, you resigned from your post within the United States Information Operation, effectively cutting ties with Frank Castle who so desperately needed your help to try and find information to take down the corrupt man. You left him to deal with the problem alone, when you agreed to help. You remained isolated from Frank Castle, even after he tried numerous times to get in contact with you after the end of his deployment.

Then the attempts stopped, and you soon learned about the fate of his family. More importantly, you knew from who. You didn't bother to try and contact him.

When he could've-- and should've-- thrown the dogs off his scent and averted them to you, Frank Castle didn't. He denied your involvement in anything related to Agent Orange; He denied having ever asked you for help; He denied ever even knowing you.

He protected you. As you publicly rose through the ranks at your new job as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, Frank Castle was suffering through the landmine you had both tried to clear. Frank Castle's life was destroyed, and yet he had no desire to destroy yours.

That was a debt you could never repay.

Even if he told you to fuck off, or spit in your face, it wouldn't be anything you didn't deserve. But, if he gave you even the slightest chance to make it up to him, you would do your damndest to fulfill it.

You were already willing to lay down your life for him, you just had to prove you were even worth that honor.

Your eyes darted around his face, looking for some sign that revealed what he was thinking. A twitch in the lip, the raise of a brow, something that you could try and decipher. He remained stoic in his place, watching you beg before him.

"Let me help you," you pleaded to him one last time.

He tore his eyes from yours and stared down at the bag at his feet. God, what was he doing? With an inaudible grunt, he leaned down to pick up the bag and throw it over his shoulder once again.

You stared at him desperately, feeling your heart about to drop into your stomach at the realization that he would never forgive you, nor would he ever help you. And now, there would be nothing you could say to stop him otherwise. You would let him go. You wouldn't hurt him anymore.

With a sad resolve, you closed your mouth, letting your objections die on your lips and prepared to watch him do what you did all those years ago: Turn his back. You lowered your head, holding the file in front of your legs and waited patiently to hear the sound of his shoes leave the building, holding the disappointment tightly on a leash.

Instead, you heard him sigh.

"Your place or mine?"

You quickly met his eyes, and were surprised to find a gentleness behind the stones, although his face showed no other emotion. You blinked repeatedly, his words barely registering inside of your head. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words could form.

"M-mine." You finally stuttered, not able to grasp the reality of the situation.

He gently nodded his head, stepping to the side to allow you to lead him out of the building. After staring blankly at him, you understood the gesture, exiting the building and waiting for him to find you in the back alley, entire body stunned at the turn of events.

He followed behind you, turning the lights off and locking the back door to the gym, placing the key into his bag. He ignored your stunned stare, preferring to keep all his feelings and thoughts to himself for the time being.

He had forgiven you a long time ago. There was nothing that he could really blame you for other than being a young and scared cadet in the military. It was a massively responsibility he thrusted upon you, knowing full and well that there were very few that would be able to do it. He wasn’t angry that you jumped ship and resigned from your post after Agent Orange threatened your life; He was angry that he didn’t.

He should have denied helping you on the basis alone that you didn’t deserve it. But Frank could never be that cruel to you, not when he was also in need of some help.

He had forgiven you a long time ago, because it was the right thing to do. And it was time for him to stop acting like that was a bad decision.

tag list: @mooniessuniverse

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #my fics #frank castle x oc #im sorry im such a crappy writer

170 notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 6 years

Text

Survey #194

“i’m numb to the pleasure but still feel the pain.”

Do you still talk to the person you last made out with? Yeah. What kind of vitamins did you take as a kid? I believe I first had those Flintstones ones, then later Mom got the gummy type. Have you ever gone to court? Only to explain to a judge why I thought my scheduled month-long stay in the psych hospital was unnecessarily long for my state. I was convinced all I needed to do was talk to Jason and boom, my problems would be gone. Safe to say, I was delusional. Glad I won that battle though considering I loathe that hospital for their extreme lack of therapy and activities to keep us occupied and out of our own heads. I was committed there I think five times and no stay did jack-shit. Are you friends with your neighbors? No. How long has it been since you’ve seen The Lion King? Years. But bitch when that live action remake comes out I'mma be the very first hoe at that theater. Have you ever had a crush on your siblings friend? No. What's the longest amount of time you’ve been on an airplane without changing flights? However long the flight to Michigan was. What’s the best wedding you’ve been to? My former dance instructor's. What time did you wake up this morning? Like, 7. What are you doing this weekend? There's no difference in weekends and weekdays for me. I'm sure I'm doing nothing. What’s your favorite Disney movie? TLK. Do you wear colored contacts? No, but honestly I'd love more sapphire blue ones if they're a prescription and not just cosmetic. Who was the last person you went to the movies with? I think Mom? Or did I go with Dad later? When’s the last time you spent time with your cousins? I haven't seen Robby since '15, but Audrey passed through with my uncle sometime last year. My other cousins, hell if I know. Why did you fall for the last person romantically? Good Lord, that's an essay. Just more than anything, I think it was the fact that she cares so deeply about animals and people alike and is passionate about what's right and wrong. Can you speak in a different language conversationally? If so, which language? I could maybe manage a very simple German convo? Do you ever fear falling asleep? No, but I do rather frequently don't look forward to it, or at least the process of falling asleep. I don't go quickly. What’s the last thing you had to eat? A bagel. Would you rather eat all day or exercise all day? I don't believe you physically could eat all day? And exercising, I'm assuming you'd eventually pass out? But let's be hypothetical. I'd have to choose exercise, I care way too much about not gaining weight. Does one eye tend to be weaker than the other? Yes, my right is considerably worse. What do you think of guys who ask girls out over via text message or internet? It's definitely not my preferred method, but do it if you don't have the courage to in person/just can't for whatever reason. Have you ever had a churro? I believe I have? If I'm remembering the correct treat, it was unbelievably too sweet and I didn't like the crunch. What’s one thing you like about your town? The town itself is real old-fashioned and small. Did you believe that alcohol is more dangerous then weed? I know it is. Do you drink more apple or orange juice? Orange. Are you a fan of the Grand Theft Auto series? Never played, but I highly doubt I'd enjoy it. Do you like the beach? If it wasn't for the wind, blistering heat, and sand. So basically, I don't. I only like being in the ocean. Do you or did you have a curfew at one point? No. Well, correction, if it was a school night before high school and I was out with a friend, I'm sure Mom established something, but idr. Do you peel the wrappers off of plastic bottles? No. What do you think is the youngest age someone should lose their virginity? No younger than 16. But at any age, be. Smart. Have you ever played Super Smash Brothers? I think at friends' as a kid? What do you like on your sundaes? Like, just chocolate syrup lmao. Have you done anything productive today? Well, I exercised some. Do you believe in abstaining from sex until marriage? What I care about is waiting for a person you feel truly in love with. I actually feel like abstaining could be a bad idea, as I'd assume for some people, the desire to have sex would play a factor in them wanting to get married, so marriage could potentially be rushed for the sake of that when you're not adequately prepared in other areas. What is your sexual orientation? Bi. Do you put your name on your food coverings? If I was using a fridge at a job or whatever, yeah, but I'm not in that type of situation. What is something you have acquired with age? Open-mindedness. Would you ever go out in public sporting pajamas? Depends on where I'm going. Have you ever ridden in a race car? No. Do you enjoy history? No. Have you ever changed religions? Twice. Is there anyone to whom you are afraid to stand up to? Mom. And pretty much everyone else. Do you like making lists? Sometimes. Do you play sports with your siblings? Never di- oh wait, Mom signed all three of us up for cheerleading as little kids. Hated it. Are there stairs in your house? No. Do you like onions on your burger? A small amount of minced pieces is fine. Could you ever give yourself a shot? Yeah. What is your favorite room to clean? I get the most satisfaction out of cleaning my own. Do you enjoy cleaning? Not the process of it, just the feeling afterwards. What do you consider your ideal weight? My /ideal/ would be around 120 again, but I'd be happy enough between 130-140. How many pounds do you need to lose (or gain) to be your ideal weight? LET US NOT What is your favorite thing about Valentine’s Day? Just it being a celebration of love, which to me, goes beyond just romantic. I think people should spend a little extra effort in letting one another know they really love each other. Now I believe every day you should treat people with love, but seriously focus on it and be thankful for those you have. If you wear one, what color is your wristwatch? N/A Have you ever made a pair of earrings? No. Who did you inherit your hair color from? I actually think Dad? Going through family pictures after Grampa died, I found out he was actually born dirty-blonde (I've only known him with black), like I was. Pretty sure Mom's was always brown. Have you ever wished that you were born in a different era? Woulda loved being born in the mid-early '80s. Do you prefer soft rock or hard rock? ....... I read "rock" as in like, minerals. And I was. Very confused. High on the list of my dumbest readings. Anyway, definitely hard. What was the best time of your life? As a kid. Do you prefer sunny or cloudy weather? Partly cloudy. How do you like your potatoes? For most of my life I only liked them as fries or as potato skins w/ cheese and bacon bits, but I'm gradually branching out. I like baked potatoes split with cheese and bacon inside too, and Sara's mom exposed me to the very first time I enjoyed mashed potatoes, yeet. So those have to be made a very specific, non-clumpy way. I also like hash browns, but not the shredded kind. Oh yeah, I live for the fiesta potatoes at Taco Bell too like gd good shit. Who’s your best friend? My babygirl. <3 If you don't count her, it'd be my mom, but if she's excluded too being family, I don't really have a best friend. Maybe Girt, idk. What’s a TV show you never miss? I don't watch any shows regularly. The one and only situation where I'd watch every episode ASAP is if Meerkat Manor came back. Have you ever lied about your gender? No. What are you planning on doing on your next birthday? Go out to eat with family, and though unlikely, getting a tattoo would be awwwesome. Do you know anyone else with your last name other than family? I don't think so? Is your favorite band still together? I actually just looked it up because I really wanted to know, and his band's still going, apparently! I thought this coming tour ("No More Tours 2") was the end, but apparently it's just the finale of his world tours. Where do you see most of your concerts? I've only been to one, which was in Raleigh. That's the most likely place we'd go to, though. Have you ever had escargot? Never in my life will I try it. Do you use Google every day? No. What was the last new food you tried that you thought was delicious? Oh my god in Heaven. So, for Christmas, my sis made these hot chocolate cream balls things she found on Pinterest, and literally, maybe the best thing I'd ever had. I just barely had enough discipline to not eat more than one lol. If you could invent a new holiday, what month would you put it in? Hm. Idk. Have you ever had a bedroom with a specific theme? No, I don't think so. If you had to design a room with a theme, what theme would you choose? Gothic, maybe with lil bits of pastel goth for some more personality. What was the best thing that ever happened to you? Realizing I can't just give my entire life to a person, losing any control over it myself. You have to allow yourself to be free; do not chain yourself to a single person. Have you ever given money to a homeless person? No. One, I don't have a source of income, and two, I'm perfectly aware what probably 99% do with it, especially because of my mom, who's pretty much made friends with the homeless on the side of the road, has learned each and every one use drugs or alcohol, so instead she buys them food frequently. That's something I would want to do, but I'm so paranoid of strangers, especially desperate ones, harming me for whatever reason that I probably never will. Do you like your hair better long or short? SHORT. OH MY GOOOOOD CUTTING MY HAIR SHORT WAS ONE OF MY BEST DECISIONS. Have you ever designed your own Facebook timeline cover? Yeah. What is one site that closed down that you wish would come back? Hmmmm. I don't really know. Well, the Animal Planet site still exists, but I wish there was still a dedicated MM section, y'know, with the forums and games and such. Really think it'd be nice if they kept little sections for all of their classic, better-known shows for old fans. Hell, I'm pretty sure MM was their most successful, why not keep remnants of it up there? Do you ever watch TV shows on YouTube? Rarely, if I ever watch a show. Foo Fighters vs. Red Hot Chili Peppers: Not a real fan of either, but I'd have to choose the former as I enjoy at least two of their songs. Have your parents ever complained about your hair? My mom was reeeaaally shocked and distressed when she arrived at the parlor when I got the "big" haircut and saw how much was gone (eight inches), but only because she was scared I'd hate it. Thankfully she really liked it when it was all said and done. Are you a fan of the Saw movies? Never really watched 'em. How did you decide on your Tumblr name? I'm a sucker for alliteration, and it's a survey blog. Do your friends have the complete opposite music taste as you? My closer friends, not really, actually. Do you ever forget how old your siblings are? I don't know any of my half-siblings' ages, and I forget how old Ashley is sometimes. I forget frequently if she's two or three years older than me. Do you tend to walk places more than drive? Ha, you can't walk to a destination here in the country. I only ever ride/rarely drive anywhere. Do you have any photos of you kissing someone? Yes. Do you ever hang out with your ex? Rarely with Girt. Would you like the ability to read minds? No, especially if you can't choose when it's "on" or "off." Even if you only choose when you do it, idk. Just... doesn't seem like a safe idea. Do you see the same people everyday? Lol that's usually just my mom, and yes. Have you ever made out on a couch? Yeah. Are you mad at anyone right now? No. It’s 4 in the morning, your phone rings, what do you do? Almost a guarantee I won't hear, considering it's on vibrate. Now if I did for whatever reason, ignore it unless it's a contact on my phone. Have you ever fallen backwards on a chair? I believe so, playing as a kid. Last time you laughed so hard you cried? I'm not sure, but considering I do that easily... Who last talked about kissing you? Sara. Who was the last thing/person you took a picture with? My kiiiitty. Did you speak to your father today? No. Would you ever get gauged ears? Definitely no. What aren’t you looking forward to? I really don't mean to sound all emo and whatnot, but I genuinely don't look forward to like every afternoon/early evening, as that's around when I hit my extreme boredom decline, which goes so low I feel death could maybe be more exciting. I am in no way suicidal, I just want this era of isolation, lack of purpose, and no progress towards a great future to end. My life's been at a stand-still for pretty much a year. Would you rather get your tongue or lip pierced? I already have both done. I find my snake eyes way cuter, but when I consider my outward appearance and what people generally see, I'd rather have my labret. What is your favorite personality trait? Kindness. What is the most romantic thing a significant other could do? Idk, but something with deep personal meaning for sure. When you are dating someone, what is the most important thing to you? There has to be a mutual, serious care for our relationship; my partner has to understand I'm not in for a fling. We both have to have the goal of forming and maintaining a healthy, long-lasting, meaningful relationship. If I feel being together is a game to you or just for a couple months of a bit of fun, bye. Would you be able to tell someone you love them, even if you didn’t feel it? No. Well, I do with my mom if she's pissed me off and I *feel* like I don't, but I know I do. If you were engaged, would you want a wedding as soon as possible? Not necessarily. I believe engagement is a stage where you're certain you want to get married in the not-so-distant future, but you have other important things to take care of first, like for example, buying a home and stuff like that. When in a relationship do you have to have contact with your partner on a daily basis? I wouldn't freak the hell out if you couldn't talk to me for a day, but I'd definitely want at least a little conversation, especially if we're serious. Do you believe in moving in together before engagement or marriage? Yes. You should know how you're going to handle being with your s/o every single day. Did you ever give a hickey to the last person you kissed or you guys didn’t go that far? Not yet. Is there anyone you want to come see you? Yeah. What was the last thing you saw that scared you? A video of this guy with his giant pet centipede like an idiot (super venomous) crawling all over him. Centipedes creep me the hell out, although at the same time I find them kinda cool. Is there something that’s happened today that you don’t want to ever go through again? No. Is the last person you kissed attractive? Yeah. Do you feel bored with your life? I think I've covered this enough. Who’s someone you miss that you haven’t talked to in years? Megan, more than anyone. Do you have severe withdrawals from medications? I don't think any were ever severe, but I was weaned off of them all I believed. Just honestly I've been on so many since 6th grade that I can't recall each one's ending. I only recall having shadow hallucinations when I was coming off one. What’s the most weight you’ve ever gained from a medication? Let's not talk about the subject I'm more bitter about than anything else in the entire world. Summary: Don't touch Abilify even if your fucking life depended on it. Do you have a doctor you can trust? My psychiatrist and therapist, very much so. I've only seen my new general doctor twice, so I can't make a fair judgment of her. Mom has a friend who sees her though, and she only has positive things to say about her. Do you pray? If yes, to whom? No. What do you miss about high school? A social life. Art class. What do you miss the most about college? Literally the one and only part I enjoyed at my first college was lunchtime, because Jason and I could spend time together, sometimes with his friends. Second college, nothing. It was online. Have you ever been the victim of a crime? I don't believe so? Is your life worse than you could have ever have imagined it to be? Or is it better, or just what you expected? Ohhhh man... As a kid, I was so sure I'd be amazing. Still had a bit of hope in middle school. High school and beyond, it's, so far, worse than I'd planned. What is the most beautiful landscape you have ever seen? Mountains. Driving through them is unreal. What is one place you have always wanted to visit? Idk about "always." But for the longest amount of time, it's been without a doubt South Africa. Who were your favorite celebrities as a child? Steve Irwin was and still is one of my absolute heroes. I loved Jeff Corwin, Jesse McCartney, Raven Symone, and the Sprouse twins, too. Do you prefer slow songs or fast songs? I'd say generally, faster. What color is your trash can? White. Who was your favorite family pet when you were growing up? We didn't really have a "family" pet, just ones one of us individually were particularly close to. I'd say the closest that qualifies would be Chance, our first cat. She was special. List five of your favorite YouTubers. You Already Know, GameGrumps, Shane Dawson, Daniel Howell, and Jeffree Star, but. I have so many jsfaqoweuoapsf. I wanna squeeze Rhett and Link in there, but while I still love them as people and creators, I've been losing interest in GMM over the months. What’s your favorite type of bird? Barn owls. I also love ravens though for their intelligence and personalities. What pet names do you use with your significant other? A lot, but I'd say either "sweetheart/sweetie" or "dear" are most common from me. I think. How would you describe your sense of humor? Sarcastic, I guess. Have you ever been a member in a band? No. Well, except school band. Have you ever watched yourself on video? Yeeaah, senior project was fun. But I know how I usually am well enough to say I honestly don't feel I did badly. Have you ever missed a flight? Yup. Never go to the O'Hare airport, jfc. Have you ever seen a lunar eclipse? Yes, and I hope to see the one this Sunday! Are you still in touch with your best friend from high school? No. Any animals whose behaviors you find particularly interesting? AHHHHHHH SO MANY!!!!! Social species' above all. Do you like animals better than most humans? Yes. What simple things in life bring you the most joy? Long car rides when I can play my iPod through the speakers and just go to another world. Sara singing, hearing my mom laugh. Seeing old couples holding hands in public kills me. How did you meet your significant other (if you have one)? YouTube. How did you meet your best friend? She's the same person as above. Are you friends with anybody you didn't like at first? Also see Sara lmao. Are there any musicians you didn't like at first, but grew on you? The first/most recent to come to mind is In This Moment. Is there anything you used to love, but now dislike? Peas as a kid. I'm kinda on the fence of liking or disliking PewDiePie as he is now (although I haven't watched too much of his newer content). Do you have any favorite books you'd like to have signed by the author? It'd be pretty cool for Ozzy to sign my copy of his autobiography, sure. Do you enjoy any of those old black and white horror films? Any one I've ever seen has been horrid, so I haven't seen many. What is your favorite yogurt topping? I loved those ones that had M&Ms in them. Where do you shop the most: Kmart, Target, Walmart, Fred Meyer, or other? Walmart or Harris Teeter. Have you ever done a craft project you saw on Pinterest? No. What beverages do you drink that contain caffeine? Soda. What has been the best experience you've had in a church? Uhhh. Oh, Jason's brother's wedding. Do you prefer that your nachos be spicy or not spicy? Obviously spicy. Have you ever had a kiss that felt magical? Mine and Jason's first was cute, but I don't recall if I thought it was "magical" because all I was focusing on was just how shy I was. First kiss with Sara was definitely more than special. Who is your best online friend? Sara once again. Who knows more about you: online friends or offline? Online, easily. Do you think that love makes people irrational? It can. What book, movie, or TV show did you find to be total garbage? Oh, I'm positive there's something, but nothing comes to mind. Is there a topic that is a sore-spot for you? Mental health and how it may affect your loved ones. Have you ever lost a friend over a guy/girl? Pretty much. Have you ever lost a friend because of a lifestyle change? Yup. Do you like kissing? The right person. What location holds the most memories for you? My childhood home. Hypothetically let’s just say you’re a supervillain. What’s your agenda? What are you trying to destroy and why? I would never want to be, but I suppose the most suitable for me would be punishing the person to break a promise somehow. Why, because I know just how agonizing broken promises can be. What’s your go-to topic when making small talk with others? How their day's been. When you get to be in charge of the tunes on a road trip or party - do you play what you want to hear or tailor the playlist to what you think the other people in the car/room want to hear? I do a mix of both. Thankfully, Mom and I like most of the same music, but I do learn what songs she doesn't like and avoid playing them unless I really wanna hear it. You have any bad habits you shamelessly don’t care to or plan to quit? Shamelessly, idk about that. There’s an app for everything. What apps consume the most of your time and energy? Facebook. The most overrated thing ever - what is it? I literally judge you if you have a bigass, obnoxiously loud truck. Compensating for something? The most underrated? Ummmm. Talking about pointless shit and doing nothing while enjoying your favorite person's presence is surely one. What’s something you find unconventionally romantic? Teaching your s/o how to play a game together and you both are enjoying it asjfaoswuw. One of my most cherished memories with Jason was that with Little Big Planet. Just in general I find it super cute to share what you love with each other.

#survey #quiz #questions #random

4 notes · View notes