#so January has been a month of forced rest | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

daengtokki · 12 days

Text

serial killer!Kim Seungmin/afab reader

WC: 10.6k

RATING: mature/explicit/mdni—contains: angst, sex, self harm mention, abuse mention, medication usage, hallucinations

SYNOPSIS: you walk into Seungmin’s life, and disrupt everything (part 4/?)

˗ˋˏ♡ 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐/𝚝𝚊𝚐 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚊 𝚠𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎. 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜!

PARTS 1 — 3

seungmin-ah! mo! haha…come here, you know you’re in trouble!

whyyy? I didn’t do anything umma

are you sure? let’s go look at what you didn’t do…let’s go look at that empty plate, sweetheart

I didn’t eat those cakes

oh? did daengmo eat them? I know he has a sweet tooth, just like you…

His eyes open slowly. Everything is a blur as Seungmin tries to look around him, but it’s so dark. He blinks, and a tear runs to the corner of his eye. The first thing he latches onto, the closest thing, is your arm. His fingers close gently around your wrist as he finds himself.

Min?

He lets go and pulls at the collar of his shirt in an attempt to wipe his face dry.

“Seungmin…it’s okay.” You grab his hand and wait for him to look at you. Eyes still wet with tears, he lays back down and stares at the ceiling. “Just a nightmare, you’re okay now.”

“Not a nightmare.” Seungmin breathes deep, and his eyes dart back and forth in the dark as he remembers. “Just a memory, I think.”

The bedroom is cold. Outside, it’s abnormally cold. You feel a shiver move through him as you run your hand up and down his forearm—there’s another blanket in the chest, but first, you have to brave the icy floor to get it. “Be right back.” You slide out from under the covers and wince when your feet hit the hardwood and tiptoe the rest of the way there.

“What are you doing out there?”

You swing the creaky lid open and dig around for the heaviest one you can find. “I want that flannel blanket…oh, this one.” The lid comes down faster and heavier than you intend, and the sound feels unimaginably loud cutting through the middle-of-the-night silence. “Sorry…” The music box lets a note free, and then another. You look up at it, and the lid is propped open. Seungmin must have been in there, you think. There are a few dried flowers scattered inside and around it when you gently close it.

“It’s okay,” Seungmin says, and you can see his smile as your eyes adjust to the darkness. When you jump back in, he holds the covers open to show you exactly where he wants you. His body is warm, but the goosebumps are still all over his arms.

“January is awful”

“You told me you liked winter”

“I like this,” you squeeze him and push your face into his chest. “Tell me about your dream.”

The soft sounds of a guitar wake you. G chord, C, G, D—whatever it is, it’s simple…and it’s nice. You wait and listen for a few minutes as the music builds, hoping you might finally hear him sing. Seungmin keeps you on edge, though. He stops, so you roll over and look at him.

“Finally,” he sets the guitar back on its stand.

“Finally what?”

“You looked so comfortable over there, I was getting jealous”

“Oh, you couldn’t get back to sleep?”

Seungmin stands and stretches. His sweatpants hang low on his hips, and his sweatshirt is pulled up just enough for you to catch his belly button, until he tugs at the hem, “I did for a little while.”

You pull the covers down, “so get back in.”

“It’s noon”

“Then sing something for me, don’t you think I’ve suffered enough?”

A month living under his roof, and making him laugh is still a treat. It’s not quite as rare as it used to be, but Seungmin still has his days, his nights, and his moments of uneasiness and agitation in your shared space.

“How long have you lived in this big apartment all by yourself?” You asked him a few weeks ago. There never seems to be a good time for most of these little questions, so you force them in whenever you can, and whenever you remember. Whenever you think he might answer them.

“Almost five years, I was nineteen when I moved in”

“That answers another burning question.” Do you tell him now that you’re older than him, or wait until he asks? You doubt he’ll care. “All alone, no other roommates?”

He gives you a look and raises an eyebrow. “Is that what you are? My roommate?”

“I’m not not your roommate”

“Do I make you feel like my roommate?”

It’s a sweet, introspective question for him. Seungmin doesn’t talk very much, but when you get him going, he’s good at keeping up. Sometimes, you do feel like his roommate, because some nights he falls asleep on the couch, and sometimes you do the same, depending on where his head has been that day. There have been days when Seungmin hasn’t spoken a single word to you.

“Is that a no?” His face says a lot, but it doesn’t answer your question, “no song for me?”

The bottom of his sweatshirt is suddenly very interesting. He pulls it more and squeezes the fabric in his fist as he tries to avoid your gaze. “Uhm…I’ve never sung for anyone before. I wouldn’t know what to sing anyway. I don’t know what you’d want to hear.”

The shyness might be an act, but it’s cute, and you like it. “You can sing me the alphabet, I don’t care. A nursery rhyme. Your favorite song.” Seungmin’s face turns so red, that you almost change the subject completely. Pushing him has gotten easier, but you’re still careful. You resist the urge to ask if his mother sang him anything as a child, considering last night's dream, and the tears he tried to hide.

“I’ll think about it, my favorite…and maybe I will tonight”

“Really?”

He nods, and his phone starts to vibrate somewhere on the bed. You can feel it, and just as you shove your hand beneath his pillow, Seungmin’s slips under, too, and he gets there first.

Annyeonghaseyo, he says quietly and walks toward the balcony window.

You’ve continued your language classes because you have no job and nothing else to fill your time. Any reason to get out of the house and give him his space is welcome, even if it is only three days a week. You’re no good yet, but the point is, you notice he answered formally, and very unlike how he typically sounds, and you’re curious. He very rarely speaks to anyone on the phone.

When he hangs up, he keeps his gaze down toward his phone and types something, and then he sighs one of his sighs—a little exaggerated, and very him. You love his sighs because it’s one of the few signals he gives you when something is bothering him.

“Did you eat breakfast, are you hungry?” Seungmin never asks anything of you; he likes to cook, and he seems to be naturally tidy. He never makes messes…well, usually. “I can make us something…American.” You head toward his keyboard and run a finger over it. It’s off, so you press one of the keys.

“American? Steak and eggs and potatoes?” He’s still distracted by something on his phone, but he must be hungry. He knows what he wants.

“Yeah, I just need to go get some steak”

“Can you? I have to…uh,” he scratches his head. “I have something I need to do.” He sees your face change. “Not that, something else.”

“Yeah, of course.” Something to do with his phone call, and whatever he’s been doing on the phone, you assume. You'll find out later, hopefully.

The bus is crowded, but he braves it. Sometimes he likes to be a little more anonymous, and this is the best way to do that. The office building is only a dozen or so blocks away from his building, but it’s too cold for a long walk.

“Do you have an appointment?” The woman behind the desk doesn’t pay much attention to Seungmin until his soft yes, I do hits her ears. The look she gives him turns bashful and flirtatious, but it doesn’t do much for him. “Your name?”

“Kim Seung Min”

“Date of birth?”

“September twenty-second…two-thousand”

“Oh here you are, it was just added…Dr…oh, Dr. Mun”

There’s only one doctor in this building who specializes in what Seungmin needs, and the receptionist has no tact when she realizes it. She avoids his gaze as she finishes typing and granting him access. “Ninth—“

“I know where it is”

/ / /

“Seungmin, how have you been?” Her heels click as she walks across the dark wood floor, and it’s a little hypnotizing. “Can I still call you Seungmin, or should we go back to formal? It’s been quite a while.”

The click click stops when she sits, but returns with the slightly more annoying sound of the pen. It’s weird being back in this room, but it feels familiar still—the smell, the lights, the colors. “Seungmin is fine. I don’t like being spoken to formally.”

“Yes, I do remember that now. Please, tell me how things have been. I know I’m not your usual therapist, but you haven’t gone to a session with him in over a year, so…”

“It wasn’t helping”

“I know you feel-“

“It wasn’t. Every session made me feel worse, and he had no sympathy for anything I managed to dig up.”

“Okay. Have you been back home lately?”

His heart races, and it’s too warm in here. Seungmin slides out of his jacket and pulls at the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “Last month.”

“How was it, did you…want to talk about any of that? Was she there for you still?”

He manages a nod. She’s always there. She’s everywhere, but there…that’s where she truly is.

“Not to switch subjects so quickly, but…” she says as her eyes travel over him, “what happened here?” Dr. Mun taps her pen to her neck, “I only ask because it looks very painful.”

The bruise you gave him two nights ago; the one he begged you for, even as you squeezed to the point of him nearly passing out. It’s probably at its worst right now. You’re stronger than you look. He sets his hand over it, pushes a little, and savors the pain still there.

“And because I know you’ve hurt yourself in the past. Is that was this is?”

It might be easier to lie and tell her he did it to himself, because talking about you wasn’t supposed to be part of this today. He’s only here because she threatened to hold the medication he actually uses. Seungmin shakes his head, though.

“Someone else did it?”

He nods.

“Because you asked them to, I assume? Do you trust this person?”

Does he trust you? He must. You share a bed, and you’re feet away from his knife. He took you home with him and let you listen in as he spoke to someone you couldn’t see, and you haven’t questioned him about it. Seungmin begs you to bite and cut and choke him, which you do, and all of your time in between is spent waiting and longing for something more. He knows that.

“Yes, I do”

“As long as I’ve been your doctor, three years, you’ve been by yourself…single. Is that no longer the case?” She tries to read his facial cues and his fidgeting hands. “Maybe it’s nothing serious, hm? Just casual? That’s also good, because you’re letting someone in, even in some small way. You trust someone besides yourself. That’s great, considering you haven’t been keeping up with your medication.”

“So I don’t need it”

“One good step doesn’t make everything better. I’m glad you came and saw me at such short notice, and I know you want the lorazepam to help you sleep, but I would also like your word that you’ll try the Haldol. I’ll write your new prescription, but please…just give it some time.

Hopefully, the smell of a very late breakfast brightens him up, because Seungmin didn’t seem happy when he left earlier. One thing he seems to respond to when nothing else works is food.

He walks in wordlessly, takes off his jacket, and tosses it on the couch. There’s no change in his facial expression. It’s as if he left, and then walked right back in. But he doesn’t look more upset, thankfully; just blank. He’s feeling nothing, or trying his best to look like he’s feeling nothing.

“Hey…Min.” You look at the paper bag clutched in his hand, and it’s easy to figure out what could be inside. You came back a little bit ago with the same one. “Foods all ready.”

The smile isn’t forced, “okay,” but it’s not easy, either. “I’ll be right back out.”

Seungmin doesn’t close the door, so you try to peek in from where you stand. All you can see is the bed, but you do hear the rustle of his bag, and the subtle sound of full pill bottles as he sets them on his table. So if you have any deduction skills at all—the phone call was from his doctor, or his therapist, or something along those lines. The hour and a half he was gone was spent with one of them, and then he stopped at the pharmacy a block down the street for his prescriptions. Easy enough. You hope he’ll feel comfortable enough to tell you all of this on his own.

Before he comes out, you hear the pop of a lid, and the shake of one of the bottles against his hand. When he comes back out, he takes the coffee you hold out for him and swallows one, or both, of his pills.

“It smells good,” he says, and he stays there. Seungmin stares at you.

“Good. Are you alright?” You try not to stare back, but each time you look up, he’s still looking. “Did you do what you had to do?”

“I did”

“Did I do that?” The bruise on the side of his neck pops out at you. It’s big and dark against the white of his shirt collar. Seungmin doesn’t move when you reach out and touch it. “Does it still hurt?”

“Yes, and yes.” He sets his hand over yours and rubs it against the spot. “It feels good.”

“Seungmin?”

He stops but keeps his hand on yours. The doctor’s words are ringing through his head as he watches your eyes dart back and forth between his. How much does he actually trust you? How far has he let you in, and how much has he given of himself? Too much? Enough to keep you here? “Yeah?” You don’t ask him a lot of personal questions.

What if you did ask him about his appointment? Would it be that bad? If he took his medication like you assume he just did a moment ago, broaching the subject should be even easier. That’s not the only subject you need to broach with him, though.

“Did you have a doctor’s appointment?

His eyes answer you before you hear the soft mhm.

“How did it go?” At any moment you expect him to let go of your hand and retreat, but he doesn’t.

“It was okay. Uhm…that medicine makes me very tired, so if I fall asleep, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you can sleep all day if you need to. But eat something first.”

/ / /

The space between wakefulness and sleep is much too big. Seungmin is stuck in it—he knows that...he feels it. Like twilight in the backyard after a hot summer day. You turned the heat up a little, but you also laid the blanket over him and pulled it up past his bruised neck.

It feels good; the soft warmth of the couch, and the silky pillow under his head. And he can see you from here, moving back and forth in his vision, disappearing and reappearing as you…well, he’s not sure what you’re doing. He likes watching you, though.

“Hey, you’ve been out for a while”

Your voice floats to him, and it takes an extra moment before he grasps what you say. Seungmin nods.

“There’s some water here if you need it”

He opens his eyes fully and looks at your smiling face. Why are you so happy? No, not happy. Smiling, yes, but your eyes give you away. “Thank you.” Seungmin feels your lips on his temple, then on his cheek. Why? There’s nothing here worth loving. He’s just an empty shell. “Thank you.”

“You’ll feel better soon. Close your eyes and sleep a little more.”

Thankfully, he does.

It’s completely dark when he wakes again, and so quiet that it puts him into a sudden panic. He’s still asleep, and he’s back in his nightmare. His heart races, and he can practically smell the dirt…until he realizes he’s not alone. Seungmin moves his leg, and his foot slides over your thigh. You’re here…asleep, curled up in the small space he left at the end of the couch. He moves his foot over you again, hoping to wake you, and it works.

You close your hand around his ankle, “hey sleepyhead…”

“What time is it?”

“Good question,” you tap your phone screen and squint at it. “Just after midnight.”

“Fuck, I slept all day?”

He did, and while he slept, you checked to see if he was still on the same medication, the same dosage. Haldol and Xanax. Seungmin took one of each earlier, and his body never stood a chance against it. You also took care of your own problems while he was out, and finally getting it out of the way calmed you a little.

“You just have to adjust, that’s all…yeah?”

Seungmin still feels like he’s floating. He sits up more, and looks at you. It's too dark, and he can't see you very well, so he moves closer. “It won’t fix me.”

“No, you’re not broken." You don't know if Seungmin knows you know exactly what he's taking, but he's smart enough to realize you're going to look around any chance you get, because he did it to you with your backpack. Both of you, quiet, tiptoeing around each other to find answers instead of asking.

"No?" He moves closer still, and practically puts himself in your lap.

/ / /

Something sweet…you said, walking to each corner of the kitchen and collecting things. He needs something sweet to eat, that will make him feel better. The smell of cinnamon and apples made it to him as he showered, and that alone did make him feel a little better.

“It hasn’t been back lately, but…” he looks at the perfect baked apple in front of him and cuts it in half.

“What hasn’t?”

“The noise, the itch. It’s been a while.”

“Is that bad?” You noticed, of course, that he hasn’t left the house lately with the urge to find someone. He hasn’t come home with anyone. The idea that you somehow changed something in him hasn’t crossed your mind, because it’s silly—what you have done, maybe, is filled up those spaces in his mind that were once left to their own devices. Seungmin has already told you he’s been here, alone, for years, and that the company he’s kept has never lasted beyond the hour they arrived. "Or is that good?"

“I’m worried it’ll come back, and be worse”

“Has that happened before? Has it gone away, and built up to something bigger?”

Seungmin takes a big bite of his apple, and the taste hitting his tongue makes him smile. Yes, it has happened, but he was a teenager then, and he lacked self-control. It’s not something he wants to think about, or talk about right now. But he nods. “This is very good, thank you.”

“We’ll deal with it when the time comes, if it does”

Will you? It seemed sincere, the way you said it, and the way you looked at him.

we’ll deal with it

we?

Too much sleep is weighing on him now. Seungmin felt so tired as he ate the dessert you made for dinner, and while he struggled to brush his teeth. Now the sleep eludes him—but he’s comfortable, at least. You bought new flannel sheets, and new pillows, so the bed hasn’t felt this soft and warm in a long time. And you, you’re sound asleep a few inches away, content. Seungmin likes to stare, discreetly if he can manage, and so often he’s spent far too long watching you. He doesn’t do it while you sleep. This morning, he got right up and went about his day, not concerning himself with how late you stayed in bed. Not until he got bored. You’re usually up before him, so he missed a perfect opportunity to look at you without worrying about getting caught and making you uncomfortable.

The first time he saw you on the street, he did think you were pretty. He doesn’t typically interact with foreigners, or tourists, despite speaking English fluently, but seeing you changed that. Seungmin still can’t figure out why. Maybe if he bothered to ask a single thing about you, he could figure something out. Where are you from, and why are you still here after weeks of sometimes being paid attention to? Today, despite him sleeping for nearly all of it, was probably good for you.

Seungmin drops his gaze when you shift. Your hand slides up the sheet and stops just short of his. He watches it for a moment…and his pinky twitches. You never have trouble sleeping next to him, even though he nearly killed you. That night still lives at the front of his memory, and it replays over and over sometimes. It’s replaying for him right now, because you looked just like this—like you were sleeping.

He moves a little closer, and his hand slides over yours. You groan, but your eyes remain closed. Seungmin says your name, softly, because he isn’t sure he wants you to hear, but…he wants you awake with him. One more whisper, and he sees your lashes shift as your eyes start to move.

“Seungmin?” Before you even look around, you call for him. “Did you say my name?”

“Maybe”

“Maybe?”

Your sleepy laugh makes his stomach flutter, and he almost turns away. He has to force himself to stay put.

“What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

The warmth of your hand on his cheek sets his stomach in motion again, and he doesn’t like the feeling. It’s too much. Seungmin closes his eyes when you don’t take yours off of him. Touching comes easy for you, but you don’t do it often—Seungmin wonders if that's his fault...if his distance keeps you away. You mean it when you do touch him, though, like right now. Like when you wake up tangled together, as if your unconscious bodies can’t stay separated.

“Can’t sleep? That makes sense. What time is it?”

“Four o’clock”

“We could go for a walk”

“It’s freezing out”

“We could… go to that all-night cafe and try all the cakes”

“That’s tempting, but…” the flutter in his stomach turns to butterflies as he reaches out for you. “The bed is nice and warm,” he moves closer, close enough to tuck himself against you and fill himself up with your scent. You still smell the same as you did before; that deep, dark floral scent—flowers that only bloom when the sun goes down. Moonflowers, and night phlox. He wants to tell you that. Seungmin wants to tell you he gave you the wrong flowers, and that he needs to find you the right ones.

“We can stay up. I’ll stay awake with you.”

“You will?”

“I’ll try my best”

Seungmin looks up at you, and his eyes make you feel like you’re melting. He pulls back just enough to still share your pillow. “Do you really not want to go back home?” He knows it’s a heavy question, but how else can he start?

“Do you want me to?”

He watches as the color drains from your face. “No…did I word that wrong? No, I don’t want that.”

“Then no, I don’t want to go back home. I promise you, I don't.”

“Where is home? Was…where was home?”

“A town called Point Pleasant”

“Pleasant?” He smiles. “Point Pleasant.”

“Yeah, Uljin reminded me of it, a little. The woods, and the feeling it gave me.”

“Why did you leave? I know you told me before, when we had lunch…is that the only reason?” You close your eyes and think, and Seungmin watches every tiny movement of your face. “Maybe it is, I’m sorry.”

“No, it wasn’t”

“We don’t have to talk about it”

“There was no ex, but I was trying to get away from...uhm, everyone else. I lied to you."

“Why did you lie?” Seungmin whispers, because he can feel something change in the way you speak. You sound on the brink of tears, but you’re also hiding from him. "You can tell me, it's okay."

“I lied about my job, and about needing help getting home. I lied about how long I've been in Seoul. I wanted to seem more interesting, more helpless than I was. You seemed hard to impress, and I didn’t know why someone as good-looking as you was even talking to me. I still don’t.”

“You don’t?”

You shake your head.

“I should be the only one wondering that.” He can’t bring himself to ask why you had to run from everyone, and why running to him turned into your solution. He doesn't care about your lies, though. His whole life is built on lying to himself and to everyone else. “Close your eyes. Sleep."

“No, I’ll stay up”

“Close your eyes, I’ll be right behind you.”

/ / /

he is right behind you. and he’s fast, so much faster. the unbearable sound of mud underfoot as you slip and try desperately to gain some purchase, but you don’t know this ground like he does…and it’s dark but it’s midday, you think. you don’t dare look behind you, though, because he’ll be there when you do. free of the pine trees, at least, and there’s some light trying desperately to get through the clouds. the only thing standing is the shed. barely standing. it’s quiet. he stopped. maybe he turned back. but you have to hide. the shed is the only place.

the inside is somehow worse. everything is visible through the cracks in the wooden slats, so you watch the woods. the mud grabs your boots, and you’re pulled in even more as you try to move. a twig snaps, a cloud of warm breath sneaks past your ear. you can smell it.

seungmin? your voice is shaky. he likes how scared you are.

another breath tickles your ear, so you decide to look. you should at least face him when he jumps, right?

you turn, slowly, and move your eyes up a long white snout until you find them…two black eyes, shiny and sad, ready to swallow you up. a growl from his chest, and then every sharp tooth is out.

no, you promised

“Hey…hey, relax”

The voice comes from the big white dog, or seems to.

“Please, it’s me…open your eyes”

Something wet on your neck, your throat. Breath? No, warm lips. Why hasn’t he ripped you apart, what is he waiting for?

“I know, you’re stuck…it’s okay”

Finally, something shifts and you finally open your eyes. Two big black ones stare back at you, unblinking.

“No! Don’t touch me!”

Seungmin releases his grip on your wrist and backs away. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry. You’re okay now. You were dreaming.”

You pull yourself up against the pillows, bringing the blankets with you as you fold yourself up. The collar of your shirt is soaked through with sweat, and you swear you can smell the fear coming off of you. Seungmin keeps his distance, but his eyes never leave you—they take in every movement as you fidget and pull yourself even tighter together.

“…just a bad dream. Really bad. You were, uh—“

“I was what?” You look around the room, and try to gauge the time by the amount of light coming in. It’s still early in the morning, you think. A few hours ago you were awake and talking with him.

“You said my name, and you were crying. Did I hurt you?”

“No.” But he was going to. “I’m not sure.”

“Maybe you can tell me about it later, when it doesn’t feel so real anymore”

“Yeah”

Seungmin wants to assure you that he won’t hurt you, but he’s not certain how to tell you again. He doesn’t blame you for being afraid, though, even after everything. “You said…no, you promised. Were you saying that to me?”

You don’t answer.

“I’ll go make coffee”

He pulls the door closed and leaves you alone with your thoughts, but you don’t want this quiet, either. Maybe he’ll come back if you call for him. No, he’ll absolutely come back if you call for him.

But you don’t. You look around the sun-filled room like you’re searching for a clue. Everything is the same as it’s been for weeks, and he’s the same, so why is your head suddenly betraying you? You stand on sore, shaky legs and feel yourself floating toward the door. Seungmin’s back is to you at the kitchen counter, white tshirt hanging loosely on his shoulders. The sun is bright in here, too, and you can practically see through him as he moves around like water. He stretches and rolls his neck, lifts his shirt, and you’re hypnotized by the sight of his back, the paleness of his winter skin as he pulls it over his head. Seungmin shakes the hair from his face as he turns, and he catches you there, peeking from the open doorway.

“Hi.” He holds his shirt against his torso as you examine him, as if he has something to hide. His faded orange bangs fall right back in his face. The dark roots have grown out significantly in such a short time, but he hasn’t been out much, and he hasn’t had a reason to change anything.

“I can trim your hair for you, if you’d like”

/ / /

It’s a little awkward at first, setting him down and running your fingers through his damp hair, both of you staring at each other in the bathroom mirror. You insisted on the conditioning treatment, mostly so you could wet him down in the bathtub, run it through his hair, and touch him a little more than you have lately. He smirked the entire time, probably feeling overwhelmed by the intimacy.

“Are you feeling better?” He asks the mirrored version of you. “I know how dreams can mess with your head.”

“A little.” You snip a few times, comb through it, snip again. “I’ll be okay.”

“Have you done this before?”

“I used to cut my own, and my sisters. It’s been a while, though.”

“Why did you do your own hair?”

“Haircuts were expensive”

He nods, not needing any more explanation than that, and he lets you continue cutting. “It was me, in your dream?”

“I think so. I mean, my dream self thought it was you.” Seungmin is confused, you can see that. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how to explain it.”

“That’s okay, I doubt I could explain mine either.” He watches his hair fall on the white tile, piece by piece. “Even though they’re always the same.”

“Mine are never quite the same, except for the…except for the shed. And the mud. The smell.”

Seungmin looks up at you before your next cut. “The what?”

You think as you tousle his hair, and find a few more spots to trim in the back.

“The smell. Do you smell things in your dreams? It’s always wet and gross, like decay. Sometimes it stays stuck in my nose even after I wake up.”

“Shed?”

“Yeah, yeah…I think so. It was this time, for sure. I’m usually already inside when the dream starts, looking out. This time I ran inside to hide.”

“From me?”

“Sort of”

“Sort of? Either it was me or it wasn’t.”

His words come out sharp, and it goes right through you. It reminds you of the big, impatient voice he used on his last victim.

“I’m finished”

You toss the scissors in the sink and leave him there. Seungmin doesn’t speak up again before you gently close the door, and he doesn’t come out right away. Cleaning up, you assume, and then you hear him in the shower. He takes his time.

The television isn’t typically on, but this morning, you need the noise to drown out the leftover scenes playing in your head. It’s still too vivid. You turn on the news, and pretend you can understand what they’re saying. The isolated feeling doesn’t always bother you—sometimes it creeps up, and you remember everything here is foreign except for a few of your classmates, and Seungmin. If you think about it too much…

The story on the news changes, and you focus on it. Korean or not, you can figure out what’s going on; what they’re talking about, and what the footage appears to be showing. It’s a crime scene. A body was found.

Seungmin finally emerges from the bathroom, and when you glance up at him, he looks a little dejected. He combs his fingers through his damp hair, and his bangs hit just above his eyebrows. Maybe you cut it a little too short.

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

“Is that your body?”

“My what?”

“On the news. Is that where you dumped it?”

Seungmin turns and looks at the screen, but you can’t tell by his reaction if it’s a yes or a no. He just stares quietly, listening to every word. Eventually, he looks at you. “It’s fine. This has happened before.”

Your stomach drops. “It has? What if someone saw you?“

“Nobody saw me. You don’t have to worry, I promise.”

But you will worry. "I should dye your hair back to black." What if something happens, and you lose him? After all you’ve been through in the last few weeks…how much closer you’ve managed to get—which isn't very close, you admit. You can’t. “And I will worry. I’m not losing you.”

“Lose me?”

“I can’t”

He plays with his hair again, messes it up, and then takes a few steps toward the couch. It feels short, but it looked nice in the mirror. He’s not really worried about it. He still hasn’t felt any urges to go out and find someone, so he has no reason to look good for anyone, anyway—just you. The subject on the news changes, and you seem to relax. You look up at him and force a smile.

Seungmin sits, leaving some space between you, and he keeps his hands tucked between his thighs. “I didn't mean to snap at you.”

“Why did you? We were only talking about my dream.”

Because I’m an asshole he thinks. An impatient, insensitive pick who doesn’t deserve your kindness. Because I have has one true setting, and it’s self-sabotage. “They’re the same as mine.” He shuts his mind up and says. “Parts of them, at least. We’re dreaming of the same place, I think.”

“The shed?”

“Yes, the shed. The one next to the greenhouse.”

How did you fail to notice that? How did you not put that together? You saw it with your own eyes after seeing it several times in your head. You ran to it this morning, and looked out through the cracks in the wood. The smell. The mud you sunk into. That was the first time you were there—when you were dead on Seungmin’s bed.

“The nightmares you always have, it’s the shed?”

“Sometimes. Depends on which part of the nightmare I’m on. It replays in my mind like a movie; I’ll get some pieces one night, and then another piece the next, or a few nights later.”

“It’s always the same?”

“Little details change. And it’s not always in order, because my memory isn’t perfect, I guess.”

You see his fingers twitch, and you don’t resist the urge to reach for his hand. Seungmin squeezes yours back.

“You’re reliving a memory?”

“Yes, over and over. The worst memory. It always feels new in my head.” Saying it loud feels like a dream in itself. Having someone actually listen, and seem concerned. Having someone share in the dread that place gives him.

Do you just not remember him telling you about the shed before? He’s mentioned his nightmares, but you don’t remember him giving out any details, and when he talks in his sleep, you don’t understand him. Try as you might, you can’t actually read Seungmin’s mind.

“But it never comes together”

Do you change the subject, or assume he wants to talk about it? He looks on the verge of tears—angry ones, and you don’t want him walking through his nightmare while he’s awake. "Can I have a kiss?”

It’s been a while. Seungmin isn’t a goodnight or good morning kisser. He doesn’t sneak up behind you and peck your cheek (though sometimes, he does it when he thinks you're asleep). You have to wait for sex to get his needy, vehement mouth. That, or you have to take them yourself. You’ve only done that twice, and the first time, you had a knife to his throat.

He leans in and stops short, licks his lips…his eyes still shine with what he’s holding back…and gives you one long kiss before pulling back enough to look at you. “Just one?”

You take the second one, and Seungmin touches you. He pulls you closer, leans back against the couch, and gives you space to straddle his thighs. A kiss will almost always turn into this if you let it. Usually you do, because you want it, but not making another move right now is taking all of your energy. Still, you touch his stomach and side until his muscles twitch and tighten.

“What’s wrong?” He whispers.

“Wrong? Nothing…nothing is wrong.”

Seungmin holds you steady as he sits up again, and he places another soft kiss on your lips. “I should go take my pill.”

/ / /

The Haldol hits him again, and just like yesterday, he’s stuck and wandering around his head. You’ll adjust, you told him. He hopes you’re right because he’s never done this more than two days in a row. This isn’t how he wants to feel. But you’re here now, leaning against his shoulder, talking softly about something. What if he just told you how much having you with him right now means to him? It would get stuck in his throat, no doubt, but he could at least try.

He stops thinking for a moment, and listens.

Is there a dog in your dreams? Was there ever?

No he thinks he says… no, there was never a dog

A big white dog

No, no…he wouldn’t let me have a dog

Something runs across the room, but he only catches it in his peripheral vision. Just a shadow, bouncing on four legs…

What was that? he tries to stand, but he only makes it to the edge of the couch. Seungmin looks down at his bare feet against the gray carpet…scrunches his toes, and moves his feet against the soft fibers.

What is it? Do you want me to get you something…sweetheart

Sweetheart? Me? He sees it again. It moves slowly across the room, stops, and looks at him down its long black nose. Where did you come from?

Who? Who are you talking to? Seungmin…

He follows it around the kitchen counter, but there’s nothing there. Nothing beneath the bar. Seungmin opens the counter and looks inside, pulls out the trash can and sends it to floor.

“Seungmin, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He presses his palm to his forehead and sighs, “I don’t know.” He turns and looks at the mess he made, and kneels to clean it.

“I can clean that up, go sit down”

“I’m fine, I’m—“ You hear him sigh again. “What is this?” He reaches for something you can’t see, and then slowly gets back to his feet.

“What?” Your heart beats wildly as he turns, and you can see what he has in his hand. It was stupid of you to not tell him about it before, and you know that—you tried to wait for a good time, and the time never came. “I was going to talk to you about it…I should have told you.”

“Are you?” He looks at you, then back down to the little pink box in his hands. "Are you pregnant?"

“No, it was negative. I would have told you right away if it came back positive.”

“Negative? Why did you think you were?”

“I felt off." Tired, sick, sad...even when you open your eyes and see him in front of you. "I didn‘t know what else it could have been.”

“Do you still feel…off?”

You do, but you don’t want him to have that on his mind. Realizing you’ve been sharing dreams, one of his bodies being found, and now Seungmin seeing things in the kitchen is already too much for one day. “I’m alright...just tired.”

He’s still staring at the crumpled box in his hands, and you can tell he’s thinking, wondering, forming a question. His face gives him away—another one of his few tells. “When did you take it?”

“Yesterday, while you were asleep”

“Maybe you should take another, just to be sure”

The second test is negative. You knew it would be, because you’re starting to realize the off feeling started when you went home with him, driving through the woods, stepping foot on the ground where the shed and the greenhouse sit. You can’t explain why, and it doesn’t make logical sense, but it’s all you have for now. And the shared dreams. You’re starting to wonder exactly what happens in Seungmin’s dream. His worst memory.

He’s been standing just inside the bathroom door, watching you sit on the edge of the bathtub. You hope he doesn’t think you’re lying to him about the first result, but why else would he hover like this? Seungmin doesn’t seem the type to wait breathlessly for a different outcome. Nothing about him makes you think he wants to be a father.

But you don’t know, and you can’t assume there isn’t something inside of him that wants that. You doubt yourself more than anything. Not just doubt, you know you have no business being a mother.

You walk to the edge of the sink, but he gets there first.

“It’s negative?”

“Yes, this one is negative, too.”

He picks it up and looks at the little window, and the single pink vertical line inside.

“Are you upset? You seem…down.”

Seungmin stares for another few moments, then shakes his head. “Upset? No. We should be more careful.” He drops it into the trash can, and he’s gone before you can speak again.

“Can you please tell me what you’re feeling?” He has no business keeping quiet about something that would affect you both so massively. “Or thinking about, at least.”

“I’m not thinking about anything”

“You don’t have to hide everything from me. I know I’m still new here, but I think I deserve a little bit more of you.”

“You do...you think that?"

The silence is horrible. His stare is empty, you hope it’s just him trying to get out of this conversation, or maybe his medicine still hanging over him.

“Yes”

“You get so much of me, don’t you see that? More than I've given anyone, ever. And more than you’ve given me.”

“I wasn’t sure if you cared about what I had to give.” Your voice shakes, your throat collapses, and your attempt at a deep breath comes out as a pathetic whimper. The tears are already starting, so trying to hide them seems pointless. "But I'll tell you anything you wanna know. I'll give you anything you want."

Still, he stares, but his face changes when he sees the tears falling, and hears the tightness in your chest.

“Please, don’t cry,” he says, and it sounds so exasperated, so over everything.

Your mind reaches desperately for something good: the kiss he gave you; waking you from your nightmare; the questions he did ask last night as he cuddled up next you.

“Please…” Seungmin moves toward you, and this time, he treads a little more cautiously. “Don’t cry, please.” His hands land gently on your shoulders, and he pulls you closer. “I don’t like seeing you cry.”

You push your face into his chest, mostly to hide yourself from him, but his arms close around you.

“I’m used to hiding, and pushing back. It’s a hard habit to break.”

“I’m sorry”

“No, don’t apologize to me." He pulls you even closer. “You do deserve more.” Cereus—that sweet honey smell. That's the scent he's getting now. Tomorrow, he thinks, he'll find the flowers he needs for you.

“I was so scared to take that test, and now I’m confused. You seemed upset that it was negative, were you?”

His grip on you loosens, and he makes you look at him. “I don’t have a good answer to give you.” Or he can’t put it into words properly. Something inside of Seungmin stirred when he saw that box, and then again when you told him it was a false alarm. Whatever moves inside of him when he takes a life, it moved a little bit for this, just in the opposite direction. “Did you want it to be negative? When I saw the box, I figured the result was your reason for staying. Like you were trapped here now.”

“I wanted it to be negative because I don’t think I’d make a very good mother. And because I was afraid you’d be angry."

“Angry? No. Do I still scare you?” He pulls his shirt up and wipes at your cheeks, and he cups your face in his hands. “Don’t ever let me push you around, or treat you like you’re less. If I do, leave—go home, and leave me to rot here by myself, like I deserve.”

“Seungmin”

“I can’t turn into that person. I won’t.”

You look at him questioningly, and he notices. He sees you wanting more. After this conversation, Seungmin knows he can’t always walk away from the memories he keeps digging up. He certainly can’t do it right now, not today.

“Who treated you like that? Who pushed you around?”

A memory jumps to the front of his mind; stopping at the top of the porch steps to fix his coat zipper, yelling to his friend to wait up. Seungmin felt a hand press against his shoulder, and it pushed. He remembers the pain in his wrists from almost catching himself, and tasting blood from his busted lip…but not why he did it. Maybe Seungmin was being too loud, or just standing in his way.

“My stepfather. He was, well…he didn’t like me.”

Seungmin squeezes when you grab for him again, and he keeps you close as he tries to stop the sting of tears.

“He hurt you?”

His chest aches from remembering. More memories pop into his head, and he needs to stop them. A pill, maybe. No, if he does that, either he’ll sleep the rest of the day, or he’ll have to watch the strange black dog slink around the apartment again.

“I’m sorry, we don’t have to talk about it...unless you need to”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“My what?” You wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“Your favorite color. I had a friend when I was a kid, my only friend…he always asked everyone what their favorite color was. It seemed important.”

“Blue…dark blue. Like the color of your old bedspread.”

“That fits you"

“I would guess yours is purple, unless that’s too obvious.”

“No, you’re right. Is that a good start?”

“It is, I’ll take it. Where is your old friend? Still in Uljin?”

“No, he moved away before things got really bad. I’m not sure where he ended up.”

Since Seungmin is giving, maybe you should, too. “I do know what it’s like.” Even though it's hard. “It stays forever. The mean words…the screaming, and the beating, and all the locks on all the doors. It doesn’t go away.”

“No, it doesn’t”

/ / /

Who hurt you? Seungmin wonders as he watches you hunt for all of the white puzzle pieces. His mind is numb from half of a Xanax he took, so he’s not participating. He really is enjoying watching you, though—he’s catching some of your subtle habits, and hoping he still remembers them tomorrow. You squint your eyes when you think, and absently rub your hands along different parts of your body; your forearms, your neck, when you’re still for too long. Seungmin has seen you do it before, during the long car ride, but not this much. And his favorite; your finger slowly tracing the outline of your lips, pulling and picking at them. If you keep it up, you’ll make them bleed, and he might come down there in his daze and start kissing them clean.

”Hmm?”

Your eyes flit up to him. Why, what now?

“You’re sighing so loudly up there. Get down here on the floor with me.”

“I’ll get in your way.” Of course, You’re always wanting, Seungmin thinks. Always itching for closeness.

“I want you in my way”

Itching for touch. Who put that tenderness back after it was beat out of you? He watches your hand as it leaves your mouth and pushes a stray puzzle piece back in its place. Where does your patience come from?

“…get down here and help me find the green pieces”

He laughs at that, and it must be loud enough for you to hear. Your head turns his way, and you scowl at him, but you can’t keep up an act…it turns into a smile as you look away.

Those things make a good mother, right? Seungmin remembers that, sometimes. The patience, and the tenderness. Soft words. Soft hands. Why wouldn’t you?

“Why wouldn’t I what?”

Oh he said that part out loud. “Nothing. I’m coming.” He slides from the couch and onto his knees, drops to all fours, and starts toward you.

“Cute…oh, you’re not gonna help at all”

Seungmin climbs into your lap and goes straight for your neck. He kisses once, stops, and inhales deeply.

“Are you smelling me?”

His mhm comes deep from his chest, full of your sweet scent. He kisses again, coaxing you to your back as your shirt is lifted from you. “Oh, this is nice.”

The air is cold against your bare skin, but you relax when his warm hands graze over your nipples, hard and pushing against the mesh of your bra.

“Is this new?” He puts his mouth around one and bites until you make a sound for him. “A matching set?” He pulls the waistband of your leggings down, “it is,” and brings them down the rest of the way. “Cute.”

“Cute?”

You can hear his soft laugh as he disappears between your thighs. He touches, squeezes, bites when his mouth gets to work. “Are you cold? We can get into bed.”

“Yeah, take me to bed”

/ / /

It’s warm under the sheets, but your teeth chatter anyway. In anticipation of him, maybe. Should you ask him to use a condom? Will he, if you ask? He would. Do you want him to? You can’t imagine yourself as a mother; or pregnant, for that matter. What a strange home to bring a child into.

He heads for his drawer, and reaches for the knob, but stops himself. Seungmin turns and heads for his dresser, where he slides one of the top drawers open. As far as you know, from your innocent snooping a few weeks ago, there’s nothing in there except his jewelry, watches, extra glasses. He put something new in there. He comes back with a condom between his fingers, and a questioning look in his eyes.

You give him the same look right back.

He points to the bedside table, “not ours.” And then to the drawer he just came from, “ours.”

“That’s sweet”

“Is it? I just thought it made sense.”

“Yeah, it’s sweet to me”

The room warms. You swear you can feel the cold get pushed away as he crawls to you…onto you…pulls the covers back up as you disappear beneath him. Seungmin touches and kisses everywhere he can get to—down your body, where he tugs at the matching panties he seemed to like so much, and back up to focus elsewhere. He opens the clasp of your bra and lets you fall out, and his smile as he watches is sickly sweet. You feel a blush move up your neck and face, and your reflexes force your arms around you. There’s no reason to be shy, but he’s making you feel seen again. Too seen. Seungmin looks at you, and into you in a way nobody else has before.

He gently grabs your wrists and pushes them onto the bed, “you’re mine…no hiding.”

“I’m yours”

“All mine…you won’t leave me”

It’s just a mumble against your skin, but you hear every word. He told you to leave if he did something to deserve it, but despite the dream, you're starting to believe he's incapable of scaring you away. He might think he is, but he doesn’t see all of himself. Seungmin isn't the nightmare that looks back at him in the mirror.

You still remember every word he said in the greenhouse; okay, I guess...sometimes it’s tough to tell from the inside. You didn’t hear the question, but you assume it was “how are you?”

He talked about you; I know, I’m not alone this time, isn’t that strange? It feels so strange.

I’m trying really hard, I promise

Trying to what, exactly? To get better? To keep you around? If only you had heard what he heard, and knew both sides of the conversation. But you know who it was now, and it took too long to figure out. Seungmin was catching up with his mother, telling her he is okay, and that he is no longer alone, and that he's trying so hard to...well, you're not sure exactly what—keep everything from falling apart, maybe. The dream that had him in tears, and unable to get back to sleep, was her.

“No, I won't leave you alone”

His teeth sink into your neck as he works his way in. It’s easy, and so smooth, and so satisfying—Seungmin knows his way around your body now. He pushes his cock inside of you, pulls out slowly, slides back in. Warming you up, making you comfortable, and maybe testing out how this feels. Seungmin feels good, he always does…and this, you could do this with him all night, but it’s not quite right. You’re used to nothing between you and him, so what you’re thinking is irresponsible and stupid.

The slow, steady strokes are him; the painful stretch, and the careful movements are all him. But it’s not the same. Your hands slide up his back and you pull him closer, and he bites again, softly—he’s become gentle with you in every way when you fuck…he doesn’t leave you with the same marks he begs for.

“Min,” you whisper, and run your hands across the scratches you left. Healed, but still rough against the rest of his soft skin. He moans quietly, and you hate to say his name again and stop him, but, “hey.”

“What’s wrong?” He slows his thrusts and looks at you, “it hurts?”

“No, it doesn’t hurt”

He kisses sweetly, and you can feel him crack a smile before he pulls away.

“What are you smiling about?”

This time he laughs as he goes for another kiss. “What is it, why’d you stop me?” and another.

“I…uhm—nothing, I'm fine”

“Nothing?” He stops completely and stares. Trying to read your mind, probably. Seungmin moves again, slowly.

“Please…baby.” Why did you say that? Your face heats up, and you know he sees it. That’s the second time you've done that today.

“Jagi?” The grin won’t drop from his face, so you wonder what has him feeling so relaxed, and so at ease. It can’t just be the pill he took. “Sweetheart?”

“Don’t tease me"

"No...I'm not, I like it. You can call me sweet little nicknames."

"Take the condom off”

Seungmin’s eyes grow, “oh, is that the problem?” He kisses more, and you can feel him reach between you and remove it. “Anything for you.”

"Anything?"

"Mhm...tell me what else you want"

"Don't be so gentle this time"

He grips your wrists again, puts all of his weight down, and fucks you slowly, gently. "Are you sure? You want it a little rough?"

"Yes, Min...please"

"Call me Minnie"

"Minnie," You can't help but smirk at that. It's almost too cute for him, "can we switch positions?'

Seungmin mhm's and slides his hands from your wrists, and groans as his cock is released from your tight squeeze again. "How would you like to—" he laughs under his breath as you turn your body, get on your knees, and lay your head on the pillow, "...be fucked?"

His eyes eat you up, and his hands follow. Seungmin wonders why you haven’t switched things up before now, but he knows why he never does—he likes looking at you, and kissing you and he likes watching you on top of him (and pulling you down). Seungmin never realized how much he liked to kiss until he kissed your breathless lips, and again when he had a knife to his throat. That isn’t the type of treatment his victims get unless it seems absolutely necessary. Seungmin only wants to kiss you.

Considering how shy you were before, he’s surprised at what he’s getting now. Ass up, thighs spread. He resists the urge to use his mouth, only because his cock is aching for you again. He moves his head between your lips, gathering up your warm arousal, mixing it with his pre-cum. The thought of filling you up again makes him ache even more, and he pushes in without warning.

But you said you wanted it rough. You gasp and flinch, and your shaky breath actually makes him pause for a moment. No, you said you want it rough, and he’s giving it to you.

“Stop me if you need to.” Seungmin runs a hand up your back and squeezes your shoulder as he starts to move. In and out, deep and slow at first. “Okay?” He thinks he sees you nod, so he lets go, and the sound as your body meets his is so sweet; the grip on his cock, how much deeper he hits. And he knows he’s hurting you, despite your persistence. Face down in the pillow, fist clenching the sheets—your free hand reaches for his, and Seungmin thinks you want to hold it, but instead you wrap his fingers around your neck.

“Are you sure?” He can barely get it out before you push back into him. “Oh fuck…okay.” Seungmin squeezes, gently, and it seems to satisfy you for now, but he doesn’t want to tighten his grip. He can’t do that, because he hasn’t done this to anyone unless he was ending it. The control might not be there. Maybe it will be, for you, but he doesn’t know for sure, and he’s not willing to risk it.

“More”

“No.” It slips out. He was only thinking it, but he says it again. “No, I can’t.”

“Minnie…”

“I might hurt you.” He leans forward and places a kiss on your back, and keeps moving up, “I can’t,” wraps his arms around you and holds you tight against his chest. “I love you, I can’t.” And he hopes you’ll turn your head and look at him…

You do. “What did you say?”

Seungmin kisses you sweetly and fucks you as gently as possible, because he wants this to last a little longer, but he’s so close. The kissing—the confession…he told you he feels too much sometimes, and he knows you remember.

A little bit of regret swirls in his head, only because you don’t say it right back, but he pushes it away when you twist yourself to kiss him even deeper. Seungmin comes, and his satisfied moan fills your ears and mouth and chest. You feel him shaking as he slows himself and pulls out, and then he’s up, and you need him back, but it’s only for a moment as he helps you roll back to face him.

Now what? He’s staring at you, silent, eyes full of all of those feelings he holds onto so tightly. You could answer him—you could say it right back to cut through this quiet, but you want him to say it again. Instead, he touches. His warm hand closes over your cunt, and his fingers slide up and over your still-sensitive clit. He gives you exactly what you need, and when his mouth start exploring you again, your orgasm already starts to rise.

“Kiss me”

He jumps up to your chest, and your neck, and finally lands on your lips as you come for him.

/ / /

Not getting a positive result on either test was a strange surprise, you have to admit. Every time you’ve had sex, save the first time, it’s ended the same way; you laying here, staring at him, filled with him. Right now, you’re comfortable and curled up in his arms, and you can feel the slow trickle of cum on your thigh. You like it.

“I’ll start birth control, so we won’t have to worry”

You’re not sure he’s still awake until he moves his hand up your back, and laughs under his breath. “I’m not worried. But you don’t want a baby, so we will be careful.”

You don’t want one, not we. Every time he talks on the subject, you move closer to the conclusion that a very big part of him wants a child. You have to find out for sure, and you need to know why, if that is the case. This is a strange home to bring a baby into, you think again. Two damaged parents can’t make a happy, well-adjusted child, can they? No. It doesn't even matter how you feel, or how he feels, because neither not there yet. You might never be.

"Minnie?" Not smiling when you say it seems impossible, Minnie. It's cute, and it doesn't seem to match him, or it didn't when you first met...it does now. You see a Minnie in there; sweet, loving, overflowing with heartache and nowhere to put it.

“Hmm?” Of course he expects you to bring it up, his three stupid little words he couldn’t keep to himself; his sudden outpouring of emotions, because he finally boiled over in the moment. Seungmin wonders if that’s how it usually feels—like you’re going to explode from the pain. That’s how it feels when he’s kneeling in the dirt with his flowers, and that’s how he feels when he remembers too much all at once. But this was a different type of pain.

“Minnie,” you say it again, whisper it, feel it leave your mouth and reach his ears. His eyes grow, and you can see them reflect every little light in the room. Why didn’t you tell him first, and what if Seungmin is wondering that, too? You feel it, and you have felt it far too long in your short time knowing him. He knows that. He knows you’re the one bursting with love for him, he has to know that. “I should have told you.”

There’s so much he doesn’t know, and now you’re going to tell him something that will change whatever this is. “Told me what?”

You hope it changes things for the better. “How I feel." It could always complicate things, or scare him, even though he opened his mouth first.

"Told me how you feel?"

"How I feel when I look at you. How much I love you."

121 notes · View notes

bachissidehoe · 8 months

Text

This is Part 2. Link to Part 1.

"Wait, how old are you again?"

"24."

"Oh." Rin sighs, trying his best not to let it phase him. It's been 3 months since he and y/n started fake dating, and it's only occurred to him recently that he's never exactly confirmed her age, only the fact that she's older than he is.

"You didn't know that?" She asks, confused.

"I knew you were older than me, but I didn't think it was that much."

She chuckles uncomfortably. "Is that like, a deal breaker for you?" She asks.

"No. I mean, it's already been a while." He shrugs, continuing their walk through the park, the chilly air brushing his dark hair out of his eyes.

At age 20, Itoshi Rin is already one of the most famous soccer players in the world, it's only natural he would be dating an older, attractive, established, successful woman.

As for y/n, her initial goal of making her ex jealous has indeed worked. After all, he's a nobody compared to Itoshi Rin, and has tried to contact her on multiple occasions to try to "work things out" as he called it.

They walk in silence most of the time, hand in hand, you know, just in case there are any cameras around. Y/n wears a pretty purple scarf around her neck, her hair tucked into a matching purple beanie, her eyelashes dusted with freshly fallen snow. And her cheeks are an adorable shade of pink, even Rin can't find a way to deny how cute she looks in the cold. It's interesting to him that she's so much older- she definitely seemed that way at first, but as their "relationship" has progressed, Rin's discovered her cutesy childish side, the one that he likes the best.

"What?" She finally asks, addressing the fact that Rin's gaze has been fixated on her for a good while now.

"You cold?" He replies.

"It's snowing and it's January. Yeah." She laughs, causing Rin's cold cheeks to heat up. She really has such a cute laugh when she means it.

Many of their conversations are like this, with pauses for a comfortable silence as they exist in each other's presence. It was awkward at first, but Rin enjoys it. He's not much of a talker to begin with, with a tragic resting bitch face, leading media to portray him as a cold-hearted devil of some kind. It's been nice for some articles to see him as a sweet boyfriend, but truthfully he doesn't want any attention at all. That's why he enjoys being around y/n, despite their relationship being fake, she doesn't force him to interact beyond what he wants to do.

"Rin?" She asks, breaking the refreshing silence.

"Hm." He asks, keeping his gaze straight ahead as she directs her eyes to him. If he looks directly at her while she has those sparkles in her eyes, a cute red nose, her cold breath filling the space between them, he knows his façade will falter.

"There's no cameras around. There hasn't been for days. It's too cold for them."

Rin sighs. "I know."

"We don't have to go on these dates. The buzz has kind of died down."

"I know."

"So why are we out here?"

"Do you not want to be?" He responds. He can't answer her question, his only option is to redirect. Rin doesn't really know what he'll do if he has to answer that question honestly. He's been refusing to acknowledge it himself for all these months.

"I do." She answers honestly.

And the silence befalls them again. That lovely, refreshing silence, with the snow falling around them, the chilly air suddenly refusing to affect the fake couple due to the mutual heat rising in their cheeks. At age 24, y/n finds herself reverting back to a high schooler with a crush when she looks at Rin, suddenly unable to approach the situation with maturity when those teal eyes meet hers. The silence isn't comforting to her in the same way as it is to Rin, it acts as a barrier between what she wants to say and what she actually says. But the fact that Rin seems to enjoy just existing with her is enough for her to like it too. Being with him is nice.

But still, she's a grown adult with a life to live. She can't keep leaving things up in the chilly, silent air like this.

"Do you want to break up, Rin?" She asks.

"Why would I want to do that?" He asks right back, once again deflecting her question with another question.

She chuckles. "You do that a lot."

"Do what?"

"Ask me questions instead of answering them."

He sighs. "No."

"No, what?"

"No, I don't want to break up."

She finds herself smiling. "What do you want to do instead?"

"Well what do you want to-" He begins his deflection strategy, but catches himself, realizing she'll likely only call him out for it again.

Rin sucks in a breath, holding it in the back of his throat for a moment before letting it out. He doesn't have a way out of this anymore, and he thinks he might be ready to face it. He's not one to sit on decisions for a while, so although he could stall for longer, he doesn't think that's necessary anymore. He may as well just say it.

"I like you." He admits.

And then that silence again. But this time the silence is different, it's not a silence with nothing, not a silence with space between them and the chilly air enveloping their intertwined hands. Instead, it's a silence filled with y/n's lips desperately attached to Rin's, holding his cheek with her gloved hand.

"I like you too." She replies.

375 notes · View notes

esggs · 2 months

Text

Obeisance to the Arrow - Noritoshi Kamo

#3 - Menarche

[you, bride of the Kamo Clan, are now ripe for marriage. What have you planned? And why are you thinking of Noritoshi in a wedding kimono?]

tw: arranged marriage, forced marriage, child marriage, menstruation mention, filler chapter a bit, Zenin Clan being shitty, bride price mention, fluff, angst but not really

#2 - The Ring Ceremony #4 - Cursed Bride

January, 2018

5 Years After The Ring Ceremony

Things are moving again. This time, I act first.

You’ve lived separately from Noritoshi, your groom-to-be, all these 5 years. You had your own chamber and chamber-maids in the women’s area of the Kamo estate. Post the engagement ceremony, you were sent off to the Kamo household, and apparently forgotten. You haven’t seen the Zenin family since, which did hurt you at first, but then you started channelling Noritoshi’s economical use of his emotions. It’s been working great. You don't feel much about anything now.

Living as a married woman has been boring, if anything. You weren’t permitted to use your cursed technique in the household, but you also hadn’t been made to do any chores. Days would pass with you doing nothing but staring at the ceiling. Weeks spent doing nothing but picking flowers and fruits from the gardens. Months where all you did was read books on ancient jujutsu dynasties. No one seemed to care much, honestly. As long as you smiled prettily and poured tea for guests, nothing happened. No one had any expectations from you. Being awake, those days, is no different from being asleep.

On the bright side, though, the Kamo women adored you. Even Noritoshi’s step-mother Miyumi (who despised Noritoshi), the actual wife of his father, was sweet to you. It was pity, you found out eventually. Even within the most conservative jujutsu families, it wasn’t common to be engaged at the age of 8. You and Noritoshi were a special case, as they told you.

Noritoshi, despite being a bastard borne by his father’s mistress, had inherited the priceless technique, a very tricky balance of pros and cons. His father wanted him to be the next clan head, and he saw a good way to tip the scales: you. To set Noritoshi up as a stable man with an equally powerful wife, lure in the promise of strong children from both of you– Bam! Clan Head position secured. As for the Zenins, Distillation meant you could fetch a very pretty bride price, and a direct control over the next Kamo clan head. Besides, it would be better to marry you two off as children, when you wouldn’t have the option of refusing.

The Zenin Clan. Lowlife worms tangling in a can, all of them. All of them.

—--

2013

The Ring Ceremony

Noritoshi looked very pretty, you thought, his parted bangs wrapped in white, while the rest of his usually free hair was in a top knot. What did he wear….? You can’t really recall all that. Maybe looking at pictures would help. What did Maki and Mai wear? They were there, for sure, but you really can’t remember more than that. It’s been so long since.

At some point during the ceremony, after the main rituals were over, Noritoshi had noticed that you could not keep your eyes dry anymore, and excused the two of you to retire back to the inner chambers. You remember that there was some drunk whistling at that. You walked back silently, him leading you through the corridors, till he found a suitable veranda away from the crowds.

He had looked at you with so much pity in his eyes. “y/n-san” he had said, “I know we haven’t been friends for long, but I’d like to apologise if I made you uncomfortable in any way.” And even back in your childhood you knew he meant it. “Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you.”

“Shujin” - you tried the taste of the word, just as you had been taught. Master, husband, it condensed both into one, and what was the difference, really? You belonged to him now. Bought for 60 million yen. “Or do you prefer Noritoshi-san?” But after all, he too was a boy of just twelve.

“The latter, y/n–san, if that would be okay with you.”

“I don’t want this, Noritoshi-san. I want to go home.” You couldn’t stop crying. “I’m hungry too. I’m sorry, Noritoshi-san, but I don’t want any marriage or engagement. I want to go back to nii-chan.” You had kept wiping your tears with the sleeves of your bridal kimono. Not like you expected him to be able to do anything.

“Would you like some ice-cream?” Noritoshi was clearly trying his best. “We have different flavours, chocolate chip?” His new bride-to-be kept sobbing. “Ah, strawberry, then? Or matcha?”

“I’m so sorry, really–”

“No, I’m sorry–”

“Ah, young love!” Gojo Satoru had interrupted then, and brought along the best moment of that horrid day.

You barely saw Noritoshi after that day. He was busy doing stuff and being places, you suppose. When he went off to Jujutsu Tech two years ago, it was like bidding farewell to a very distant friend that you don’t know anything about.

Yet he insisted on having a private moment with you, just before he left, to formally say his goodbyes. He was allowed to visit your chambers, just once, unchaperoned. It was so uncomfortable, you grin at the memory, what does a 15 year old have in common with a 10 year old? He tried to talk about the news (you didn’t watch it) and then about TV cartoons (you weren’t that young). He said he’d visit you now and then. You said “okay”. It was thoroughly weird. You didn’t really care much about him. He felt obligated to care about you. At the end, you two just high-fived, and just before he left he kissed the top of your head and told you to keep studying. It was an odd thing to say, really, considering you haven’t been to school past the age of nine. Anyway, he went off, and you went back to playing with his younger cousins.

But you will meet each other soon. Better yet, you will meet Gojo Satoru soon. Because this time, I’m on top of things. Since the maid gasped at the bloodstains on your bedsheets a week ago, you have been informed about your wedding celebration, to take place as soon as possible. There is a flurry of activity in the household, lawyers bringing up inheritances and assets, planners talking about venues, Zenin family members coming and going, mostly without even meeting you. That’s fine by you. The main thing now is Gojo Satoru. You’ve been studying, like Noritoshi told you. This time, you’ve prepared.

The wedding cards have been printed: You and Noritoshi will be getting married by next month.

#4 - Cursed Bride

69 notes · View notes

catsoupki · 5 months

Text

CHP. FOUR | WHAT RECONCILIATION REALLY MEANS (NSFW)

SUMMARY: Katsuki has settled into a routine-like dance with you ever since your debut as a hero. He takes care of you like harmonious clockwork, but as he peels layer after layer, he’s caught up with his own tantalising feelings when he finds your blood staining his hands. You teach him, slowly, of what it means to fall in love.

TAGS: pro hero au, fem reader, banter, hurt/comfort, smut (piv, unprotected, breeding, aftercare)

CHAPTER LENGTH: 3,990 | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT CHP.

The first few weeks of January don’t really seem real. You’ve claimed your spot as number three, pushing Shouto down a rank for the time being. You chuckle a bit, was it worth it?

Your schedule is far from normal, your manager has forced you to be on rehabilitation leave, all of your patrols are being taken up by the sidekicks in your agency, and the only work you’re allowed to do is paperwork, records and organising.

The first day that you came back was hectic. It was the sixth of January, villains caused more ruckus than usual, probably running high on those New Year’s Eve emotions.

(But does that mean you can rob a bank too?)

On doctor’s orders, you are not to do any extreme sports and get any more major injuries in at least 2 months. It’s nice, sometimes, you're given a long-awaited breather, heroes who occupy the top 10 ranks know that they never really get a day off. Even when you’re on vacation, if that place needs a hero, you’re still a hero.

Every day becomes softer, your morning jog is cut to a mile only, and you get to drop by the cafe near your agency for some breakfast before you head to the office. Your hand still instinctively reaches for the locker door that houses your hero suit after your morning showers, and you wince everytime.

Bakugou has been texting you less, maybe that's what the emptiness is. You check your phone more, you see dozens of texts and emails from companies, sponsors and coworkers, but the cavity eating away at your heart doesn’t stop. You’re waiting for something, maybe it’s Dynamight’s picture of the neighbourhood cat, maybe it’s the picture slyly taken of Red Riot helping an old lady cross the street– no more everyday tragedies.

The Herald: Metal Gear’s Rise and Fall — Why Was the Quirk Ring Bust-In Such a Controversy?

By the second week of January, time starts passing by a little too fast. You still attend the physiotherapy lessons you’re assigned, you still complete the paperwork in your office, you’ve grown accustomed to eating out alone and not Katsuki’s meals too– it’s light work but everything feels so heavy.

You don’t get a chance to slow down, you blink and sunrise becomes sunset, you rest your eyes and when you open them once more, you’re greeted with your bedroom ceiling and you're awake again. Every day you have something to do, and now it’s your opportunity to take a break for the night– January's group hangout is hosted at Eijirou’s.

You don’t think about anything on your way to his apartment, you don't remember whether you were standing or sitting during the subway ride, you don't remember the colour of the sky, it’s odd because you usually have such a good memory, you can remember Bakugou’s birthday, you can remember all the names of Mina’s cats, what happened?

You don’t notice until you’re about to knock on Kirishima’s door, you let the cold air bite down your throat, it stings, your sinuses hurt, but you don’t think you’d be able to hold yourself together otherwise.

You don’t smile when Mina opens the door, she has this look in her eyes, like she knows something you don’t, maybe she’s doing you a favour by not saying it aloud, yet it somehow still feels a mockery.

You don’t greet everyone in the room, they still return friendly and worried smiles, all except one. When you were just about to say ‘Hey Bakugou’ he walks out the door, mumbling something about picking up the food, and when his shoulder brushes yours, he flinches like it hurts, and you try not to wince at the stab in your heart.

You don’t participate in conversation much either, you don’t laugh as hard at the punchlines, everyone notices, even Katsuki, but no one says anything, too nice to point it out, and too tired to meddle with it.

The movie continues playing, flashes of black and white occasionally breaking through the haze of your mind, dialogues are but a background noise that fails to distract you from your thoughts. You had looked forward to this, being around friends has always been soothing when you spiral too deep into your own head, but now that you and him aren’t talking, you think that maybe it wasn't your friends that had ever calmed you down to begin with, just him.

They all take turns trying to start a conversation, but the silent tension between you and Katsuki has also dwindled everyone’s mood, you feel sorry, you don't know how they put up with you two sometimes.

Time starts passing by in a blur again, you’re watching a movie on the couch, you’re eating takeout, you're drinking beer, you're putting on your shoes, Mina is talking about something, Bakugou doesn't ask you to stay with him, Bakugou doesn't look at you when you're turning around, Bakugou doesn't shout some reminder regarding safety when you begin to walk away, Bakugou– forget it. You're already on your way to the subway station, and the air is cold when his arms aren’t wrapped around your shoulders.

“Can’t you just let it go?” Kirishima leans onto the balcony beside him, a beer in hand. He doesn’t look at him, after all, having been friends with him since they were mere teenagers has given him instincts, he knows that by looking at him Bakugou will only be more shameful, so he does him a favour and looks at the sea instead.

“This is for her own good.”

@alpha-deku: MG is.. falling off, i think if the quirk ring thing happened a year ago she would have done it smoothly without any hiccups at all, not being able to foresee the extension of quirks and to put yourself into danger so that other people around you have to pick up after you is.. kinda dumb for a top 4 hero lol you would assume that she would’ve had a plan B and not just fall out of the sky to take a bullet for somebody who was clearly more powerful in terms of skill compared to her

“That fucking cunt..! Wha- who does he think he is? You can’t just drop in and out of my life just because I’m convenient, asshole…” You mumble, drunk, steps crossing haphazardly as you stomp the curb with anger. Your friends struggle to hold you up as you fling your arms around in vexation; some weeks of bottled emotions finally clawing at the edges of the jar, overdue. The blaring music from the clubs all around you and the filth that comes out of the mouths of low-lifes can’t be drowned out, why don't they have airpods for his voice?

You look at the flesh of your thumb, fingers dancing over the bumpy patch of scar, it’s weird what grief does to people.

(What grief? For what?)

Every scar has its own beginnings and endings; you got that scar after tripping over a rock while playing hide and seek with Katsuki as a child. When you landed on the rough asphalt with your palms open to break the fall, you had actually slid a few inches.

Tears were left unspilled behind your glossy eyes, gaze landing on your bleeding thumb, lips plumping into a pout as you held in the sobs that were bouncing inside your skeleton.

When Katsuki kneels in front of you, he’s as much of a gentleman as he is now, holding your arm tightly, inspecting your wound carefully, wiping your tears away, he brought you to his mother, where she immediately assumed the worst: ‘Katsuki! Did you do this? I raised you not to hurt girls! What’s wrong with you–’ your hiccups interrupted her, ‘I’m sorry Mrs. Bakugou, but it wasn’t him, I tripped myself, Katsuki helped me up.’ It was a miracle that she had understood you through your sniffles, but her expression immediately changes and she starts bandaging you up right away.

You two stopped playing hide and seek after that, none of you realised that that accident would be your last time playing hide and seek until years later, when you’re reminiscing in your rooms late at night.

The scar is ugly— the skin there is patchy, uneven, discoloured, the shape is rugged and asymmetric, its origin is as childish as it can be, but you love that scar. It’s weird when you find love in violence.

(You love it because Katsuki showed you his treehouse afterwards to cheer you up, not even Izuku knows about that.)

That night, when you lay in bed with your run-down makeup washed off, when you have changed out of the revealing and uncomfortable fabrics and into an oversized hoodie that doesn’t belong to you, you wish someone was there to listen through your sniffles and wipe your tears away.

Your lives have been so deeply intertwined that everything and anything he sees, he’s reminded of you. The neighbourhood stray cat you named Hummus, the hot potatoes sold on the side of the street by that old lady you love talking to, the bus stop advertisement campaign you did with the local animal shelter, he can never truly escape you, even when he’s making the active effort to. Maybe he never grew out of his own cowardice.

You don’t make it to the February hangout.

@shotoswife: #mg_overparty it’s so unfair that shes up a rank while shoto is pushed down to fourth??? What did she even do in the mission that the HPSC is selling as a GLORIOUS triumph, shoto literally saved 14 kids from that avalanche in hokkaido, why is that any less impressive compared to that absolute fiasco

The Spring Hero Gala is rolling around the corner, with one month remaining, your stylist has taken advantage of your still freed up schedule and sent you to nine different fittings over the span of a week. It gets tiresome, from taxis to studios to taxis to studios, from itchy and restricting fabrics back to your breathable and flowy hoodies, but it distracts you from the overt absence of Katuski in your life, so you welcome it with open arms.

After some discussions, your stylist settles the deal with Balenciaga, and your dress for the Hero Gala in March is decided, a maroon silk dress that shapes your waist and chest, it’s flattering on you, the staff had said, you thank them with a humble smile.

(Unconvinced, much like how the internet would feel, you think.)

You return to hero work at a slow and steady pace, increasing the hours of patrols day by day, the abilities of the sidekick accompanying you slowly decrease week by week, and by the time March chases itself into your back, you’re once again a regular occupant on the ranks of the latest villain captures on the official HPSC website.

Life is moving on, with or without Bakugou, with or without his lunches, with or without his good-mornings, you don’t want him to be your biggest what-if.

Top 10 Most Scandalous Paparazzi Photos This Month: No.1 Metal Gear Seen Leaving a Gay Bar With a Man Draped Around Her Shoulders! view entire article

Bakugou has been twisting and turning in his bed for the past hour. He’s always had a good sleep schedule, when his head hits the pillow, it’s lights out within five minutes. He’s not used to this, this unending cycle of thoughts spiralling in his head, he can’t seem to shut off his brain, is he really avoiding you for your own safety? Or his own cowardice– no. Not his own cowardice. Never his own cowardice.

It’s been exactly three months since you got out of the hospital. Bakugou, like many, has thrown himself headfirst into heroics as a means to not think about you, not that it’s been of much success. Every day and every waking hour, he spends it thinking of you, your hair, your gentle but firm touch, your ringtone, your ‘did u eat yet’s.

His manager has already chosen a suit for the upcoming Hero Gala, he didn’t have a say in it, he hasn't even glimpsed at what he’d be wearing that evening. These days he just spends them scrolling tabloids on his phone, the latest scandal regarding Metal Gear, recent paparazzi pictures of you. He spends them far away from you, yet still paying close attention to your life. And so unlike himself, he drowns in his own self-pity before his alarm blares him awake, signalling another exhausting day of hero work, filled with villainy and bloodshed.

Bakugou recalls his teenage years, and even the years he spent in the Genius Office, he has never thought that he’d ever stop being friends with you, he remembers making a vow at the ripe age of 22, promising himself and his friends that he’d never tell you just how much he wanted to have you in his embrace if it could preserve the state of his friend group back then, harmonised and synchronised like it’s their job, but seemingly Bakugou has a knack for fucking things up, he never meant for this to happen, but maybe forever was a word meant for memories, not people.

2X51 Spring Hero Gala Name List: Missing Plus-Ones from Dynamight and Metal Gear? Catch Up On the Latest Hero Drama from THE EVENING STANDARD

When Dynamight first sets foot on the red carpet, he is greeted with a myriad of flashes and shouts. Paparazzi, fans and the like all vie for his attention, the stuffy March air makes his skin sticky, his scowl is in place when he fights his way across the room. He’s tipsy, he has made sure of it, he knows he won’t be able to deal with you in public, let alone sober.

He used to be a lot of things, sometimes he was your questions and other times he was your answers, but right now he wants to be a comfort that doesn’t quite require either, but he thinks he might end up as your greatest I’ll-never-know.

When he sees you arrive, his heart skips a beat. Did your stylist do this on purpose? It makes his palms sweatier than usual when he sees your dress, the same hue of red as his eyes, he thinks you look dashing, as you always do, he’s meticulous in the study of you, he’s skilled in reading your expressions, the slightest twitch of a brow and the smallest tick of your lips, maybe the cameras won’t be able to pick out the tired dread that sits on your face, but he knows your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, yet he still can’t look away.

“You look stunning.” He finally admits.

“Oh you're talking to me again?” He winces, he’s been ignoring you, he knows that, you know that, the entire friend group knows it, even the public is aware. He feels like a schoolboy with the way he pretends your existence doesn't matter, some hypocrite he is, he thinks, who was he to criticise your coping mechanisms when he avoided you to protect himself?

He’s spent three whole months convincing himself that he’s cutting contact with you for your own good, that maybe without him in your life, maybe you’d lead a peaceful one, one without peril, but he knows now, he’s been avoiding you out of his own fear, he never grew out of own cowardice.

“I’m sorry I’m in love with you.” The way he looks at you conveys everything that you need to know, his eyes are filled with something you don’t see in Bakugou very often.

(Fear, fear of losing you, again.)

Your silence is uncanny. It makes him wonder what he’d do if you were to answer with a ‘I’m never talking to you again’, your lack of a response is perhaps more infuriating than that, but he doesn’t have anyone to blame but himself. If you were to block him and refuse to ever see him again, he’d feel sorry. If you were to move from the city and to somewhere else to avoid him– no, you won’t do that, he’s sure you won’t give up everything in your life right now for him, for pitiful him, but it does make him think how he’d do just about anything to see you again. He’s taken that right for granted so far, it never struck him as a privilege to be able to lay his eyes on you, but right now it’s all he’ll ask for, because your absence doesn’t get any quieter even when he conditions himself to it.

You look beautiful, you look like the one thing he'd love to look at for the rest of his life.

Somehow your smile is still blazing, like the sun. “Did you miss my rage?”

(You always knew you’d put down your ego and everything else to talk to him again if he asked for you once more.)

@bkgpackets: i think metal gear has done a lot, i think she’s done enough, for musutafu and for our boi katsuki too, it’s time for them to reconcile, they've been through so much tgt, i'm sure they’ll be able to make amends within a few words spoken

“Let’s welcome our top five heroes this year, they have done plenty in guaranteeing the safety of our neighbourhoods, some have risked their lives, some shared their blood, sweat and tears with us, for the sake of our livelihood. So let’s give them a round of applause, a standing ovation, for their courage and dedication towards protecting our reformed society. Welcome to the bright stage, Tsukuyomi, Shouto, Metal Gear, Dynamight, and Deku!”

Your ears are filled with a sore ringing, eyes blinded by overwhelming blinks of flashlights as you’re greeted with a warm welcome back by the hero society, the most powerful and influential part of civilization standing up to clap for you while you accept your award. You don’t glance down, afraid to fall, you look up and into the cameras, head-on with determination in your gaze and kindness in your grin, you’re Metal Gear.

+++

When you call your manager to tell her that you won’t be attending any after-parties, she merely agrees with a knowing chuckle, and tells you ‘good luck’.

After the five-course meal, you’re stuffed when you see Katsuki’s text on your lock screen, meet me behind the hotel garden, it said. Your purse is fluffed with congratulation cards from your coworkers and acquaintances, you clutch onto it as the wind sweeps beneath your dress, heels clicking across the marble floor as you look around and ask star-struck workers where the garden is. It took some extra effort making sure that you stayed away from front doors and cameras, not wanting your meeting with Bakugou to be interrupted by the paparazzi or obsessive fans.

His back is turned towards you when you push the door open. You know he knows you’re here. He looks up, like troubles are weighing heavy on his shoulders, you can’t help but want to walk up to him to massage them, to strip his layers and take away his worries.

You take your time walking up to him, you look at the flowers that surround you two, the moon that gives light to his shadow, you let the wind mess up your hair before you are finally shoulder to shoulder with him. He sighs, and you smile.

“I never got you out of my head. I don’t want to either, but I already think about you every hour of every day. I think about how if I were smarter with my emotions, I’d be able to kiss you and love you right every second of the year, of my life. Give me one more chance and I won’t fuck it up. Please.”

You continue glancing down the city while he twists his head to look at you, but when you look back at him, he stutters on his breath, the way you look at him has never changed, through the thick and thin, it is all so gentle.

“I’ll– can I make it up to you? I’ll make this our first date, I’ll make up for the time I lost, so– eyebrows, will you go on a date with me?” He’s blushing, you realise, to your absolute delight. And when you say yes, Bakugou thanks the Gods for the first time in his life.

He takes your hand as he leads you to his car in the parking lot, it’ll take some time to get used to these gestures of affection.

(He’s learned his lessons, every second spent by your side is precious, and he’ll learn to appreciate and accept that fact.)

He opens the car door for you before getting on himself. When he drives you back to his home, he gives you the aux; the windows are rolled down, the air isn’t as humid anymore, it’s cool and it slightly nips at the exposed skin under the jacket he offered you earlier in the night. The journey is smooth, with just a few cars on the road as the clock ticks past 3, he pulls into his driveway, a view you haven’t seen since the last hangout hosted here.

He doesn’t let you undo your seatbelt, he insists on doing it for you before he gets out of the door and walks over to your side. His touch is soft when he laces his fingers between yours, he guides you to his door as if he’s bringing a valued gift home, like you don’t already know the ins and outs of this apartment with the hours you’ve spent here, you’re sure you can navigate it blindfolded.

The click of the lock is loud in the quiet of his apartment. You still see your mug sitting lonely behind his cupboards. He takes your purse from you and sets it gently on the cabinet before bending down, with his calloused fingers, he takes off your heels carefully, as if they’re made out of glass and would shatter on impact. When he stands to his full height again, he’s one breath closer, you can count the scars that dust across his countenance this way, you’re shameless in the way you let your eyes meander over his face, the delicate skin that have seen so much tragedy, right at your fingertips, smooth but rugged at the edges of his blemishes, his stories.

His hands snake around your waist and land on the small of your back, pulling you near, until not even a sheet of paper can separate the two of you, the way he looks at you– it makes you feel nervous, shy, and just like every other aspect in his life, he meets your eye with courage, dedication, to prove himself to you once again.

It’s you who kisses him first. You go on your tippy toes, just reaching his lips in time that he scoops you tight and close, your hands begin to make their way up his nape and into his messy locks, ashy and for you, its scent familiar. His big and rough hands cloak their way under your thighs, picking you up effortlessly before setting you down on that corner of the kitchen island.

His breaths taste like liquor and you’re addicted. His lips are soft, even, in a way that you know he takes good care of himself, but his kisses begin to get a bit more desperate. Teeth begin to clatter, he begins to nip, like the wind and like you’d get away otherwise, and maybe you will. The grip you have on his hair grows needier, like you’re begging.

He picks you up, and a small noise escapes from your lips that he swallows greedily. He’s waited so long, been so patient for so long.

Katsuki decides that he’s been a gentleman long enough. He slowly walks towards his bedroom, pushing the door open with his hip before he puts you on the bed with as much tenderness a starving man could have.

He doesn't hesitate in stripping you when he sees the same desire glinting in your eyes, the silk dress slips off like butter. Despite it being you two’s first time, you all but work together like a well-oiled machine, harmonised and synchronised. Somehow, he knows that your whine means you must want his shirt off as well. He’s generous in taking off his suit and dress pants, his belt leaves his waist with a clip before your hands take its place. You swear your mouth waters at his slim waistline, his eyes glimmer when he lays them on your breasts, spilling from behind your lingerie.

“I’ve waited so long for you, my love,” He whispers with his nose tucked beneath your jaw, you shudder when he licks a long and teasing stripe up to your ear, your nails scratch his shoulders in tandem, a silent plea for him to do something. He hears your prayers and begins to make his way towards your clothed heat, you’re embarrassed as he looks at you directly when he kisses your clit. His fingers go up to your hips before sliding your panties off at a terrifically slow pace.

Bakugou thinks he’s in nirvana when he sees your wetness clinging to the fabric, his eyes are far rolled back into his skull, he suddenly thinks he’s a man dying of thirst. The way your core glistens under the soft moonlight shining through from his windows makes him weak in the knees, “Please, Kats, I don’t need prep, I just need you,”

He smiles when he hears you before complying. Even in your haze, you can still clearly recognise the wet spot on his underwear, his boxers seem uncomfortably tight, but you’re not in a much better state, when his cologne drowns you in his bed, you think you’re in limbo.

Katsuki’s body must be shaped by the Greek sculptors, you think. His abdominal muscles are nothing short of a breathtaking sight, he chuckles when he hears your sharp intake of breath. The way his fingers slip into your wet cunt earns you a place in hell, but you feel like you’re in heaven when you see him wrap his digits, coated with you, around his cock, pumping up and down until his pink tip is leaking and waiting. He’s out of breath before you even begin.

“Fuck, baby, you ready? ‘Cause I can’t wait anymore,” Your nods are overzealous, but his chuckles are cut short when his tip slowly pushes past your hole and into your pussy, he’ll die happy now, he thinks, you’re nothing short of perfection.

Your moans are sacrilegious when he sinks his entire length in, his arms are caging you in, and you’re forced to look at him, dazed and eyes lidded. It’s not long before he starts moving, and then your hands are gripping the sheets, he gets up close and personal, so he can listen to your moans right at his ear while he sucks a bruising hickey onto your neck, so that no doubt you’ll be his by the end of tonight. His pace is set fast, but it becomes erratic soon enough, “Kats–! Hnng, fuck! Baby I need you so bad, give it to me, oh god!” He grimaces once, his fingers intertwined with yours before bringing them above your head, “Don’t beg god for mercy, he won’t save you now, beg for me, scream my name instead baby,” he grins, swallowing all of your sobs of his name possessively.

His hips snap towards yours faster and faster and you swear he's reached an undiscovered spot when he brings your legs atop his shoulders, his grunts grow in volume, he begs for you now, and you’ve never felt more powerful having Dynamight appeal for your love and mercy. “Oh, oh, love, you want me to fill you up? Pump you full with my cum, you want it, don’t you?” The grip he has on your hips is brutal and you’re sure they’ll leave a mark but you can’t be happier, you scream “Yes! Yes! Yes!” and by your third promise he’s already painting your warm walls white, he doesn’t stop for your sake, his fingers go around your clit in small but fast circles, and you’re quickly thrown over the cusp and left twitching as his cum is pushed into the deepest crevices in you before he collapses on top of you, panting, sweaty, and sweet.

Your eyelids become heavy, threatening to close when he pulls you close to his chest, the familiar aroma of his nitroglycerin sweat mixed with his shower gels flooding your nostrils brings you comfort; you grip onto his pillow case, you’ll pretend to fall asleep, anything to keep your tears in, and dare they ever fall over your cheeks, you’ll face into the soft cushion and inhale what you can now call home.

A leap of faith, they call it, a dive into the uncertainty of what Katsuki will bring to you.

“Eyebrows? We need to take a shower,” He whispers while cradling your head in his calloused palms, voice soft and gentle, you don’t want to open your eyes, wishing they’ll remain shut for as long as he allows, “come on, we’ll sleep afterwards,” but with a promise that you two can spend the remainder of what is left until dawn together, when the two of you will have to suffer the violating scrutiny of the public eye once more, you follow him to the bathroom, to the edge of the Earth if he asks, because it won’t be everyday that you get to preserve this kind of unbreached privacy, the kind of seclusion spent with you tangled in his limbs and tucked beneath his sheets, safe and sound, away from the rest of the world.

77 notes · View notes

gingergofastboatsmojito · 6 months

Text

The Sydcarmy dynamic

I just had this chat with OOMF and whilst I've been posting about Carmy because it's easier for me to get into his headspace, I never really went over their dynamic before here. I definitely have in my fics and while watching and re-watching the show for the past 3 months. Because that's how long it's been since I discovered The Bear, 3 months only, I started watching it on New Year's Eve while I was getting dressed to go to this party and by January 1st I had finished S2. That's what this show did to my head.

So, let's get into it!

From my perspective, the Sydcarmy choreography is the following:

The real Carmy is this aloof guy who only REALLY listens to Syd when she's distressed. And only then he gets his shit together for her.

He pushes all her buttons first (when he's the distressed one, he shuts down, he changes the rules).

And only then he behaves for a while, to get on her good side again. But then the real Carmy strikes again. And it’s an endless cycle of push and pull.

However, Syd secretly enjoys this because she sees this as:

"Awww he’s willing to change for me, for us ❤️".

“He’s shitty but he’s also trying and imma help him! Awww”.

And she’s right. He is trying and he can certainly be shitty.

And he is changing because of her, because of them. That's his arc.

And he pays her back by being the only person other than her father with whom she can be her vulnerable self.

She doesn’t allow herself to be truly vulnerable with anyone else.

She can let go of her G Woman mask in front of him knowing that he will never use that against her. Ever. That’s why they help each other.

They support each other in this journey of him being less shitty and she being more vulnerable. That is what makes them stronger. They are stronger together and that is why things fall apart when they are not together and that is why they will keep coming back to each other no matter how far apart they drift at different points of this journey. They will always gravitate towards one another because they "existentially" need and choose each other to grow. They basically push each other in the right direction. That is why they acknowledged that they make each other better. They are finally getting themselves to admit it! YAY! That's progress.

Their relationship is not based on love, respect, or even friendship but on trust. The rest comes later for them, as a consequence of the latter.

That’s why they are loyal to each other and when Claire was around Syd felt betrayed.

It wasn't jealousy. Not all of it, it was more than that.

It was loyalty, territorial loyalty.

She doesn’t wanna share because that threatens his loyalty, not necessarily because she’s jealous of Claire. She also feels jealousy, yes, but not consciously, anyway... because she is nowhere ready to admit yet that she has feelings for Carmy in a way a business partner shouldn't. She's not there yet. And he has recently gotten to that point, after the panic attack. So, basically, they are not there yet. I go over that here.

What Syd didn't know and it's a game changer, btw, was that Carmy was never “loyal” to Claire. He was just with Claire as a sublimation. Let me explain:

He was projecting. All the things he didn't allow himself to feel or do with Syd, he was projecting onto Claire.

That’s why at first he was reticent but when he realized he could do this with Claire, he was game! And finally, let Claire in. She had to fight her way in, he wasn't necessarily inviting at first. We all know how that turned out though... Not his brightest moment.

Now Carmy is ahead of the curve, compared to Sydney. He already had his realization/Eureka! moments during and post-panic attack and the walk-in moment, both catalytic.

Syd on the other hand, has a longer way to go in terms of self-awareness. That's why on the surface she seems to be keeping things more together. She is, for now. But she will have her walk-in moment too or some kind of trigger that will force her to deal with what she's been burying under a pile of excuses and rationalizations that serve her status-quo purposes, as mere defense mechanisms. Because the change will not come willingly, it will be forced and it probably won't be pretty.

They have that in common and it's also part of their dynamic → Taking things to a breaking point before moving forward, before LETTING IT RIP.

#sydcarmy #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #syd x carmen #carmy berzatto #carmy x sydney #sydney adamu #GINGERPOVS #the bear meta

115 notes · View notes

mediumgayitalian · 7 months

Text

previous chapter

———

“Take the exit here.”

“How come?” Nico asks, dutifully putting on his blinker and merging into the right lane. “We’re not even at half tank.”

Will clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s, uh, not for gas.”

A pause.

“Oh, Solace, you’re fucking kidding me.”

“I’m sorry!”

Nico throws his hands up, ignoring Will’s screech of both hands on the wheel, I value my life! “There is no possible way you have to piss already. You had half a slushie!”

“...Well.”

“William Andrew Solace, I swear to God.”

“I got distracted!” Will cries, eyes big and round as he pouts. “The Abstract Iron Centaur is a monument, okay, I forgot what the point of the rest stop was for.”

Nico groans. “I’m not sure you should be allowed to go to medical school. You’re going to forget a scalpel in someone’s lungs, or something.”

Immediately, he knows this is the wrong thing to say. The sheepish grin vanishes off Will’s face, replaced with something despairing, before it’s hastily shoved back on.

The winding road finally gives way to the advertised rest stop, partially obscured by a Welcome to Georgia sign with a modernist-style image of a peach that annoys him for no reason. We’re glad Georgia’s on your mind. (False. Georgia is never on his mind, except for how Will can’t say Georgia without slipping into his accent and Nico has to take that golden opportunity to mock him. And then die.)

“Right,” Will says finally. He forces a laugh. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, then gets out of the car without so much as a word.

Nico watches him go.

“Well,” he mutters to himself. “Shit.”

He waits in the car as long as he physically can, which is anything between thirty seconds and four business days. A glance at his watch informs him it’s closer to two minutes.

He kicks a stone across the parking lot, debating the implications of searching for his friend. It hasn’t really been that long, so he’s not sure it’s socially appropriate, and then he wonders when the hell he started caring about being socially appropriate. They are friends, after all, because in a group icebreaker question about siblings in seventh grade, Nico had growled none, on the account that she was killed by a drunk driver when I was ten and Will had laughed, brightly and morbidly, and said hey, my brothers were murdered, too! Twinsies! and killed the vibe rather brilliantly for literally everybody else in the room.

He gives into his impulse eventually, striding onto the surprisingly soft grass and looking, halfheartedly, around the spacious grounds (he’d decided searching the bathroom would be a touch too far). His mission gets sidetracked, however, because the heat is less oppressive under the shade of tall, weeping willows, and there’s a small breeze, and he is struggling to shove his various musings into the Repression Box where they belong.

Will, starts one of said musings, has been acting weird as shit long before he showed up at his house in the middle of the night.

It had started around January? If he had to guess. But Will is always kind of weird in the winter, so he hadn’t thought much of it, just offered to break into his house more often so he didn’t feel too suffocated. The usual. But the strangeness had persisted through the spring – the sudden drops in mood, the hair-triggers to clam him up. Both of which are usually a Nico thing. Will, more often, just shoves all his negative emotions down to the bottom of his soul until he gets one half-mark wrong on a test and sobs himself sick about being useless while Nico stands guard outside the bathroom door, agonised, unsure how to help. And then the two of them never talk about it again.

Over the last few months, things have been a little less balanced.

“Hey.”

Nico jumps. Will stands slightly, shoulders still hunched slightly, but definitely less cagey than earlier. He holds out a cup of coffee Nico recognises as from a vending machine.

“Hi,” Nico says softly, smiling tentatively. He takes the coffee. It’s black, and too hot, just how he likes it.

“You are going to stain your teeth,” Will observes, as he always does.

“Bite me,” Nico responds, following the script.

A genuine smile pulls at his face.

“You ready to get back on the road?”

“Yep.”

They fall into step in their hike back to the Jeep – Nico hiked farther than he meant to. Will’s flip-flops slapping rhythmically against the packed dirt of the trail is a familiar sound, and it eases some of his own tension, putting a bit more prep in his step. When he glances quickly over, Will is breathing normally, shoulders slack, much calmer expression on his face.

“You should let me drive,” he says as they approach. “You’ve been behind the wheel since practically dawn; maybe you should take a nap or something.”

Nico shakes his head, waving a dismissive arm. Frowning slightly, Will acquiesces, climbing back into the passenger side.

“I’ve had two coffees and half a slushie,” he explains, resting his hand on the back of Will’s seat. He cranes his neck behind him, careful of the family walking an unleashed dog as he pulls out. “I’m good forever.”

“Caffeine doesn’t work on you,” Will points out.

Nico pauses.

“...True.”

He hadn’t realise Will had noticed, actually. Although he supposes it’s not too surprising – Will has known him a long time, Will is observant, and Will generally enjoys lecturing people about anything he can get away with, up to and including their general health and safety. Nico, in all his bad choices, is a favourite target of his. He can probably recite his solo midnight speed driving from memory.

“It’s just –” Will stops, waiting until Nico’s safely merged back on the highway before continuing. “It’s three and a half hours ‘till we get to Atlanta, Neeks, and it’s already three-thirty. We’ll have to stop again for food, probably, at one point, and we’ll have to stop for food, soon, and who knows what the traffic will be like –”

Carefully passing the person going sixty in front of him, finally breaking into open road, Nico takes half an eye off the road and digs through the centre console.

“– I mean, if it’s bumper to bumper, then what? It’ll be rush hour soon, shit, I shoulda planned for that, shit, do we have a jerrycan? We should have a jerrycan, remind me to get a jerrycan for the trunk –”

Finally catching sight of the CD he’s looking for (and barely managing to swerve and avoid a massive pothole that would have for sure cut their trip short, but he managed, so take that, Reckless Driving Lecture Will that lives in his brain, who’s God now), he hands it to Will. Still actively stressing about literally nothing, he opens it, polishing the disc on habit and sliding it into the slot without so much as pausing.

Nico smirks.

Yeah, maybe he knows his friend, too.

“– I mean, just blankets and a first aid kit is not enough. Really, we should have some provisions in there. Oh, and rope, ‘cause what if we get stranded in the mountains –”

The radio clicks as it reads the disc, then, suddenly and without warning, the stereo rumbles with heavy bass and pounding beat.

Will cuts himself off. “Hey, is this –”

Nico smirks wider. He chances another look away from the road, just in time to watch a magnificent smile break across Will’s face, wide and a little crooked, showing all his molars – a real one, the one he gets when he’s caught off-guard, the one that makes his hands fluttery.

“You’re playing In The Zone!” he exclaims, laughing delightedly. “Without complaining!”

Bingo, Nico thinks.

“Technically, I didn’t play shit.” He gestures at the empty CD case in Will’s hand. “You’re just like a hermit crab. I hand you things, you hold them.”

“Shut up.” But there’s no bite to the command, smile still stretching wide. If Nico looks, he can see the tiny snag of his barely crooked front tooth, but he doesn’t look, because he doesn’t care about that, obviously. He has his eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel, fully focused.

Obviously.

They do get into disgusting traffic. Will is distressed about it, up until someone cuts them off so closely they both nearly actually and genuinely die, and he is immediately lit up in a rage so incandescent Nico wonders if he will ever be able to look away from straining biceps and a clenched jaw ever again. More distantly, he wonders if and I hope you get three consecutive aneurysms and your family leaves you to fucking rot in a hospital bed, you leprous shitdick will be on loop in his head for the rest of time. He kind of wants to put it on a shirt. Will’s linguistic talents should be studied.

“Stop thinking about it,” Will demands, socking him (hard! What the shit!) in the shoulder. His face resembles, quite exactly, the shade of the setting sun. “Purge it from your memory.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Nico responds, smirking.

“I wasn’t –” A pause. Nico bites back a snort. “Cutting people off is just so rude.”

“Oh, of course.”

“I mean! I mean.”

“Indeed.”

“If it was – an ambulance, or something, I would understand, but he cut us off just to get immediately stuck in the same traffic! I don’t understand the point!”

“Truly the behaviour of a leprous shitdick,” Nico agrees. His grin starts to genuinely hurt his face, but he ignores it in favour of snickering.

Will sinks into his seat, pulling his hoodie over his eyes. His ears, as usual, stick out a little, and they’re red, too. Nico nobly resists the urge to flick them.

“I hate you.”

“I think you’re quite attached to me, actually. After all, I’m not a –”

“If I hear the word leprous come from your mouth one more fucking time, di Angelo, I’ll give you leprosy. For real. I’ll find it.”

Will probably could find a vial of pure leprosy somewhere, actually, so Nico shuts up. (He’s seen Will’s weird vial collection. Most of it is just, like, various bacteria, he’s pretty sure, but Will is kind of morbid and Nico knows his sense of humour is garbage because Nico’s sense of humour is garbage, and there is a reason they’re friends, and if Nico found a vial of leprosy somewhere he would keep it, too. Can leprosy be vialed? Who knows. Will, probably.)

Once he’s sure Nico is not going to tease him anymore about his temper tantrum, or at least for the moment, he turns back to his book. Every so often, he looks up, observes the three miles per hour they’re crawling, and sighs, loudly and lengthy to himself, muttering something about railway systems and zoning laws and government incompetence. Nico doesn’t ask. He was free from the jail that was history and geography lessons last month. He is determined to learn absolutely nothing for the next six months, at least.

“I’m paying for the motel or hotel or inn et cetera,” Will says, randomly.

“No,” Nico replies, easily.

Will reaches out, calmly, and pinches him on the thigh. Nico does not yelp indignantly because he is a Man, and can handle Will’s weirdly pointy fingers.

“You paid for gas.”

“Yep.”

“And you have car payments.”

“Mhm.”

“And you bought Dunkin’s.”

“True.”

“Nico,” Will says exasperatedly, “this whole damn trip was my idea. Let me pay for shit.”

“I enjoy wasting my father’s money,” Nico counters, and Will pauses, considering. “Come on, commie. I know the idea of spending a banker’s money on stupid shit pleases you.”

He knows he’s starting to win, because Will sighs in a very particular way that Nico has identified as why am I letting this dumbass get away with this again, says, “Spending money is capitalist, Nico,” and turns, begrudgingly, back to his book.

Poorly hidden behind the pages, he’s smiling.

Nico tallies his victory.

The traffic finally eases by around eight o’clock. Victorious, surely, except that they’re still quite a ways from Atlanta. He considers getting off at one of the various exits promising shelter, and in fact decides he is going to, but for some reason, his hand never drifts to his blinker. Never turns the wheel slightly to merge, never eases off the gas. He keeps going, an going, and going, music playing softly, stars beginning to shine through the darkening sky.

Beside him, Will lets out tiny puffs as he exhales, even and sluggish.

“You are a grandmother,” he whispers fondly, shaking his head. In the quiet of the road, interrupted only by the whipping whipping winds – he should have pulled the roof back up when they were stuck, shit – and odd flash of headlights of a passing car, he lets himself soften, sighing back against his seat and easing up slightly on the gas.

Will glows, faintly, in the moonlight.

It’s funny, ‘cause he’s a sun child. Nico has teased him about it for years, in fact; his hair, his bright blue eyes, his stubborn clinging to his aesthetic of wannabe surfer boy. The gold ring he wears on his thumb, the sun pendant that rests on his heart. Swathed in yellows and blues and golds, all the time, with a sprinkling of bright green and neon orange just to remind everyone that yes, he is red green colourblind, and no, that will not stop him from making fashion choices.

But the silver suits him. It softens him, instead of washing him out, reminding Nico that the sun shines white. The low light casts gentle shadows on his face, too, drawing attention to his strong brow and straight nose.

Forcing his eyes back on the road, where they should have been the whole time, Jesus, he notices the giant green Downtown Atlanta sign, and follows its arrows. The first exit he sees, he turns, getting lost three times before he finds the hotel that was advertised.

Pulling into the largely empty parking lot, he shuts off the car, then turns to Will, screwing up his face. He has to wake him up, at some point. Obviously. Unfortunately he cannot simply melt into the shadows and reappear in a hotel room. As awesome as that would be, with his luck, he’d pop into an occupied one, and that’d be a whole host of problems.

Deciding he’ll actually get them a room first, he heads inside, speaking quietly with the desk host.

“Single or double?” they ask pleasantly, voice similarly lowered for the hour.

“Uh,” Nico says, “double?”

The host pauses, eyebrows flicking up at his hesitation. “...Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Nico flushes. He adds, belatedly, “Please.”

Eyebrow raised in amusement, the host reaches into a drawer and pulls out two sleek key cards, tucking them into a little envelope thing and handing them over. “Room 409,” they say, nodding towards the elevator.

“Thanks,” Nico responds, and walks out the door. He realises, as he exits, how much of a general failure he is at communicating with people who are not Will, and considers climbing through the window of his sixth floor room out of sheer embarrassment. The realization that he does not have the skill to drag Will up there with him is the only thing that stops him.

“Sunshine,” he murmurs, once he’s gathered their bags and some of the red has faded from his face, “we’re here.”

Will hums a little, voice gravelly. Nico’s lip quirk up.

“Where?”

“Somewhere to sleep.”

“‘M sleepin’ jus’ fine.”

His accent is so, so heavy with sleep, and it’s just – God, he wishes Wil hadn’t trained himself out of it. In Nico’s professional opinion, Will should talk like that all the time.

Authenticity, and all that.

“C’mon, Will.”

After another minute of coaxing – which Nico indulges purely because he knows for a fact Solace will have no memory of it in the morning, in any other circumstance he’d poke him awake – Will uncurls enough to stagger to his feet, stumbling as he gets out of the vehicle. For his own safety, Nico wraps an arm around his narrow hips, guiding him up to the room.

“Mnhgh,” he mumbles, the second the heavy door closes behind them. He walks two steps to the nearest bed, face plants in the middle of it, and starts snoring, feet hanging off the end, one flip-flip still stubbornly clinging to his foot.

“Dork,” Nico murmurs. He gets ready like a normal person, tugging on a sleep shirt – might be an old one of Will’s, actually, because Nico certainly never bought a Shania Twain concert t-shirt – and wrapping up in the wonderfully plush blankets. “Goodnight, Will.”

He gets a snore in response. He burrows deeper into the covers, smiling, drifting off to the sound of his best friend’s rhythmic breathing.

———

next chapter

100 notes · View notes

lalatoearth · 1 month

Text

I’m thinking of writing a fic in which gojo is forced to go on a mission outside of Japan to get him out of his post geto slump, an x reader kind of thing set in Spain 🫨

Here’s the opening :p

Word count: 1.5k

Tokyo, 2007

How long had it been? It was another weekend, one of many where Satoru found himself left with the same question: "How long has it been?" Inevitably followed by, “What's next?"

Since he left what has Satoru become? What has he done? Mission after mission after mission. He was earning good money now but money for what? Never thinking he needed a vision for the future he was now left wondering if he had a future. What is the future? Tomorrows present. The unimaginable. Change. He hated change.

He rolled over, pulling the comforter with him. He was face to face with 11:38. The red lights of the clock drove their way into his eyes angrily in the dark room. Behind the curtains light was threatening to spill in at the peak of the day. The day. Sunday. Maybe he deserved this rest. Why is it that every minute past 9am feels selfish to spend alone, especially for him. How was he selfish?

He rolled back over to face the wall. 5 minutes then he’d go and see Shoko. 5 minutes and Haibara’s and Suguru’s rooms are still empty. Suguru. 5 minutes and he’ll still have to travel halfway across the country tomorrow.

There were two sharp and firm knocks on his door. Yaga. Yaga and a new mission. The door opened despite him giving no permission. “What if I was sleeping naked?” He squinted his eyes at the brightness now flooding the room.

“Good thing you weren’t,” Yaga said leaning against the door frame. “I have a-”

“Mission?” Satoru laid his forearm over his eyes and flopped back onto his pillow.

“How’d you know? Meet me in my office in ten minutes to discuss,” He said before leaving.

With big plans to go back to bed, Gojo went to Yaga’s office in his pajamas— basketball shorts and a discolored white T shirt. Outside, the leaves had been long gone from trees, having slipped away with the summer long ago leaving bare, spiky abundances of branches dotted about the campus. January really was the most depressing month of the year.

"I want you to let me finish speaking before you say anything," Yaga began. "An opportunity has come up for a mission abroad. You would be sent to Spain, accompanied by me and two sorcerers from the US, to exorcize a curse that has been causing issues in Europe for a while. Ever heard of El Cuco?"

"El who?"

"It's a folktale in Spain that's been causing problems. Even after being defeated 400 years ago, it's been reborn because all the kids are shit scared of this story," Yaga turned his computer to display images of a creature that looked almost like a shadow, a looming dark entity. "This is how it's portrayed, but obviously we have no idea how it actually looks. The objective is to find out what it is and where it resides."

"How many casualties?" Satoru leaned forward, studying the image.

"A suspected seventy in the last two years. All kids."

"Holy sh— crap."

"Would you be up for it?"

He paused. "Maybe."

"Well, let me know by tomorrow so I can sort out the arrangements. Now get out, I have stuff to do," Yaga took back his laptop and suddenly pretended that Satoru was no longer in the room.

Spain, huh? He’d never been outside Japan. The exploration aspect enticed him but being stuck abroad with Yaga and two randoms repulsed him all the same. What if Yaga was a Speedo kind of guy? Ew.

Satoru sensed someone approaching from the opposite direction, even as he studied the grooves in the wooden floor. It was Nanami—the passing shoes confirmed it. Satoru cast an over-the-shoulder glance as the first-year strode through the hall. Normally, he'd be with Haibara, but Haibara was gone now. Dead.

Thoughts of Haibara inevitably led to Suguru. If Suguru were dead too, perhaps Satoru could move on. But the possibility that Suguru was out there somewhere, likely having forgotten about Satoru, left him frustrated and without closure.

The vending machine caught his eye, its rows filled with an array of candies and drinks. He noticed a few new additions among the familiar options. Satoru inserted his coins into the slot and pressed the flashing button. The machine's light whirring was the only sound. Just as his cola was about to drop, the machine stopped.

“You’re kidding me,” he groaned and kicked the machine “fuck!” He clutched his toe and took a deep breath. He was going to Spain.

Alaska, 2007

The air was chilly, the large gym being too selfish to retain any warmth given from the pathetic heater plugged into the wall next to you. The sound of squeaking shoes echoed through the hall as you watched your fellow juniors practice sparring.

You hated them all.

While most sorcerers techniques bloomed at age 4, you were now 17 still left bitterly hanging onto a thread of hope. You knew you could see curses, you had cursed energy and could use it but while everyone had near mastered their innate techniques you were almost certain you didn’t have one. Still being 4th grade while your peers— even the freshman— were majority 2nd was embarrassing. It was a barrier that kept you and them more and more separated as time carried on.

“Okay everyone, let’s cool down and regroup! I’ll see you in fifteen.” Said Theodora. She was a professional woman that stood tall with blazing red hair and rectangular glasses. She was your mentor, your friend and your guardian and you hated when she gave the others attention.

You didn’t wait for the others to cooldown and instead headed straight for the main building. It was small, far smaller than average high schools. The Alaskan academy of sorcery had only 13 students in total across the 4 grades.

“Y/n, you didn’t cool down,” Theodora tilted her head up from her desk to look at you above her glasses.

“No need to,” you said, taking a seat with a yawn.

“You didn’t join in,” she said.

“Uhm… no,” you tried looking in your desk for something you weren’t even sure was there. You knew your lousy attempt at diverting the conversation had failed when you were met with the stern gaze of Theodora Stuart.

“You can’t just slack off because of your own problems I’m afraid,” she said.

“Tell that to the others that hardly include me! Cmon. Tell me you haven’t noticed,” you said. As if on queue, the door swung open and your two classmates, Georgia and Kayson, walked in, oblivious to the conversation that you were having. Theodora gave you a final look. One that said “we’re going to be talking about this later.” And you prayed she’d forget.

“I’ve arranged for one of you accompanied by myself to go on a mission in Spain. It would be in June so it’s gonna be taken out of your summer break, bear in mind.” She clicked on her projector from the back of the class and images of a curse appeared. “This is El Cuco. A curse that was present around 400 years ago in continental Europe, known for killing children and has sprouted up again.”

“Why’s it back?” Kayson asked.

“After the curse was defeated, it became a folktale that parents would tell their kids. Its cursed energy must’ve never really been finished off because it’s regained majority strength through fear.” The three of you looked slightly horrified. It was one thing killing small curses that popped up around the country but a notorious, ancient curse? A whole new ballgame. You wanted in.

“No. No way.” Georgia said.

“Too chicken?” Kayson teased.

“More like too young to die! That thing looks terrifying. Let the grown ups deal with it.” She crossed her arms and leant back in her chair.

“I would go, Chicken” his eyes diverted to Theodora “What grade is it?”

“First. Bordering special.” Theodora replied.

“Literally me then,” he smirked.

“Anyway,” Theodora brushed him off, “you have until tomorrow to let me know.” As soon as she left the room, you were out of your seat, racing after her.

“Teddy!” You called out. She turned around abruptly, looking at you with one of her tight, awkward smiles.

“I want to go.”

“Not gonna sit this one out then?” Her eyebrows raised. You shook your head in return. She offered you a knowing nod.

It was the next time you checked your emails on the lone library computer that you knew you were going to Spain June 1st, 2007.

#jujutsu kaisen #anime #fanfic #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #series

35 notes · View notes

dee-the-red-witch · 5 months

Text

Okay, I need to be serious and put this somewhere for one because I need to let people know wtf is going on in full because it affects a lot of shit, because I need to talk about it, and because I need to figure out what I'm going to do.

The relationship with S, my now separated, still cohabitating and coparenting with former partner has been getting worse and worse. She has barely worked since January has made minimal efforts at best in helping with childcare, has borrowed over seven grand in total from myself and other sources that I know of to lose all of it in an online honeypot scheme, has as yet barely done anything to try and recover those funds and because of all of this, left me in the situation of having to drain everything from my transition gfm just to cover april's rent and some of the bills, and then left me still having to fundraise just this week to cover stuff.

On top of this she's still being inadvertently (I'm assuming) transmisogynistic on a regular basis. And refuses to learn or do any better, unless, you know, I'm actively calling her out in the middle of it, and even then it's a whole other fight, that often turns into other abuses lkke her threatening to just immediately abandon me with the kids.

I don't feel remotely safe here, i am in constant stress, I can't focus well enough to work even when I'm not being constantly interrupted for things, and financially there is no way I can keep doing all this. I'm also physically exhausted from all this plus the workout regime I'm having to pull to get down to surgery weight (though with my recovery fund getting constantly emptied, part of me is in Does It Even Matter mode, while the rest realizes that somehow a gym full of cishet people in lynnwood is somehow SAFER than here.)

I don't know what to do. I don't really have options, and i need out. Affording here on my own would be equally impossible, so forcing S out isn't really a great option. I'd need around 6k a month to cover EVERYTHING fully doing it as a business, and there just isn't enough coming in. I need help and I need options.

And I'm aware that yeah, just. A bigass rant with context missing in parts and no real call for action or anything. Mostly I want folks including customers to know what's going on. Please don't cancel existing orders, I'm still working to try and fill them. Please don't send me resource links for shelters and such. I'm not running yet. Ideally, I need an out, and a place on my own free and clear, but I don't know how to get there from here yet. And I'll update later eith specific asks for help if and when I figure out what those are. I just need folks to udnerstand that things are kinda sucking for me right now and it's going to be rather hard for a while.

66 notes · View notes

pillowfort-social · 8 months

Text

Happy New Year! We’re kicking off 2024 with a Community Update after a very eventful end of 2023. We’ll give you a look at what Staff have been doing behind the scenes, an update from our Developer Team, and a preview of what’s in store for the platform. Community Stats:

As of January 19, 2024 Pillowfort currently has over 170,467 registered users and over 9,928 Communities. The rest of this post is under the cut.

In 2023 we have…

Avoided shutdown thanks to your generous support.

Launched Pillowfort Premium

Tested and launched Drafts

Added new premium frames.

Updated our Terms of Service.

Updated our Business Plan.

Continued work on the PWA & Queue.

Blocked ChatGPT Bots our platform.

Announced our upcoming policy on Generative AI.

Increased weekly invitations keys to from 10 to 50.

Continued patching bugs.

Welcome New Users!

Welcome to Pillowfort. We are so glad you are part of our community. If you haven’t yet, check out the Pillowfort101 Getting Started Guide.

Thank you for keeping Pillowfort Alive!

Your support during the End of Year Fundraiser helped us avoid ending contracts with our Staff and averted the end of our platform for another six months (July 2024). We can not express our gratitude enough to you. This has been an extremely challenging and stressful time for each member of the team. We are going to work hard to keep Pillowfort online. You have motivated us to continue the fight to be a viable platform. You may have noticed that our donation bar has reset to $5,000 at the beginning of January. This number is our monthly operating costs going forward. Each month in 2024 that we meet our funding goal it will extend Pillowfort’s life past July 2024.

Generative AI Ban Policy Update

We will be implementing our updated policy regarding Generative AI in the next site update. Prior to when the policy will be implemented we will share with the community what our definition of Generative AI is and our moderation process.

We're aware that there are concerns about how moderation systems surrounding generative AI have been abused and used for harassment on other sites: we have consulted with experts on how to avoid those issues, and the suite of moderation methods from international universities also assist with identifying harassment. Abuse of reporting systems will be taken seriously by Staff.

End of Year Fundraiser Limited Edition Badge Gift Form

The form for gifting the Limited Edition Badge to other users who couldn’t donate is now live! Click Here to Fill Out the Form. (Note: We’ll be also making a separate Staff Alert with the link as well.)

Updated Business Plan

The Pillowfort Premium subscription model remains our primary answer to generate the necessary funds needed to cover the costs of running our platform. We will continue to offer optional premium features which can be purchased by users a la carte. However, we will be working on completing the following major projects / updates as an expansion of our revenue strategy in the first half of 2024:

Release of the Progressive Web App w/ Push Notifications - The data is very clear that the lack of a mobile app is hindering our overall growth. A PWA will allow our mobile users to experience all the functionality of a native mobile app and will be much easier for our Developer Team to build & maintain than a native app. We also won't have to worry about App Store content restrictions.

Post Promotions & User-Submitted Advertisement Opt-Ins - Users will be able to promote their posts (as advertisements) by paying a fee. No subscription is required to promote a post. By default, this promoted content will only be displayed on a page specifically for viewing promoted content. While this will mean potentially less revenue, it is important to our philosophy to respect our user’s experience and not force advertising on everyone. However, users can opt into viewing promoted content in their home feed, and will receive a discount on premium features for doing so.

Subscription Gifting - Users will be able to purchase subscriptions that can be gifted to other users. Subscriptions can be gifted to a specific other user, or can be added to a communal pool for any unsubscribed users to take from. We will provide special badges for users who gift subscriptions.

Pillowfort Premium Price Increase - We will be adjusting prices to help us fund our overall operating costs. We will notify the community before any price increase is final.

Mobile Pillowfort Premium Frames - Add an option for mobile users to view Pillowfort Premium Avatar Frames in their feeds.

Other Goals for Completion in 2024 (Goals are subject to change)

Release Queue & Scheduling

Rebuild the post image uploader widget.

Rebuild the way notifications are logged & retrieved in the back-end to be more efficient & reduce errors.

Release an Onboarding Guide for new users.

Release Multi-account management/linking.

Add 2-Factor Authentication.

Enable Community Membership Applications.

Release Community Topics/Organization Options.

Help Us Keep the Lights On!

At Pillowfort we do not receive any funding from venture capital or other outside investors because we are committed to keeping our user experience a priority, and not being beholden to outside interests. While this approach allows us to stay true to our ideals and content guidelines, it also presents many challenges to our team in the form of limited resources, personnel, etc.

Our continued survival depends on the generosity of our community. If you are able to, please consider supporting us with a one-time or recurring monthly donation to help keep Pillowfort online. Any money donated to us now will be applied as a credit to your account when we release paid features & benefits in the future.

Bug Bounty Reminder

We are still offering a Bug Bounty. If you find a bug on the site, particularly one that could pose a threat to the security or functionality of the site, contact Staff through our Contact form or directly at [email protected]. If you are unsure if we received your report, you can send us a DM to the Staff account here, or DM one of our social media channels to check on the status.

We sometimes do not receive all notifications from users on other social media. DMing the Staff account on Pillowfort to check on the status is the preferred method.

The first individual to notify us of a certain issue will be eligible for monetary compensation, depending on the severity of the issue found and the information provided.

Abandoned / Modless Communities Transfer

We are taking Ownership Transfer requests for Abandoned and/or Modless Communities. The form is available here.

Pillowfort Dev Blog

Follow our very own Developer Blog for the latest updates from Lead Architect & Founder Julia Baritz.

Interact with Pillowfort Staff, ask questions, plus learn about upcoming features and more on social media.

Pillowfort: Staff Pillowfort Dev: PF_dev_blog Bluesky: pillowfortsoc.bsky.social Tiktok: pillowfort.social Instagram: pillowfort.social Facebook: Pillowfortsocial X/Twitter: @pillowfort_soc Tumblr: pillowfort-social Reddit: pillowfort_social Threads: @pillowfort.social

Best,

Pillowfort Staff

#long post #pillowfort #pifo #pillowfort.social #community update #january 2024 #pillowfort.soc #pfstaffalert

139 notes · View notes

leasstories · 8 months

Text

Mutual Healing

Eddie Munson x Gn!reader

TW : Depression, suicidal thoughts

WC: ≈2.1K

Depression is a bitch. You’ve been suffering from depression for 2 years now. Your beautiful face slowly lost color and life, you started losing weight and isolating yourself. Now, you are alone. You pushed away your only friend, her name was Robin Buckley and after months of trying to reach out she simply gave up. Everyone abandoned you in your life anyway, this was just, according to you, one more proof that you were not necessary. The problem with thinking that, with feeling useless and unimportant is that it fuels your want to disappear. It comforts you in the idea that life doesn’t worth being lived.

Your dad died when you were 10 and your mom has been neglecting you ever since. She drowns herself into alcohol and is most of the time away from home. We are in January, and you finally gave High School up. Well not officially, but you haven’t been going for weeks, even months now.

Today, you have to go to the store as your mom left for weeks on end now. You have no strength and you’ve been postponing it for days, but now it’s not just food that you don’t have anymore, it’s also the essentials such as toilet paper, paper towel… You can’t postpone anymore. You drag your tired body out of you bed, you push the wastes under your bed. You sit at your dressing table and put your tangled, dirty hair in a bun. You then go to your dresser and look for clean sweatpants as well as a clean t-shirt and hoodie. You look at yourself in the mirror and is disgusted by what you see, but you can’t bring yourself to make yourself more presentable. You take your bag, go down the stairs and leave your house. As soon as you leave your house, a wave of anxiety sweeps over you. You force yourself to put one foot in front of the other and walk towards your mom’s car. You open the door and sit on the driver’s seat. You wait a few minutes before putting the key into the ignition and starting the car. You slowly drive to the closest grocery store in Hawkins. You park and stop the car and stay sat in your car. You rest your head on the headrest and close your eyes. You take a deep inhale before getting out of the car. You then go into the store and start panicking. They aren’t even a lot of customers. You take a cart and start navigating in the store. You put pasta, tomato sauce, rice, cans of food in the cart.

Then you go to the toiletries aisle. You put some shampoo and toothpaste in your cart, even though you don’t have the strength to take care of yourself. As soon as you put the toothpaste in the cart your breathing starts becoming shallow, you can’t hold yourself straight, so you sit on the ground, next to your cart. One of your classmates also known as the fellow “Freak” from Hawkins High is passing by the aisle at that same time. He slowly approaches you and then crouches down next to you, saying your name softly. When you don’t react, he gently puts his hand on your shoulder. At the contact, you flinch.

“Hey, hey, hey I’m not here to hurt you” Eddie says, putting his hands in surrender. When you don’t answer Eddie keep going “It’s Eddie Munson, we used to go to high school together.” When you nod, Eddie takes it as his cue to get up and then crouch down in front of you. He puts his hand on your knee and when you don’t flinch, he starts rubbing circles. He waits for you to speak, giving you as much time as you need. Eddie’s physical touch helps you calming down a little and even though your breathing is shallow you manage to say, “I’m sorry”.

“Hey, none of that, you have nothing to be sorry for. Can you tell me what happened?” Eddie gently tells you.

Your breathing is still shallow, and you can feel a pain in your chest, you grab Eddie’s arm with your hand and say “I… I can’t breathe… Eddie… I can’t breathe…”

Eddie lets you grab his arms and keeps rubbing circles on your knee. “Hey, hey it’s okay… It’s okay darling, you are having a panic attack. You’re not dying, everything is fine.” Eddie tells you in a calming tone, far away from the loud personality everyone knows him for.

Tears start running down your cheeks and your breathing doesn’t calm down. Eddie takes your hand in put it on his chest. “Hey darling, follow my breathing, okay?”

You keep your hand on Eddie’s torso and start following his breathing. It takes you a while to match Eddie’s breathing, but once you do, you start calming down.

Once you’re calm enough Eddie helps you up and guide you to your cart. Instead of just leaving you, Eddie starts taking the cart for you and nonchalantly says. “Where to next?”. You look at Eddie baffled.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that! I’m not gonna let you finish your shopping on your own after the panic attack you just had!” Eddie answers, pushing your cart through the aisle.

“I’m going to check out” You answer, looking at your feet, ashamed of the fact that you bothered Eddie when all he was going to do was grocery shopping.

Eddie looks at your cart and vehemently shakes his head. “Nope. I’m not gonna let you go home with only canned food.”

“’m not a good cook” you answer to Eddie.

“Love, I can see you’re not in a good mental headspace at the moment, and that’s why, the humble Dungeon Master that I am, cannot let you eat only canned goods, and that’s also why I’m going to offer my services, for free of course!” Eddie tells you.

“Oh no, no I don’t want to be a bother, you don’t have to do that” you answer, embarrassed.

“I don’t have to, I want to. I know what it is to feel down and lonely, trust me. I want to be there for you.” Eddie earnestly tells you.

“Thank you, I guess?” You answer.

Eddie drives the cart through the aisles and start buying some fresh food. “’Kay, I’m not a good cook at all but I’m gonna try. Can’t let a pretty one like you starve.” Eddie says right before stopping in his tracks. “You don’t have any allergies, do you?” Eddie asks.

You shake your head no, really baffled by what is happening right now. When Robin stopped trying to reach out, you thought you were doomed to be alone forever and now Eddie arrives and makes you feel wanted. He doesn’t seem forced to spend time with you.

“Great!” Eddie says. “Let me grab ingredients to make the infamous Munson homemade Mac N Cheese! You like Mac N Cheese?” Eddie asks in his excitement.

“Mmh” you answer.

“You’re not really talkative, are you?” Eddie asks while putting butter in the cart.

“I’m sorry…” You say while looking at the ground.

“No, no Sweetheart don’t be! That’s not why I said that. Can I tell you a secret?” Eddie asks trying to make conversation without forcing you to talk too much.

“Go ahead” you answer, curious of what Eddie might tell you.

“You’re one of the only persons who didn’t run away when I approached you. Ya know I have a pretty bad reputation.” Eddie tells you, really happy that someone let him in. Yes, Eddie helps you, but by accepting his presence, you help him too.

“I’m sorry people don’t see past your looks Eddie. I know you’re not a Freak.” You answer.

Eddie is really moved by what you’re telling him. It is the most you spoke to him since he found you panicking and the fact that you decided to speak more to reassure him warms Eddie’s heart.

“Eh! That’s fine. I’m used to it” Eddie tells you. “But to be honest, when you flinched, I thought it was because it was me.”

You shake your head. “No, it wasn’t Eddie… I’m sorry I made you feel like this. I was just surprised.”

“Hey, I understood that later... I didn’t want to make you feel bad.” Eddie says reassuringly.

“Thank you so much Eddie… for what you’re doing for me.” You shyly tell Eddie.

Eddie waves his hand as if it was nothing. “Don’t worry about it Sweetheart. As I already said, it isn’t a bother.”

Eddie and you finish grocery shopping while he tells you all about his last D&D campaign. You drink his words, feeling grateful that Eddie feels confident enough to talk about his passion with you. You then checkout and Eddie helps you load the bags in your trunk, he closes it and goes around your car to open your door for you.

“Thank you, kind sir” you tell Eddie.

“I’ll follow you with my van, lead the way” Eddie tells you.

“You don’t have to… besides my house is a mess and…” you start panicking at the idea that Eddie is going to see the mess that is your house.

“I don’t care about that. I’m coming and you can’t change my mind” Eddie says while closing your car door. You then watch Eddie climb in his van and you start your car and start driving in your house’s direction.

You park your car in front of your house and Eddie parks his van next to your car. He helps you unload the grocery and you come into your house. You’re grateful that Eddie says nothing about the mess, instead he follows you into the kitchen and help you unpack the groceries. When you put everything on the kitchen table without putting it in the cupboard, Eddie starts putting the canned goods in cupboards, he put the fresh food in the fridge and while he puts everything away, he tells you.

“Hey Sweetheart, while I cook, you should go shower, ‘kay?”.

You nod and drag your tired body upstairs, to your bathroom. You start undressing and when you cross path with your reflection in the mirror, you realize how much of a mess you look. After looking at yourself in the mirrors for several long minutes, you drag your body in the shower. Firstly, you put your hair down. You start the shower and look at the water running along your body. You stop the water and start cleaning yourself. Then you shampoo the tangle mess on your head and get out of the shower. You put on clean pajamas, take your brush and go downstairs as to not let poor Eddie alone.

You sit on a kitchen stool and look at Eddie cooking his infamous Mac N Cheese. He starts talking to you about music. “And you know what darling, I’ll make a mixtape for you!” Eddie says, hoping it will lift your spirits. You nod and smile at Eddie’s words while trying to brush your tangled hair.

At some point, you feel Eddie taking the brush from your hand. He sits on a stool behind you and asks. “Can I?”.

“You don’t have to Eddie…” You tell him.

“Hey, I want to help you.” Eddie answers reassuringly.

Eddie delicately brushes your hair, careful of not hurting you. “You know, I’m used to brushing tangled hair. You can’t imagine how much my hair always gets tangled. And you know sometimes I’m too lazy to brush it and I have to brush tangled messes you can’t imagine.” Eddie tells you, trying to make you feel better.

“You have beautiful hair.” You tell Eddie earnestly. “Would you? Would you let me braid them?” you ask him.

Eddie shakes his head chuckling and surprised by what he is going to answer. “Knows that I never let anyone touch my hair…” you cut Eddie off.

“Oh I’m sorry… Eddie I didn’t mean to…” Eddie cuts you off.

“Hey Sweetheart, I’m not finished. But if it makes you happy, I’ll let you braid my hair.

Once Eddie is finished with brushing your hair, he plates the Mac N Cheese and brings it to you on the couch. You both eats with the TV on. Well the TV is on but none of you are watching it. You’re busier talking about movies and music.

For the first time in month, you finally feel like you are where you are meant to be. And even though only an afternoon with Eddie can’t heal your depression, you feel like you belong somewhere, you feel wanted and at the moment, you don’t want to disappear. And Eddie finally feels like he can be apologetically himself with someone. He doesn’t have to seem mean and scary, to be sarcastic or intimidating with you, because he knows you’ll never use his vulnerability against him.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson is a sweetheart #mutual healing #Spotify

55 notes · View notes

alovesreading · 2 years

Note

Can we plssss get a sick and sleepy Matty trying to plan the perfect Valentine's night out with reader before she finally forces him home to down some Nyquil and catch some z's? I would dieeeeeeeeeee

You Go To My Head

Summary: The plans that Matty has arranged for you to celebrate your first Valentine's Day together are out the window when he becomes ill, but staying in to take care of him doesn't mean the day is ruined. And you assure him of it by saying those words he hasn't heard you say before.

Word count: 9.1k

A/N: Got this request a little after Valentine's Day and I've finally got the chance to come around giving it the proper time and attention to write it. The chance being me playing Billie Holiday to help me battle a sudden case of insomnia which ended up in too many ideas for this flooding every corner of my mind and staying up all night writing it. I hope you enjoy this one as it's pure fluff, unlike the previous Matty one shot I put out lol (sorry about that one), and thank you for reading! x

Masterlist

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

You’ve known Matty for almost a year, four months of which you’ve been dating and after all that time, you have grown to know him like the back of your hand.

It’s the morning of February 14th, Valentine’s day, and it’s the first one you get to celebrate as a couple so Matty has been talking about making it the best night for ages.

There’s absolutely no complaints from your side, you find it absolutely adorable how much he has been taking different things you say into consideration for the day to end up being perfect.

For instance, one random day at the start of January when you had been drinking at your best friend’s house, Matty was sitting beside you with his hand on your thigh, rubbing small circles on your skin as the whole group of ten people sat around the living room engaged in conversation and you had asked which wine it was that you were drinking because you found it delicious.

Your best friend’s fiancé had stood up to get the empty bottle for you and once he handed it to you, you read it out loud a couple times to memorize it.

“This might be the best wine I’ve ever had. I love it.” Was all you had said, setting the bottle back down on the coffee table in front of you before going back to your conversation.

But you noticed the absence of Matty’s touch then and when you went to complain about it, you found him writing something down on the notes app of his phone.

“Babe? What are you doing?” You asked after letting out a little giggle.

You didn’t want to pry but the note seemed to be filled up with bullet points and you were curious to know what it was that he was so urgently writing.

It was a relief to your curiosity that he showed you his screen and quietly said, “Just writing down that wine so I can get it for us for Valentine’s day dinner.”

You quickly scanned through the rest of his bullet points and grinned hard at seeing written down multiple things you had casually mentioned weeks before, not only to him but to others in conversations where he was standing right beside you.

You chuckled reading one of them saying, ‘Green lingerie is her favorite.’ and not being able to hold yourself back, you cupped his jaw and gave him a quick kiss.

“You’re adorable aren’t you?”

His cheeks went the slightest bit pink as he rolled his eyes playfully. It didn’t take much from you for him to be putty in your hands.

But today you have woken up to sniffles and sneezing from him, a particularly loud one startles you out of sleep making you sit up against the headboard of his bed with a frown.

“You alright, honey?” You ask him, your eyes struggling to open up at the brightness of his bedside table light.

You can make Matty up to be standing right at the foot of the bed, putting his joggers on. He hums in response, and it sounds a bit groggy but he goes up to you, kisses your temple and gets you to lay back down.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” Your boyfriend apologizes, brushing some of your hair off your face, “Go back to sleep, alright? I’ll be right back.”

You frown with your eyes closed, still half asleep so you forget you can ask him why and where he’s going but his soft touch and the little kisses he’s leaving on your head have you falling back into slumber.

Not sure of how much time later, you wake up to his door opening and see him very carefully walking up to the bed. He’s carrying a tray filled with food, a small bouquet of your favorite flowers on his right hand as well, and it makes you coo as you sit up to get it from him.

“Awh babe, this is so cute!” You say as he takes the last few steps to get to you.

“Happy Valentine’s—“ Matty starts but, out of the blue, his face is scrunching up like he’s in pain and you take the tray and the flowers from him rather quickly and in a slight panic.

Seems like you made the right decision taking it from him when you could because he turns away from you fast and lets out a loud string of sneezes into his elbow.

You wait until he’s done, pressing your lips together to not laugh because even though you feel bad for him, it was funny.

He freezes for a few seconds until he’s sure he isn’t sneezing again and, sniffling, he turns around to face you again.

A big smile tugs at the corner of his lips and he resumes what he was saying before, “Happy Valentine’s day, babe.”

Pure happiness radiates off you then, you scrunch up your nose at him, looking down at your breakfast in bed and then back up at him.

“Happy Valentine’s day, honey.” You reciprocate, resting the tray beside you on the bed and reaching your arms out so he can give you a cuddle.

With fast strides the singer comes to you and crushes you in a tight hug, you relish in his hold until he’s pulling back to leave loads of kisses all over your face.

You giggle as he does so and the butterflies that erupt in your stomach have you filling up with warmth.

His lips fall all over your face and finish with a loud kiss on your lips, one which you both end up elongating and you would’ve ended up getting carried away if it wasn’t for another sneeze he feels coming which makes him suddenly get away from you again.

“Fucking hell.” Matty curses through his teeth, groaning lowly before he walks back up to bed and sits right beside you.

You’re just watching him as he comes to sit with you on his bed and you take note of the way he seems to plop down on it and his eyes automatically close for a fair few seconds before he forces them back open and sends a toothy smile your way.

You have to ask again despite knowing he’ll continue to say he’s fine, “You okay there babe? You look like you’re becoming ill.”

One of your hands comes up to check on how warm his face is, pressing the back of it on his forehead and you can feel he’s warm but not enough to say he’s got a fever, or at least you can’t tell because he barely gives you any time to check as he grabs your hand to kiss it multiple times and then intertwines your fingers.

Matty nods with a soft smile, “I’m okay babe, I think it’s just hay-fever.”

Your eyes narrow at him, because it’s not even hay-fever season but you’ll just give him the satisfaction of ‘believing’ him this time.

“Right, hay-fever.” You reply, a bit of amusement in your tone.

But he wants to distract you from his state so he squeezes your hand and points at your breakfast in between both of you. “I tried my best but it looks peng, doesn’t it?” He asks all proud of himself and it truly does look amazing.

Your mouth waters looking at everything he’s made for your full english breakfast, and you note that he’s made you your favorite tea as well and there’s a blueberry muffin on the side too.

“Looks amazing. Thank you so much, babe.” You turn to cup his jaw and peck his lips, but he steals a couple more kisses before you can turn back to your food.

You see there’s only food for you though, so you frown and ask him, “Have you eaten already?”

Your boyfriend shakes his head, “No, I’m not hungry yet.”

And that only makes your frown grow deeper, he’s always snacking on something and it’s late enough now for him to at least have had a piece of toast and a cup of coffee.

“We can share.” You state, diving right in for your beans and toast.

He waves you off saying, “It’s okay babe, I’m really not hungry.”

But you won’t have that so, taking a bite of your food and munching on it, you bring the toast with beans up to him. Your hand is cupped right under so it doesn’t spill, and you’re very careful as you take it closer to his mouth.

“Open up.” You tell him once you swallow, bringing the toast right up to his lips but he shakes his head like a little kid. “It’s gonna spill and you’re the one that’s gonna have to change the sheets.” You point out as you watch the toast getting more soaked by the beans and them slowly sliding to the sides.

Reluctantly, Matty opens up his mouth and takes a bite. You smile satisfied at him and kiss his cheek as if to reward him for listening to you.

That goes on with the rest of your breakfast, making him take bites of it with you and it’s when you’re halfway done with it that he gets his appetite back and he’s the one eating most of what is left. Not that you mind though, you happily let him eat the rest of it since you’re already feeling quite full and you still have a full cup of tea and your muffin left.

When you finish eating, he takes the tray away and comes back to lay with you. You end up watching some films, cuddled up in bed—his head hidden in your neck as you scratch his head and play with his curls. But turns out, an hour into the first one, sleep takes over him again and you’re left watching some horror movie on your own with his soft snoring as background noise.

You really adore moments like this and your heart grows in your chest when he clutches you a bit tighter in the middle of his sleep, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck.

You have to bite your tongue to not let out a little screech, it’s honestly embarrassing how everything he does makes you want to react like a schoolgirl with a crush.

He’s your boyfriend, yet you always react like this and you’re learning to happily let yourself react to the feelings that overcome you rather than be embarrassed as he always likes to remind you those are the little things that made him become more infatuated with you.

It had been how genuine you always were about your feelings and opinions that made him feel so comfortable with you from the moment you met and it’s why he hadn’t felt like getting closer to you was a hardship.

Matty was one of those people to keep his old friends around rather than make new ones but with you it was so easy to welcome another person into his life and make you a priority like you’d known each other for ages.

That’s why there hadn’t even been a doubt in his mind to take you home with him for the holidays, despite you two only being together for two months. He knew regardless of anything, you’d be a constant in his life.

And you had never felt more right throwing yourself right into him, even if there had been some people warning you about stuff from his past, you had heard it all from him and you knew it wasn’t something to push him away for.

He was so special to you, you had grown fond of him so quickly and it had been scary at first but finding out he felt the same way as you did was such a relief. You still remember that day vividly and it’s mental to think how he manages to make your stomach flip and your chest tighten just the same as he did that day when he confessed he really liked you.

You fully have lost track of the film you’re now watching, too submerged in your thoughts and your feelings for the curly haired man that’s got his hold still around you, so when you snap back into reality and you see the graphic death that has just happened, you accidentally voice out loud your aversion for it.

“Ew, fucking disgusting.” You let out, a bit too loud which has Matty squirming in your arms.

“What?” he asks against your chest, his voice low and deep from sleep.

You curse under your breath and resume scratching his head, “Nothing, sorry babe. Go back to sleep.”

Your boyfriend hums in acknowledgment of what you’ve said but the sudden reminder of which day it is has him jolting awake. Your arms fall beside you as you watch him sit up and rub his eyes, you’re about to tell him once again that he should go back to sleep when he turns to look at you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.” His nose is stuffy and you can hear it in his voice, his tone weak and nasal.

You snort at his apology, as if there was any need for one. “Why are you apologizing?” You rhetorically ask, “I always do that to you and you don’t like it when I apologize for it.”

His head falls to rest on your shoulder and he yawns before replying, “It’s Valentine’s day, I shouldn’t be falling asleep on you today when we have so much to do.”

You grin at his words, “Oh right, what’s all that we have to do?” He reaches out for your hand and intertwines your fingers then, humming when feeling your warm touch.

In his hazy mind, he’s about to tell you what he had been planning but he realizes just in time to keep the words from spilling out. He tuts at you, lifting his head off your shoulder and narrowing his eyes at you like he’s caught you red handed, “Oh you think you’re slick, don’t you?”

Using your intertwined hands, Matty wraps his and your arm around your front to pull you flush against him, his lips fall to your neck where he leaves a trail of loud open mouthed kisses that end up in you giggling from his curls tickling you.

“I’m just curious.” You correct him in between your laughter and that statement has him pulling away to look at you with a smirk on his face.

“Curiosity killed the cat.” He chats back, trying to tease you like he always does.

But you boop his nose, seeing straight through him, “Don’t act like you don’t want to tell me.”

And you get him there because he’s been biting his tongue far too long to not ruin the day he’s planned for you both. Yet he still tries to act like you’ve just made a wrong statement, making a mime of zipping his mouth closed and throwing away the key.

You roll your eyes with a smile on your face, not surprised by his antics and then you’re unwrapping your arms from around your front so you can get out of bed.

He doesn’t let you at first, pulling you in impossibly closer and after chuckling at him, you tap his arm with your free hand to let him know, “If you’re not telling me what it is then at least let me bring your gift.”

The news of you having a present for him makes it easy for you to slip out of his hold and when he sees you take the first few steps towards the door of his room, he’s telling you, “Babe I told you not to get me anything.”

You shrug like you don’t really care for those words, “And since when should I listen to you?”

You’re out of his room in no time, not giving him the chance to respond but he’s there propped up against his headboard with a massive grin on his face.

Matty knows he fucking adores you, but he hasn’t had the courage to say it yet and despite being almost certain you feel the same way, there’s that nagging feeling in the back of his head that loves to remind him things like this are too good to be happening to him and they always get taken away from him when he least expects them.

He would’ve started spiraling if it wasn’t for your voice pulling him out of his awful train of thought. “Close your eyes!” You instruct him, poking your head through the door but keeping his gift away from his eyesight.

The singer does as you tell him and keeps his eyes shut until he feels the bed dipping in front of him and there’s a particular type of cold touching his knee.

The second he opens his eyes, he’s met with a gorgeous Fender acoustic guitar. The mahogany shines beautifully under the light coming through the half open curtains and he’s just admiring all of its details for a minute before he’s looking back up at you with a grin that’s hurting his cheeks but he can’t wipe off his face.

He pounces on your lips, kissing you sweetly but intently and you can feel the ‘thank you’ through it. You’re kissing in a slightly uncomfortable position since the guitar is still in between you both so it isn’t long after that you part from each other.

Matty makes sure to peck your lips as many times as he can before taking another full look at his new possession.

“D’you like it?” You ask shyly, like the spark in his eyes isn’t proof enough that he loves it.

He’s lifted the guitar now and positioned it against his chest to start strumming softly and tune it, “I fucking love it Y/N. Thank you babe.” He leans back in for another kiss and you meet him in the middle, cupping his jaw to kiss him properly.

You press the tip of your nose against his in a eskimo kiss before sitting back in your spot, and you watch him as he finds himself teasing melodies out of his neck guitar. He felt like something had shifted back to normal when having it in his arms, and it’s because his favorite acoustic guitar had gotten lost on the tour and he’d been putting off getting one to replace it because he still had hope of it appearing.

It was also because he had some sort of emotional connection to it that he hadn’t wanted to accept was a memory now but with you gifting him this one, he knew it wouldn’t be sad to let the other one be left in the past.

“Where was this?” He asks curiously when remembering it took you a couple of minutes to get it and he hadn’t seen you arrive with anything the day before other than your handbag.

You’re proud of yourself for finding the perfect spot to hide it days before, “I hid it away in the spare room’s wardrobe like a week ago.”

Matty cackles at your smug expression and gives you the win because he’s sure it happened the day you told him you were coming by to pick up something you had forgotten but he hadn’t been home. He hadn’t suspected a thing because you actually had taken something of yours with you, so it was a job well done.

Before he has the chance to compliment your intelligence, you are asking, “Can I now know what we’re gonna do?”

He narrows his eyes at you and you look at him innocently so he ends up nodding a few seconds later but before he can tell you a thing, the need to sneeze comes to him.

You chuckle as he sneezes continuously but hold your breath when he stops, you’re fully amused by the way he tries to act like nothing’s wrong as he ignores what’s just happened and rests the guitar on the floor by the bed to leave the room to get something.

He comes back five minutes later, his steps slow as he comes back to where you’re sitting but instead of sitting next to you, he rests the big box that has your name written on it and drops facedown on the bed.

Snorting out a laugh, you run your nails up and down his back a few times before taking your soft touch up his neck and to his head.

He moans in pleasure when you massage his scalp, softly tugging at the roots of his hair and your cheeks heat up at the memories of the night before when you were listening to those sweet sounds of his falling right down your ear.

You don’t mind giving him all of your attention but you’re so intrigued about what’s in the box, you break the silence with a quiet, “Can I open it?”

That question brings Matty back to reality, his head whipping up far too quickly for it not to have hurt and you are confirmed of it when he lets out a groan in pain but he doesn’t let you ask if you’re okay because he’s bringing your attention back to your present.

“‘Course and get excited, you’re gonna love it.”

He sounds so sure of it, your hands rush to rip open the box and it’s such an eager response that it has him cackling with his eyes half open.

Turning to look at him distracts you from getting a peek through a hole you just managed to rip through the box, but when you feel you have fully opened one of the lids your eyes are back on the gift.

You gasp the moment you catch the glimpse of the cover of a My Bloody Valentine rare vinyl you’ve been hunting down for so long. Your reaction only gets funnier when you lift it up and find a handful of the rare edition vinyl you have always wanted to get.

Sonic Youth, Bjork, Pink Floyd, Tears for Fears, Jeff Buckley, PJ Harvey, The Rolling Stones.

Music had been one of the things you’d bonded over since the very beginning, finding out you were an avid vinyl collector was interesting to him and when you shared your extensive knowledge about many limited and rare editions, he’d been blown away by your hobby.

It was a talent really, how much you knew and how easy it was for you to grasp all the information you managed to find. He’d gone record shopping with you many times and you’ve taught him many things about the world of pressed records.

Using your various tracking down tricks, he had managed to get friends in Japan to look for the records he remembered you’d mentioned times before, even when you were just friends, and that’s how he’d managed to find you the gems that were right in front of you now.

“Holy shit!” You say admiring your new records, your heart bursting in your chest just from knowing he listened and remembered the small things you say. “Thank you!” you almost shout, throwing yourself over him.

Cupping his jaw with one of your hands while the other keeps you hovering over him, you kiss him with pure gratefulness radiating through you. Your hand goes from his jaw to tangle in his hair and pulling on it softly makes the kiss grow needy.

Your hips come down to press over his, and slowly you start rolling them over his, the friction making you shudder over him. His hands go to get a hold of your hips, guiding your movements to match his as he starts meeting you in the middle.

But then he breaks the kiss, once again feeling the need to sneeze. You sit up, straddling him, waiting for the inevitable to happen. You bite your tongue as you watch him about to sneeze but then it’s like, after seconds of buildup, it goes away and all he lets out is a frustrated sigh.

His arm comes to rest over his eyes and you giggle at his defeat. Leaning down, you press a chaste kiss on his lips and get off him to continue looking through your box because you’re certain you caught a glimpse of something else underneath your new LPs.

And you’re right because you find a medium sized white box with a red ribbon tied around it that reads Valentino in big red letters and you know just what he’s done.

“Matthew!” You scold him loudly and it seems that he has been falling asleep because he gets startled and is quick to sit up.

He frowns when he sees the box in your hand but you don’t seem to want to open it, “What’s wrong?”

You look back down at the box and up at him, “If this is what I think it is, I can’t accept it.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” He asks confused, “You’ve been dying to get it babe, and if you weren’t buying it yourself then I was definitely gonna buy it for you.”

You whine at his words because you know what this is now, a dress you had fallen in love with a few months ago and you had ended up trying it on, sending him a bunch of pictures which he unfortunately had come around to see far too late for he was on stage when you sent them and when he’d said, Please tell me you got it, you look so stunning babe xx you had burst his bubble saying it was too much of a splurge for a dress you’d only get to wear a few times.

When you undo the ribbon and take the lid off, you’re met with the dress and it kills you how much you want to keep it but he’s already got you the records, and adding what you knew the dress costs was too much for you to accept.

“I can’t.” you say once more, putting the box down and away from your eyesight so it’s less sad to see it go again.

But your boyfriend will not have that, he knows just how much you love it from how pained you look when saying you can’t take it.

“Yes you can and you will.” He states, there’s no more arguing about it when he adds, “It’s never too much when it comes to you babe and I don’t care about the cost of things when it means I can make you happy.”

You sigh, your hands hesitating to grab the white box again but then you feel his hand come over your thigh, tracing figures on your skin and with his best puppy eyes, he says, “Try it on for me please?”

It’s a debate inside you that goes for longer than needed so he scoots a bit further down the bed to be right beside you. Both his hands go to brush your hair behind your ears and then cup your jaw, “I’m dying to see you wearing it in front of me babe, I’ve been thinking about this dress since the moment I saw those pictures. And you’ll have to know I got it for you as soon as I got back home, I was just keeping it so you could wear it tonight.”

Your eyes are staring right at his, taking in the honesty that shines through them in silence, but you let out some giggles when he adds, “Meaning it’s been a while too so I can’t really return it now.”

You press your lips against his before standing up and going to his ensuite because if you’re gonna try on a pretty dress then at least you want to look presentable. So ten minutes after you’ve done your skincare and freshened up—and heard Matty sneeze about three more times—, you walk out of the bathroom with the dress on and a smile that’s making you glow.

He gasps dramatically the second he sees you, somehow triggering another sneeze that makes him splay out on bed and stay staring at the ceiling for a long minute. You cackle so loud at him, not even being able to say ‘bless you’ to him from how amusing you find it.

“Right, don’t laugh at me woman,” He scorns you as he sits back up on the edge of his bed, “I was about to compliment you.”

You try to gather yourself, swallowing chuckles as you try and take a deep breath yet the entertained smirk doesn’t leave your face.

He ignores it to resume his dramatics, wolf whistling as you strut slowly towards him and spin around right in front of him.

His hands hold you by your hips and he rises to his feet to stand in front of you, “If you look like this right now, I think I might have a heart attack later tonight.” His hot breath hits your lips and you’re just begging for him to kiss you then.

Matty knows it so he goes to tease you by resting his forehead on yours, to make you beg for the kiss but the second you feel his skin on yours, you’re gasping and leaning back surprised.

“You’re burning up.” Your eyes are open wide and your hand goes instantly to feel how hot his face is. No wonder his eyes look glassy and his cheeks are pink.

He shakes his head, pulling you closer to his front by your waist and hiding in your neck, “I’m okay babe, just a bit tired.” He leaves a few soft kisses on your skin but you’re far too aware of how hot he feels against your skin and you need to help him get his temperature down.

“Yeah, no.” You reply disagreeing with his words, he’s trying to dismiss this now to be able to go through with your plans but that’ll only have him being miserable later and that’ll be worse for himself. “You need to take a warm shower right now.”

A warm shower when you were getting a fever was always something your mom had forced you to do, and it’s your holy grail whenever you feel yourself becoming ill.

Matty only groans in response to your instructions, he would rather sleep it off than get in the shower and end up shivering when coming out from under the water no matter how hot it could be.

And since you know your boyfriend so well, you add a little detail you’re completely sure he won’t turn down.

“I’ll join you,” You say, pulling on his hair softly so he comes out of his hiding place on your neck. “Deal?” You ask looking right into his eyes and you have to bite your bottom lip so you don’t laugh at the way his face lights up and he eagerly nods.

You make him go into his ensuite first, going to the kitchen to get him ibuprofen and a glass of water. Once you make it back to where he is, you find him languidly getting rid of his shirt and joggers.

He looks like he’s in pain just to be standing there in his boxers, hugging himself but when his eyes fall on your figure leaning on the doorway, he switches his pout for a soft smile that reaches his tired eyes.

Before you can wrap your arms around him, you put the glass and the pills out for him to grab, “Take this first please.”

The only thing that keeps him from complaining and putting it off is the fact that the sooner he takes the ibuprofen, the sooner you’d jump in the shower with him. So he quickly swallows back the medicine with a gulp of water, leaving the half full glass forgotten by the sink.

The shower doesn’t quite turn out like you would’ve liked on a day like today, the second he steps under the warm water it’s like he becomes aware of every single one of his achy muscles and he barely makes an effort to move.

You help him wash his hair, softly massaging his scalp and smiling at the noises he’s making from how good your touch feels. He tries to wash yours but he almost feels too sore to not groan when moving around, you laugh and tease him by telling him, “You’re a big baby.” but taking the task from his hands.

It ends up being a quiet and mindful shower, where every kiss that you share is one of appreciation and care. It’s a stark comparison to any other shower you’ve shared before but you both really quite like how it has turned out even if Matty was the one aching through it.

He dries himself up as quickly as he can, shivering once out of the glass walls of the shower and, despite the steam keeping the wet room warmer than his room, he’s feeling the change of temperature intensely.

You come back with new clothes for him, a pair of joggers and a knit sweater he stole from you, and you both get changed at the same time.

Coming back out to his bedroom, he makes a quick run for his bed but you tut him when he’s about to dive into his pillows with wet hair.

Getting a hold of his hand, you make him sit at the edge of the bed, “I need to dry your hair first babe. You’ll only get worse if you go to sleep with a wet head.”

He hums, letting his eyes close as you leave to get the hair dryer. You’re back in under a minute but it feels far too long for him so when you’re back standing in front of him, after plugging the dryer in, he lets his head fall on your stomach and his arms wrap around your waist.

Looking down at him, you coo and get to drying his hair so he can get the rest he so desperately needs. The constant hum of the hair dryer drowns your ears for a little over ten minutes, your fingers brush through his locks as the hot air blows and dries them up.

Whenever he sneezes, you feel him tremble in your arms but never does his hold on you falter, it only tightens and you truly feel so bad he’s gotten this ill in a matter of hours.

You make sure the hair at the nape of his neck is properly dry, and once you deem your work done, you leave a kiss on top of his head, your senses filling up with the scent of his shampoo and his curls tickling your face just the way you love.

Rubbing circles on his back, you let him know he can now properly get in bed, “All done now, honey.”

He turns his head to kiss your stomach over your—his—shirt and then lets himself fall back on the bed. As you unplug the dryer, you watch him shuffle under the covers, pulling them all the way up to his chin.

You shake your head, letting yourself get amused by how much he acts like a little kid when he’s ill. It’s not something you’ve gone through with him before so you find yourself memorizing every second of this new experience.

Picking up your box that’s still sat at the foot of the bed, you start cleaning up what you’ve left around the room: your clothes from the night before going to the laundry bin, hanging your coats up in his dresser and placing your forgotten shoes back in their place.

Your soft singing is suddenly interrupted by Matty’s voice when he says, “We have a reservation at seven.”

It honestly makes you laugh, firstly because he startled you and second because he’s been hating having to move an inch of his body and now he wants to continue with your plans. “Babe, we’re not going.”

“Why?” He asks all frustrated, propping himself up on his elbows to sit up but his own body gives him the answer when he sneezes again. Defeated, he lets out a sigh and lets himself fall back down over the pillows before proposing something else, “Just let me take a quick nap and I’ll be up just in time, I promise. I’ve already ruined the plan of taking you to Kew Gardens, I wanna go on our date babe.”

Walking up to him, you get in bed and he scoots to the side so there’s enough space for you to lay down and cuddle him. “You’ve not ruined anything.” You say first, not letting him blame himself for coming down with a cold, “You’re gonna rest and we’re gonna cuddle until you feel better plus I can order some food and we’ll just eat here.” Honestly, avoiding the trouble of getting ready to go out sounds amazing and it’s much better to know you’ll be staying in, in bed with him.

He almost lets himself get carried away by the feeling of your fingers brushing his hair back until he hears you hum and say a quiet, “There we go.” when his eyes start to close.

“But–” He tries to argue when he opens up his eyes to look up at you.

“Nothing.” Your index finger presses over his pink lips and you shake your head, “We’re staying in. Now close those pretty eyes of yours and get some sleep.”

Letting the compliment get to his head, he smirks and teases you by calling you, “Bossy.”

You’re glad he’s not poorly enough to stop teasing you and taking it as a good sign, you just go to tell him, “I’m gonna order some takeout okay? I’ll be right back.”

He hums in response and you leave his side with a kiss on his forehead which still feels hot under your touch. You make sure to bring the covers down a bit before you leave, not wanting him to stay too warm and allowing the fever to continue.

As you order, you keep your voice as quiet as possible to not disturb his sleep, though you’re so far away from his bedroom it’s almost impossible for you to wake him up by being on the phone for five minutes.

With the promise of your food being there in forty five minutes, you hang up and leave your phone there on the kitchen island.

When you come back to his room, you find him peacefully snoring away, now resting on his belly as he clutches your pillow. You turn right back around to get your phone, getting the strong urge to take a picture of him like that, and once the moment is captured and saved in your camera roll, you quietly walk over to his side and check on his temperature again.

You think about how there’s a pharmacy very close by and it would merely take you ten minutes to get there and back, and by the way his temperature seems to stay the same then you feel the need to get him stronger medicine.

So rushing out his house, you are basically power walking to the store. The second you step through the doors, you almost miss greeting the person behind the counter that says ‘hi’ to you and you make a beeline straight for the cold medicine.

When you have two packets, just in case, you walk past a display of Vicks Vaporub and in a quick decision, you take one of the little containers over to the counter with you.

In less than ten minutes you’re back at Matty’s, quickly shedding off your big coat and toeing off your shoes by the door making the least noise as possible.

You bite your tongue and try to keep your steps slow and quiet as you reach his bedroom and in concentration to keep the silence, you get completely startled by Matty’s voice when he asks, “Where’d you go?”

Cursing under your breath, you hold your hand over your heart, “Sorry, I went to get some medicine for you but I didn’t want to wake you up to tell you I was leaving.”

He has a pout on his face when he turns to rest on his side and looks at you standing by the door, “I thought I was having a nightmare.”

“I’m here babe.” You smile sweetly at him but then you raise the little bag you’ve got in your right hand, “I need you to take this right now.”

Your boyfriend watches as you take out the cold medicine, leaving one of the packets on top of his drawer along with the Vicks Vaporub, and opening the box you were gonna use as you approached him.

You pop two capsules on the palm of his hand and he downs them with the half full bottle of water that’s resting on his bedside table.

As he does that, you stand back up to get the mentholated ointment and you’re about to tell him to lay on his stomach so you can rub some on his back when he interrupts you with an inquiry of his own.

“Is the food here yet? I’m hungry.” He’s not really aware of how long he’s dozed off for but it did feel like it had been a long while since he remembered having had his eyes open.

Smiling down at him, because you’re glad his appetite is back, you check the time on your phone before giving him an answer, “Should be here soon, actually.” Maybe twenty more minutes until it arrived, “Got your favorite.” You wink down at him, making him blush.

“Best girlfriend ever.” He states, leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head.

You snort out a laugh, “Right, your best girlfriend ever is gonna rub some of this on your back,” You say as you show him the small tub of the famous medicine and finish your instructions, “So take off your shirt for me please.”

He laughs messily, sitting up against the headboard and taking off his sweater over his head. “That you were meant to say tonight but in a totally different situation.”

Joining him in laughter, you watch as he slowly turns around to lay on his front, “Had it all planned out, babe?”

You were just teasing but he hums to confirm that’s exactly what he had done, “Check the last door of my wardrobe, there’s another gift for you.”

You’re fully intrigued then so you rise up to your feet instantly and search where he just told you to. It’s an Ann Summers bag which has a set of matching lace bra and thong and a lace body, the items all in your favorite jade green color.

You gasp, taking out the pieces of clothing, “Mattyyy!”

“What?” He asks aloud innocently, like he’s got nothing to do with it.

You open your mouth to say something but only a mumble of a mix of words comes out which makes him laugh loudly onto his pillow. Your brain is just going places now but you can’t get yourself too excited because nothing’s going to happen tonight anyway.

So you decide to tease him back with that, “It's a pity we won’t get to see it on tonight.”

And that’s enough for him to use all of his strength to pick himself up on his arms and look at you, “No,” He starts off strong and it makes you giggle how serious he looks, “I can see,” His finger points at himself, poking his own chest, “I might be ill but I can see.”

Letting the lace garments fall back inside the bag, you let it rest by the side of your bed. “If you’re so sure.” your words tease him once more and he nods to confirm he is indeed sure.

You let him continue his rambles on how he’s gonna be better in a few hours and that he’s sure some cardio will help him feel better, which has you cackling as you go over to the turntable on the corner of his room and choose to play your favorite Billie Holiday record, ‘Solitude’. Once the needle meets the vinyl, static noise fills the air and you feel in your element.

Sitting down at the edge of the bed you finally push him down on the bed facing down so you can finally get to rubbing the medicine on him. The menthol scent fills the air the second you open the small container and, like a little kid, Matty gags out loud.

Soon enough your hands are slowly but firmly massaging the cream on his back, every one of his muscles relaxing under your agile fingers. You’re not rushing to finish, actually you’d like to have him fall asleep like this so he can fully relax in his sleep and thinking that might help him even more to feel better the next morning.

Matty is relaxing alright, and if it isn’t the way his muscles seem to loosen up under your hands, it’s the loud moans and groans he lets out as you go on about your task.

You’re growing flustered as you keep it up, and long minutes go by when he’s fully soaking in every second of this attention.

“You’re the best.” He’s falling asleep now, his eyes closing against his will and he feels on cloud nine from the mix of your massage, the medicine he just took and your soft singing along to the music.

“I know.” You answer, remembering what he said only a few minutes ago.

He feels the need to emphasize it though, so he adds, “You really are.”

It makes you melt, grinning like an absolute idiot as you keep your hands moving up and down, in circles and zigzags, “Thank you, honey.”

“I really love it when you call me that.” Matty admits with a loopy smile on his face that’s partially hidden by his pillow.

You find that so fucking adorable, you feel like your heart is going to explode, “You do?”

A low, long hum is what your boyfriend gives you as an answer and it makes you smile even bigger, “I’m glad you like it.” you reply and then you’re back focusing on making him feel good.

‘You Go To My Head’ starts playing and, since it’s your favorite off the record, you sing it a little louder than the previous ones.

You go to my head

And you linger like a haunting refrain

And I find you spinning round in my brain

Like the bubbles in a glass of champagne

“You have the prettiest voice I've ever heard.” is what Matty says next, because you truly sound angelic and there’s absolutely nobody else he’d rather hear sing than yourself.

You narrow your eyes at him, despite him not being able to see you, “I highly doubt that.” you chat back because he’s met so many amazing and mind-blowingly talented musicians that are far better than you, so you have a hard time believing his statement to be true.

But you see him shake his head, “I swear.”

You hum unsure of his promises, “Sounds like you’re sweet talking me now, Matthew.”

And like the cheeky little shit he is, he looks back at you to smirk and say, “Might be.”

You see the way his eyes are half open and if you weren’t none the wiser to the situation, you’d say he was high so you joke, “You’re so gone, aren’t you?”

He’s stubborn so he shakes his head with a frown and contradicts you by saying, “No, I’m perfectly fine.”

“Sure you are babe.” You answer sarcastically, going back to singing along with Billie to the last minute of the song, the jazz soothing your soul and filling your heart.

You go to my head

With a smile that makes my temperature rise

Like a summer with a thousand Julys

You intoxicate my soul with your eyes

Though I'm certain that this heart of mine

Hasn't a ghost of a chance in this crazy romance

You go to my head

Though I'm certain that this heart of mine

Hasn't a ghost of a chance in this crazy romance

You go to my head

The song dies down but you’re stuck with how when you were singing along, all that you could think of was Matty and how he had completely bewitched you mind and soul. And maybe it was time to admit it out loud.

So deeming yourself done, you lean down to leave a kiss on his shoulder which becomes a trail of kisses up the side of his neck that ends up right under his jaw. Smirking, he turns to face you and being the menace that he is, he somehow manages to push you on the bed to end up on your back right beside him.

“What are you doing, naughty girl?” He hovers over you with barely any strength so he lowers himself until he’s pressed against you.

You know what he’s doing and you’d play a part in the game but all you can think of now is all that you’re feeling for him and you want to finally let him know so you smile and cup his jaw, rubbing the pads of your thumbs on his cheeks.

You pull him in and he thinks you’re gonna kiss him but you don’t, you miss his lips and your mouth comes near his ear but right before he can complain about getting pied off by his own girlfriend, you whisper the answer in his ear, “Nothing, I just really really love you.”

You see him freeze for a fair few seconds and you’re about to start panicking when he sighs in what seems relief and looks down at you with the biggest smile.

Before he can say anything else, he interrupts his own thoughts, “Wait— am I dreaming?” He asks in a quiet voice as if being too loud would shatter the moment.

Every nerve in your body feels like it’s been charged with electricity when seeing him react like this. You want to know if he feels the same, explicitly, not trying to figure it out through his reactions so you ask, “Would you prefer to hear it in a dream?” subtly trying to steer the conversation in that direction.

“No?” He says first and it comes out as a question but then he thinks further and he actually would love to hear it in all of his dreams if possible, “I mean yes, but—“

You interrupt his confused rant by dragging your fingers softly over his features, “You’re not dreaming silly.” Your digits run over the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows, his cheekbones and his lips which are slightly parted in shock.

His mouth opens up further, he’s trying to gather his thoughts but also talk so he doesn’t leave you with pure silence.

You’re grateful for Billie’s voice still playing in the background since it helps you not to go insane asking too many questions but they’re catching up to you the more he takes, so you take it in your own hands to snap him out of the trance he seems to be in.

In a quick motion, you flip both of you over so you’re now straddling him, “See? You’re very much awake.”

Like magic he’s back down on earth with you and with his mind finally processing what you’ve just told him a few moments before, Matty lets out a shaky breath that ends up in bubbly giggles.

His hands come up to cup your face, his eyes taking in every single detail of your face and finally reciprocates, “I love you so much.”

Your soul comes back to your body, hearing those words come from him are enough to make you feel like you’ve won everything in life. “I love you very much too.” You say once again and he knows right then that no matter how many times you say it, he’ll never grow tired of hearing you say it.

Only you. No one else saying those words would ever amount to how it felt when it came from you.

“Can I kiss you?” His question is desperate, impatience shines through his eyes.

Your brows furrow at the sudden inquiry, “You don’t even have to ask.”

“You’re gonna get ill.” He explains rather quickly, praying you’d say yes regardless.

He’s relieved when you roll your eyes and respond with a question that makes clear what your answer is, “Do you think I care?”

You seal the moment with an earnest kiss, your touch on each other’s faces is firm like you’re both afraid that one of you is gonna vanish suddenly.

Your tongues meet and it all grows hotter but you’re both aware that nothing further than this is gonna happen and you’re entirely fine with it. You’ll do with the teasing touches you’re leaving on each other when you both get carried away and are unable to keep your hands to yourselves.

Your hips roll down on his, making you both gasp into each other’s mouths but it isn’t until he’s grabbed your hips with his hands and intensified the friction that you let out a loud moan that ends the kiss.

You leave a peck on his lips, your chests heaving as you try to catch your breaths. You remember what he was worrying about before you kissed and say, “My defenses are much better than yours anyway.” to tease him.

He laughs at your comment, smirking up at you with eyebrows raised, almost like he wants you to bet on it. “We’ll see about that.”

You find out you overestimated your immune system when a few days later, you’re the one Matty has to care for as you’re stuck in bed with a tiring fever and an annoying stuffy nose.

“I still love you even though you got me ill.” You say out loud as you watch him walk out of his ensuite and into the bedroom.

A bright grin breaks on his face, he gets in bed and pulls you into his side. He leaves a bunch of kisses on your temple and your cheek before replying, “How kind of you.”

You hum and chat back, “The kindest.”

Neither of you consider this Valentine’s Day to be a failure, not even when you have to celebrate it a week after the actual day, it had all happened just as it was supposed to be.

And you’re so beyond grateful it is Matty who gets to claim your heart as his. There’s no other person you’d rather give all your love to, no one else you’d rather have plague your mind and take every one of your thoughts. Just him, only him.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

A/N: I tweaked the initial request a bit and I think it turned out too adorable for my single heart to handle lolll, I honestly cause myself so much pain writing cute shit like this but I somehow love it so don't worry, won't be stopping anytime soon. I really hope you guys liked it, let me know what you thought about it and if you have any requests or ideas send them my way, I loved creating this little story out of that request. Thank you so much for reading again, have a lovely week everyone! xx

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @red---moon @vinylandcoffeecollection @drinkurkombucha @better--oblivions @kennedy-brooke @faveficz @indierockgirrl @slutformattyhealy @eaglestar31 @kmsmedine

If you want to be added to the taglist for any future fics, let me know :) x

345 notes · View notes

brf-rumortrackinganon · 5 months

Note

https://www.gbnews.com/royal/kate-middleton-prince-louis-birthday-picture-royal-family-news

“The couple eventually posted a new photograph in the afternoon, despite having traditionally provided it to the press under an embargo the day before.”

I’m new to the whole process of how the birthday pictures are shared, but from the online articles (especially the above one), it seems to me that the Wales’ circumvented providing it directly to the press this time and only published the picture themselves on social media. If so, good for them!

Hopefully, the media has FAFO’d. And GB News may be salty, but they have no one to blame but themselves.

So how the birthday photos work is that usually the afternoon before a birthday (or a milestone anniversary or a new baby photo), William and Kate will send the picture out to the newspapers/photo agencies/media organizations with an embargo not to release before a certain time. This "certain time" has traditionally been around 10pm London time, which is usually when the UK morning newspapers "go to bed" - i.e., the layout/content is finalized and sent to the printers and the electronic copies are published to the internet/posted on social media.

Because of the time difference (10pm London is 5pm East Coast and 2pm West Coast), American social media tends to make the new pictures go viral on our side of the internet while the rest of the world is asleep. This is why you may have seen some American blogs cheering on Monday afternoon - the UK papers went to print without new photos of Louis for his birthday on the Tuesday front pages.

So then on the day of the actual birthday/anniversary, Kensington Palace will post their "Happy birthday to Kiddo" message with their original photo first thing in the morning to coincide with the locals waking up/reading their morning news. A few hours later, usually around their lunchtime/early afternoon, Kensington Palace does a "thank you for the happy messages" post with a second photo.

What happened this week with Louis's birthday is that Kensingon Palace did not provide the newspapers, photo agencies, media orgs with a new photo of Louis for his birthday. According to Rebecca English, this is because William and Kate didn't want to share photos because either a) it felt hypocritical after spending January through March begging for privacy or b) how the press treated them over the Mother's Day photo and Kate's video message.

But something happened, William and Kate changed their minds about not sharing the photo and decided to post one anyway. They posted the new photo straight to their own social media first, before then sending it out to the news and media organizations.

Why they changed their minds, we don't know. Maybe their office got too many phone calls about it. Maybe their staff reported on all the social media tributes. Maybe there was a ton of mail/birthday cards delivered for Louis. We know that they probably intended to share new photos. You don't have a photoshoot with young kids for the heck of it. My theory is they did the photos, someone got cold feet about sharing photos after what happened last month, and they were on the fence about it until they saw the genuine love, support, and appreciation for Louis (and the family) from the general public.

I'd like to see this being the new MO going forward - pictures released exclusively to their social media first, then circulated to the media (or forcing the media to use the social media copy exclusively). We won't really know till Charlotte's birthday next week if this was a one-off or truly a change in how they handle the media.

On that note...I do kinda feel like we might be getting an anniversary picture this year. With Kate's health issues, they may feel like an anniversary picture would comfort people who are worried about her, and it may be how they thank the public for their support and well wishes. Of course, the caveat being that Kate has felt well enough to be photographed/appear on camera.

#ask #brf #waleses

44 notes · View notes

reyggtv · 4 months

Text

There's only so much I can say on Twitter to truly express my feelings about the show Hilda, and how much of an impact it has left on me to make me the kind of person I am today, so I'm taking to Tumblr to write all about it.

If you don't know who I am already, hi, I am ReyGGTV, though you can just call me Rey. I like to make YouTube videos, memes, talk with other Hilda fans, and make occasionally make art. You may already know me from the Hilda Crack videos I made since several years ago, as well as some more recent big videos of mine like my comparison video between Aster and Hilda. I am 20 years old, and have been a diehard fan of the franchise ever since I was just 14.

Firstly, let's discuss how I actually managed to discover Hilda in the first place. It was 2018, freshman year of high school had just started, during this time, I was still big fan of another animated TV show at the time called Star vs. The Forces of Evil. I was a fan of that show ever since its premiere in January of 2015 when I was only 11 years old. Honestly even if I don't look at it nearly as fondly as I do now, to its credit, the show did most certainly help me get interested into animation as a whole more than any other show I saw at the time.

Not even like 2 months after I got in though, I was kicked out. Not because I did anything wrong, but because for a while, my parents had me enrolled in a school district that I didn't even live anywhere near in at the time, so once they found out that I actually lived much farther from them, that's when they decided to let me go. This was devastating to me, all the friends I made in middle school, were suddenly going to go away, and it was only at the very last minute, at the principal's office that I received this news. I was upset, literally everything was going great and they just wanted to throw everything away for me, in favor for me going to a school that was so bad, it caused my family to move to an entirely new city with a better school by the time Sophomore year came around.

But anyways, about 2 weeks before all this happened, I was in a cartoon Discord server, where someone recommended me to watch this show called... you guessed it, Hilda. I took a lot at the promotional material for a while, and put it at the back of my head, not knowing that I would soon revisit it not long later. Fast forward to when I was out of school, I had like 2 weeks in the beginning of October to just cope with everything. It wasn't long that I just became bored, and wanted to do something better, so I pulled up Netflix wanting to find something new to watch. The suggestion from someone about Hilda just so happened to come up on my mind, so I was like "Eh, sure, why not?". I put it on, and the rest was history. I knew from the very moment I finished watching the intro for the very first time, that this was about to be the show of a lifetime for me.

Despite that however, I did not anticipate just how much impact Hilda would leave on the work that I am now doing nearly 6 years after that very faithful day.

I guess the biggest reason why the show left such a massive impact on me right from the beginning is because of its main title character, Hilda. Look, I may be no blue-haired adventurer from the wilderness that likes to munch on cucumber sandwiches all the time, but Hilda at the time for me, was the most relatable character and the character I found the most comfort in when watching it for the first time. Just like me, Hilda too, was also forced to move away from the place and friends she was always happy to be with, despite all her efforts, all it took was one giant, to come and crush it all, leaving her forced to live a new life in a new environment she was not familiar with at all. But, she moved on. She knew that while this was not the ideal way for things go out, life always comes with surprises. But maybe, just maybe, this could be something that could work out in her favor. This whole becoming friends with other humans and living in the big dirty ol' city, could be the best decision she has ever made. And I think it goes without saying that as the series continued, it was.

This was a message that I desperately needed to hear as I was going through overwhelming times at such a young age, and one that I was so happy to hear and watch once I finally finished the first two episodes of this amazing damn show. It showed me that if an 11-year-old girl from the wilderness can be brave enough to move into the big city, be okay and make the best out of it, maybe I too, will be okay with belonging to a new school, finding new friends, and creating new passions for me to follow for years to come. Hilda inspired me to look towards a bigger and brighter future, rather than doubt the bad that comes with the present. For that, I am forever grateful for the creative and writing team of this show, for helping me go through such a difficult time in my life, and convincing me that even despite all that has happened, there will always be something better to look forward to.

I would be lying if I said that this was the only reason as to why I ended up becoming such a huge fan of the show for the next 5 years. Asides from the writing being so good it literally cured my depression. The animation, worldbuilding, and characters were just unlike anything I have ever seen with my own two eyes. It was simple, yet jaw dropping at the same time. Just a silly kid either helping a Raven jog back his memory, try and fight nightmare spirits or ghosts, or help Jellybean out of a scary situation in which everyone wrongfully accuses him of being a big scary black hound. Even if certain episodes of season 1 didn't always turn out perfect, I would always rewatch every single one of them all day for several hours and for several weeks. I had even skipped multiple days of school especially when it was raining, just so I can head to the living room, cuddle up in some warm blankets, with the heater on during the winter season, and just binge the crap out of it for multiple hours a day. This was just the show that I can always count on to bring back the happiness inside of me. Even when I wasn't necessarily having a bad day, I would still continue to watch it for hours because it just kept on getting better and better with every watch I could get possible, it was almost like an addiction almost, haha.

Hilda was the show for me, and I had no intention of trying to watch anything else.

It was also around this time that I started to also get myself more involved with the show's fandom as well, back when it was a lot more populated and not as niche as it is now. While I'm not gonna say that my reputation in it has always been 100% perfect, at the end of the day, I'm just forever grateful I was able to meet some of the most wonderful people and hundreds of fans like myself because of it like @hkthatgffan, @helgafolk618, and many more I can't list here 'cause most of them are not on Tumblr. So much so that I now have the pleasure of creating hundreds, if not thousands of people who are fans/supporters of ME all across all my social media pages. All because I like to talk about Hilda, literally all the time. And to those reading this who has ever left a nice comment on one of my posts, said hi to me on my Discord server, worked with me on a commission, even went as far as to make fan-art of me or just tuned into any of my content whatsoever, thank you. Your support has left a massive impact on me and what I'm continuing to do now. Because at the end of the day, it's not about any popularity points you get from just talking about a TV show consistently for 6 years, for me at least, it has always been about making thousands, sometimes, even millions, happy with my love for it that is the reason that I'm doing any of this in the first place. I love Hilda, always have, and I want to make people happy the same way Hilda did for me, all those years ago.

Surprisingly enough, even though I was already as big of a fan as I could possibly be by the time November of 2018 rolled around, I still wasn't really a guy interested in getting my hands on Hilda merchandise. I knew that the graphic novels by Luke existed, but the only thing I even managed to get for myself at the time was this old T-shirt I bought from the now defunct official Zazzle store they had up for like a few months lol

I guess that all changed when I got my first ever Hilda plush though when I was 15. While it has now certainly showed its age after nearly 5 years, I loved this thing so much lol. It wasn't official because official Hilda plushies didn't exist at the time. I bought it off an Etsy store from AngelinaLily, and I would literally take this thing out with me everyday to everywhere I went to and take photos of it, especially in the wilderness. It was my favorite pastime. My little Hilda, in the palm of my hand 😆. Hey, when you have to wait more than 2 whole years for a brand-new season, what else are you gonna do to entertain yourself during the hiatus?

I had gotten this in the mail right when I had just exited out the mental hospital because I was actively wanting to h*rt myself and potentially putting myself in danger of committing s*icide. Because while Hilda did definitely help me cope with a lot that I was going through at the time, there was still a lot of overwhelming issues I was experiencing, and my mental health was the lowest that it had ever been. This plush effectively, was a way to help me cope with those thoughts I had, which turned out to be a great thing because I literally couldn't be happier with it.

After that, I just decided that "You know what? What if I just got... ALL of the Hilda merchandise?" Thus... that now leading to my massive hoard of Hilda stuff, that I now have everywhere in my room lol

These photos aren't even all the ones I have!

At 16, I decided to write Luke Pearson an e-mail, thanking him for his work and how much it has inspired me to become the person I am now, explaining everything that I just mentioned in this Tumblr post, and at the end of the day, just wanting him to know, that his creations mean a grave big deal to me, and that I will always appreciate just how much of a positive impact it has left me. I didn't really expect anything to come out of it, but about several weeks later, he said this to me lol

"I just wanted to say thank you for writing and relaying your experience to me. I'm sorry to hear that you've been through such difficult times, but I'm glad that you're able to look back on those times and find yourself in a better place. And if Hilda has played any small part in that, which it seems like it has, then I'm extremely pleased about that and it warms me to hear it. It can be hard to know exactly what good a cartoon can actually do for the world (beyond being a few hours of amusement) which is strange when so many people devote so much of their time and creative energy into making it happen. But hearing something like this goes a long way to making it feel like something genuinely worthwhile. I hope things continue to look up for you and hope you're taking care in these trying times." - All the best, Luke

When I tell you I cried like a baby when I first received this e-mail from him, I really did, lol. Hearing this, from the man who made it all possible, was truly the most inspirational thing I could have ever heard. And I was happy, that he was happy, that I was truly able to tell him for the first time, just how much his creation has meant to not just me, but to soooo many fans just like myself. It was truly something to never forget.

Now I'm 20 years old, still talking about the same ol' dang kids show I fell in love with all those years ago. What's happening now? Well now, I am an aspiring film director and video editor who has been taking film classes in community college for the past like 2 years now, I should've graduated already by now but turns out, college is pretty fricking expensive, and I don't even know if I have the funds to try and even graduate by next year. Asides from that though, I am actually in the works of creating my first ever feature-length Hilda fan-film called The Ultimate Hilda Iceberg. It will basically be one of those iceberg explanation videos you see on YouTube, but with the original source of the iceberg being about Hilda, specifically a version someone made on the r/HildaTheSeries subreddit. I've had the idea for this Iceberg video/fan-film as far back as January 2021, with the current script having started work as far back as nearly 9 months ago. And it's still not even finished! Me, as well as tens of dozens of other Hilda fans like myself, are actively working on it to have it be ready by the time fall of this year comes around, right now as we speak! If you want to support and/or follow this massive project as more updates come around you can either follow the official accounts on Twitter/X (@/HildaIceberg) or on Instagram (@/theultimatehildaiceberg).

Asides from that, the biggest passion project I have for my career moving forward, is directing my own big-budget Hilda movie. Specifically, a live-action Hilda movie. Now now, BEFORE you try and cancel me and tell me that this is the stupidest idea of all time and could taint Hilda's image forever. Let me cook. I am a huge movie bluff, I know which live action remakes are genuinely amazing, and which ones just really suck. My vision for a live-action Hilda movie is to make it sorta like how Who Framed Roger Rabbit was. All of the human characters and outside settings are done with real people and practical assets, whilst creatures like Trolls, Elves, or stuff that would normally be done with CGI, be actually turned into 2D-animation, ideally in the same style as that of the Netflix show. Ideally, I also want it to remain as faithful to at least how the show was as possible in terms of story. Look, if there's gonna be anyone else who knows their Hilda best asides from people like Luke or Andy Coyle, it's gonna be me, just sayin.

In conclusion, I just want to wrap this up by giving a huge shout out to people like @littledigits and literally ANYONE who has ever done any time making this fantastic and wonderful show (I couldn't think of anyone else to tag so I only tagged you Meg so sorry if that bothers you 😅). As this post has indicated several times, this show, has really made the best kind of impact in my life and I'm forever grateful to the creator Luke, the directors Andy Coyle, Megan, etc, the voice actors, artists, editors, composers, everyone who has ever had a part in making this amazing show just, please let me hug you. While I may not have been as enthusiastic with the show's third season overall as I wanted to in my opinion, Hilda will always have a soft spot in my heart, for years and years to come, for just how much it truly inspired me, to not just not only being able to have the luxury to do the things I love to do now, but do so in a way that has made, and hopefully will continue to make thousands, hundreds of thousands if not millions of people happy, because of the love that I will continue to have for this very show. Just because a show is small, doesn't mean it can't leave big enough impacts on people for the better ❤️

#hilda #hilda the series #hilda the show #hilda fan art #hilda netflix #hilda oc #animation #netflix

24 notes · View notes