#If I ever actually do anything successful in my life and somehow defeat the mental illness and physical issues and Situational Barriers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flowerwrites06 · 3 years

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break my mind’s eye VI — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation

Coffee was not the only thing bitter this morning. An irritating three hours ago, Yoongi had been wrapping the final works of the—at least what he and everyone else in his team considered—a successful raid. Fourteen hours achingly squeezed through the exhaustion in his veins to bust this den and it was a popular one at that. Around ten dealers were arrested that night.

Only two got actual jail time. The only reason was because they both had companions with them that night under the age of eighteen and one of them was the culprit for a former models’ murder.

Other than that, the den was closed down to keep up appearances. Most of the dealers had the infamous phoenix tattoo to symbolize exactly who they were working for. However did they get enough proof to finally expose Jeon Jungkook?

Not a fucking chance.

He dragged himself into the precinct with a heavy head and tar-like coffee in his hand before slouching onto his chair. A sweet pile of files on his right which were happily ignored. Yoongi could also painfully notice that Namjoon was desperately trying not to ask him about the raid even though every twitch in his eye wanted otherwise.

Darkened and deep set eyes shot a slight glare at the younger male. “Go on.” He rasped.

Namjoon looked almost a little innocent with his huge glasses on staring at him like he was not so deathly obvious about his curiosity. “I didn’t say anything.”

“But you want to so get it over with so you can cover for me while I take a fucking nap.” The older male patted the pile of files which was now going to the others’ responsibility solely because Yoongi had information Namjoon could not gain. If he could even call it decent information.

Clearing his throat, he leaned in closer resting his elbows on the table and forgetting whatever he was working at the computer. “What happened?” He whispered more enthusiastically now.

“Everything and nothing.” Yoongi seethed, anger burning through the unwavering heaviness of his body. “We checked all the stages. Did everything we needed to do and got more fucking eye witnesses than any task force has ever done. Except our captain decided it was the perfect time to act like a damn saint by letting most of them go on fucking technicalities.” Fingers curled up into tight fists just retelling the whole story. So much work had been placed to take this den down and for what? Sleepless nights and back to the square one?

His heart leaped a little for once hearing someone else verbalize the captains’ clear goal to ensure that Jungkook was never exposed again. “You know why they do it, right?”

The older male shook his head with a light stammer. Yoongi was the one who trained Namjoon in the field which was the only reason why he was assigned to be his partner over anyone else. He could always keep him in line. But now he worried whether there might be a dark truth laced in all his words. “We can’t get ahead of ourselves.” He muttered under his breath before taking a sip of his coffee.

Namjoon let out a small sigh of defeat glancing over at the precinct around them. It took any person with common sense to notice a few who were drowning their insides with coffee to stay awake after a failed raid. A small part almost felt relieved that others now knew the things he went through after his failed undercover mission. That knowledge something was wrong but you could not do anything about it. The curse of being part of a system which Jungkook already ruled since birth. “What can we do then?” He asked more to himself than the other.

“Yoongi…” Tapping of footsteps broke their conversation for a minute as one of the detectives, Minnie walked to their desks. “I need to talk to you. Both of you.” Her eyes flickered to the two men who stared at her in utter confusion.

The dark haired male peered at the woman through his fringe already noticing Namjoon stiffen at the sight of the detective. “What now? I’m not really in the mood for more disappointment.” Yoongi leaned back and tolerated the little glare the younger male gave him for speaking to Minnie in that manner.

“You’ll want to hear this. It’s a message from the big chair.” She muttered before turning on her heel to walk out of the building.

Namjoon immediately gave Yoongi a pleading look to go follow her, thighs bouncing in place out of his curiosity.

Yoongi kissed his teeth before averting his gaze in annoyance. “I’m too old for this shit.” He got up from the chair with his cooling coffee.

“You’re a year older than me.” His brows furrowed.

“I meant mentally.”

Out in the spring like air of the smoking zone, Minnie hugged a brown envelope as the two men walked out eying her in pure puzzle. Her nose flushed without her jacket but the nerves that built up in her body made it difficult to care. “I don’t know why they gave to me.” She shook her head. “I thought I was let off from this but—” The woman handed them the brown envelope.

Yoongis’ forehead remained permanently knitted as he accepted the envelope as Namjoon took his coffee from him carefully. He pulled out one single piece of paper. A hand-written letter.

‘I am fully aware of Mr. Jeons’ actions under the blanket of extortion and public sympathy. The raid was planned to be a publicity stunt to impress me somehow but I have been observing this world for as long as I can remember. The police force vows on survival. They want to protect their children from being taken, wives from being defiled. It’s every man and woman for themselves in front of this power. Unfortunately this means we must play the same game of deceit and secrecy to truly achieve the victory we all want.

Hence this letter to you. Gather a small team that you can rely your life on for this mission. There will be materials and sources given to you throughout the month and I suggest you find a dispassionate body whom you can trust to slither into the enemy crowds. There we shall begin the first careful steps to our goal.

Burn this letter as soon as it is read.

May God be with you.’

“Fucking Christ.” Yoongi whispered re-reading the letter ten times before finally understanding the sudden weight dropping on his head. The signature did not lie either. He had seen that so many times in recent weeks it was engraved in his mind at this point.

Minnie shook her head again, a mixture of fear and concern reflecting in her eyes. “I didn’t know who else to trust.” Gaze flickered from Yoongi and Namjoon who still were not able to formulate any kind of proper response. “I’ve already been to the rings undercover, I won’t be able to risk it. Namjoon got too close as well.”

Namjoon swallowed the small lump in his throat at the mere memory of his time deep inside the Jeon Cartel. As much as he wanted the glory of walking back to that place to make things right. It was too much risk. This time they were going against all the usual protocol that ever existed.

Only person left was one who had not truly been seen on the inside was—

“You’re shitting me.” Yoongi sighed out the words. He understood the stakes of spreading this information to far too many people. In fact even the man himself could not name anyone who could be more trustworthy than Namjoon and Minnie. Most of the precinct were hell bent on bruising their knees for the captain while some others preferred the older mayor. It was an unbreakable web of lies and unfair distribution.

“Sorry, Yoongi.” Minnie muttered.

“You did the right thing.” Namjoon quickly interjected. “Anyone else would’ve just shown this to the captain.” He nodded towards the letter.

Without another response, Yoongi pulled out his black lighter and flicked to expose the small flame. His eyes fixated on the bright shade of yellow a little dulled out from the daylight before touching the edge of the paper. He kept a hold of it until it was absolutely ensured that the erupting fire devoured every words. Throwing it in the bin, he sighed deeply when he stared at the two youngers. Whatever tired looseness his body adorned a while ago now faded away with a new anxiety. Not really anxiety but a concern. The results of their last raid did not exactly boost his self-esteem in being able to achieve a large feat. Digging his hands into his pockets, cool wind flowed through his black shirt making him shiver a little. “When do they want us to start?”

Minnie looked around for a moment; more a sign of precaution but a lot of the precinct would be stuck inside the building or on patrol. “There is an inside source who’s been working with the mayor for a few years now and they say that he’d be able to get you a pathway into the cartel.” She rubbed her arms to give herself some type of warmth from the air that only seemed get colder.

“What kind of a source?” Yoongi squinted his eyes. The mayor was not wrong in saying they were a regular in Jeons’ exposure to the public since they already had a solid source.

“I couldn’t get everything but you need to cut any outside ties this month onwards.”

He scoffed with a smile. “It’s cute you think I have other ties.”

A month had gone by before Belle could even take a few breaths. During work hours, it was easy to forget her personal life for several hours and just focus on seams linking with colours, blending into an assortment of something beautiful. Somehow the more perfect her works were the more she felt in control of the world around her.

Boyoung came in and out of the boutique to give her updates on the things that could be done about the cake, flowers or the general décor. Guest list had pretty much been determined by her save for Taehyung and Saito with a slightly awkward explanation of her parents’ death.

Today in the cool day Belle gazed at all the designs for the Sangria House mixed in with Spring Line. She opted to display all the Sangria House dresses towards the end during the fashion show so it could add a showstopper. The lavender one especially caught her eye already imagining Jimin wearing the get-up with some matching jeweled earrings. Dainty fingers brushed across the silk, a softened smile playing on her lips.

“Your first line.” Saitos’ voice broke her out of her little trance. “How does it feel?”

Belle looked over her shoulder to see the woman adorned in a similar lavender pant suit as she padded closer to the displays. “Terrifying.” She breathed out, the corners of her lips twitching up. “It feels like I’m jumping headfirst into cold water.” More like a vast ocean that was so deep that she might drown if she was not careful. Though she would dive into this pool any day.

“Speaking of diving headfirst.” The older woman smirked before the sound of something swishing touched Belle’s ear.

She fully turned around to see Saito hanging a covered outfit on rack before unzipping it down and pulling a pure white piece. A majestic dress bigger than any of the designs they had for the line, multiple georgette layers with slight elegant frills at the ends, a diamond encrusted waist line with a sweetheart neck. The whole piece was simple without any extra glitz and glamour aside from the waist.

“What do you think?”

Belle breathed out a chuckle, eyes not being able to tear away from the dress despite the simple look. “It’s beautiful. What’s this for?” Wide eyes searched the older womans’ expression who merely laughed at the girl.

“Well what else? It’s your wedding dress. If you want anyway.” She shrugged, her gaze now trailing down the long length before fixing the fabric a little so it displayed perfectly. “It’s a little simple I know but if Boyoung told me earlier when the wedding was going to be, I would’ve worked on it a bit more.” Saito spoke about it in such a casual manner.

Little did she realize the jolt of tears flooding in Belle’s eyes when she heard that the other designed and made this whole dress for her. “You made this for me?” She whispered, a small droplet threatening to fall down her cheek.

No one asked Saito to do so nor was she forced to make one either. But the woman did it anyway without any prize in return. She did not ask for her body or her mind as a way to repay her actions. Just an act of kindness.

“Actually I did it so you could do something for me.” She pouted a little before glancing around the boutique longingly. “I can’t have this boutique forever and I’m not exactly getting younger either.” She chuckled, patting the work table like it was her first born child. “Do you mind taking care of her? After I’m retired?”

Belle’s heart almost sank for a moment knowing there was always a catch. Except Saito once again showed she was nothing like other people in her life. Her chest felt like it lost all room for her overflowing affection. Legs rushed over and Belle said nothing but wrap her arms around the woman, squeezing a little tighter than normal. Now that her senior couldn’t look at her expression, all the tears she desperately tried to keep in now came flowing down her cheeks.

All these walls breaking down, there was one dark truth touching the tip of her tongue. The wedding dress Saito worked so hard on. All for a wedding that wasn’t even real. What Belle wouldn’t do to just blurt it all out right now and let the bleeding wounds heal for once but it can’t be done.

The world was beautiful and cruel at the same time. She never experienced that sentiment so strongly until now.

Saito giggled rubbing her back soothingly as she attempted to give her comfort while also holding a humungous white dress. “I’m not dying, sweetie.”

Belle laughed through her tears, quickly wiping them away when she pulled out of the hug. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” She smiled. “Marriage getting you all emotional?”

“You can say that.” One way to describe the hell she got herself into.

“Absolutely not.” Jungkook narrowed his gaze at the older male who somehow gained the audacity to disturb him in his office. Fingers stilled around the pen he was holding to sign a few hand-written letters to some associates. A warning to take caution for the coming days due to the raid in one of their biggest dens.

Taehyung scoffed lightly at the blunt response. “Why not?” He folded his arms together in front of his chest. “I spend hours in a day doing absolutely nothing. How long do you expect me just sit idly here?” The man looked and felt sicker by the day which the doctor explained was the body clearing itself out. Not really the most reassuring explanation but he knew at one point where all the sick feelings dissipated because he was properly distracted by something. Someone more like.

He dropped the pen on the table now unable to concentrate on putting the words together especially since this wasn’t exactly Word Document where it could be easily deleted. “I don’t want you in here either.” Jungkook retorted. “But you’re also not the most trusted person to be left alone right now so I’m left with no option other than no.”

“Then a guard can come with me.” Taehyung shrugged. Truth be told the man had no intention of doing what Jungkook had been wary about. Of course it’d be a lie to say there was not a gnawing feeling in his stomach as if something was missing. But right now that was not the goal.

“I suppose you expect me to pay for this outing as well, yes?” He winced.

“You are marrying my sister by force. So yeah you’re paying for both our life insurance as far as this whole fuckery is concerned.”

Jungkook cocked a brow hearing the male’s challenge. Maybe one shot to the leg would have helped him relieve any stress but he hated how much Taehyungs’ eyes resembled Belles’. Sighing in defeat, he grabbed the phone roughly and put it to his ear. “Mr. Kim…I’d like to book a private room in your house this afternoon. Sorry for the late notice.” He glanced over at the male, pressing the phone on his chest. “Who did you want?”

“Angel.”

Of course the fucker had to choose the most expensive angel in the goddamn registry. The crime lord took a deep breath to calm his fury before placing the phone to his ear, an award-winning smile on his lips. “The golden member. Angel…put it in under Kim Taehyung…yes…thank you, Seokjin.” Hanging up the phone, he merely glared at the older male. “They’ll be ready for you in the evening same time as the last one. Look presentable and for the love of god…” His glare sharpened. “…play nice.”

With a detached hum, Taehyung rushed out of the office skipping at every step to finally go outside of this place and to see the beautiful golden lady in the Sangria House.

Her heart jumped a little hearing that Kim Taehyung was going to visit the private room again and asked for Angel personally. She tried not to have favourite customers but truthfully the brunette had been the most comfortable to talk to. Most people would ask her questions on her talents in the bedroom or how much each service would cost. To many a golden angel was a literal cash cow for the owner so everyone grew curious as to just how much they were worth.

Months maybe years of training involved to be that perfect inhuman being who could make everyones’ dream come true if they had the right funds.

As any other work night for her anyway, Angel would pad into Seokjins’ office adorned in her signature golden dress which was soon going to be updated by a growing popular designer.

Knocking three times against the dark wood she heard the familiar voice invite her in. Clicking the door open, the girl closed the door behind her and stood in the center of the room like her normal routine. Head bowed, fingers intertwined with one another as she slowly bowed in front of him.

“I’m sure you’ve received the list for today.” Seokjin muttered still looking a few paperwork as the angel raised herself up to her perfect posture.

“Yes, Mr. Kim.” Angel nodded.

“You don’t have to call me that behind closed doors, Angel.” He sighed knowing there was no way the member would listen to him anyway. Keeping up formalities according to her had been a way to ensure she did not take her current state for granted. “There’s a special task I’m giving for your session with Mr. Kim.”

“What is it?” She gained that slight bit of comfort to look him in the eye. Not that it was abnormal but usually Angel was in more sleep appropriate clothes or none at all when they had casual conversations.

Seokjin opened one of the doors in his desk and pulled out a vial with a dark purple shaded powder inside. He swirled the little particles in front of the curious girl. “This is a powder to help Mr. Kim feel more…comfortable during his session.” His voice lowered the slightest as if he was spewing a small secret.

Angel received many unusual requests from customers but rarely from the owner himself. He was always a simple man who found solace in his business. No funny work behind the scenes ever. Except now. Brows furrowed slightly but the woman nodded nonetheless not entirely having any choice but to agree. She gently took the powder before hiding it inside her jeweled hands. “How much do I give him?”

“It’s quite a weak dose so the entire vial should do the trick.” He smiled reassuringly however Angel did not feel quite consoled. “Mix it in his tea so it’s easier to take in.”

The woman felt the vial getting heavier and heavier in her hands as the realization became clear she was about mix a strange substance in a customers’ tea. Something about it felt strange. Angel remembered spending nights inside a club where she would catch bartenders sprinkling things into girls’ drinks but she wasn’t able to say anything to stop them.

Either way the golden lady took a deep breath before giving her husband a large smile and nodded. “Of course.” Angel bowed slightly. “Is there anything else you want me to do, Mr. Kim?”

Seokjin reached out and brushed his long fingers against her softly painted skin. For a moment behind closed doors breaking some of the walls of formality so he could truly show some care for the people he watched over. “Be safe.”

The heaviness in her hands now seeped into her chest when she sat inside the private room awaiting Taehyung. Except the vial was still clasped in her clutch while her eyes fixated on the tea pot. Seokjin never showed malice towards anyone let alone someone who barely visited the Sangria House. Maybe it wasn’t harmful at all and the methods just seemed controversial in her own mind.

Angel never lost anything from trusting Seokjin in the past so why should this be any different?

Taking another deep breath, her bangles tinkled as she popped the cork of the vial. A light lilac steam flowed out of it when Angel tipped open the tea pot lid and sprinkled the whole substance into it. Seokjin advised her not to have but one cup to ensure she did not lose her own sense while attempting to entertain the man on whatever he needed.

Whatever he needed.

What did he need?

Their first conversation was mostly soft conversations that merely scratched the surface because they both held dark secrets that neither wanted to admit in the first meeting. At least that was why Angel suspected from the slight emptiness behind his eyes. Like he lost a part of himself once.

Maybe tonight Taehyung grew curious of something more than talking.

It was rare for her to do anything but talk, dance or play the gayageum for whoever she entertained due to the high prices for something else.

Then again Taehyung was Jeon Jungkooks’ brother-in-law. The young man could buy the entire Sangria House if he wanted as Seokjin liked to joke about sometimes.

Pulling her back from her trance in thought, the door clicked open and Angel shot up. All her jewellery and the details in her dress welcomed the familiar customer like tiny little wind chimes. Walking to the center of the room and her composure back to normal the woman bowed with the utmost elegance. “Welcome, Mr. Kim.” She grinned.

Taehyung immediately grew speechless when he walked into the private room. Despite the constant mental conversations he had in his mind that he should be calm and collected, once he saw the golden lady, his heart leaped and his stomach filled with butterflies. Really who could blame him? She literally glowed like a goddess even the sun must be in love with her.

Not that he was too. But he still grew a little obsessed at admiring her every feature.

“Would you like to sit down?” She gestured towards the space reserved for him.

The male stammered a little having mentally slap himself before giving her a nod and a friendly smile as he situated himself at the table. Angel sat next to him to ensure that the experience was as intimate as possible. Except now Taehyung felt the room was way too hot for him to tolerate.

With a slight nagging feeling in the back of her mind, Angel poured the tea for the both of them and offered one to Taehyung which he accepted.

Almost immediately he took a sip to somehow alleviate the initial awkwardness of the session. Unfortunately Taehyung ended up downing the whole drink like some kind of tequila shot.

Angel tried to suppress the light giggle that tried to pass her lips and refilled his cup again. “What did you want to do today, Mr. Kim?” She asked with the most perfect smile, fingers perched carefully on her lap.

A light warmth passed through his body as soon as the first cup settled in. Whatever anxiety he had melted slightly; enough for him to give the girl a smile without feeling like a teenage boy who had never seen a woman before. “I—I actually just wanted to talk again.” Taehyung swallowed thickly wondering how stupid it must sound coming to a place like this only to make conversation.

Belle always tried to make him feel at home but it only made him feel worse. He could see how exhausted she was working all day and night while still attempting to keep a happy smile on her face for everyone else. For him. Not to mention the wedding creeping closer, Taehyung could almost feel the weight she must have on her shoulders.

The golden lady nodded in acknowledgement, loosening her posture just the slightest to ensure more comfort. “I’ve heard the other angels talk about Mr. Jeon and your sisters’ wedding.” Her eyes widened a little. A small tinge of excitement burst inside her at the excitement of it all. “Weddings in the Jeon family have always been so regal, a lot of the juniors were talking about their own ceremonies being that way.”

Taehyungs’ heart sank a little seeing how happy the woman got with the wedding. No part of him had the courage to stop her from talking about it; the way her eyes sparkled and her smile melted into something more genuine rather than calculated. He smiled politely before taking a generous swig of his tea, once again unable to determine just how little tea was actually inside it. “What was your wedding like?” He asked watching her refill his drink at perfect timing.

Now Angel could not escape steering away from the question considering she brought up the topic. “I didn’t have a ceremony.” She smiled. “It was a legal signing and…a few witnesses.” She muttered remembering Jimins’ welcoming grin when he saw firsthand the confirmation of her freedom.

He stared at the woman noticing the little tinge of sadness in her smile. A feature eerily familiar in his younger sisters’ smiles too. Except his heart did not sink too much after he drank up the third cup. In fact nothing much happened. His body seemed to come to a full stop in feeling down to his toes almost seeming non-existent. He had to wiggle them a little to ensue himself they were still there. “Their wedding will be beautiful.” Taehyung had a bitter taste in his tongue speaking of it. “You can come. I’m sure Belle would love to have you.”

The woman stammered a little before chuckling nervously. Angel never really attended events unless Seokjin was invited so she could go as a plus one. Despite their ‘marriage’, she was still to be considered an employee and not Mrs. Kim. “I think I might be working on that day.” She spoke honestly.

“What if I took you with me?” Taehyung asked, the words slipping out of his mouth with more ease now.

Angel quickly refilled his cup again not wanting to be a sub-par hostess before politely smiling at the male again. “I can’t go to outings without my husband.” She muttered.

“Husband…” He scoffed with a smile, shaking his head. “Right…sorry.” Once again Taehyung turned to the comfort of chugging the entire cup of tea. His fingers feeling numb and his ears a little blocked but in a comforting way. Like a warm blanket around him after a walk in the cold day. “Do you ever think about running away?”

“Running away?” She searched his expression which had been growing softer and his body looked more casual.

“Yeah…” Taehyung pushed out a small chuckle. “You know, away from everything. Just…to the country side somewhere and just live there all your life with no troubles.” He threw his head back a little and closed his eyes to relish in the distant dream.

Angel giggled lightly. “What about your sister?”

“I’d take her with me.” He replied without hesitation. “She always told me about wanting to go in the mountains and sewing all her clothes from there. A secret designer hidden deep in the mountains.”

She couldn’t help but smile fondly at the dream. Maybe there were some days where the girl wished to leave all of this behind and live somewhere no one could ever touch her again. Where she could be free. But her current life held far too many responsibilities. Seokjin protected her from a worse fate and that was something Angel could spend the rest of her life repaying him for. “It sounds wonderful.”

Taehyung drawled out a deep hum before chugging down another cup he couldn’t keep count of. At this point his head and body felt like they were floating on a fluffy cloud that kind of smelled like jasmines. While his vision was hazier than ever creating a slight glow onto Angels’ face making her look literally like her namesake. A crooked smile tugged at his lips as his eyes drooped. “You’re so beautiful.” He muttered.

Angel giggled shyly, lowering her head a little. “And you’re very handsome.” She patted the back of his hand.

“It’s just my luck…” He let out a deep sigh of defeat. “The first person I end up liking…turns out to be a married woman.” The male pouted, eyes trailing down her form not being able to hide all corners of his interest as the strange tea now flooded inside him. “If only we could just—close off the real world for a moment.” His finger seemed to gain the same loose mind and traced the back of her soft hand. “And I could show you how much I like you.”

The girl gently pulled her hand away and placed it back on her lap. Smile slowly faltering into something less genuine. “I can do whatever you want, Mr. Kim. But there are still rules.”

“What if what I want is against the rules?” Taehyung whispered, tilting his head as he searched her expression.

“Then we call security.” She chuckled nervously.

He laughed making his throat feel incredibly prickly. Shoulders shook as he coughed knocking the empty cup over accidentally which Angel quickly set up again. “It’s fine.” Taehyung raised a hand before filling up the tea cup himself albeit while shaking.

Her chest rose and fell watching him down another cup.

As soon as the liquid went down, he coughed again while pain settled in his chest. “Think I might be allergic to jasmines.” Taehyung stared at his cup with a small giggle passing his lips. “Anyway what was I saying?”

Angel had to remind herself that it was not fully Taehyung’s fault for the behavior he began to portray. Except that didn’t change the sinking feeling in her gut as the comfortable bubble they had between them now seemed to melt before her. “You were talking about what you wanted to do.” She answered in a small voice to keep her normal composure.

“You said you’d call security.” His voice grew a little raspy before he coughed again. “Does that mean holding your hand is against the rules?”

She nodded. “That rule is more applied to members like me.”

“Married members.” He traced his finger pad around the brim of the small cup. “But do you ever think about breaking the rules? Just a little.” Taehyung smirked shifting a little closer, his hand once again sliding to her part of the table. “

Angel attempted to smile again before shaking her head. “I’d rather not, Mr. Kim. Responsibilities are important to have—so we don’t get out of control.”

“Fuck responsibilities.” He scoffed leaning back. “I tried being responsible. Being the perfect son…always choose the best path, always be the better cause you are better.” Brick walls inside him turned to paper as anger now burned through it with ease. “All the while my little sister tried so hard. She’s perfect. The best person I’ve ever met and they fucking called her worthless.” Tears melted at the brim of his eyes spewing all these unsaid words. “Then they died…” Taehyung chuckled, vision growing blurry. “…leaving their daughter thinking they never loved her. Responsibility killed my family. They had the responsibility to make the perfect son and look what happened. They never taught me to live without them. Responsibility destroyed my baby sisters’ life.” He winced.

Despite the poison in his body, Taehyung still had that truth suppressed unable to word it out. Your sister is this mess because of you. Because you couldn’t be better. The heat burst through his loosened body unable to control or suppress the urge as he knocked the teapot and cup off the table with the back of his hand.

Pot shattered and cup cracked the male was overwhelmed with another coughing fit that stung his chest.

Angels’ eyes now glossy attempted to hold both her hands up to calm him down. “Taehyung, please.” She whispered. The woman dared to touch his shoulder while his head was lowered on the table. Her heart jumped when she saw the light splutter of red falling from his plump lips onto the wooden surface. Letting out a shaky sigh, she cupped both his cheeks to make him face her gaze. “Taehyung?”

His whole face looked like an utter mess, eyes reddened, cheeks stained with tears and his lips trickling with his own blood. His chest was on fire and he couldn’t help but laugh a little again, teeth stained slightly. “This is what happens when you just talk.” Taehyung growled out. “Everything becomes a fucking mess.” He winced and pushed her off of him not wanting to face her while in this state even though his whole body had no energy to truly care.

“Help!” Angel yelled and almost mere seconds passed with the door bursting open, two guards walking inside. Following them was a concerned Seokjin padding into the room to check on her first.

“Did he hurt you?” His hand hovered her cheek.

She shook her head. “He’s sick, something’s wrong.” Angels’ gaze flickered from the blood splutters on the table to the young male being carried on each side by his arm.

“It’s okay.” Seokjin caressed the top of her head. “Take him to the Jeon household immediately. I will call Mr. Jeon to ensure he’s prepared with a treatment for him.” He explained in a much calmer demeanor than Angel was in at the moment.

One of the guards acknowledged his order before Taehyung was dragged less than gently out the door leaving Angel in her pool of anxiety.

“Keep a stiff upper lip, darling.” Fingers tapped on her chin to make her meet his gaze. “We can’t lose our focus, yes?”

Angel shook her head out of habit. The woman let her heart grow too soft for a man she only conversed with twice thus far. It was too dangerous to make herself dwell on the matter when he was—as much as it ached a little so say it—just a customer. She had responsibilities whether Taehyung or even she liked it or not. So Angel merely bowed and continued to get ready for her next session.

Afternoon faded into evening and evening faded into night but no sign of Taehyung. Worry creeped up as the hours passed by with Belle’s thoughts only growing darker instead of more optimistic. Of course she did not stop herself from scolding Jungkook for a few minutes about letting him go out to Sangria House.

The man simply reassured her that one of his guards were present outside of the House if something were to go wrong.

Adorned in her nightgown, Belle refused to rest on her bed despite Nana attempting to convince otherwise. She paced around the room with warmth spreading through her palms from the tea cup in her hands. Fingers tapped against the sides and the worry continued to infest throughout her entire body.

Then the door downstairs opened with a thud.

Slamming the cup onto the table the woman rushed out of the bedroom down the stairs, somewhere in the back of her mind hoping to see her brother safe and sound. Unfortunately luck was not a constant in the Kim Family when she saw Jungkooks’ guards carrying Taehyung inside.

Breath caught in her throat Belle took a few quick steps closer and drops of blood staining his chin and shirt like he was punched through his teeth. “What happened?”

“People at the house said he drank something and started acting weird.” One of the guards explained crudely while they moved to Taehyung’s bedroom.

Jungkook appeared from behind them, looking far more exhausted than ever.

Belle tried to clip her tongue from any more backlash on his decision and followed suit to her brother’s bedroom.

The maids pulled over the blankets so he could be plopped onto the soft surface, causing him to grunt a little under his breath. Belle pulled off his shoes and placed them on the floor as the blanket loosely covered his body now.

“Didn’t they tell you what he drank?” She asked, pressing his hand against the male’s forehead but his skin wasn’t any more heated than normal.

“We have someone from our private med coming in tonight.” Jungkook padded into the bedroom after sending the guards out. The male had a slightly casual tone about him despite seeing the worry shaking from his future wife. Maybe he should have made more effort in feeling sorry but he knew this would happen. “He’ll be fine, baby.”

Belle refused to respond, eyes merely focusing on Taehyung who was having trouble keeping himself awake. He needed to be okay. He just had to. The wedding date slowly slithered closer now to a point where she felt like suffocating. Her brother was the only thread of hope she could hold onto to give her strength but now it just felt like they were back to square one all over again. Was this what Jungkook wanted? If Taehyung never got better than the girl would have no chance whatsoever to get away from him. She wouldn’t have any other choice but to stay here.

Taehyung’s eyes flickered every now and then seeing a blurry vision of dark hair and white clothing. For a moment he already confirmed his own death assuming maybe the figure before him was an angel. Except a few seconds he noticed Belle’s familiar features. “’m sorry…” He whispered.

She shook her head brushing his hair away from his forehead. “Don’t apologize.” The last person Belle blamed was Taehyung. He wasn’t the one who made them stay here. He wasn’t the one who made the deal nor did he agree to it on his own accord.

Minutes passed before one of the guards walked in announcing that a medical apprentice arrived to the premise to help them out. A little irritated, Jungkook told them to bring the person in. The downside of private meds was that they always had to protect their own backsides from being seen by prying eyes in mob leaders’ households. They would then send apprentices to do the job for them especially if it’s not a serious case.

Through the door walked in a raven haired male with a white shirt and some pants on looking the complete opposite of what any med should look like.

“Please don’t tell me this is your first day.” Jungkooks’ eyes judged him up and down right through his very core.

The apprentice cleared his throat as he stared down at his outfit. “It wasn’t really my shift tonight, sir. I was told this was an emergency.”

“Mi amor, this isn’t the time find out who the next top model is.” Belle retorted walking over to the entrance as she gave the apprentice a small friendly smile.

Jungkook noticed the guards’ eyes widen a little at the way she spoke to him. Not to mention the little nickname blatantly spewed in front of most of the staff.

“They said he drank something strange—”

The apprentice nodded looking over at the tanned male struggling to sleep peacefully, body jerking as he coughed. “My supervisor said it was a new drug that was sent to him for testing once. Manufacturer didn’t have a name but he called it Shade Terror…” He looked at both Jungkook and Belle. “May I?” He gestured to Taehyung.

Belle saw the apprehension in her fiancées’ expression. Granted the woman would be hesitant to let a trainee try and help her brother but she couldn’t just let him stay in pain until something else was available. Reaching out, she gently held onto his pinky and ring finger as a silent way of pleading that he let the man help Taehyung.

“What’s your name?” Jungkook asked.

“Yoongi…sir.” He bowed once again to enhance a vulnerable state in front of him. His face did not exactly scream ‘meek’ after all.

The young lord nodded and gestured towards Taehyung so he could start with his work. As soon Yoongi situated himself next to the bed, Jungkook turned his head to face Belle for a moment. On any other day a new face trying to do medical work under his roof would have gone through hundreds of investigations and gun to their head while they worked. So why was it Jungkook couldn’t find the courage to do the same now? Especially when Belle met his gaze and gave him a light smile to quietly thank him for agreeing.

Detaching their hands Belle walked back to the other side of the bed and watched Yoongi press his fingers against the side of Taehyungs’ neck. His way of working was definitely a lot more careful than that of a more experienced doctor but it looked far more reassuring. He placed a small wooden box on the nightstand before flicking it open and pulling out a vial filled with a pale blue milky liquid.

“We need to make him sit up.” He spoke in a slightly shy demeanor.

Belle nodded and gently pulled Taehyung up to a sited position as he leaned back against the headboard.

Her older brother whined light under his breath before lulling off to a messy sleep again.

Yoongi pulled the cork off of the vial before forcing the mans’ mouth open by pressing through his cheeks. Without a moment’s hesitation, he poured the liquid down his throat before clamping his mouth and nose shut forcing him to swallow it down.

She wanted to protest for a moment but immediately saw how Taehyung tried to resist the medicine, thrashing about on the bed until the blanket was almost off the bed.

Once the apprentice pulled away her older brother drowned into a coughing fit.

“He might vomit for a while to get the toxins out.” Yoongi spoke as he clapped the small box shut.

After a few more minutes of whining and light thrashing, Taehyung finally breathed out into a calmer state of relaxation before lulling off to sleep again.

The apprentice was about to walk out of the room before Jungkook stepped in front of him, hands pressed firmly against his chest.

“You’re staying here until we know he’s okay.” His glare shot like daggers, distrust practically oozing through his veins at the strange face.

Belle wondered a little to herself how he had so much trust issues for this apprentice but had all the confidence in the world to marry her without any knowledge of how she was. Either way for once she could relate to his suspicion. If the ‘antidote’ somehow made Taehyung worse then she’d want Yoongi in the mansion, accessible for proper punishment.

Yoongi looked over his shoulder to face the young woman who had a much kinder expression but even she grew hardened at the sign of distrust. Not that the man could truly blame her, for all they knew he could have gave the tanned man poison. So he nodded and stood back waiting for a few guards to lead him to a guest room. Weeks of training to just get enough inside information on Jungkook instead he was now literally invited into their home as a guest for the night. Granted on darker circumstances but it deemed to be a strange step forward.

Morning rushed in with a light warmth and Belle persisted to stay in Taehyungs’ bedroom the whole night despite everyone else’s attempt at convincing her otherwise. For a few hours she was able to travel back to a simpler time when she would snuggle into her older brothers’ bed whenever the darkness got difficult to deal with alone. Taehyung kept her in his arms all night telling her she was worth so much more than what their parents pushed on the girl.

What he didn’t truly know was that his love was strong enough to be all she needed. At some point Belle stopped longing for her parents’ validation knowing there was one amazing person already treating like she should be.

She wanted to do the same and make sure he knew in all this mess there was one person who always loved him more than anything.

Gold peeked through the curtains when the older male shifted in his position, eyes opening to a silhouette sleeping next to him. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips seeing the familiar face. For a few moments, Taehyung could pretend they were a normal family again without the real world around them trying to crumble it down or tear them apart. Those few minutes were sacred until he saw the shining ring around her finger. The ring she probably never wanted but took so he could heal. Now as his smile disappeared and his eyes burned, he was painfully reminded of the sacrifice Belle was going to make in a few days.

Taking in a deep breath, Belle slowly moved herself awake widening her eyes a little before she met with Taehyungs’ gaze. “Were you watching me sleep?” She giggled tiredly.

“Just checking if you actually did that.” Taehyung smiled again.

“You look better now.”

“I feel better. Aside from the vomiting, this room stinks.” He winced not wanting to look at a soiled bin on his side of the bed.

Belle shifted to lay on her back with a relaxed sigh. Eyes flickered over to her phone for the time; only a few hours until she had to go to work. But she could risk a few minutes for this rare moment where it was just the two of them. No maids, no guards, no Jungkook. Just a brother and a sister. “What happened, Tae?” She whispered.

“It wasn’t me.” Taehyung answered simply. “Seriously, I went into Sangria House and talked to Angel and…drank jasmine tea. I don’t think I’m allergic to jasmines.”

“The private med that came in said it was the symptoms of a drug.” Belle turned her head to meet his gaze. He had tried to lie about these things before but she could tell he had no idea this would happen to him at all.

“Jungkook probably asked them to slip something in my drink.” He scoffed.

It wouldn’t exactly be the worst thing the man had done in his lifetime especially from the things Belle had seen and heard in this house.

Her silence seemed to trigger a spark inside Taehyung’s body as he searched her expression. “You’re thinking that too, aren’t you?”

Belle swallowed down her words despite how strong they wanted to be sung across her tongue. “He’s a horrible man…but he can’t be that desperate to be married…I think.” Her brows furrowed not sure of anything she spoke out.

“He was desperate enough to put a ring on a stranger.” He retorted.

She hated how closely their thoughts aligned. There were so many things wrong about this situation but if this was true then Jungkook may be worse than he lets on in front of her. “I’m just glad you’re okay. That’s all that matters.” A smile stretched across her slightly chapped lips.

“You matter too.” Taehyung felt that familiar choke in his throat like his grip slipped and he was forced to watch Belle fall into this abyss. “You mean so much to me. How am I supposed to feel better if you’re hurting in the process?”

Belle quickly moved her gaze to the ceiling, letting out a shaky sigh. “I’m not hurting, I promise. It’s going to be okay.” She intertwined her fingers with his trying to give him some form of reassurance.

“Morning…” Jungkook walked through the door of the bedroom, now in a fresh new suit and curled hair with a glass juice in his hand. “How’re you feeling?” He asked albeit not in the most compassionate tone.

“Fine.” Taehyung muttered.

The woman shifted to sit up on the bed, straps of her nightie falling over her shoulder as she stood up. “He only drank the jasmine tea in Sangria House.” Belle spoke simply. “Is there a special recipe that we should have known about?” Her arms folded over her chest, eyes growing a little sharp pointing at Jungkook.

“Jasmines and water?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know drugs more than a lot of people. What do you think that—Shade Terror thing could’ve been?”

“I’ve never heard of it before.” Except Jungkook may have had a small clue on what exactly was mixed into Taehyungs’ tea. The question he did not know the answer to was why. True Seokjin had some less than kind methods for people who might be treating his angels improperly. Maybe Taehyung did something that he was not saying to anyone.

Somehow Jungkooks’ lack of knowledge created more suspicion than there was due between the siblings. Belle padded closer to the male who immediately caressed her forearm. “You didn’t kill the medical apprentice yes?”

“Not yet.”

She looked over her shoulder giving her older brother a small smile. “We’ll see you at lunch, okay?”

For the first time in a while, Taehyung had a more relaxed heart looking at his sister despite the man next to her making his blood boil at the same second.

Belle pulled Jungkook towards the bar gently with a deep sigh.

“There’s something else.” He broke the brief silence immediately.

“What did you and Seokjin talk about that night?” She turned to face him properly.

The curly haired male scoffed lightly, placing his glass on the table. “It was business.”

“Seokjin owns a brothel, you own a cartel. What kind of business would you two be talking about exactly?”

Jungkook had to admit to himself, the woman was more intelligent than she let on and he wondered whether that was useful or more dangerous in this particular situation. “You think I had something to do with your brothers’ problem?”

“Yes.” A deadly silence plunged into the room as the guards and maids now felt far too comfortable to be in the living room. “Now answer my question.”

The male sighed knowing there was no reason to embarrass himself by trying to lie to a woman who had already seen his true colours. “We were discussing a new drug that Seokjin wanted to distribute through our cartel. I suppose he wanted to use it on his customers as a test run.” He shrugged.

“So you knew this might happen to Taehyung?”

“Of course I didn’t know it could happen to him.”

“But you knew the testing was going on and you still let him go to the House.”

“I’m not his father, Belle, it’s not my responsibility to keep him in check.” He gestured roughly towards the room.

Belle scoffed bitterly. “This is the responsibility you got when you decided to stick your fingers into our lives.” She took a step closer. “No one asked you to do all of this. We had the money to make all of this go away.” The heat spread through her so fast, her fingers began trembling and her head grew heavy. “So don’t fucking act like this is some big inconvenience only to you.”

Their conversation broke apart and attentions turned to the raven haired male standing just a few inches away from the bar as he cleared his throat.

“Sorry…I was called.” Yoongi replied simply, pretending he didn’t hear the answer to Namjoons’ burning question about Belle and Jungkooks’ sudden relationship. Hands settled behind his back and a neutral expression plaster across his features, he waited for one of the dual powers to speak up.

Belle faded back into a soft expression before smiling at Yoongi like she had not been incredibly distressed a few seconds ago. “I wanted to say thank you. My brother is all better now.” She walked away from the counter, closer to the raven haired male. “How much do we need to pay you?”

He shook his head with a reassuring smile. “My supervisor told me not to ask for any payment—”

“But you came all this way…” She muttered.

“An invitation to the wedding perhaps.” Jungkook spoke up now, leaning on his hands against the edge of the counter. “Your supervisor could come along as a plus one.”

Yoongis’ lips parted as he met Belle’s gaze who gave him an encouraging nod. An invitation to a stupid wedding did not seem like a prize of any sort but he assumed being a guest to such a prestigious ceremony was a gift. Either way he couldn’t exactly disagree to the offer now that it was on the table so he gave them both a smile that could constitute as grateful. “Thank you so much…I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to come to the event.”

“I’m sure he will.” The other male gave him a forced smile despite being hyper aware of the eyes that were on them when Belle snapped. Everyone would remember now. The girl who walked in here being manipulated slowly grew hardened to her struggles and had every ounce of courage to fight back. It was a red flag shouting at him to pull the trigger…prevent any more problems from arising. Except he loved the anger. The fire in her eyes gave him life and vigor, he couldn’t just take it away. Whether that would be a good decision or bring his downfall was up to fate now.

Night fell cloudy as Boyoung entered the Jeon household just two days before her nephews’ big wedding.

Belle sat in her bedroom watching her dress getting steamed by Nana while she sent a few emails confirming the date of the Spring Line fashion show. Since Saito placed her own hand into the line, the venue and date had to be perfect enough for the most important guests to arrive during that time. The show was going in over three months but her anxiety creeped in already.

Last time the woman had a fashion show, she missed it completely on account of getting her brother to a safe place. That was one of the smaller ones though. This one would have designers from far and wide coming in just to see these designs on show, critics, celebrities and a venue so majestic Belle almost got nauseous just looking at the pictures. It was going to be the pivotal moment of her career. If this went well then orders would come in like a waterfall and her name would be solidified in the industry.

She had to force herself to take a deep breath before her whole body exploded in her heavy mixture of anxiety and excitement.

“Belle, dear.” Boyoung knocked twice before peeking through the open door. A smile immediately tugging at her lips when she saw the younger female.

She peered through her glasses before closing her laptop and placing it on her nightstand. As soon as the girl tried to get up the older woman put her hands up.

“Please sit, darling.” She giggled padding over and sitting on the edge of the bed in front of her. “I need to talk to you about something important.” Boyoung placed her purse on the soft surface before pulling out a steel container. “I know you can buy your own but just for tonight.” She removed the lid to show that it was filled almost to the brim with pomegranate seeds shining a little like rubies in the light.

Belle tilted her head before chuckling softly. “What is this for?”

“Eat a lot of pomegranate seeds from now on.” Her eyes widened a little from her own excitement, placing the container in her hands with care. “It’s going to help with bearing a child.”

If the anxiety was strong before, it shot through of her head now making her entire body tremble. Belle hoped her true reaction did not seem too obvious when she forced to smile at the woman. She knew a lot of families vowed to traditional means to help bearing children but that was not what shocked.

Bearing children.

Children.

Making lives.

Bringing more innocent lives into this world.

Into this mess.

It was now more than ever Belle could relate herself to Persephone. Being given pomegranates to make her stay in the Underworld permanently. She was never going to escape this place if she had Jungkooks’ child in her belly. The woman would be bound to this world, etched on it like the phoenix tattoo on her fiancées skin.

Whether Taehyung got better or not. There would be no escaping after that.

“I’ve never seen Jungkook happier than I have now.”

Because he’s getting exactly what he wanted all along.

“You really made a difference.” Boyoung patted her cheek, eyes looking a little glossy as she grinned. “Thank you.”

Belle sighed lightly with a shaking smile still struggling on her face. “Don’t thank me. I wanted to.”

The older woman nodded glancing behind to see the gorgeous dress hanging on the large stand, chuckling. “I’ll leave you to your privacy…while you still have it.” She teased.

Once Boyoung left the room, Nana paused in her work and looked over at Belle with a worried expression. Much to her heartbreak the young girl broke into silent tears as she placed the contained on the nightstand. Placing the steamer down she padded over to her mistress and said nothing but pulled her in for an embrace. “You’ll be okay, dear. You have a strong heart.”

Then why did it feel like it was crumbling to a million pieces from too much pressure?

“Her older brother?” Namjoons’ voice spoke through the phone.

Yoongi shook himself slightly to fight away the cold despite the confines of the glass booth around him. “Yeah he’s been living in the Jeon mansion for a while I’m guessing. Belle also said something about her having the money. Her brother might have had a debt of some sort.” He glanced around the darkening streets spotting only a few stumbling groups passing by in a fit giggles. “Jungkook refused the money…”

“Leverage maybe? To marry Belle?”

“Yandere move.” He muttered under his breath. “Whatever’s going on, Jungkook seems a little soft for the girl.”

“That’s never good.” Though Yoongi could hear the slight bounce in Namjoons’ tone.

Soft meant weakness. A word hardly associated with Jungkook under any circumstances but now it might strike a ray of hope. “Belle’s smart though. She was able to fish out information on Seokjin making the new drug…and she wants me to stay in the mansion tonight too.”

Silence plunged between the call for a few minutes before Namjoon spoke again. “You think she’s suspicious?”

“I think she’s careful. After that whole Sangria House drama, she probably wants to keep her brother safe so having a medical apprentice seems the way to go.” He hung his head slightly irritated that these were all assumptions at this point. Yoongi thought Jungkook would be hard to read but now he had to be careful of the new queen about to be crowned in the cartel. “I know it’s not enough—”

“No, you kidding? That’s a lead. Jeon weddings are where the family is going to be most vulnerable. Meaning no executions, no drama, it’s all about the celebration.” Namjoon explained almost in a whisper which meant that the male must have still been in the precinct working. “It’s the perfect time to get on their best side.”

Yoongi nodded quickly moving to hang up before he heard Namjoon make a noise again. “What?”

“Be careful, okay?”

He smirked. “I’m always careful.”

Belle got herself adorned in a simple mustard body con dress with some light makeup and her hair done loosely as she walked down the stairs to the entrance of the mansion. Two guards stopped her at the front asking it was too dark for her to be out. It was a spur of the moment decision to just get out of the house on her own accord for once.

Except she knew she had to be smart about it. Going out at night when so many people knew her face and name now was risky. But she didn’t want any of the guards to be stuck to her the whole time.

“Yoongi will come with me.”

The older male barely managed spent a few minutes on his own after the short conversation in the phone booth with Namjoon. He merely walked out of his bedroom for a moment to check on Taehyung before Belle dedicated him to a night out.

“The–the medical apprentice, ma’am?” One of the guards stammered.

“He looks able-bodied and Taehyung’s crashed for the night. It’s only a couple of hours, gentlemen, I’m sure the world won’t end.” A few more minutes of jabbing a sharp expression towards the guards they eventually caved and told her the car was coming in soon.

Yoongi only had his white shirt which was re-washed surprisingly quickly by the maids so he would not smell putrid by the day. It was like living in a house of robots who just did what Jungkook asked. Except for this woman. She looked like the only person moving in real time.

Once the car was pulled in, Belle asked Yoongi to drive since she felt a little too anxious to concentrate.

“Where to?”

“Sangria House.”

Without asking any questions, Yoongi drove on with a heavily engraved memory of where the location was. The car ride itself was deeply silent making the male incredibly aware that he was completely alone with Belle. Would it be too quick to just tell her what’s going on? It didn’t seem like she had any worries defying Jungkook but that could mostly just be so she could act as a balance of power in the cartel.

Best to stay quiet, he told himself.

The car stopped in front of the establishment causing Belle to let out a deep sigh. “Could you wait here?” She asked in a soft tone now. “I’m sorry to pull you into this but I think it’s better if I took someone who wasn’t directly Jungkooks’ guard for this meeting. I promise I’ll explain your absence to him.”

When the woman gave him a reassuring smile, Yoongi felt his heart sink a little. One thing he despised about himself is how easily he could see something broken behind a persons’ eye. He would see it in the seventeen year old school girl who had to explain how her principal called her into his office every week but it was never because she was in trouble. He would see it in the convicted young man who tried to recount the events that led to him murdering his uncle. He saw it here and now. That broken nature all in a smile that meant she tried to survive something that was too much to take. Or was trying to survive. Despite the pressure of thoughts in his mind, he nodded in agreement before Belle walked out of the car.

“Ms. Belle!” Seokjin announced as Belle was escorted into his office by one of the white angels. Another junior angel poured them some tea in two cups before bowing and leaving the room. “Please sit.”

Swallowing down, the woman padded over to the table and carefully sat down on one of the chairs feeling a light breeze in the room. She regretted not getting a shawl of some sort but this was meant to be a quick meeting.

“Some tea?” He gestured with that same trained smile he always had for all his customers and business partners.

Belle stared at the filled up and merely smiled. “I’ve grown a little wary of tea at the moment.”

Seokjins’ lips twitched a little almost losing the calculated grin he adorned so gracefully. “I suppose that’s understandable.” He chuckled under his breath. “Though I assure you I don’t drug valued partners.” He nodded to himself. “But we’re not really talking about the tea here. What did you want to talk about?”

“Sangria House has been a pride and joy for tradition and beauty, yes? But you also want to influence the future generation which is why our partnership exists.” She leaned back on her chair. “Have we not made sufficient dresses?”

“Of course not.” He shook his head.

“Does it not look expensive enough?”

“It looks absolutely marvelous.”

“Then why is it, Mr. Kim, that you seem to need another business transaction with my future husband?” Belle tilted her head, searching his expression.

Seokjin chuckled lightly. “I am an active businessman, Ms. Belle.”

“An active businessman who tries to distribute a faulty product.” She continued simply. “I’m not an expert on drugs and do correct me on this but aren’t drugs supposed to make you feel good? At least on the first day, one should not start coughing out blood and losing their mind.”

“It still has its tweaks.” His smile slowly started fading away for a moment.

“Then fix it before you test it on the wrong people.”

“Madam, are you suggesting I stop making this business transaction with your fiancée? Wouldn’t that be unfair to Mr. Jeon? Having this discussion without his approval?”

“I think Mr. Jeon needs a little bit of unfair in his life.” Belle smiled. “All I’m asking is for you to pause any discussions or testing on this transaction until ours is finished. I’m a little possessive like that, I prefer full focus.” She scrunched her nose. “Once we’re done with the Spring Line show and all is successful, you can begin…your experimentation as you please. Does that sound fair enough?”

Silence plunged into the room as Seokjin had to collect himself for a few moments at the proposal thrown at him. “I can see why Mr. Jeon took an interest in you.” He chuckled a little nervously. “Alright…as a way to sincerely apologize for my actions, I will halt any discussions on the new product with your husband. All the focus will be on our line…Madame Belle.”

Jungkook never truly cared about the complete wellbeing for Taehyung. It was all conveniently to keep the deal alive. So if she couldn’t win with him on a personal level then maybe damaging him on a business level might just give her leverage.

Was this going to help her life with Jungkook become more pleasant? No. Not at all.

But this was her only way to take control of something again. Jungkooks’ successes in getting money from this new drug now relied on her milestone, not his power.

A few more formalities and Belle was led into one of the private rooms where she saw Jimin sitting with a bright smile waiting for her.

The lavender adorned male immediately got to his feet, bowing down until he was almost on his knees. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

It was like all the responsibilities and pressures on her shoulders immediately pulled off of her when she walked into the room. Inside these walls the woman could forget the world outside just for an hour.

Belle hated to admit that she had been visiting Jimin in secret for the past month now just after her work so it could be passed off as overtime. It was sneaky behavior and she despised stooping to such a level but she had to. Getting out of that house and being out of the boutique just for a while was exactly the time Belle needed to feel sane. Forgetting ones’ problems never solved them but she wanted the weight off. Jimin knew exactly how to do that.

Once the lavender angel slid the doors close leaving just the two of them.

All responsibilities were gone.

Just peace.

Eventually the fantasy hour had to finish. Belle ran her fingers through her hair as she stepped out of the establishment, rain pouring down violently in the dark night. One of the guards from the House gave her an umbrella and led her to the car where Yoongi jumped out of the car to open it for her. A silly move since now he was drenched.

“Sometimes chivalry can die, you know.” Belle chuckled a little watching the poor thing shiver as he started the car.

“Believe me, ma’am I thought the same thing as I walked out.” Yoongi couldn’t hold in a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. God, was this woman a fucking siren or something? “How was your session?”

She nodded before looking out the window at the blurry view outside. “It was nice.” The right corner of his lips twitched a little.

Yoongi hummed.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” He shook his head, glad he had to fully focus on the road and shiver throughout the whole car ride.

Belle chuckled flicking the heater on and directing the vents towards him. “I just talk to them unless you’re thinking otherwise.”

“I’d look like an ass if I assumed something like that, madam.” He spoke before taking a deep breath as he felt the calming heat touch his skin.

“Please call me Belle, I sound like such an aunt when people call me madam.” She briefly held his arm creating more warmth for him.

Yoongi almost felt a little deprived when she pulled her hand away. “Belle…right.” He scoffed out a small breathy laugh.

The mustard adorned woman relaxed into the seat a little with a long sigh, her sweet smile disappearing a little. “I like talking to them…him, it’s just one person. It—it’s the only place I can really talk to someone without…feeling like something’s going to go wrong.” Her brows furrowed as she swallowed. “It might sound a little stupid.”

“No…” He jutted out his bottom lips as he shook his head. “No it’s not stupid at all.”

Belle trailed her gaze to face his expression, raven fringe hovered over his eyes but he seemed to see everything on the road with the way he was driving. “You think so?”

Yoongi shrugged. “In the world you live in…I can’t exactly antagonize you for talking to someone just to relax or feel sane at the very least.” He chuckled. “There’s nothing wrong with getting help where you can.”

“Thank you, Yoongi.” She muttered.

“I should probably thank you for not letting Jungkook kill me that night.” He smirked.

“Well you did dress up like an idol reject.” Belle giggled.

“Point taken.”

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#jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook mafia au #bts mafia au

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ozzy-bozzy · 3 years

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“I know, baby. I know..”

Dabi x reader

desc. You have a rough time late at night

genre. Its has a sort of fluffy end but this is pure venting content.

warnings. cursing, self deprecation, insomnia, the inability to be comfortable in bed

word count. 1,456 words

A/N I had a rough night, and actually a rough reality recently. This is literally a vent fic, something I wrote to make myself feel better. This actually is almost a play by play for how my night went, from the switching positions to the comfort blanket. All except the comforting love of Dabi and a happy ending, that is. Dabi is a major comfort character, so that’s why it’s about him. Sorry if this is rlly depressing or concerning. I just needed an outlet to vent and I really wanted Dabi comfort. !! also sorry it get’s a little specific at times! I lost myself writing this !!

It was a little after midnight, Dabi laid next to you on his back, an arm wrapped around you with your head rested against his chest. His breathing was slow and steady, he had fallen asleep already. You hadn’t managed to fall asleep yet. You were too busy, too occupied with your own thoughts to even feel tired anymore. You stared into the nothingness of your dark room, nuzzling closer to his warm body. Everywhere but where you laid right now felt too cold to shift to before, but now that you were too painfully aware of the heat you started feeling uncomfortable. And the position just made you feel empty, or too used.

You started realizing a lot of things in your life had become routine, and it made you feel sick. It made your head hurt, and it made you feel shitty because of how you let your everyday events blur together in a mess of nothing. You never did anything during the day, you were never productive. You slept in until almost noon, you went to bed in the early hours of the mornings, you eat way too much every day, you dream of projects and big successes yet can’t even manage to take care of yourself and do normal, daily hygiene tasks.

You slowly began to pick yourself up off of Dabi, the blanket around you feeling cold. You untangled your legs from his, your hand dragging across his torso as you parted from him. He shifted slightly in his sleep due to the loss of contact but settled back down. You rolled over onto your other side. You curled up on yourself and had grabbed a small throw blanket from the floor. You didn’t need more heat, the coolness of the bed at night actually felt refreshing, but it was a comfort item and you felt the need for comfort right now. You tucked your hands in against your chest, your legs wrapped up in the heavy upper blanket. Your head nuzzled in against the plush pillow and you quietly sighed.

Looking back on your previous thoughts you immediately scolded yourself. How could you be so harsh? Everyone is having a bad time right now. You remember that a lot of people are losing their sense of time, not being able to keep track of the days, and yet you still tell yourself how stupid you have to be to not be able to manage something as trivial as that. You have a sort of tug of war in your head, the new positioning somehow filling that emptiness you felt before, but you knew that wouldn’t last. It never does. It always creeps back into the comfort of your bed, the one place you feel safe and loved; comfortable. And yet you lay here, every night, letting it tear you to shreds. You never know why.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a strong arm wrapping around your middle, a messy head of hair coming to rest in the crook of your neck. He was warm against your back, and the heat from before felt comforting. It felt constant and still, unlike the thoughts running rampant through your head.

“...why are you still awake, baby?” he mumbled into your skin. You just hummed and shifted a bit in response, burying the side of your face further into the pillow.

“Are you okay..?” He asked after the beats of silence that followed his first question. The movement of your shoulders could have hardly been called a shrug, and you looked at him slightly. He shifted from your movements and picked his head up, looking at you properly.

“Baby what’s wrong?” His voice was rough and deep, the arm around your middle rubbing comfortingly on your skin. He slowly guided you to lay on your back. He was propped up next to you.

“I... I don’t know. I wish I did but I don’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I have so many issues and I wish I was so fucking normal, I wish I was okay, I wish I was fucking fine but I’m not, and I can’t even get a good night’s rest, how fucked is that??” You bit your lip and sighed in defeat, rubbing your face with your hands. You felt your body tremble a bit and you mentally slapped yourself. You were not going to cry tonight, and not from something so stupid.

“I feel useless. I feel fucking helpless. I can’t do anything right and when I finally let myself go and give myself a moment to splurge and indulge in my comforts it feels like they’re ripped away and I’m told how shitty I’m acting and how I can’t take care of myself. How everything I do for myself is ‘unhealthy’ or ‘messy and pointless’. And on top of it, all everyone else seems perfectly fine. I feel like I can’t even talk to anyone, hell I feel like I can’t even talk to my fucking therapist. She thinks I’m thriving and happy because I can never tell her how wrong I am because I’m so used to putting on a mask that when I go to talk to her I feel fine—“ Your ramble was interrupted by his hand squeezing your side. You’re happy he stopped you. You would have stopped you too. You wouldn’t let yourself keep going if you had the chance. You-

“Hey. Hey! Knock that off, baby I know you’re struggling but you have to stop getting so tangled up in your own words. I know you’re just spewing at the mouth right now, and that’s okay. But I want you to stop thinking about it or you’ll tear yourself apart. C’mere..” his hand slipped to the small of your back, pulling you against his warm body. Moments ago you found it uncomfortable and weird, but now it made you feel at home and loved. You felt safe being in his arms, pressed against him. You curled up to his chest, finding your surroundings feeling so cold now in comparison.

“You know I’m always here for you. You know I’m here to make you feel better. We both have our struggles and never, never, will you be alone in them. I may not always know how you feel but I will never leave you to deal with those feelings alone” He kept his voice barely above a whisper, his head pressed against the side of yours. He was holding you as close as he could. You couldn’t tell if your body was trembling because of the cold or the feelings behind his words. You didn’t think it mattered.

“I’ve felt useless before, you know. I’ve thought ‘hey, what if the world was just better without me. What if I could actually do something right. Would someone be there to recognize it? Or would it just get lost in my head, left to get tangled up and ripped apart by my own twisted mind?” You curled up tighter against him, “But then you come in, and you shine brighter than the sun ever could. You show me everything is going to be okay, and I stop worrying, and baby—“ he stopped, pulling away slightly to press a passionate kiss to your lips, parting and resting his forehead to yours, “I want to be there for you. I want you to get wrapped up in my arms and all your toxic thoughts and whatever ails you is chased away” You swallowed roughly before tucking your head under his chin.

You didn’t need to hear any more. Your tired brain swallowing up his words and mellowing out. You buried your head into the warm skin of his neck, focusing on the feeling. Effectively chasing away the cold, both in temperature and thoughts, you will yourself to eventually fall asleep in his arms, tangled up once again. He stayed awake this time, not slipping into a slumber until he knew you were okay. He was laid back on his back, you wrapped up even tighter in his arms. Instead of laying next to him with your head on his chest, you now laid on top of him with your nose buried in his neck. You couldn’t roll away from him now, and he would make sure you would be safe.

You were always there for him during his breakdowns and times of need. You always made sure he was okay, and if he wasn’t you always found a solution. Sometimes temporary until a more permanent one could be found, but a solution nonetheless. He was determined to do the same for you.

You had not had such a good night of rest in awhile.

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urskekyagvi · 3 years

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GraGoh Week: Silence and Meditation

@gragohweek

Meditation did not come naturally to a skeksis. It could hardly be said that anything at all came naturally to a skeksis. What Thra had not the divine affluence to gift to them, they gave unto themselves through sheer willpower and spite. SkekGra knew he was no different, even now, after everything had changed.

It took time to get used to; and yet a state of normalcy had somehow been achieved through daily ritual and constant company, around the Circle and day by day like clockwork. UrGoh mainly had been responsible for the order of things here now. Habit and ritual were all too common to urru, and through the light blueprints UrGoh had (perhaps unwittingly) laid down, SkekGra was able to build the framework of a schedule.

He had watched UrGoh during these daily practices of his, envying him- though he would not admit it- for the tranquility. Was it some quality of the urru, to always be able to tap into that well of peace whenever needed? To neglect the daily turbulence the simple action of life caused and retreat into themselves?

SkekGra sat and watched, yearning. UrGoh was sitting upon one of the many cushions they had accumulated over time, legs crossed, all four arms held palm open for another practice he had introduced into their lives. He had been at this for awhile now, too many still moments for SkekGra's impatient mind to consider. An hour? Two? It didn't matter to UrGoh. Time passed, but he laid still as if utterly unaffected.

A huff of annoyance escaped his Other. SkekGra's claws reached out, grasping for a hold on UrGoh's robes before he stopped them. Would he dare?- Of course not. He wouldn't disturb UrGoh and disrupt such a sacred ritual. He couldn't. Not when UrGoh looked so...peaceful.

It mattered little. SkekGra did not need his attention; he had found ways to entertain himself while UrGoh disappeared into that inner state. He built puppets, painted sets, or any other number of things just to get his claws moving, just to forget what laid behind that curtain; but curiosity was too much. Each time it burned him until it could burn no more, and then he inevitably found himself drawn to the urru's still form like an unamoth to a Sifan torch, just watching.

Today when he had done this, UrGoh finally took notice.

"...Do...you...want...to...join…?" He asked, eyes still closed.

SkekGra was mildly startled by this, but wouldn’t dare show it. He huffed indignantly and shook out his feathers.

"You?" he finished, "No!...But...Er...What are you doing?"

UrGoh opened his eyes, his back relaxing into the familiar slump SkekGra knew. His smile was peaceful, placid as always even when faced with his Other's impatience.

"...Meditating."

SkekGra cocked his head to the side, this way and that.

"Meditating?" His eyes rolled about as he mentally dissected that topic, and then he rolled them again.

"Bah! Mystic nonsense! Dousan dribble!"

Yet he didn't storm off immediately. He stood there, swaying on the line between leaving or staying. UrGoh saw his indecision and took full advantage.

He patted a cushion beside him.

"Stay...awhile...Try-"

"-It? You want me to sit here, close my eyes, and...what? 'Seek my inner peace'? Good luck with that."

He crossed his arms, though the way he looked at the cushion UrGoh offered betrayed his interest. UrGoh smiled, just the faintest bit. He patted the pillow again.

"Just...try."

"What for?! All you do is sit there and close your eyes. Sounds like napping to me, which you do enough of already, mind you! What's so special about it?"

UrGoh understood what he was really asking, as plainly as if he had actually said it aloud: "Why should I waste my time? Will it even work for me?"

He patted the cushion again, more to clear it of dust than make an invitation; SkekGra was already drawn in hook, line, and sinker. No need to exert himself there.

"Try...it...and...see."

SkekGra's eyes shifted between his other half and the cushion before him, still uncertain. UrGoh smiled and tilted his head to the side, the slightest of goading gestures a mystic could afford. The former Conqueror would not let it pass.

"You know what? Fine! Fine!" He snapped, throwing his arms in the air with all the exasperation he could muster, "I'll play your little mystic games! Why not?"

He plopped down on the cushion with both his legs and arms crossed and closed his eyes. A few seconds passed, and then:

"Am I doing it right? Have I achieved inner peace?"

It was sardonic, but UrGoh could catch the faint notes of hope held therein. He chuckled to himself and shook his head.

“It’s...not...that...-”

“Simple?”

With surprising speed for a Mystic, one of UrGoh’s hands came up and closed about SkekGra’s beak. SkekGra squawked in outrage as best as he could in his position, but when seeing the look upon his Other’s face he promptly quieted himself. UrGoh’s brow wasn’t even furrowed, but he could sense the lightest irritation radiating from him anyways.

“Patience,” UrGoh said, “Patience...is...key.”

SkekGra wanted to roll his eyes again, but knew better than to make any more snarky comments when his mouth was being held shut. He tapped his Other's hand gently with a claw, and UrGoh conceded his grasp.

“Well what do I do, then?”

UrGoh made a light chuffing noise SkekGra had over time learned signaled amusement. He made his way slowly, then resumed the cross-legged sitting position he had been doing before. All four hands gracefully spread their palms, a pair resting together in his lap like a blooming flower, the other pair on his knees.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “...First...you...must...breathe…”

“I do that every minute of every day!”

“...Breathe...deeply...and...calmly...”

SkekGra huffed, but did as well as he could, making his own attempt at replicating UrGoh’s posture. He tried to breathe in and out as UrGoh suggested, but his thoughts still ran rampant. He scrunched his brow, becoming irritated with himself.

"How do I make my mind quiet? How am I supposed to meditate if I can't even focus?! There's too much wonder in this noggin to contain!"

UrGoh let out a soft sigh. "Try...humming."

SkekGra grumbled and closed his eyes again. He hesitated, trying to recall the exact cadence his Other used during his meditative practice…tried to replicate it...a little louder, a rumble building up from his chest, up his throat…

"HhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

UrGoh winced and covered his ears.

"I...said...humming...not...screeching…"

SkekGra huffed and got up, throwing his arms in the air in utter defeat.

"Oh, forget it! Nevermind! Aaggggh!"

To anyone else, this exclamation would have sounded final; UrGoh knew better. In the days that followed, he found SkekGra on the same cushion, trying to replicate the same pose UrGoh often took; occasionally UrGoh gave him a few hints or tips, hidden within riddles as was his way. SkekGra would grumble at him or swat him away, making one exclamation or another about how he didn't need help.

Weeks passed. There were days when SkekGra didn't hit the pillow at all, fearing another failure. Others he stayed even longer than usual, with or without UrGoh, determined to pick up a hint of success. Sometimes he lit incense, sometimes he didn't. Sometimes he spent only a few minutes there, but then as the days dragged on, his time extended.

UrGoh sat beside him now, almost four unum after his first attempt. SkekGra's expression was tranquil, his brow not even the faintest bit furrowed. He did not hum, his breath flowing in and out of him in a deep rhythm. Even his hands had stopped their endless fidgeting and twitching, succumbing to the calm to lay motionless on his knees, palms up.

The Wanderer mused to himself how it seemed that their roles had reversed. Now he was the impatient one, waiting around for his Other to finish meditating so they could work on a new art piece; but he would not interrupt at such a crucial point. He could feel some energy stirring in the air, unlike anything SkekGra had exuded before.

It was familiar to him in some way he could not name. He scratched through his memory, trying to recall the last time he had felt such a presence during the centuries-long course of his life. Suddenly it occurred to him: the Valley had felt this way, carrying the energy and power of the mystic's meditative thought.

He looked towards his Other again with a new respect. No other non-urru had ever gotten this close to that mythical aura. If SkekGra succeeded, he would be the first. Pride seeped into his being. He sat a little taller, inhaling a particularly long draw of pipeweed to mark the occasion.

Some of the pungent smoke floated towards SkekGra's face. Usually, UrGoh's other would have coughed and made some sort of loud exclamation, but now he remained utterly silent. That was truly almost unsettling; and yet UrGoh still did not hamper SkekGra's progress. He could feel the energies shifting again, becoming more focused and powerful all around the Circle.

It fixated upon SkekGra, and then- only then- did his brow furrow. The energy condensed, tightening in a spiral until snapping and dispersing once again. SkekGra opened his eyes, blinking as if awakening from a trance. When he turned to UrGoh again, half-dazed, mouth open as if to ask a question or utter a curse, it was UrGoh who interrupted in a quick burst:

"SkekGra! Your face!"

The Heretic blinked slowly for a few heartbeats longer. Then it seemed to have finally registered in his head what exactly UrGoh had said, and his usual cantankerous expression returned. He reached up to pat his face, seeming almost offended by his Other's remark.

"What? What about my face? It's wonderful, as usual?"

UrGoh shook his head, too awestruck to even come up with something clever to say back. One of his hands reached for a mirror absent-mindedly, and he showed SkekGra what he had seen. SkekGra squinted at it, and when he saw what UrGoh saw, he let out a squawk of delight.

"UrGoh! Look! A spiral!"

He sprung up and grabbed the mirror just to examine the little shape again; indeed, a small thought spiral had been engraved into his skin, right over his jaw. He ran a claw over it gingerly, as if in disbelief.

UrGoh couldn't blame him if some doubt lingered; he could hardly believe it himself- and yet it had happened. SkekGra the Heretic, formerly the Conqueror, who killed and hurt and maimed, writing his name across the lands in fire and blood, had formed a thought spiral. He gazed into the mirror for a long moment, unable to look away.

When he finally pulled his eyes away again, he was grinning. It was broad and bold, displaying each and every sharp tooth he had.

"I did it! I did it, UrGoh!"

He laughed and dropped the mirror, then rushed towards UrGoh to wrap him in a hug. If there had been no severe difference in their respective weights, SkekGra would have lifted him and spun him all about; but that was not a possibility for them (Thank Thra, UrGoh could not stand dizziness).

After he had released UrGoh he picked up the mirror again just to admire the thought printed upon his face.

"What does it mean? Can you read it?"

It was a sad fact that he couldn't. UrZah had been the one to construe the signs and spirals, and UrGoh's part had been to roam, never bothering himself with engagement in what seemed another's territory; a shame now, for he very much would have liked to know what that sigil upon his face meant. He shook his head.

"No...I...Cannot…"

SkekGra only faltered a little; but that dim disappointment was quick to fade with a wave of his hand.

"Well who cares? It's there! There will be many more to come! We should celebrate! The urdrupes are ripe for harvesting, and I think we still have some nectarwine. Come!"

He ran off to another corner of their little world, rambling and making his happiest noises as he scrambled to make the preparations; UrGoh would help him in a moment, in his own way. But for now he savored the moment and the accomplishment, more so for the changes it had wrought in the both of them, always bringing them one step closer to unity.

He smiled at the cushions, already making mental notes for their next meditation session: maybe he could convince his Other to use Wellspring incense next time.

#gragoh week 2021 #skekgra and urgoh #skekgra the heretic #urgoh the wanderer #fanfic #took me awhile to write this!

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writing-fool · 4 years

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mlqc | special kind of sadness

I’ve been having strange dreams lately. Maybe it’s because of the quarantine, or maybe because of my messed up sleep schedule. I don’t actually have severe nightmares, but somehow an idea for Victor + nightmares came up. It was going to be very short, so I included other types of comforting scenarios. Ahh...besides that, you might have noticed my url is writing-fool, right? It’s actually based off of a Korean song called Swimming Fool. But I think it fits with MLQC too, what with Lucien calling us ‘his little fool’ sometimes~ What a happy coincidence...

Love,

Warning(s): TW! Lucien’s scenario includes a panic attack.

Victor

You’re all about showing the world that you’re a grown woman with big girl pants on. You’re especially keen on proving to Victor that you can handle yourself, thank you very much. Even though he’s supposed to be your soft, loving boyfriend, he seems to grow stricter the longer you’re together.

“Really? You’re not capable of being a producer if you can’t even get these reports done.” Ouch. Your life doesn’t seem to be getting easier anytime soon.

So...you chalk it up as a grave, grave moment of weakness when you instinctively call his number at three in the morning, after waking up in a cold sweat. By the second ring, you regret your rash decision. What if he’s asleep? What if he thinks I’m some kind of weak child?

By the third, he answers.

“What. Why are you still awake?” His voice sounds as strict as ever. ‘Why are you still awake?’ is a question you would’ve asked if you were in a clearer mindset. Alas, this situation allows little clarity.

You decide against hanging up. I’m bothering him already, might as well apologise. “I-I must’ve misdialled. Sorry to bother you,” you mumble. You hate how your hoarse voice and ragged breaths betray the sobs that have barely subsided.

“...I’m coming over,” is all Victor says before abruptly hanging up.

It’s a twenty minute drive from his luxurious penthouse to your apartment, but you know he’ll make it in fifteen. Running to the bathroom, you try to fix your appearance to make you look more like a successful producer, and less like a woman gone mad. But while your hair can be combed down and your tears can be wiped away, nothing works against your bloodshot eyes, shaking hands and pale complexion.

The doorbell rings, and you’re in full panic mode. You really don’t want him to see you like this. But without him, you’re probably not sleeping tonight. Also, he’s here already. Wiping your sweaty palms on your pyjama pants one last time, you open the front door.

Even when he has his sleeves rolled up, shirt partly unbuttoned and hair mussed from running his hands through it, Victor is handsome. But today, you can’t bare to look at him. Your apartment floor suddenly seems incredibly interesting.

A small gesture encourages his entrance. The door is barely closed again, and he’s already got his arms wrapped around you, your face pressed against his chest. The warmth of his hug and his rapidly beating heart open the floodgates again, and while your boyfriend strokes your hair, you sob your fears out on his black dress shirt.

Later, when you’re both huddled in your queen-sized bed, he asks you why you didn’t tell him about the nightmare right away. “I thought you’d think I’m pathetic or something. You’re always so strict.” You look up at him, mouth formed into a small pout.

For a moment, he’s dumbfounded. Maybe he never considered the idea? Victor hesitates, before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry,” he sighs, “I’ll be more considerate from now on.”

And as Victor rubs your shoulder, legs intertwined with yours, you doze off under the cloudy night sky. But not before hearing his sweet whispers. “Lean on me more, next time. I’ll always be by your side.”

Lucien (TW: panic attack, minor mentions of death)

Disclaimer: I know this could be taken wrongly. I have no intention to romanticise mental illness. It isn’t something that makes you broken, nor is it a ‘fun’ or ‘special’ thing. The story is partially taken from my experience, so I know how this feels. I wrote this as a way to bring awareness in a light manner, and to show that sometimes, panic attacks can be alleviated with someone around. I hope it brings comfort to those who wish they had someone in moments like these.

Listening to Lucien’s lectures tends to transport you back to the time when you were still a university student. Ah, it is a nostalgic feeling. A part of you misses being in school; going out with friends, listening to the teachers drone on about various subjects, eating in the school’s cafeteria.

But if there’s one thing you don’t miss, it’s the immeasurable amounts of stress. So why is that the thing I’m reliving right now?

As a young adult, you struggled with anxiety and spontaneous panic attacks, rendering you vulnerable to a work overload. You’d think it’d gotten better, especially since you have to deal with a lot of projects as a head producer nowadays. However, it seems as though old habits do die hard...This week has been particularly taxing—emotionally, what with your father’s death anniversary, and mentally; an important and popular show just got compromised by one of the actors’ companies. All that, and the prospect of an even tighter schedule during Christmas season has sent you into a full-blown panic attack.

Your initial plan was to just...ride this one out. That’s what you always did as a child. In an hour or two, your hands will stop cramping, your tears will stop falling, your breathing will return to normal, right? But it seems fate, and Lucien, disagree. I forgot I gave him the key to my apartment.

Lucien senses something is wrong when you don’t come out to greet him by the door.

“My love? Are you alright?” he yells out. Hearing little besides your irregular breathing, he kicks his shoes off, speeding towards the living area. You’re sat on the white sofa, knees to your chest, shoulders heaving and thick tears streaming down your face.

Lucien’s brows furrow in deep concern as he kneels down by your form. Even though he’s right in front of you, your eyes do not meet his. You’ve gone too deep in your own shell to even be able to acknowledge his presence. A tentative hand removes one of yours from its tight grasp on your other arm, and Lucien lets out a sigh of relief as he feels your hand clutch his. He takes it as a sign to lift you fully into his arms, and takes a seat on the sofa.

“Breathe. In,” he mimicks a deep inhale, “and out.” Lucien blows out, repeating the motion a couple more times. He rubs your back and your hands, constantly alternating between helping you breathe and gently uttering soothing phrases.

“Easy, I’m here with you. Do you feel my heartbeat?” When your hands have finally relaxed out of their cramped up form, he presses one of them against his chest. The slow, rhythmic thumping grounds you. Lucien. A stiff nod from you makes a soft, wry smile appear on his face. “Good girl. You’re getting there, my dear. Just stay with me, here. You’re doing great.”

You don’t know how much longer you stay like that. All you know is that he stays with you through the entire attack. Hours later, you two are having a steaming cup of tea at the dinner table.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. I didn’t want you to worry,” you mutter sheepishly.

“Don’t be ashamed of yourself,” Lucien’s violet eyes bore deep into yours, “Besides, how could I not worry when someone so dear is having a hard time?”

You shrug, a defeated look on your face. Your fingers fidget with the wood of the dinner table, until Lucien swiftly takes your hand in his again.

He sighs. “Take tomorrow off. I’ll take care of you.” Even though his tone is soft, Lucien leaves no space for argument. You know you should agree. There’s no way you could function properly if you were to go to work tomorrow.

“...Thank you.”

Lucien brings your hand to his lips, leaving feather-light kisses on your knuckles. “No thanks needed. You can be greedier with me.”

Gavin

There’s perhaps no person in the world who enjoys rejection. Sure, there may be those who bounce back quickly, those who see rejection as a new opportunity. But rejection, failure in itself, doesn’t evoke positive feelings.

As the producer of Miracle Finder, you’ve gotten used to rejection; it was hard to get the show back on track during the first year or so. Maybe you were arrogant, thinking it’d get better, or less painful, the more often you got rejected.

Things did get better, and last week you were even offered a deal with Loveland TV for a second weekly show. The company had seen the success Miracle Finder had, and had offered you the chance to come up with something wholly original. Something...you. That night, a mere week ago, you took the girls out for dinner and drinks. You were on cloud nine that day. In hindsight, maybe it was karma. Maybe I jinxed it. Cheered too soon, and all that.

This morning, you got a devastating e-mail that stated, in polite (but somehow still rude) terms, that your new show would not be broadcasted. The relaxed mood at the office rapidly turned somber once you mentioned the unfortunate decision. Your employees decided to give you some space afterwards. Not being able to stand the sadness, and feeling somewhat bad for them, you sent everyone, yes, including Anna, home early.

By three p.m., you’re the only one left at the office. You sit at your desk, head in your hands. I know it isn’t the end of the world...but right now, it almost feels like it is. With a deep sigh, you push yourself up, heading to the small kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea. Maybe you’ll have a biscuit too. Anything to cheer yourself up.

Your mind automatically goes to Gavin, and without thinking it over too much, you dial his number. After a couple of rings, your call goes to voicemail. Stupid. He’s probably working. I’ll just leave a message.

“Hey babe, it’s me. I-uh, the thing I mentioned last week? The new show deal with Loveland TV? Yeah, that’s not happening,” your voice cracks halfway through the last sentence as you try to push down the disappointment that bleeds through, “I’m staying late today. Need some time to-to process things. I’ll be fine. Love you, hope you’re safe.”

Time passes agonisingly slowly, so slowly you might as well think Victor’s behind it, while you dive into a mountain of work. It distracts you from today’s events. but the lingering sadness is still present in the back of your mind.

Around eight, you start cleaning up your desk, shutting down your computer and gathering the papers. A knock on the window catches your attention as you’re about to head out. You turn around, noticing a tall figure on the balcony outside. Gavin! You hastily run back, opening the sliding door for Gavin to enter.

“Hi,” That’s the most awkward thing you could say. “I didn’t know you would come. Did you hear my message? You really didn’t have to...” you trail off when Gavin wordlessly opens his arms to you. His golden eyes look anywhere but you, and a slight blush is visible in the dark room, only illuminated by the bright lights outside.

You gingerly step into his arms at first, clutching the back of his signature denim jacket tighter as time goes on. A couple of stray tears that you’re not able to hold back create wet splotches on his shirt. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, your voice muffled by the soft fabric.

“No biggie. Are you feeling alright?” he asks you. A non-committal shrug is all you respond with. “I know it was a big project for you.”

“Yeah, I don’t really know what to do now.”

Gavin bends down a little, kissing the crown of your head. “You move on, and you don’t give up.”

You fall into comfortable silence. Gavin’s thumb rubs up and down your waist, soothing you. “...Have you ever been rejected?” you suddenly ask him.

Gavin chuckles. “Sure I have. I got rejected by my very first love.”

You raise your head to look up at him. Gavin sees his own reflection in your large, teary eyes, and smiles. “And what happened then?” you ask, your voice lightly tinged with jealousy. Who was his first love?

“Well, she’s in my arms now, isn’t she?” Even though he’s embarrassed to say the words, Gavin forces himself to look at you. At those eyes that shine with love for the world, for him.

Bonus:

“Come on, I’ll take you home.” you pull out of the embrace to get your coat by the coat hanger, opening the door to head out again, like a normal person.

“How? You didn’t come here by bike, did you?”

Gavin’s already facing the window again, but he turns back with a smirk, holding his hand out to you. “I never said we were going by bike.”

“Gavin, no, babe, no, no, nonononononono—Aah!!” Your protests are cut short as Gavin swoops you into his arms bridal style and flies off. The wind rushes past your ears, almost making you miss Gavin’s gleeful laugh. “Gavin! I didn’t lock the doors!”

Kiro

On many occasions, you’re envious of Kiro’s Evol. But even without his Evol, Kiro is so bubbly and kind, you can’t help but like him. You sincerely wish you had that ability. And I know I’m supposed to make my own wishes come true, but I can only do so much to make people like me. I’m not going to bend over backwards and become a pushover just to be liked.

Still, it hurts when people are purposely mean to you. Especially during high school reunions. You were by no means a popular kid growing up...but you didn’t think that some people would still be stuck in a high school mentality. You held your own during the reunion, ignoring the backhanded compliments and blatantly condescending insults in favour of catching up with your old friends. Yet, all you can think of on the drive home are the negative comments.

“Oh, you still can’t drink alcohol? Seems like ‘someone’ hasn’t grown up yet!”

“You’re the producer of Miracle Finder? I hate that show, it’s so unrealistic.”

“Isn’t that a kids’ show?”

“My, you look adorable! My daughter also likes to wear those types of clothes, you know, to go play at the park.”

I can’t believe I missed game night with Kiro for this. With a terrible mood, you shuffle into the house. Kiro’s on the sofa playing A Chinese Ghost Story, a bag of chips on the coffee table in front of him. He turns to greet you with a smile, but it quickly falls after seeing your somber expression.

“Welcome home Miss Ch—eh? What’s wrong?” Kiro takes his headphones off to stand up in front of you. His hands instinctively move to your waist to pull you close.

“How was the gathering?” he asks carefully. His eyes are big, just like a puppy’s. Had you felt better, you would’ve commented on his cute appearance.

It’s as if that question flips a switch. “It was horrible!” you sniffle.

“Wha—Miss Chips!” Kiro grows panicked at your sniffles and sobs, and roughly pulls you to his chest. You retaliate by hugging him tightly, crying all your frustrations out on his shoulder.

Somehow, you move into a cuddling position on the living room sofa. You straddle his slender legs and his arms are wrapped around your torso, rubbing comforting circles on your back. Pulling away from his embrace, you start ranting about the terrible evening.

“...and I don’t even know why I’m this upset! It’s so frustrating. I’ve worked so hard to become who I am today, and the moment someone says something to me, I just break down. Maybe I am a child,” you look up at Kiro, eyes wide and brimming with tears, “Kiro, am I a child to you?”

Kiro chuckles. “Well, Miss Chips...sometimes you can be childish,” you jut your lip out in a pout, “b-but I’m childish too! And there’s nothing wrong with that. Some people want to grow up too fast, so they drink alcohol and dress up in dark colours and stiff fabrics to feel properly imprisoned in the ‘harsh adult world’. But most of us could be happier if we just...let our inner child out.”

He cups your cheek. “Never be ashamed of being childish, Miss Chips. It doesn’t make you a child,” a mischievous grin appears on Kiro’s youthful face, “Besides, I wouldn’t do this if I thought of you as a child!”

With the hand on your cheek, Kiro draws your face closer to his. Your lips meet in a swift kiss that takes you by surprise. He swallows the startled gasp that escapes your mouth, retaliating by slowly swiping his tongue across your bottom lip. You can feel him smile into the kiss as you lean into it, closing your eyes. Your tears are long forgotten as you tangle your hands in Kiro’s blond locks. Slowly, you part your lips, allowing Kiro’s tongue to slip into your mouth. The teasing flicks of his tongue make you go weak, and he chuckles when your grip on his hair loosens.

Kiro notices you’re growing light-headed, so he gives you time to regain your breath while he peppers little kisses on the corners of your mouth and on your swollen lips. You kissing demon.

His satisfied hum is disrupted by a vicious punch to the chest. “Ah! Miss Chips, why would you hit me?” It’s Kiro’s time to pout now.

“Who told you to do that?! You’re so sly, it’s unfair!” you scold him, cheeks flushed a bright red.

“Yes, yes,” he pets your head, “but it helped, right? You’re not upset anymore, right?”

Your face scrunches up. “I guess not...I’m still mad at you for surprising me like that,” Kiro giggles, “But thanks.” His smile is contagious, and soon you’re both in a giggling fit.

When the giggles have subsided, Kiro pushes you back into his chest. As he snuggles into your shoulder, he whispers in your ear. “Don’t worry. Every time you feel sad, I’ll be there to cheer you up.”

I’m not saying dark clothes are bad! I have a black wardrobe myself...but we all need to remember that we don’t need to be so hard on ourselves sometimes.

For some reason I’ve never properly depicted kissing like that in my writing. Ehhh, forgive me if it’s bad. Little note...do you guys know what Chinese drama ‘A Chinese Ghost Story’ is featured in?

137 notes · View notes

soliverse · 3 years

Text

say you love me - l.ty (part 5)

1 ⭒ 2 ⭒ 3 ⭒ 4 ⭒ 5 ⭒ finale pt 1

pairing: rockstar!taeyong x journalist!reader

genre: a smidge of angst, fluff, and humor, slow burn

warnings: a bit of cussing, possible mental illness, minor injury, and stalking (flashback to what happened in part 4)

word count: 3330

ps: It’s finally back! The story took a bit of a back seat because an ask made me realize that I have been neglectful in making sure that my stories don’t give everyone the wrong impression. If you (or someone you know) is ever feeling the same things or going through the same stuff as the main character, please do not ignore them and seek for professional help. I have removed the said part in question and I apologize if I gave out the wrong impression about mental health and treatment.

I promise to do better in the future.

With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy this one!

networks: @nctcreations @kdiarynet @kpopscape

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You leaned on the couch and took gulps of icy water, letting out a refreshed sigh. After placing the glass back to the table, you tossed your head back and closed your eyes to calm yourself down. It was the first time that you’re able to breathe normally for the whole day.

“I’ll be fine. It’s just a bruise.” He tried to reassure you by smiling like he usually does but he flinched upon moving his right arm. Your tripod had hit him on his right shoulder and it unfortunately left a baseball sized mark on that spot. You slapped yourself with both hands and rubbed it on your face at your frustration.

“I didn’t know that you’re coming home tonight.” Strength has left your body already as you let your guard down. Even speaking up takes a portion of your energy.

“You would if you’d read my message earlier.” He takes a sip with his uninjured arms and made the “ahh” sound before setting his glass right next to yours.

The guilt had made you quiet. The only thing that you did was grab the pillow beside you and bury your face in it.

Your thoughts have started to bother you again. Yuta. Work. Your mental health. Taeyong…

Taeyong felt that something else going on more than what you’re letting. He had always come home late but this was the first time that he had seen you freak out.

“You alright?”

Underneath the pillow, you shook your head as an answer.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No…”

You do want to talk about it, but something is making you hesitate. This man right beside you probably have never seen you this low before. Opening up to people is hard enough, even more so when it’s about your deepest secret.

Taeyong remained quiet and just sat there, unable to do anything. He can feel how hard it is for you to open up to people. Talking about it might trigger something again. However, it bothered him to see you so distressed and yet he can’t do something about it.

“Would you like me to… hold your hand?”

He mustered up the courage to ask you that question. Usually, he’d opt for a hug since it was more comforting. But at your delicate state, it was but that’s all he can do. He mirrored your position and tossed his back, lying on the body of the sofa. He stared at the ceiling nervously as he awaits your reaction.

“Yes…”

You voice sounded breathy; your heartbeat started increasing its speed again. Somehow, the idea of hand-holding sounded a bit too good in your head. Knowingg about Taeyong though, he’s doing it with good intentions

You felt his soft hands interlocking with yours. It was slow and calculating, careful of how you would react to his touch. His slim and veiny hand is successful in making you feel more comfortable.

It stayed like that for a while until you have finally convinced yourself to speak up. You placed the pillow on your lap and hugged it with your other arm.

“It’s him again…”

He remained quiet, listening intently and letting you speak at your own pace.

“I thought I have already gotten over this. I thought I can completely forget about everything and move on with my life.”

You felt yourself tearing up. Breathing hard, you tried to collect yourself before speaking up again. I did forget about him though; I did get some of my life back after the past few years. But what bothered me was it only takes one mention of his name and every confidence that I’ve built up for the last couple of years went straight out of the window…”

You went quiet and tried to smile at Taeyong as you hold back your tears. It felt good to have let everything out to someone. It felt like bricks were lifted off your chest at that instant.

“Y/N, I… I’m sorry.” You felt his sincerity pouring out of his words.

“I didn’t know what you have gone through, nor I do I know how to help you out.”

He turned to your side and gave you the most healing smile that you’ve ever seen.

“But you should know that you’re already doing so well. Facing traumatic paths and recovering from them are never-ending processes. That’s just how life goes, Y/N…”

You felt his grip on your hand getting tighter, rubbing itself on your palm as it adjusts.

“We just have to keep trying, Y/N. And never ever be ashamed that you need help from others. There are a lot people that are with you to support you. Get the proper help that you need without thinking much into it, hmm?”

He said as he was patting your head, trying to comfort you at the best of his abilities. You smiled as you stretched your arms out for a hug in. Something that he obligingly did.

You have started to realize that you have never let anyone seen you like this before. Opening up to people made you feel weak and vulnerable. You hated how people will look at you pityingly after sharing, making you feel like a lost cause even more.

And then there’s Taeyong.

Guilt started creeping in. He’s right, there are a lot of people that are just waiting for you to open up so they can help you. It’s not fair that your roommate is slowly becoming your hurt locker.

What you actually need right now is therapy, not him.

///

Another day comes and a knock can be heard in Johnny’s apartment that afternoon. He wasn’t expecting anyone and so he immediately assumes that it’s one of his bandmates. Specifically, the hopeless romantic, Lee Taeyong.

“Dude, I know it’s you. Just come in.”

Taeyong opened the door and as usual, he found Johnny sitting comfortably at his couch while watching some movie at Netflix. He would always hang around Johnny’s place whenever he wants to give you some time alone. It had been happening for quite some time now that Johnny had just gotten used to him being around all the time.

Taeyong placed his backpack down carefully and then sat down besides Johnny, careful not to touch his injury.

“So, something happened again huh?”

Johnny punched Taeyong jokingly in the shoulder, making him screech in pain.

“Watch the damn shoulders!” Taeyong’s hand rubbed the bruised shoulder and tried not to tear up in front of the elder.

Johnny, being the considerate friend that he is, laughed at Taeyong’s reaction.

“Dude, what happened to you?”

He said with zero hints of being concerned at all. It seems like he’s enjoying seeing his friend in that state.”

“A lot.”

“Oh, I could do this all day…”

Johnny sang one of their songs as a joke, but he retracted upon seeing Taeyong a little pissed off.

“Long story short, Y/N thought I was her stalker and tried to beating me to a pulp before I can stop her.” Taeyong said as he stretches out his arms, trying the shake the pain off of it. He also stopped the movie that Johnny was playing and grabbed his backpack. He took out his PS5 console and started setting it up at Johnny’s living room.

“Sounds like a rough night. Anything else happened?”

“Uhh. We held hands?”

Johnny snorted at younger’s answer.

“What are you? Twelve?”

He got off the sofa and sat right next to Taeyong, grabbing another console so that the two of them can play together.

“I don’t know, man. She’s in a pretty bad state last night. I don’t know how else I could help her. That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about…”

Taeyong placed the console down. His expression turned grim and his voice sounded a lot more serious.

“I think someone is at the house last night.”

///

“Here’s your stop. I’m sorry I couldn’t drop you off by Y/N’s apartment. The street was small and it would be difficult to turn the van around.”

“It’s totally fine. Walking won’t hurt me.”

Taeyong grabbed his duffel bag and his guitar from the backseat and steps outside the vehicle. He waved at them goodbye before the van went back to the road. He adjusted the straps of his guitar case and duffel bag so he can carry them both comfortably as he begins to walk towards your place.

It was eerily quiet at that time and something just didn’t feel right. He tried to shake the feeling off and increasing his walking pace. It didn’t take long before he can see the building from a distance.

He didn’t know if he was just imagining things but he could’ve sworn that he saw a dark figure lurking in the darkness surrounding your apartment. He muttered a series of curses made a run for it.

Taeyong sprinted as fast as he can, but his stuff had definitely slowed him down. Now he had gotten closer, he’s unsure whether he actually saw someone. His vision wasn’t that bad, but he was sure that there’s a figure moving towards the house.

He looked everywhere, even going around the house just to make sure that there’s no one nearby. Just then, you saw someone leaning at the lamppost a few blocks over. He wasn’t there when you passed by the van earlier.

The realization had hit him like a truck. That person is definitely the one that you saw earlier.

You were about to walk towards his direction when the person started running away again. You just froze on your spot, knowing that catching him was impossible.

Feeling defeated, the first thing that he did was to go inside the house to make sure you’re okay.

Taking his keys out of his bag, he opened the door to find the house completely fine. Everything was turned off except for the lights coming out of your room.

He was about to walk towards your room to check if you’re still awake when…

///

"HOLD ON! HOLD THE GODDAMN SECOND."

A voice came out in the middle of your storytelling. It was from woman who just came out of Johnny's bedroom and looking visibly pissed. Taeyong’s mouth went agape when she saw who it was.

She wasn't someone that you'd expect to pop up in Johnny's apartment. She was wearing her usual office clothing but its state wasn't as neat as how she always does it. Her hair was disheveled and her pink is blouse crumpled, a couple of buttons are undone.

"Abegail Li?" His mouth felt like it would drop to the floor.

On the other side, Johnny was grinning widely over his seat.

“Abby? What are you doing in my apartment?” Johnny faked a gasp but dropped the act right after to laugh at his joke.

"You're dating Abby Li? Like, Ten's sister? You know, your childhood bestfriend?" Tae still can’t believe what he was seeing. He kept on looking back and forth at the two of them, completely mindblown at the unusual pairing.

"Would you like to answer that, my dear?"

Johnny teasingly said, wiggling his eyebrows at her to piss her more. She finally realized how she looked and fixed herself, completely annoyed at her boyfriend.

"Shut the fuck up, Mr. Suh. That's not the point here! It's the fact that Y/N is in danger last night and she didn't even bother to tell me!”

"Dude, I didn't even know that she's your type. Does Yongqin know?" Taeyong asked his hyung, completely ignoring Abby’s tantrum.

"Oh heavens, no. The only thing scarier than this woman is his brother."

“HEY!”

Her voice finally managed to pierce into the boys’ conversation.

“We have an actual problem here. Are we not supposed to talk about the Yuta situation? Y/N’s life could actually be in actual danger!”

“But we weren’t sure if it was actually him…” Taeyong said, his voice lowering from the fear of the woman’s gaze.

“And what if it is?” She said as she walked out of the living room to go somewhere. The two boys just sat there awkwardly until she comes back with a phone in her hand.

“We got to tell Sophie and her husband.” She says as she started frantically dialing Sophie’s number.

“Woah woah. Calm down woman.” Johnny stood up from his seat and grabbed the phone from her hands.

“We don’t have to involve police officer Jaehyun right away. Dude is scary af.”

Abby tried to get it from Johnny, but he just raised his arm up so she wouldn’t reach it.

“Give my phone back!”

She shouts but Johnny just laughed at the sight of this pissed, tiny woman that’s in front of him. Abby didn’t like that one bit so she backed up a bit and punched Johnny at his core. Johnny curled up from the pain and fell to floor, giving Abby a chance to get her phone back.

Meanwhile, Taeyong just sat there awkwardly as he watched the scene unfolds. It felt like he’s watching a real-life sitcom.

“Babe, I was just saying, stop overreacting.” Johnny picked himself up from the floor. His voice is hoarse from the pain in his body.

“No, I am not overreacting. Me overreacting is when I hit that punk with a ten-wheeler truck and then leave him in the streets to die!”

Taeyong looked horrified, but Johnny just mouthed she’s not really gonna do that at him.

Jesus. This couple is a shitshow.

“Fine. What do you suggest we do then?”

Abby calmed down a bit as she sat down at the couch, folding both of her hands at her chest.

“First, we tell her what you saw last night.”

///

Well, Abby meant we, she actually meant Taeyong. He was assigned (more like forced) by Abby to be the one to talk to you about what happened. It felt awkward to do so at first, but it was him who saw what happened. He felt like it was his job to tell you about what happened.

He begrudgingly packed his PlayStation back to his backpack as he was being lectured by Abby about what to say to you. All hopes of evading topics involving you that day is completely thrown out of the table. And then he started to walk away when the couple finally started going lovey-dovey after fighting at his whole stay there. It was so cheesy that it gave him a headache.

The guy decided to walk home instead of taking the bus or taxi that time. He even passed by some convenience stores at the way. He bought a pack of instant ramen and took it to the nearby park. He actually enjoyed just eating there while looking at the sunset, but something kept on bothering him the whole time. He’s just dragging out the time, possibly going home when you’re completely asleep so he wouldn’t have to face you. He dreaded to be the one to instigate fear in you once again, knowing that mentions of your ex’s name is enough to trigger a panic attack.

But eventually, time passed and he’s in front of your apartment once again. He took a couple of breaths and readied him for what he’s about to tell you. As soon as he opened the door though, he was surprised to see you in the living room. Not only are you awake, you’re completely dressed up and looked like you’re about to go somewhere.

“Oh hi, Taeyong.”

You turned around to see him, at the front door, looking completely dejected.

“You alright?”

To Taeyong, you looked much better than what you did last night. Your mood has changed dramatically. It seems like you’re doing much better than what he thought you would. This made him even more anxious at what he’s about to tell you. He would’ve hated to ruin your mood that night. And so, the mental debate in his head started to ensue.

You smiled, waiting for Taeyong to answer, but he looked like he dozed off for a moment.

“Hey. Are you alright?”

You said once again.

Finally, he was able to snap back into reality. However, he wasn’t sure whether he heard you correctly. Now he looked a lot more puzzled than what he is earlier.

“Uhh. Okay… If you’re hungry, food is in the fridge.”

You said as you walked back to your room.

He responded with “Yeah. Sure. Thank you, Y/N…” You felt like something is bothering him at that moment, but you don’t have the time for a conversation right now.

While you were gone, he’s still figuring out whether he should tell you now or he’ll just wait until you get home that night.

However, his plan shattered immediately when he saw you walking out with two luggage, one on each hand.

“Hey Tae, mind helping with these?”

“O-oh sure…”

He stood up from the couch and helped you drag the luggage out into the living room.

“I never got to tell you that I’m leaving because it was more of a spur of the moment kind of thing.”

You apologetically as you pull your bags into the driveway. You know that by leaving, you’re running away from him again. But this time, it’s actually for your own good. It’s finally time to get the help that you need.

“Uhm, where are you going?”

Taeyong asked you, trying his best not to panic knowing that Abby would kill him if he said that he never got the chance to tell you.

“Far away. Staying in this city is making me feel uncomfortable and that isn’t doing me any favors. I need some time for myself until, I don’t know, two to three weeks?”

“Oh wow…”

He felt speechless at how you just made up your mind like that. He doesn’t think that running away from everything will solve anything, but he felt like there was nothing that he can do in order to change your mind.

“What about about work?” He asked, trying to stall you from bringing your luggage out of the apartment.

“I… took an indefinite leave from work this morning.”

You took your phone out of your pocket to look at the time to hide your face from him. For some reason, this decision isn’t looking as good as you have imagined it.

“So, you’re actually serious about this, huh?”

“I’m really sorry for leaving without notice. Take good care of Felice for me while I’m gone, okay?”

You said as you took your luggage from his hand. He unhappily lets it go, but he understands that you have to go through this so you can get better. Defeated, he figured that the best that he could do for you right now is to call a cab. However, you stopped him just as soon as you figured out what he was doing.

“I won’t be riding the cab. Someone’s coming to pick me up.”

Sure enough, a car pulled up outside your apartment not long after.

“Jeno! Over here!”

The driver rolled the windows down and a manly figure showed itself to the both of you. His hair was icy blue, which was perfect because he looks cold, expression stern as he opened up the car door for you. He doesn’t look threatening, but his stare made Taeyong feel like the guy doesn’t like him at all.

Jeno helped you with your luggage. As soon as they’re in the backseat, you didn’t waste any more time and waved goodbye to Taeyong before hopping inside the car. He was left alone without having to say a proper goodbye to you.

He unconsciously walked back inside the house, not really knowing what to feel. Could you be dating a guy without him knowing?

He slumped at the sofa and stared at the ceiling for a moment.

Who the hell is Jeno?

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#nctcreations #kdiarynet #kpopscape #nct #nct 127 #nct u #superm #lee taeyong #taeyong #taeyong fic #taeyong au #johnny suh #ten lee #jeno lee

24 notes · View notes

dellikay · 3 years

Text

Arnold Chiari Malformation Blogs: How it all began & getting a diagnosis

This is the first in a series of blogs where I’m going to be writing about my experiences with Arnold Chiari Malformation (ACM, as it will be referred to from here on out), ranging from how my condition suddenly worsened and made it itself known, all the way to present day and how it affects me now. These will all be likely very long posts, but there is a lot of information to share and it is all integral to address, so that people reading this who don’t know much about the condition can understand exactly what the condition entails and how it feels to actually have it. I’ve split the whole ‘story’ into five parts and will be working to get those typed up and released as soon as possible. What I want to start with is how my condition made itself known to me, having laid dormant internally for 15 years of my life and the ordeals I went through to secure a correct diagnosis. It all started on a perfectly normal day - I was playing Simon the Sorcerer 3D (I’m blaming the game for it all because it was bloody awful and broken beyond all belief) on the family computer. I got to a part of the game (among many others) where the game had glitched and I couldn’t progress any further. I accessed a walkthrough online and read how to navigate around the glitch. I then started to feel nauseous. I tried to carry on as normal, but the intensity of the nausea increased rapidly and I had a really massive headache, one of the worst that I had ever experienced up until that point in time. I had to give up on my game and laid down flat on the settee. Before long, I was having major coughing fits and had to run to the toilet to be violently sick. This, of course, made the headache worse, so I ended up making up a bed on the settee and having to stay on there. I was too weak to do anything and I kept having to rush to the toilet at the drop of a hat to be sick over and over again. After a few days, my other symptoms from what we assumed was the flu started to subside but I was still being violently sick multiple times a day and had agonising headaches that lasted all day and all night. I assumed the headaches were an issue because of how often and how forcefully I was being sick multiple times a day. Months passed and I was still the same. I’d been to see my then GP a couple of times since regarding what was happening to me. Because I had been diagnosed with OCD and depression from the age of 11, he immediately assumed that my symptoms were a physical manifestation of my mental illness, so just upped my dosage of whatever I was on at the time and sent me on my way. I was going to college by this time, after I had to leave secondary school due to being bullied to the point of...well, not being in a very good state of mind, I’ll just put it that way. Somehow, I managed to attend classes and go when I should do and even went on a trip to Alton Towers with the group I was in there, all the while getting worse physically, having to excuse myself from lessons suddenly to go and be sick and having headaches so bad that I had to lay my head down on the desk. Walking to and from college (which was literally a ten minute walk from my house) become more perilous as my balance became affected...on one occasion, I was crossing the road and a car was approaching faster than I anticipated. I tried to run the rest of the way over but my legs immediately collapsed from under me and I fell flat onto the road, about six feet in front of the car. Thankfully, the driver had seen what was going to happen and had the foresight to slow right down. However, I couldn’t get myself off the road because I was dizzy and my legs didn’t want to cooperate and no one stopped to help me or to see if I was alright. I walked the rest of the way home in tears. I didn’t know what was going on and was obviously shaken from what had just happened as well as the sheer rejection from the public who just acted like I was invisible even though I was in dire need of help. Sadly, after a few more months of this deterioration, I had to stop going to college because I was too poorly to make it through lessons and the journey to and from college was way too risky. From one end of the day to the other, I laid flat on the settee and was just enveloped in a complete world of pain. I persisted with my GP, insisting that there was something physically wrong with me, as opposed to it all being ‘in my head’ (ironically) and that the medication he had put me on my own wasn’t doing anything to stop the headaches or the vomiting. He wouldn’t listen to me and even got cross with me at one point and basically told me to stop putting it on to get attention. I felt defeated - I KNEW my own body and I KNEW that there was something very wrong but no one would listen to me. I could see and feel that it was getting worse. My balance became worse still, my weight had plummeted because I couldn’t keep any food in my system, I was still being sick multiple times a day and by the end, just bringing up water because my stomach was empty. I was accused of having an eating disorder and once again, doing this all to myself for attention. My headaches had got so bad that one time, I was laid on the floor in the living room because my head was too painful to stand or even sit up and suddenly my body started to move of its own accord. It was like I was rolling down a hill but I was on a completely flat surface. My body kept trying to roll to the side as if to balance itself if I was on a slope. It was completely out of my control and certainly one of the scariest parts of pre-diagnosis. I phoned for an appointment with my GP again, ready to stand my ground and insist once more that my symptoms were the result of something physical. I was angry, in incredible pain 24/7, weak, scared and I just wanted to be heard. When I went to the doctors, not feeling the most confident, I was told that my GP was off that day and I would be seeing one of the junior doctors instead. This made me feel a tiny glimmer of hope but I repressed it just in case he was of the same mindset as my regular doctor and he also accused me of being an attention seeker. When I was called into his office, I took a seat and I was asked to describe my symptoms. As I told him, the doctor started to look more and more concerned. He did some balance tests on me, which obviously I was incapable of completing and within five minutes, he told me that in no uncertain terms that my symptoms were way too severe to be merely a figment of my imagination and that he agreed that there was something physically wrong with me. He told me he’d book me in for an MRI. Finally. Someone listened. Someone believed me. I cried, partly from relief and elation that I had a chance of being saved from whatever it was that was destroying me from the inside out - and partly from fear because there really, truly was something wrong with me. Something seriously wrong with me, according to the doctor I had just seen. The following few months are a blur to me and I can’t remember any real details about what happened or the order in which things happened. I just remember going to Queen’s Medical Centre in Nottingham multiple times, being prodded and poked and being sent for more scans and then I saw a man who warned me that no matter what a man called Mr White said to me, I should REFUSE to have brain surgery. Under no circumstances should I listen to what he was saying and carry on as I was. He also asked me outright if I thought I had an eating disorder (basically, that I was causing myself to be sick and lose all of this weight - which was getting on for four and a half stones (63lbs) by the point - and made me feel like I had to concede that there was a possibility that could be the case, even though I knew it wasn’t. Of course, being in the sorry state that I was, I couldn’t understand this path of logic and neither could my parents. It turns out the Mr White was one of the leading brain surgeons in the country, specialised in rare brain conditions and would be the one to perform my surgery if I consented. We (as in me and my parents) met him shortly after and well, basically me and Mum fell in love with him. Lol. He was very softly spoken, gentle and kind - completely different to the man we had seen previously. Mr White was the one who told me I had Chiari Malformation Type 2 and what that meant. I was 18 years at the time (bear in mind my symptoms had started when I was 15) so he took his time with me, was very patient because he could see how terrified I was about what he was telling me and told me everything I needed to know and answered any questions I had. He explained why I was experiencing the symptoms I had and how the surgery would at the very least hopefully stop the progression of them getting even worse. He also told me that alongside the ACM, I also had hydrocephalus (water on the brain) and this was putting extra pressure on my brain and squeezing it into an even tighter space. This also meant I had a rare version of a rare condition (as it was known now - the classification of the illness has now been upgraded to ‘uncommon’, which means it’s not as rare as once thought but often misdiagnosed) so any surgery that would be carried out on me was not guaranteed to have the same level of success as if I hadn’t had the hydrocephalus. In fact, my cerebellum (the part of the brain that controls the nervous system, balance and coordination and reactions to external stimuli) had been wedged behind the top few vertebrae of my spine, which was what was causing the disabling headaches. Despite what the other man had advised me to do, I agreed to the surgery. There was no other way I was going to get better. It was scary either way and the decision was completely mine to make. Mr White was extremely concerned as he could see how poorly and fragile I was and was pushing for me to have the surgery before Christmas (I think we went to go and see him at some point in November). However, I was frightened and I just wanted one more Christmas before going through such a huge life event. I wasn’t sure I’d make it out the other side so I wanted just one more big celebration. Even though he wasn’t best happy with me wanting to wait until after Christmas, he agreed but he said he would book me in for as soon as possible afterwards. Basically, time was of the essence, I had a ticking time bomb in my head and it could have detonated at any second. I was too young and too frightened to understand at the time but me choosing to have the surgery a month or so later than was wanted by the surgeon could have cost me my ability to walk entirely or my life if my health had taken another slump.

#rare illness #Arnold Chiari Malformation #chiari #brain surgery #chronic illness #surgery

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sandsthewriter · 5 years

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27 things I’ve learned in 27 years.

Not that my short 27 years on this planet makes me some wise human being but I’ve learnt a few lessons and tidbits along the way as I stumbled my way through life as best as I could.

Thought I’d share them here.

Ps: Also, happy birthday to me! xD

1. The secret to everyday happiness is having an attitude of gratitude.

2. Shift your mindset from an “I have to do this” mentality to an “I get to do this” mentality. I get to go to work, I get to have a busy day, etc. Don’t dress your opportunities as stress.

3. Cook at home 80% of the time. It’ll save you a shit load of money, allow you to expand your culinary skills, and give you more control of what you put inside of your body.

4. Take care of your body. We only get one body in this lifetime and it is what allows us to do everything we want to do in this life. So taking care of it should be our ultimate priority - so eat right, workout, find ways to manage your stress, and get enough sleep.

5. Everything you desire is on the other side of consistency. Overcoming fears, making plans, and moving towards goals you’ve set for yourself is all good but for you to see real results, do what is required every single day. Put in the work consistently. Discipline is the ultimate form of self-care.

6. Put in the effort to understand yourself as it is the one sure fire way to improve your life. Knowing what you need, what you fear, your strengths and weaknesses, how you study, how you react to stress...get to know all that about yourself and more. Then instead of trying to work against your innate traits, use them and work with them.

7. Pessimism comes naturally to us. Sometimes it’s our default setting. We always have to work harder to stay positive but trust me it’s worth it.

8. Not everything you think is true. Our minds can convince us of quite a lot of things. It can be way harsher and judgmental on you than even your worst frenemy. Out of the blue if it tells you that you are a terrible writer with no facts to back it up, question that thought and investigate if it is true or not. Conquer your thoughts so you may eventually conquer your life.

9. On that note, almost everything in life is a skill. If you put your mind to it and commit yourself to doing the required amount of work, every skill in life can be learned. Want to be a good writer, you can learn it. Want to be a better cook, you can learn that too. Want to be more organized? Woah! Guess what? You can learn it! And in this day and age, learning something new is just a click away.

10. Mindset is everything. Everything begins and ends in your mind. There’s nothing you cannot change about your life if you put your mind to it. Within reason. If you decide you can, there’s a good chance you’d find a way to do it. Similarly, if you decide you can’t, you will guarantee that you won’t be able to do it. So approach life from a position of power, not defeat.

11. Stop complaining. Seriously. It serves no purpose and only brings more negative energy into your life. In most situations, you often have two options: change it or accept it. If you’re unhappy with something or a situation, change it. If you cannot change it, find a way to accept it and find peace with it. Worrying about it is pointless. Regretting the past cannot change it for it has already happened. Being anxious about the future is pointless for it’s still yet to come. Fretting about things beyond your control only distracts you from being present in the moment and enjoying your life.

12. Feel what you need to feel and then let it go. Grief, anger, resentment, envy...whatever it is, do not dwell on it. Do not let it fester inside of you.

13. Do not let how you feel rule you. Let it guide you, and guide it yourself but never let it control you. I used to allow how I felt on a particular day decide whether or not I went to school, or showed up for work, or whatever else. And in the end, I almost always ended up feeling guilty and shittier at the end of the day. It should be noted that I am not talking about mental health days that you just might need to recover from everything overwhelming you. But you should always pay close attention to whether you’re actually feeling terrible inside, or are you just feeling lazy. Sometimes reluctance is just laziness with a better excuse.

14. You’re not going to be at your 100% every single day. There will be fluctuations and happiness and sadness comes and goes. Just do your best to create your happiness. Just do your best to endure your sadness.

15. Be compassionate and patient with yourself. You’re doing the best you can. It’s the greatest form of kindness.

16. Don’t live pay check to pay check. Have financial goals and build up savings. Up until very recently (read 3 months ago) I used to spend my entire paycheck and go broke until the next one arrived. But hey! I am 27 freaking years old now and it’s way too late for me to be living that recklessly. Recording my expenses made me realize just how much money I used to waste on things I didn’t really need. Now that I have started making a realistic budget and actually sticking to it, I actually have more money to spend on things I really want to invest in.

17. Debt is never worth it. Trust me, it is no fun having something like that hanging over you. Especially for a control freak like me, it was just a horrible experience. I ain’t going to say don’t ever get a Credit Card. Just spend wisely. Most of the things you think you desperately need are not always necessities.

18. Confidence starts inside of you. The one person you really need to impress, is yourself.

19. But also...sometimes, even if you are not at your most confident self, you can still fake it till you make it. In other words, we all have bad days. We are allowed to have them. After all, we are human. We all have our struggles, and messes but it’s the way we carry them that sets us apart. Story time: one day, when I was at work, my best friend showed up on her way somewhere, and I was in my shittiest over-worn maxi dress. My hair was up in a messy bun that I usually put it up in when I just can’t be bothered to wash it and style it. I had red lipstick on, and flip flops. She took one look at me and said, “you look so beautiful and put together.” Trust me, I didn’t feel it but somehow my minimal effort looked passable enough. So learn to carry yourself well even when you don’t feel like it.

20. In life, failing in some capacity is inevitable. So, fail with purpose and fail productively. Learn from your failures. Become better from those learnings. 21. Declutter your life. Clearing up your space of things helps to clear up your mind. Clearing up your life of people and commitments help you simplify your life. Live clutter free. Love and respect yourself enough to walk away from anything that is not right for you.

22. Not everything that weighs you down is yours to carry. You can love people but you cannot “save” them. They have to save themselves.

23. Appreciating someone else’s success or amazingness does not in anyway lessen yours. Lift each other up.

24. Be aware of your ego. Don’t let it ruin moments, relationships, and productivity.

25. Take responsibility for yourself, your choices, and the consequences of those choices. Blaming someone of something else is pretty much equivalent to giving your power away. So don’t be the victim of your life. Take your power, and own it.

26. The purpose of life is to be alive and happy and just do the best you can. Don’t over-complicate it. Any of it. And definitely do not overthink it. There’s no grander purpose to life than to be alive.

27. The magic in life lies in everyday moments. Teach yourself to find the joy in everyday mundane things - the taste of coffee, a good song, laughing over nothing with a good friend...etc. Create your own kinda magic everyday.

#birthday #27 things in 27 years #things i learned #life lessons by sands #life lessons #growing up #30 in 3 #infj

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darlingnik · 5 years

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Survive, Thrive, or Both?

For years every person that have has gotten the chance to know me, almost always suggests that I should write. Writing is hard for me. It’s physically hard because I have the worst handwriting in the world and literally can never stay focus on the task of writing my thoughts. Writing requires the writer to be vulnerable. Being vulnerable; actually acknowledging vulnerability is something I have never been comfortable doing. But because this is my 40th birthday and because (as usual) I procrastinated (no fabulous photo shoots, parties, dinners, vacations or any of the stunting for the gram events have been planned), I am gifting myself this action. Actually, I am tasking myself with this project. I realized recently that my 30′s are ending along with the decade. 2020 is upon us whether we are ready or not. I am not prepared for this next chapter, though it is happening regardless. Lack of preparedness has never stopped time.

Most of my life I held on to things well passed their expiration dates. I am a secret but, overt hoarder. Not like the kind you see on television, I am a hoarder of memories, people and trauma. Some of my favorite items to hoard in particular is names. As I boldly step into my new chapter, a new season and a new decade, it is imperative that I shed anything that no longer serves me, this includes identities. Why should I continue to pine for the names of the men who have either hindered, harmed or hurt me; to forgo the name of the one who helped, loved, elevated and celebrated me...This new path requires a new name steeped in love, sacrifice, joy, strength, and honor. It is the amalgamation of the asé, love, hope and sacrifices of my mother that I am able to take on this work.

But what is this work? One of my gifts is critical thinking. I am critical of everything from the flick of the wrist of the barista at Starbucks to counting the number of clicks required to make an online purchase. With the aforementioned question in mind, I began the task of deep self-reflection because that is the only area where I seemed to have difficulty assessing things accurately. I realized that though I am the eldest of my mother’s and father’s children, a natural leader in all realms of my personal and professional life, I am in fact, a person who is in the between of things: generations, zodiac signs, and now life. I loathe the in between the same way I despise “the gray area.” The dreaded, feared 40 is now upon me and I am not as prepared as I thought I would be.

Depending on whom you ask, I could be considered a millennial vs generation X. I am on the end of generation X ushering in the millennials. My birthday is at the end of one zodiac sign (Libra) and the beginning of the next (Scorpio), thus making me a cusper of sorts. My birthday is after my mother’s and before my father’s, which now makes for an interesting four week period every year. Despite being hamstrung between so many things mentioned and not, I never realized until now, how uncomfortable the middle is. I am now at the top of the hill and the view at the top is not anything close to what was expected. I feel my mortality more now than ever. I feel my mother’s mortality even more. Death, loss and change are the hurdles I must contend with, regularly. No longer can I feign ignorance, avoid responsibility, or be conveniently confused as to who I am or what I want. 40 is supposed to be the arrival of self-confidence and self-esteem and simply not giving a damn. I am unsure of myself more than ever before. The season for rose colored glasses is over and never to return.

As I approach 40 I'm overwhelmed with the idea of what life looks like for the latter half. I somehow missed all of the memos about the changing of the new decade and honestly as a millennial vs. gen X, one would think that I would be on top of 2020’s arrival. However this period of time has caused me to do some deep reflection.

Society has taught women to dread 40 and I am no different than any other woman in society. I look at the milestone markers of things that I should have achieved by now and honestly I am lamenting over the fact that most of them I have not achieved and most likely will not achieve (marriage for a 2nd time, children, home ownership, paid off student loans, etc). It amazes me that while I hoard identities, names, and critiques; I never realized my long love affair with trauma. I secretly get a rush being in the pressure cooker. Need to write a paper? Let’s wait 1 hour before it’s due to get it done. Need to study for an exam, let’s cram! Want to move across country? Pack up and leave with barely enough to get there safely. Need to write your blog/think piece/online journal entry? Do it the day before your birthday. I am a quintessential procrastinator. If there is a way to add pressure to situation, I am all in. But why crave such high octane experiences? The only conclusion I can come to is my love/hate relationship with trauma. Growing up in a home where abuse abounded, I learned early the importance of survival. If my mother taught me anything, she taught me how to get knocked down and stand back up, quickly. I watched in amazement how she took the hard knocks of life and come back fighting harder. I promised myself that I would never be vulnerable enough to allow a man or anyone the chance to take me off my square. Physical abuse, never. Mental, emotional, spiritual abuse, bring it on!

My survival skills required intense situations and while I wasn’t going to allow any man to hit me, I for damn sure would let you string me along, take me on the long wild ass ride of an emotional roller coaster for the thrill of “surviving” it. I routinely seek out personal and professional spaces that push me past my boundaries and comfort. Thus a queen of creating thunderstorms only to cry profusely when it rains is born. The quintessential procrastinator is actually a professional victim. But at 40 the theatrics of yesteryear are contrite and exhausting. I can no longer tolerate high pressure situations just for the thrill. If pressure can create diamonds or burst pipes, then consider me human confetti.

Survive, thrive or both? I have proven that I can survive but now I choose to thrive, even if it means taking a loss, falling from grace, or not achieving the milestone markers. It means regardless, if I professionally am a success, lose the weight, win the lottery or meet and fall in love with Travis Cure (@Travis.Cure on Instagram), I am enough. Thriving in life at 40 means saying no more, creating pockets of joy daily, not comparing myself to others, allowing myself to be vulnerable, allowing myself to feel even when the feeling hurts and last but not least letting go of all the people, places and things that do not elevate or celebrate me. Life is like a basketball game. We all get four quarters and 40 is my halftime. Will I walk into the locker room elated or defeated? Will I leave the locker room inspired or tired? Will I continue to make the same bad plays over and over or will I play smarter? Will I take chances or continue to play it tight and safe? Will I trust my coach (my higher self) and my team (the friends and family that love and support me)? It is not important to assess the potential to win the game of life. It is important that I live my life all of my life not just the highlight reels. I will always be a survivor, but as Dr. Thema (@DrThema on Instagram and Twitter) so aptly tweeted “You’ve mastered survival mode. Now it’s time to live.” No better time to start living than at 40. Now I am off to have my cake and eat it too…but first I must bake it. :)

Nik M.

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kunoichi-ume · 5 years

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May Drabbles, Day 22

Prompt: “Running seems to be all you’re good at”

Characters: (future) Republic Trooper Jurr Jiin and a brief cameo by Jedi Master Vukosh

Word Count: 1987

Jurr scrolled through the list of requirements for enlistment in the Republic Army and forced herself not to frown. She had been trying to get better at schooling her emotions, mostly to hide her almost constant state of fear and confusion, because she needed to be able to hide her condition, but the further down this list she got the more she felt her heart sinking.

It wasn’t the physical requirements that concerned her as much as it was the mental skills test. She had started physical training not long after she had realized that elisting was the only way for her to escape the medical facility that felt more like a prison than a home. Not that she had any idea what home meant, it was just one of those words she heard from time to time. It was where the other patients all went when they left, something she had only recently been able to retain.

Her memory had stabilized in the last few years, less mid day resets and total losses, but she was still missing large swaths of time. Like those developmental years of growing up, when she should have been learning and growing as a person. Doing all those things people do to become successful adults.

Those were a complete blank instead of the springboard into life they should have been.

Instead she was, well, she had no idea how old she actually was just a rough estimate that she was about sixteen, and couldn’t even tell someone how to tie a knot. She could do it, muscle memory seemed to be the only thing she could count on in her fucked up life, but if someone asked her to describe the process from memory along she wouldn’t be able to.

Jurr could run, jump, do push ups and pull ups and every other physical requirement the military had but there was two major hiccups.

They required a general education certificate. If Jurr had ever attended school, she didn’t know it and certainly had not finished or earned any proof of such. Then there was the test, one that covered what they claimed was “general knowledge” but might as well be a very obscure dialect of, well, any language other than Basic.

Dropping the datapad on her bed, Jurr let her head fall heavily against the wall behind her. “Face it Jurr,” she muttered to herself, “running seems to be all you’re good at.”

It was like all the air had gone out of her, she felt so defeated. This was her one and only chance to get out of these endless halls, to see the outside world. The facility had an indoor garden but the planet was buried in snow and ice. In theory Jurr knew she had been outside the hospital, it wasn’t where her injury happened after all, but since her arrival she hadn’t stepped foot outside that she could remember.

The white walls and endless hallways, exam rooms and surgery theaters - as far as Jurr knew that was the extent of the whole galaxy. All she would ever know, for however much her broken mind would be able to hold on to.

With a frustrated growl she pushed herself out of the bed. It was like something snapped inside her as she looked around the small room, walls covered in posters and reminders about her condition and daily routines. She couldn’t do this. Not anymore. This wasn’t a life, being a living experiment for the researchers, being alone all the time, and she couldn’t face another day of it.

Shoving the few things she couldn’t leave behind into a bag didn’t take long, there was little she thought of as being ‘hers’. Really anything she had belonged to the facility, but they wouldn’t miss a few sets of patient pants and shirts or even the datapad that she relied so much on. Not as much as they would miss fiddling with her brain.

Jurr slung the bag over her shoulder and left her room. It was a testament to how much no one noticed her or cared that no one stopped or questioned her on the way. She tried to ignore how much that hurt, it was an old familiar pain even when she couldn’t really remember having felt it before.

Despite having never been outside the hospital, Jurr managed to find the way out easier than she expected. It was like the bright, glowing signs directing her toward the exit were calling her, urging her to continue. When she could see the final door, Jurr grinned and laughed as she started to run down the hall.

This was it. Finally. She was taking her own life into her hands and was going to make something of it. Even if she failed it would be better than staying here. She hit the door at a run, crashing through it before slipping and falling hard.

Jurr gasped as she pushed herself out of the cold material she had fallen into. It was wet as well as cold, soaking her thin clothing through to the bone. Shivering she sat up and looked around. As quick as the snow, what she assumed to be snow, sapped the warmth from her body all the hope she had felt at the idea of leaving was gone.

There was nothing out here. Just ice and snow for as far as she could see.

“It’s not fair,” she said, voice carried away by the frigid breeze, “I can’t even run away.”

Defeated, Jurr sat down against the door and pulled her knees to her chest. Distantly she knew if she stayed out there too long she’d get sick, which would mean more procedures and medications, but couldn’t bring herself to care.

Jurr lost track of time as the cold seeped into her, chilling her inside and out. It was until her datapad started chiming that she was shaken from her stupor. Hands trembling from the chill, she pulled out the device and turned the screen on before frowning at the notification.

There was a new message for her but Jurr never got messages. She didn’t know anyone who would write to her.

Curious and half-sure it would be an automated spam message, she opened the file. A video autoplayed before she could stop it.

“What’s new JJ?”

The boy in the video said those words and the oddest thing happened. The anxiety in her chest relaxed and she felt warm despite the cold around her. Moving the pad closer to her face, she studied the boy intently with her eye. He was the strangest person she had ever seen. Purple hair and more facial implants than even she had, at least visible ones but his eyes were kind. So was his smile.

Jurr didn’t know who this was, but she liked him

“I don’t have long so I hope you don’t mind a video instead of a letter,” he continued as she settled back against the wall to listen. “I just wanted to check in with you, make sure you’re okay. I… I miss you and I know you’d hit me for it but I worry.”

Whoever he was, he was right. Jurr did want to smack him for that but she also kind of wanted to hug him. It was like somehow he had known she wasn’t okay. That was insane of course, there was no way this random guy could know how she felt. No one did.

Didn’t stop it from feeling like it.

Something from behind the boy caught his attention and he looked over his shoulder before frowning at the camera. “Sorry it’s short but I gotta run JJ. I’ll visit as soon as I can. Take care of yourself sis!”

Jurr stared at the datapad in shock as he winked out of existance. He called her sis but that couldn’t be right? Could it? Frantically Jurr accessed her inbox properly, not just the pop up that showed the new message. There were letters and videos there, all from the same address. Checking another video confirmed it was all from the same strange person who called her “JJ” and “sis” but no where was his name revealed to her. Hoping that somewhere he would have said his name, she started reading and watching each message in her inbox starting from the newest one.

It wasn’t until the datapad was warning her about it’s low battery that she realized her fingers were starting to turn blue and she needed to go back inside, whether she wanted to or not.

Sighing Jurr pushed to her feet, wincing at the numb feeling in her limbs. She stumbled when she tried to take a step, barely catching herself on the door before it swung open and she spilled inside and onto the floor. This time when she tried to push to her feet, she couldn’t. Her limbs had decided not to respond to her any longer but she was oddly okay with that. She was tired, more than she had noticed before trying to get up, and now was as good a place as any to nap.

She was on the verge of sleep when she heard someone shouting from down the hall. Jurr tried to tell them to be quiet but everything went dark before she could.

Warmth was the first thing Jurr noticed as she started to wake up. That and the beeping of a heart monitor that sped up as she realized she didn’t know where she was. Forcing her eye open she lifted a hand to touch the left side of her face, panicking when she realized she could only see out of one eye. Instead of the blinded eye she expected to find there was a metal plate.

Tracing the piece of metal, she tried to pull it off of her face. Her breathing had started coming in short, quick gasps as the heart monitor sang shrilly.

Suddenly hands on on her, forcing her to stop praying at the plate from her blind spot.

“No!” Jurr cried, “it’s covering my eye, get it off! Get it off me!”

“Jurr stop it!” A firm voice commanded, cutting through her panic as she froze. Turning she saw a large man looking at her with a sad expression. She wasn’t sure what he was, but with the large horn like growths on his head he couldn’t be human. “You need to relax child.”

Jurr frowned, and whispered, “but I can’t see.”

Returning her frown, he approached slowly and stopped at the side of her bed. “You only have one eye Jurr,” he said, his voice careful like he was speaking to a frightened animal.

Swallowing hard, Jurr dropped her hands and tried to process what he had told her. It didn’t seem possible but when she tried to search her memory for an image of her face she couldn’t recall anything prior to waking up.

Looking back up, intent on asking the man if he could explain how she got here, Jurr noticed him holding a datapad out to her.

“I took the liberty of getting this charged while you slept, take some time to read the notes and it should help you understand what is going on.” The man smiled kindly, inclining his head slightly before leaving the room.

Still confused, Jurr settled back against the curtains and turned the pad on. The first screen it displayed was a infographic of some sort “Uncle Zam Wants YOU For The Republic Military!” It proclaimed boldly across the a picture of a man more strange looking than the one that left, with a ring of small horns circling his head like a crown.

Curious she scrolled down the graphic to read the details on it before smiling. “The Military huh? That could be fun,” she said, thinking outloud. “Wonder what it takes to get in?”

#Swtor #OC: Jurr Jiin #My Writing #May Drabbles '19 #whydidwedothis

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brianbraunduin · 5 years

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The Daily Struggle

You ever go on a super prolonged losing streak in Magic? I'm talking months and months...maybe even years. It's happened to me a few times before. During those periods, everything is incredibly confusing. I play a tournament and lose repeatedly to the best deck. I play the best deck and lose repeatedly to brews. I follow the generally accepted best practice sideboard plan for the mirror match and lose repeatedly to my opponents all doing a different sideboard plan considered "inferior." I then adopt and try the "inferior" plan and lose repeatedly to people just doing the normal thing.

During this period of time it is incredibly difficult to figure out what is going wrong. Am I playing bad? Am I choosing bad decks? Am I getting unlucky? You isolate and correct one problem--I'll play the same deck as my buddy--and then they crush the next tournament and you fail. So then it must mean I'm playing badly, right? But when that same buddy watches you play he thinks you're playing great. So it's variance, surely? But how likely is it that you lose at your current rate for a super prolonged duration off of variance alone? Not particularly. It must then be a combination of factors, you say, but then how do you correct for something you can't isolate and work on to fix?

This is how I currently feel about my personal mental health. I've been depressed for about 14 months now. It ebbs and flows, but ultimately it keeps coming back. If anything, it's worse now than it's ever been.

I keep thinking I've pinpointed the reason for my depression and that if I correct for that thing, I'll start to get better.

I thought it was loneliness. I felt all alone in Virginia. I moved to Seattle with Brad and Amber and now I have roommates that I interact with regularly and daily. I'm not lacking for social interaction with humans if I want it. Yet I don't feel any less lonely than I did before. I feel trapped inside my own head; that nobody else but me will ever truly understand me as a person. That is a sobering and lonely thought.

I thought it was social media. I think social media breeds depression. There are two extremes to social media. One is that you see people posting about themselves at their best moments. It's easy to compare yourself unfavorably to the constant images of people having better moments than you do and become depressed about how your life sucks in comparison. Personally, I don't think this is the problem for me. I trained myself a long time ago to not compare myself to others but rather compare myself only to where I want myself to be. I think I am actually successful at doing this.

Because of that, I thought I was safe from this aspect of social media. But I was wrong, because it goes deeper than that. The next level for me was realizing how fake it all is. The internet is full of people rising to fame by potraying a fake and glamorized version of themselves and if you dwell on that reality it can breed into cynicism that poisons your mind. I'm incredibly cynical right now. My mind has been poisoned.

The other extreme of social media is the extreme negatives. You also see the worst of humanity. War, hunger, people tearing each other down, distrusting each other, yelling at each other, mocking each other, gatekeeping, abuse of power, mob justice, cancel culture taken to excess, are all also omnipresent online. This, I can say for sure, has definitely poisoned my mentality significantly. I don't think it's possible to be exposed to this level of negativity day after day after day and have it not affect your mindset in some capacity.

I had to get away from social media. I couldn't take one more controversy where everyone piled on to the point of excess, where all nuance was lost, and where people just screamed at and blocked each other at the first sign of tension. I just was not strong enough mentally to deal with watching it even if I didn't take part in it myself. I couldn’t take one more story where yet another massive injustice occurred. It had become too much for my mind to take.

I thought that was the source of my depression. It was not. I've been mostly off of Twitter for about 3 weeks or so now, maybe close to a month at this point, and while my day to day productivity has increased massively and while I no longer experience the extreme frustration I had at social media, it has not cured me of my depression...or really made a significant dent in it. My life is better, but my mental health is not.

In fact, like my initial analogy, it has only bred confusion for me. On one hand, I think it's valuable to cut ties with things that are negative influences on your life, and social media definitely is a huge negative. On the other hand, I've learned time and time again in my past that running from my problems is not a viable solution. Cutting off ties to the outside world around me or the Magic community that has been a huge part of my life for years is certainly running away from my problems. It's a temporary band aid and I'd be far better off in the long run just facing my problems and plowing through them, no matter how hard it is.

I think boiled down, I just can't seem to handle people's lack of empathy and base selfishness. I'm not even trying to escape blame here. I can be just as much of a piece of shit as everyone else is. The lack of empathy on social media is astounding. Even people who claim to be empathetic and care about making the community/world better mostly just do lip service to the idea and don't care about anything that doesn't affect them personally or are completely unwilling to consider things from viewpoints other than their own. Worse yet, people use controversy as a launch board for their personal brand. It's easy, even for well meaning people, to seek out and amplify controversy if it helps their bottom line. I’ve been guilty of all these sins myself, plenty of times. But still, seeing this play out day after day has completely eroded my faith in people and I don't know how to get that faith back. I question regularly whether humanity is redeemable in any way.

That brings me to my next point of confusion. I believe I'd be way happier in my life if I just didn't care about any of that and lived in my own bubble and never engaged with social media ever again. But I can't make myself not care, and I feel personally responsible to use my platform to stand up for what I think is right and try to create a better place. The guilt I feel from running away from it all adds up. I've spent weeks now trying to divorce myself from the problems of the world around me but I'm not sure I can escape it. I waffle daily between a desire to find happiness living my life isolated from the problems of the world and feeling an obligation to engage myself with those problems, even if it spits me out a bitter, sad, defeated man in the end.

On the flip side, I find myself simultaneously unable to care about things that I should be passionate about. I don't care about how well I do in Magic events, even though I'm currently at the peak of my Magic career. I don't care if I succeed or fail in my career. I don't know if I'm capable of caring about other human beings on the personal level that I see other people exhibit. Somehow I've managed to both care too much and not be able to care enough about things at the same time.

Another potential cause of my depression that I thought might be "the one" was my body. I've battled with weight my entire life. People who knew me 5 years ago will note that I've gained a lot of weight since then. People who knew me 10 years ago will see that at one point I lost over 100 pounds, and then over the course of 6 years, I've gained most of it back, with lots of ups and downs in the mix.

For two weeks now I've been dieting and exercising regularly, without breaking routine or slipping. This has greatly improved how I've viewed myself. I always feel guilty eating unhealthy food. Avoiding the shame and self-loathing that comes with shoving your face with junk food has been excellent. I feel better physically and I feel great about myself for finally mustering the motivation to do this. Hasn't lessened my depression, though.

Another potential cause for my depression is a lack of intimacy. I'm not talking about sex, I'm talking about personal intimacy that comes with a close relationship. To be honest, I still think this might be it, or at least a massive factor, but as time goes on and all the other areas in my life I've changed fail to even put a dent in my depression, I'm growing skeptical. I want to start throwing myself into the dating ring, but I feel guilty, because I don't honestly know if I am capable of reciprocating caring about someone else anywhere close to the level they would potentially care about me. I'm also cynical about the chances of success in finding someone I'm interested in and not sure I have it in me to try and fail repeatedly in the process of getting there.

The last potential cause for my depression is a lack of a mission. I feel purposeless. I feel a sense of listlessness--that I'm just floating through life and not actually accomplishing anything or doing anything other than ticking down the days till my body eventually stops functioning and I die. I want a goal. I want something to work toward, something with real, true meaning, and the feeling that I'm actually doing something useful on my way there. Much like the intimacy thing, I also strongly think this might be "it."

The likelihood, however, is that my depression is probably a combination of a ton of factors. Loneliness, lack of intimacy, weight, abject despair at the state of humanity and the world around me, social media depression, no purpose, and so forth all factor in. But that brings me back to the initial analogy. At that point, how do I figure out how to break through the morass of it all? It's so confusing and daunting. I think about this all the time and I can never come to a meaningful breakthrough. My life is a constant shift between a state of giving up on everything and not caring about anything vs a state of caring too much about everything. I constantly bounce between the idea that if I cared less I'd be happier and the idea that if I cared more I'd be happier. This happens multiple times throughout each day, and it's all incredibly confusing to me.

Honestly, I think something is wrong with my brain. I don't know what it is, but I think my brain is straight up broken. I've been putting it off for a while now, but I made the decision earlier this week to find and go to a professional for help, assuming I'll ever be able to muster up the motivation to go. I'm honestly skeptical they can fix me, but it's frankly irresponsible for me to not try.

For what it's worth, I have no desire or thoughts of self-harm in any way. I also don't feel negatively toward myself. I don't blame myself for my current state at all. If anything, I have a fairly positive self-image. I know I'm trying as hard as I can to fix my life. I also remain optimistic that I can get out of this eventually.

But goddamn it's fucking depressing to go through every day with a sense of aimless hopelessness seemingly without end. My depression is fucking depressing me. I just want it to be over. I want to experience what happiness is like once again. I know it exists. It's been a while, but I've been there before.

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maiji · 5 years

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“If you could pick 5 members to be on your team in the dark tournament, who would it be?”

So while I was going back through my archives trying to see if I had any incorrectly flagged content (I scrolled all the way to 2015, found three, and gave up/went to bed lol), I kept getting distracted and rereading old posts out of amusement. One of them was this 21 Questions Yu Yu Hakusho meme - and one question in particular made the gears of my brain clank so I thought hey, why not? Let’s answer it.

I'm going to tackle this question from two angles.

A) If I could pick ANY characters in Yu Yu Hakusho to form a team.

B) If I could only pick characters who appear during the actual Dark Tournament.

As soon as you see my first list, you'll understand why I was like, “oh.” and opted to do it again from B lmao.

(Oh yeah my tags spoil everything but oh well. Hope the rationale makes up for it hahaha)

VERSION A: Fun times

Raizen.

I'm sorry, the tournament is over now, thank you for coming. Seriously though, he's Yusuke with a million times more firepower and brains/experience. Also, one of the appeals of Yusuke is that he makes fighting fun, which is why everyone wants to go up against him. Raizen's friends express the exact same sentiment repeatedly. Raizen in his prime in battle would be a sight to see. He'd be all DID SOMEBODY SAY FIGHTING?? YEAH I'LL FIGHT ALL THE FIGHTS WAHOO and nobody would be able to get him off the arena platform. If there is an arena platform left. Or an arena. Or anything.

Enki.

Jolly uncle/all-round good dude, I love him. He also loves fighting, so he is also lots of fun. He seems much more cool-headed and practical than Raizen, and definitely takes the lead in coordinating the rest of Raizen's pals. Thus, he's a great wingman for Raizen. If you somehow actually manage to defeat Raizen- haha, what am I talking about? OK, if Raizen slept in or something, then you can fight Enki. And in that case the tournament is still over.

Kokou.

LOVES FIGHTING AND WILL KICK YOUR ASS. Even Enki was relieved he didn't have to face her. I firmly believe after Raizen she's the strongest - or at least one of the strongest - out of all of Raizen's already insanely powerful friends. Honestly, between Raizen and Kokou they'd probably just take everybody down, including each other, and have a blast.

My perfect noodle husband Hokushin.

Obviously no one is surprised at this pick on my blog. Also loves fighting, plus super duper reliable, he's perfect support for anything. Along with Enki, he'd help temper Raizen and Kokou's wild party. And somebody needs to clean up after all the mess and make sure everybody gets first aid and whatever. Well, first aid for the other team they just massacred, I guess.

One more Raizen friend: Natsume.

We could put another one of Raizen's friends here, but I pick Natsume because we know a lot more about her and she's so badass and we should have more women. Also, because she's very clearly another great mashup of LOVES FIGHTING and NOT STUPID, as a fifth member, she can easily step in to fill any of the others' shoes, whether it's happily beat the crap out of everything in sight or be calm and strategize. If anybody ever actually needed to be filled in for some reason.

I call this amazingness Team Old People. IMO this team is flawless because they would just be so damn entertaining on so many levels. You have five extremely powerful and smart warriors with centuries of experience who have nothing to prove aside from sheer enjoyment of battle. Every one of them has expressed a passion for fighting because it's simply a joy for them, which means they wouldn't be playing it safe/boring. Seeing a master in action at practically anything is awesome, and not only that but they’d be willing to experiment and take risks and do things that are out there. A tournament is also a form of entertainment for the audience (both the real life audience and the one in the show), and that combined with their expert level combat skills means that I think they'd be so fantastic to watch. And all of them have distinct personalities that balance "I am an ancient demon with wisdom and stuff" VS "I love punching people (or getting punched) in the face!!" in different enough ways that they still offer really interesting character dynamics and interaction opportunities. And they would also be incredibly supportive of each other while still allowing for plenty of snark.

That said, FUN FUN FUN aside, the very obvious problem with this team is that they seriously break the question. And everything else. Even if they don’t intend to flat out obliterate everything, that’s what would probably happen, and that unfortunately can easily head towards its own kind of boring. Everyone would be like "why are we having a tournament, we're going home". So, we must leave Team Old People behind and move on to version B.

VERSION B: Serious business

Dark Tournament characters only. I will exclude members of the Toguro Team from my selection for obvious reasons. NO MORE FUN TIME. This is me pretending that I'm some rich underworld dude or whatever putting together a team I'm betting on to get through the tournament. You're going to see a clear pattern emerging from my picks.

Genkai.

The veteran. Intelligent, experienced, very powerful and pragmatic. I'd shell out big bucks to get her to come back to be my team's captain. No question for me, she's a must, even if all she does is sit on the sidelines and coach the rest of the team. With a group of serious, motivated and talented fighters, she'd be the best mentor and my team would be well-positioned to MAKE ME LOTS OF MONEY SO IN YOUR SMOKY SCARRED FACE SAKYO

Hiei.

Those who know me may find it shocking that I'm including Hiei but not Yusuke, Kuwabara, or Kurama. Hiei doesn't appear on my tumblr very often, and of the four main characters he's probably the one I'm least emotionally invested in. But if you're assembling a team for the Dark Tournament, you're IN IT TO WIN IT!! And Hiei is the best bet. I shall explain.

Hiei is efficient and effective, and his success ratio is the highest out of all Urameshi Team members - the most number of individual fights without a single loss or draw. Granted, he sits out for a chunk of the tournament, but he rarely appears worn out at the end of a fight. The only time he overexerts himself is against Zeru; after his recovery, he never seems to break a sweat. Even against Bui, he had no real issues. From a betting perspective, his odds are very, very good. Kuwabara and Kurama both experience multiple losses - Kuwabara often because he's young and overconfident or becomes so personally involved that he cares more for a positive outcome for other people than for winning; Kurama often because (as Hiei notes) he tends to overcalculate the situation and draw things out so long figuring everything out that it turns into a disadvantage. Yusuke's very strong and has huge potential, but he's also focused far too much on the experience. This makes his battles fun to watch but would give a strategist heart attacks. Many of his fights involve near-misses or less-than-ideal situations stemming from amateur errors. And finally, he gets dinged with a draw in his match with Jin, in part because his dawdling on the field made the deception feasible. Yusuke's great for drama and storytelling, not great for the comfort of my pocketbook. Having him on a team is risky when I know the other underworld bosses I'm competing against are not above using underhanded tactics.

As a result, based on a purely practical evaluation, Hiei is the most reliable choice. He's very focused on, and very good at, the one thing I want - DEFEAT THE OPPONENT UNEQUIVOCALLY. He comes in and tears people apart and there's no chance of an ambiguous referee call. He just needs his team members to be people he can respect to keep him in line. With Genkai as captain, that shouldn't be an issue. Nor with the rest of my picks.

Ryo (Kai in the anime) / M-3.

This is the Dr. Ichigaki member with the invisible claw powers. After their fight, he offers to be a replacement for the seriously injured Kuwabara (Yusuke appreciates it but has to turn him down because it's against the rules unless Kuwabara actually dies). He seems to be the strongest of the three students who were brainwashed by Ichigaki, and without Genkai's intervention and his own struggling against Ichigaki's mechanism, he would very likely have wiped out Kuwabara and Yusuke. He's extremely serious and dedicated, and with someone like Genkai steering the helm I think he'd go far. I'd be comfortable putting money on him. I also like him a lot and wish he had more involvement in the story - I've always felt that if Togashi didn’t need to get Koenma in for story purposes Yusuke hadn't been so freaked out and completely lost mentally when Genkai died, he probably would've asked Ryo to be the replacement fifth member. SOMEONE WRITE THIS

Touya.

Stronger than Gama, less arrogant than Risho, more reliable than Jin (who has many of the same problems as Yusuke), and Bakken sucks and will never be considered by anybody. Touya's powers are also very flexible. Somebody just needs to tell him to NOT TALK TO HIS OPPONENT. Don't talk to them, don't listen to them, don't let them distract you, don't let them get into your head, JUST GET IN THERE AND EYE ON THE PRIZE AND BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF THEM OKAY lol. I also think when Genkai was training everyone for Kurama, Touya was probably the one who gave her the least hard time. I mean, out of Touya, Jin, Chuu, Rinku, Suzuki and Shishiwakamaru who do YOU think would bellyache the least? I thought so.

The fifth member is actually a backup/alternate who doesn't necessarily see action (if you recall, this is why Chuu was mad). For my final pick, I took a while to decide, so I'll tell you about both of the last two people I was considering since I enjoy any excuse to talk about characters I don’t usually see mentioned.

5a is Zeru.

OK, partly I considered him because nobody remembers him lmao - he was Hiei's first victory, obliterated into a shadow by Hiei's training-wheels Kokuryuuha. But if you look at my other picks, I think you'll appreciate why he's on my radar - he fits the profile of what I'm looking for very nicely. I want someone in control of themselves; who is a reliable, consistent, focused fighter unlikely to get distracted by other things; who clearly demonstrates power and is committed and has potential to grow really fast with the right direction/team captain. The only thing is that with Hiei already on the team, this may be duplicating the skillset and the mental profile a bit too much. And I think it's clear Hiei already has the upperhand in baseline power. So,

5b is Suzuki.

His strength isn't fighting. It's his ingenuity in adapting, augmenting, and outfitting his team members with really good, really creative tools. He's honestly more a tinkerer and an inventor, imaginatively tweaking things to be even more useful, and whenever he realizes and accepts this about himself instead of trying to be just another fighter in the limelight, he'll be rich lmao. Anyways, this skill makes him a hugely valuable asset. I don't need him to be in the ring, I'm fine having him support with cool gadgets to amplify the rest of the team.

I HOPE YOU LIKED MY PICKS lol

#yu yu hakusho #meme #21 questions yyh style #raizen #enki #kokou #hokushin #natsume #genkai #hiei #ryo #touya #zeru #suzuki

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lovelysilence14 · 6 years

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My Review of Infinity War *Spoilers!*

So, I just saw Infinity War a few hours ago and I will admit... I ended up seeing some spoilers of it beforehand. -_- Yes, I know. But while I knew them... God, I was NOT expecting my emotional reaction to still be like someone took a freaking sledgehammer to my gut! Note: LONG RANT!!! I have A LOT to say about this movie!!!

This was me leaving the theater.

Oh my god, they’re all dead! My babies - my favorite heroes are DEAD!!! That painful and just about emotionally traumatic ending, did they want to rip my spine out along with my heart too while they were at it? I knew some of the deaths before hand - thank you internet - and yet it still socked me in my heart anyway.

My main heartache is for my precious Scarlet Witch and Vision. My OTP now tragic OTP is DEAD. That one stabbed me in my stomach the most hard. Which is why I am leaving my LONG lament on that at the bottom. My two laments first are going to be about the romantic relationship of Peter and Gamora and the father/son relationship pf Peter Parker and Tony.

For now anyway, since those ones really hit me like a sucker punch. Now, let’s get to it!

PETER AND GAMORA

His reaction to Gamora’s forced leaving with Thanos and death made my heart ache for him. Okay, one half of my heart. The other half was going “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?!?” since his blind rage of grief cost the team the one near successful chance at getting the gauntlet.

But, to be fair, she was the one - the ONE - woman he came to ever truly love. He was implied to be quite promiscuous before falling for Gamora. In GOTG part 2, he made an active effort to prove to her he had changed and wanted a real relationship with her. Then, after working for her to give him that chance, spends four years together with her happy and actually IN LOVE. Not brief infatuation and a casual and meaningless fling. He actually grew to sincerely love and care for her like a soulmate. Hell, he probably did see her as the one woman in the literal galaxy meant for him. She wasn’t one of his meaningless flings - he actually LOVED her. Which added to why hearing of her death hit him so hard that he carelessly allowed those grief stricken and outraged emotions cloud his better judgement. He just lost the one woman he ever fell in love with.

And after losing his mother to a needless death done by another man’s sick and selfish convenience to gain murderous power... yes, emotionally, I get it. But the logical part of my head still wants to smack him. Just a tad anyway.

PETER PARKER AND TONY STARK

I did NOT expect his death WHATSOEVER. Maybe a dramatic wounding by Thanos, but outright DEATH? And in Tony’s arms on top of it. I was expecting to see Tony maybe die in front of Peter and hear him say how he can’t lose another father figure. Not again. Instead it turns itself COMPLETELY AROUND of our fan theory. In the beginning, we hear Tony talk about how he wants children with Pepper and wants to be a dad. I think these emotions came on during his time with Peter and establishing that father/son relationship with him and getting that glimpse of fatherhood.

(In Homecoming, we flatly hear Tony’s implied feelings of seeing Peter as a surrogate son when talking about how his father never really encouraged him and he wants to “break the cycle” by encouraging Peter in the way his dad never did.)

I will admit though, I did love their bickering on the spaceship with Tony scolding Peter for stowing away when he specifically told him to go back home.

Peter: “Really, this is your fault!”

Tony gives him a flat look

Peter: “Okay, NOT WHAT I MEANT!” Lol :D

But god, Peter’s death scene. Once again, we are cruelly reminded that despite Peter’s adult sized gifts, he is still just a kid. When telling Tony he didn’t feel good and Tony just wanting to assure him he is okay, even though they both know he isn’t. Then just crying and CLUTCHING to Tony and begging that he didn’t want to die and reminding us with a solid punch to our chests that he is still just a kid. And as he dies in his surrogate dad’s arms, who is trying to calm him down, he tells him he’s sorry for failing him.

And POOF... he’s literally just gone! And Tony just sitting there in shocked grief at losing the young boy he grew to see as his own KID and left simply hold his hand to his face that is smeared in Peter’s ashes. Biologically or not, emotionally, Peter WAS his kid. And that’s the type of pain that hurts the most in the world. And he just lost him and you know he feels responsible for it. And when Peter said sorry for failing him, I wanted to go, “But you didn’t fail him, Peter! You did your best to save the world! That’s the best ANY Avenger would do!” And he never got to know Tony was certainly NOT disappointed in him.

He died feeling like a failure and letdown for Tony.

We better see Tony have SOME sort of brief mental break down at this. You can’t have Tony grow to see Peter as his own son and not have even a brief scene of paternal grief and heartache. Not something OVERLY dramatic, but just a brief yet significant scene that shows Tony genuinely FELT Peter’s loss. My brother and I were even wondering if maybe in I.W Part 2 Tony might give his life to bring back Peter.

God, my heart cannot even handle that THOUGHT right now!

Now time for my BIGGEST heartbreak!

SCARLET WITCH AND VISION

Oh my god. I was so hoping that Vision would somehow get out of the fatal situation with his Mind Stone, but I guess that was an obvious tragic scene happening no matter what we wanted for him and Wanda. But it still RIPPED MY HEART OUT to see him and Wanda not get the happy ending they so RIGHTFULLY DESERVE!!!! God, that lip quiver though as she is forced to accept that she has to kill Vision no matter what she wants. I felt a sting in my chest just thinking about it.

She wanted nothing more than to save the one person she had left in the world that she cared about more than anything, even her own life. Only to be forced to kill Vision to save the literal universe and then being forced to see him brought back and slaughtered in a literal matter of SECONDS regardless of the mental hell she just put herself through?

SHE KILLED HER TRUE LOVE FOR NOTHING!!! And on top of it, the very last thing she heard him say as she is mournfully killing him is “I love you” the literal moment before she sees and likely FEELS him die. Can’t the MCU writers give this traumatized girl a freaking BREAK already?

Seeing Vision fall in love with Wanda was the most happiness I got out of the movie. Their early moments when spending a private and secret life together as a would-be normal couple had me squealing on the inside. Him fumbling around in his wording to describe his true feelings for Wanda had me grinning. It was just so cute! Paul Bettany and Elizabeth Olsen truly have GREAT chemistry! And Vision actually offering to run off and for them to try to be an official couple like normal people? Just run away from it all. God, I so wish we could have seen that! They deserved that life! Seeing that love they grew to have for each other made me fangirl and seeing their hearts break for each other just broke my own heart in two. :(

To think, a lot of people said that with Vision being an android, he couldn’t feel any emotion. No human level connections. Yet he spent the whole movie holding and kissing Wanda’s hand to show his love in the most basic physical form and only thinking of her personal safety even if it cost him his own. He just about begged her to kill him to save herself and everyone. And as she is killing him and flat out sobbing as she is doing it, his last and final words to her are “I love you”. Even though I just wish we saw her say it back, we at least know she was without a doubt thinking it. Maybe she sent that message through the Mind Stone as a final thought just before his tragic demise?

Seeing Wanda easily accept her death just about made my heart pinch. She lost her parents, her home village, her brother, the little bit of a family she had with the Avengers, then not only lose the man she fell in love with, but to actually be the one forced to kill him herself. Only for that trauma and pain to be in vain when Thanos undoes her execution and gets what he wanted from Vision anyway. She probably figured this was the only way for her to get her happiness and eternal peace. She was emotionally done with the never ending pain life had dealt onto her and wanted that peace she longed for once and for all. She was happy to finally just die and maybe even imagined being reunited with Vision and her brother and parents in death. She was finally getting all of that.

As I read in another posting, Wanda’s heart broke when she felt her brother and only person she had left in the world she loved die. Feeling and actually being the one to kill the man she fell in love with, again, the only person she had left in the world she dearly loved - even though she was forced and left no choice - was the moment of loss that broke her soul. When it was done, she couldn’t even get back up when knocked onto the ground in the explosion when Vision and his Mind Stone were killed. Even with Thanos himself literally right next to her and possibly even about to kill her, she literally could only just lie there on the ground, crying in heartbroken grief and defeat. Which is why when Thanos said he understood her pain, Wanda truly meant it when she said that he didn’t know the true depth of her pain.

After that, she was just DONE. And I can’t say that I blame her. She literally lost EVERYONE and everything she ever loved. :(

God, SCARLET WITCH AND VISION BETTER GET THEIR HAPPY ENDING OR I SWEAR TO GOD I am NEVER paying money to see another MCU movie AGAIN!!! JUST TRY ME MCU WRITERS! YOU GUYS WANT MY MONEY?

GIVE THESE TWO A HAPPY ENDING!!! They deserve it, damn it! Hell WE the FANS deserve it! Our hearts have been royally ripped out along with poor Wanda’s!

MY HEART IS STILL RAW IN GRIEF! And it’s only been a few hours.

I have hope Vision and Wanda will be brought back. They are probably the most popular OTP ship in the MCU universe right now. God, I hope these two get their happy ending. Give us our Scarlet Vision happy ending!

WELL...

I think that’s it for my rant. For now. On a side note, thank GOD they didn’t do anything with the god awful Bruce and Natasha ship. I personally still cannot STAND that coupling. Thank god it was only a “Hi, nice to see you again” and left at that. THANK you for killing that and PLEASE just end that awful ship while you’re at it. PLEASE.

Just please cool our torn Scarlet Vision and Starmora hearts and give our characters a happy ending please? Pretty please?

#avengers infinity war #infinity war #infinity war spoilers #scarlet witch and vision #scarlet vision #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #starmora #star lord #gamora #spiderman #tony stark #peter and tony #marvel cinematic universe #mcu

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nishi-key · 5 years

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evergreen (G; for the middle blocker kindaichi yuutarou)

my piece for the middle blocker zine, which i only bothered to post now because i completely forgot that my blog is my portfolio. i received my copy of the book recently. thanks to everyone who made it possible! it’s absolutely gorgeous!!

rest of the fic under the cut. it’s...a bit of a read.

The plant is a young purple shamrock, for now nothing but clumps of tiny triangular leaves sprouting out from the soil in an overly-large pot.

It’s a present to Yuutarou for his thirteenth birthday, and though it’s not exactly on his wish list, he takes and looks at it as though it’s the vast, fragile universe—and it is, in its own special way, he figures. It’s a life smaller than he’ll ever be. He now holds its existence like he holds his food or homework or volleyball, and for a boy without much of a concept of what life is beyond these things, it feels incredible.

His mother names the flower with a bright grin on her face. “I got it for you because it’s one of the easiest plants to keep at home,” she tells him, “but the woman who sold it to me said it’s magical.”

Yuutarou raises an eyebrow.

“No, it’s true! It’s a magical shamrock that’ll watch over you, and everything you do. Take care of it well enough and it might just have something to say about your luck and successes.” She winks.

He knows better than to believe her; he’s not a baby, and he’s not about to get manipulated into poring over a bunch of leaves under the impression that it’ll give him a better life. He does thank her for the thoughtful present, though, listens to her drone on about how to keep it alive and promises to try his best with it as he takes it to his room and places it on his desk. Not a bad spot, he thinks, and makes a mental note to water it for the first time. Maybe later.

The plant is doing fairly well, from the looks of it.

It’s like owning a pet, having a plant under his wing, only not as cute and cuddly. It’s more of a new, relatively simple chore he carries out without the need to get nagged. It’s nothing special, nothing remotely interesting, so when his friends find out on the first day they come over, it’s anything but momentous.

"Wait, your mom said it was magic?" Kunimi asks once he finishes relaying the story, now months old.

"Yeah. I guess she was just trying to find a way to get me to give it lots of attention. Dunno why she bothered; it’s not really that needy." Yuutarou shrugs.

Kageyama stares at it with more wonder in his eyes than Yuutarou had when he’d received it. "You should take care of it, magical or not," he says, gingerly touching the tips of the flourishing dark purple leaves. "It’s pretty big, having to keep something alive like this."

"I know. I will," Yuutarou assures him, and relishes in his small smile and nod—not a sliver of doubt in the back of his mind, though there should be, about how well both he and Kageyama’ll be able to keep the important things alive as the years go by.

The plant is generally satisfied, and gradually gains more color, the pinkish white of flowers beautiful amidst the purple.

He doesn’t become a popular guy by any means. He’s easily the tallest kid in the volleyball club but his attacks don’t make the crowd go wild, and they never defeat Shiratorizawa. He’s pretty good at English and Science but his Math teacher always tells him he should do better. He’s welcoming and conversational but his circle of friends is small, his confidence and complete trust concentrated only on two in the bunch.

He wishes for more, as anyone would, and sometimes he finds himself looking at his plant (which beams along with him at every compliment Mom gives), thinking of the magic, but he instantly feels ridiculous, knows that wishes are for people who don’t know how to take action.

So he tries to stay content instead, and like this—with his friends’ bravery and Mom’s cooking and Dad’s advice—the years fly on by.

The plant was fine yesterday. It was.

In their third year, unexpectedly and out of nowhere, Kageyama gets mad at him.

"What the hell? That sucked," he says, eyebrows already knitted, after Yuutarou spikes one of his tosses and lands it out of bounds. "Did you slack off over break or something?"

"Huh?" Yuutarou blinks at him. It’s three thirty and barely anyone on the court has jumped, let alone found a reason to get frustrated. "No? I—we both just miscalculate sometimes, or do something wrong without meaning to. It happens.”

"Try again,” Kageyama instructs, or maybe orders, but Yuutarou doesn’t want to think of it like that. “And make it score this time.”

"I will, I swear."

The image of the calm, collected Kageyama’s deepest scowl to date unwarrantedly plasters itself onto the forefront of Yuutarou’s memory, stays there all the way home. Maybe it was a bad day, he thinks, tells himself that everyone has the right to lose their cool when things don’t go their way—and right at that moment loses his own when he sees his plant sagging.

It isn’t even that bad; the flower stems are only a little bent and the leaves a little wrinkled, but his breath hitches and he drops everything and sprints downstairs so urgently that Mom has to sprint back up with him to make sure he doesn’t trip on his own feet and die trying to bring a plant back to life.

"It’s not the end of the world, Yuu," she tells him, caressing his back as he attempts to rejuvenate his charge. “These types of plants can look under the weather when the temperature isn’t quite right. It happens."

He drinks her words in the way he wishes the plant drinks the water, feels himself cooling down in its place. A little too cool perhaps, when he stares at the moist leaves and sees a poorly-spiked ball and glaring blue eyes and realizes that it isn’t hot at all, but he shuts his eyes, listens to the soft echoes in his mind:

“It happens.”

The plant is healthy again. It just needed a little water.

A 500-yen coin greets him on the floor of the hallway the next day and he picks it up, turns it in his fingers, stares at it for long enough that a still-sleepy Kunimi somehow finds time to join him.

“Find that on the floor?” he asks. “Keep it. Looking around for the owner and the Lost and Found are too much work.”

“Is that really okay?”

“Think of it as a reward for all the effort you’ve been putting into Math lately.”

Yuutarou, unable to argue with the logic and his desire for a reward, pockets the money.

Right before lunch, they’re handed back their tests, Yuutarou’s sporting a high 95 circled in red right beside his name. He grins from ear to ear when he sees it, offers the paper to those who ask to see, and practically brandishes the thing in Kunimi’s face when they meet up to eat.

Kunimi smiles in earnest, says, "Looks like today’s a good day for you," and it’s the best thing Yuutarou has ever seen.

At practice, he runs faster and jumps higher than ever before. His teammates clap him on the back, tell him he’s doing good today, and he makes conversation about Nationals because it feels right. His grin is almost permanent on his face, until a serve hits Kageyama’s and all hell breaks loose, the livid setter grabbing a trembling wing spiker, several inches taller, by the shirt.

"You have the nerve to talk about Nationals," Kageyama demands, above the litany of apologies, "with a serve like that?"

"Kageyama, calm down!" Yuutarou cries as others yank Kageyama’s hands away. "It was an accident, okay? He said he’s sorry."

"That’s not the point!"

"We’re going to get better," Yuutarou continues. "That’s why we’re here at practice. To improve. Better to make all the mistakes here and correct them so we don’t repeat them when it matters."

It comes out of nowhere, but it works. Kageyama pauses, his balled fists relax, and he averts his gaze, clicks his tongue and mutters an apology before turning away. Yuutarou supposes it’s good enough, but his stomach twists in not-so-subtle knots when their captain sets a hand on his shoulder and tells him he did well, and the rest of practice feels like floating on air.

When he gets home that evening, his shamrock is thriving. He isn’t sure why that scares him, ever so slightly.

The plant is fluctuating from bright and beautiful to complete garbage.

"You don’t think it’s actually magical, do you?"

They eye the plant on the desk, still and harmless, like it’s a monster on top of Yuutarou’s desk.

"What makes you think it could be?" Kunimi asks.

"Whenever something good happens to me, I get home home and see it perfectly fine. But whenever something bad happens, it looks dry and sad,” Yuutarou explains. “I can’t figure out if it reacts to what happens to me or if my day is determined by how it’s feeling."

"That’s dumb," Kageyama says immediately, like Yuutarou hadn’t just finished honestly speaking his mind. "There’s no way a plant can be magic. You probably just pay more attention to it on your good days and end up neglecting it on your bad ones so it reacts to how you treat it. Simple enough."

Yuutarou frowns. "These types of plants don’t need to be watered all the time. They’re really easy to keep alive."

"Then why’s yours dying every other day?"

"It’s not dying!"

"Why are you yelling?"

"Because—" Yuutarou yells until he realizes he is, and he pinches his mouth shut, because arguing is too much work. He exchanges glances with Kunimi instead, thinks maybe they won’t be inviting Kageyama over next time.

He sees the both of them out half an hour later, silently eats his dinner and washes up, and when he once again steps inside his bedroom, his shamrock’s flowers and leaves are falling.

The internet is packed with good reads on effective plant care, he finds, and he stays up after doing his homework to go through them. At practice, he messes up the timing for the block and brings the other team to match point. He hears his teammates sigh.

I’m a terrible blocker, he thinks, and he doesn’t look them in the eye for the rest of the day.

Online sources are limited and inconsistent, he decides, so sometimes he spends his breaks in the library, reading up on plants and how they work, the effects of temperature on their consistency and growth, the effects of anything at all to their resilience. In the hall, two sprinting boys knock him aside in their haste, and he apologizes to their retreating backs.

I’m such a pushover, he thinks, and in class he shrinks in his seat.

Science tells him nothing, so he scours for reliable material on the unexplainable, because that’s what his plant is. It follows no rules, it’s unpredictable, and it’s ruining his life. If he can’t control the magic, he cries in his mind, he can’t control his life.

"Yuu, it’s getting really late. You can do that tomorrow. Go to bed," says the person who brought this magic to him, standing by his doorway minutes before midnight. "If you don’t sleep early, you’re not gonna reach six feet."

Yuutarou has nothing to say to that; he buries his face in his book.

"Yuu. Can you hear me?"

He frowns.

Mom does too. "Okay, well, if you feel like talking tomorrow, I’ll be here. Get some rest, okay?"

She closes the door as quietly as she can, and the click of the lock shatters Yuutarou’s cold facade as well as his heart. I’m an awful son, he thinks, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

At practice, Kageyama’s mood only plunges, and Yuutarou doesn’t know what to do with him either. He sends tosses that are too fast and complains when no one can get them. He talks about getting faster, where’s the improvement, we have to win, we have to win—until the we’s become I’s, what used to be fun and challenging now a mere test of strength against what’s apparently a beast, a monster.

Yuutarou’s patience plunges too. No matter what, he thinks, I’ll never be worse than this guy. And he feels better about himself.

The plant has recovered.

Everything on the court gets worse the louder Kageyama yells, and when tournaments roll around, he’s the only thing Yuutarou’s sure he can block out. He hates that he has to; he still tries to treat Kageyama the same as before, but the minute he hears that sharp voice demanding he move faster jump higher match my pace, he cracks just a little bit more, and he’s well past breaking point.

He has been for a long time; he’s known that since he and Kunimi first spoke privately with their coach.

Their final match of the year, as a team, is no different. He tries and he tries but there’s nothing he can do about the monstrous toss. His jumps are futile, his words don’t go through. The time-outs don’t clear any of their heads. Kageyama never listens, never slows, and Yuutarou’s tired of moving too slow for him.

So he doesn’t move at all.

He stops in his tracks, keeps his eyes on Kageyama’s focused ones and watches them change—wide in anticipation, wider in surprise, even wider in confusion—as the alarmingly-fast ball rises and falls for the last time. Kageyama is benched, and the glare he used to direct at Yuutarou and the rest disappears under the shadow of his fringe, and that’s the last that Yuutarou needs to know about that.

They lose, of course. But the defeated look on Kageyama’s face convinces Yuutarou he’s won something. He feels stronger as he heads home, like he’s conquered a heavy weight on his shoulders, like he’s done something right for the first time in his life. The night sky is dark but it’s as though the clouds are making way for a bright sun overhead, one that tells of a future where nothing will ever make him feel so small again.

He heads up to his room in high spirits, but in the moment he opens his door he also reels back, drops all of his things, and tries to blink himself out of what he hopes is a cruel dream.

The plant is dead.

“It had to be a pest or something,” Mom says. “I can’t imagine how else this could have happened.”

The once-beautiful leaves of his shamrock are curled in on themselves, shrunken and weak, holes drilled into them like they’d been set ablaze. It makes Yuutarou feel sick but he can’t tear his eyes away, only blinks the wetness out of them as his chest grows heavy and his stomach sinks.

"We’ll do a little more research on this, okay? I remember reading that these kinds of plants can resurrect, or something like that. Maybe it still has a chance."

"Please throw it out."

Mom seems to stop breathing. "What?"

Yuutarou sucks in all the air he can find. "Let’s just throw it out."

"Ah—but—" She pauses, then gently rubs his shoulders. They’re higher than hers already. "Okay. Okay. Let’s just get a new one, yeah?"

"No."

"No? You don’t want to replace it?"

"I don’t."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He feels her gaze on him, piercing and studious, but she doesn’t say anything he doesn’t want to hear. She sighs, takes the pot, and moves to head out the door. "I’ll bring this to the yard for you, all right? Dinner’ll be ready soon. Oh! And how was your game?"

The question sets his skin on fire, punctures his heart like it’s a dying purple leaf. "We lost," he mumbles, turning away. "We lost."

The plant has been buried underground for quite some time.

“Okay, Kindaichi, your turn!”

He steps to the front of the line and grabs a ball from the cart, tries to calm himself down even in the face of Oikawa’s toothy grin. It isn’t Yuutarou’s first time hitting his sets but the nerves never leave, and every run-up for a spike is like the moment of truth, make or break, match point.

He knows it shouldn’t be, and it makes a difference, but when he runs and swings and ultimately misses, he still clams up, turns to Oikawa with a barrage of excuses and apologies ready to leave his mouth, and the only thing that stops him is Oikawa’s still-smiling face.

"Your timing’s a little slow, huh?" he says. "Think you can go a little faster than that?"

The word ‘slow’ makes him want to shrink. But he looks at Oikawa’s patient gaze and reminds himself this isn’t middle school anymore. This isn’t Kageyama anymore, and Yuutarou is six feet tall, has a voice he’s used only a few times before, a voice that might as well wilt and die with his shamrock if he doesn’t ever use it again.

"Maybe," he says, but before Oikawa can beam too much, nervously adds, "but right now, can I not?”

Oikawa’s smile vanishes for the first time, and Yuutarou has to conceal his cringe for the better part of a minute before it comes back, wider than ever. "Well. I appreciate your being straightforward," he says, clapping a hand on Yuutarou’s shoulder, and Yuutarou has to work on controlling his gape instead. "I’ll accept that answer for now. Practice with me so I can get your timing right, okay?"

The yes that escapes from Yuutarou’s smiling lips is as loud as it is elated.

The plant is doing wonders for the garden soil it’s buried in.

Somehow he finds himself standing in front of Kageyama again one day, his own team fresh from a loss in their practice match. It’s odd to see him clad in black, but that’s the least of Yuutarou’s problems, now that the King of the Court stands before him wearing a different kind of crown.

He hadn’t come up with that nickname but he’d embraced it all the same, and when he’d heard that Kageyama’s school was coming over, he’d been intrigued rather than enraged. It would make for good entertainment, he figured, getting to watch Kageyama yelling at people he isn’t required to care about, and a good way to know for sure that where he is and where Kageyama is truly are meant to be different.

But that’s not what he sees, and ultimately, he ends up here, yelling at Kageyama and not the other way around, because Kageyama is different—from his faces on the court all the way up to the lightning-quick toss he now manages to score with. It has Yuutarou’s fists trembling as he screams, "Don’t apologize!" in front of a bashful King’s face, and he honestly can’t believe he has to.

What other things come out of his mouth, he doesn’t remember. They might be a little cruel, a little untrue, a little overconfident of him, but it helps him hold his head up high, and look Kageyama straight in the eye as he nods in agreement with everything Yuutarou had gotten off his chest, and says:

“Next time we fight, we’re going to win again.”

The we is a shot right through the heart. The way Kageyama leaves with his new partner is a dagger to his back. But as he looks to the ceiling, despite the feeling of defeat, he can neither help his smile nor understand why. He retreats to his own team with Kunimi, thinks about how Kageyama has changed, and how he isn’t the only one who has.

The plant is a dwarf lemon cypress, a fair height and vibrant green, and it’s been growing in a pot inside one of the second story bedrooms for the better part of a year now.

He finds it after another devastating loss to Shiratorizawa, and the first thing he thinks is it’s so beautiful. His eyes are still a little puffy from the tears but he stares at the bright leaves all shaped like miniature trees, gently runs his fingers through them, feels his heart swell.

“Oh, you found it.”

Mom stands by the doorway, leaning against the frame and smiling at him. Yuutarou shouldn’t be surprised—it’s her room, after all—but his mouth can’t make words and his eyes are wide, only able to stare at her.

“Purple was pretty, but also pretty depressing, so I figured you could use something green this time. The color of life, environment, renewal, and growth,” she says, like that stare had demanded an explanation. “And I thought it might be nice to get something taller, so you can get taller and tower over everyone on the court.”

The smile on her lips and in her eyes is so warm, and Yuutarou sniffles, breathes out a laugh. The first thing he thinks to say is incomprehensible, something he never would have asked three years ago. “So it’s magic too?”

“Hmm. The saleslady didn’t say it was magical this time.” Mom stands beside him and rests a hand between his shoulder blades. “But I’d say that the plants never had the magic from the start. It’s the amount of love and care you give it to keep it alive despite everything that happens in your life, good or bad, that makes it magic. Agree or agree?”

This time, Yuutarou’s laughter finds its voice. “Agree.”

“Do you want to move it to your room and take over now?”

“I’m fine with keeping it here for a while.”

“Okay. But only until you turn twenty; that’s when I’m legally allowed to stop caring about you so much.”

“Aww, make it thirty.”

“Too much! Twenty-one.”

“Twenty-nine! I’ll help you with it anyway.”

Mom’s shoulders shake with her giggling. “Fine,” she says, and Yuutarou leans on the shoulder he used to cry on as a child.

The plant has thrived even more since its discovery, basking in the heat, surviving in the cold.

“Captain Kindaichi sure handled that arrogant first year pretty well earlier, huh?”

Yuutarou snaps to attention and raises an eyebrow at the grinning teammates that surround him. “What?”

“The first year who yelled because our play wasn’t ‘the best we could’ve done’. You pulled him aside during the time-out and talked to him, right? Nice, nice.”

“It wasn’t much,” Yuutarou says, hunching over and pulling ahead of rest of the group leisurely strolling on the lamp-lit sidewalk. “And it’s not entirely new either. Kyoutani-san was like that to the third years back then, and Yahaba-san learned to deal with him, so I should be able to do something like this.”

“Yeah, we know, we’re just complimenting you, dumbass. Where’s our thanks for thinking you’re the best captain we could’ve hoped to have this year?”

“Well, thanks,” Yuutarou deadpans, but he doesn’t walk any faster. “I never asked for compliments, though. A captain’s only as good as his team, anyway; I lead, but we all do our best together. And when I inevitably screw up, you’re all there to pick up the pieces.”

“Or,” Kunimi interjects, sending a slap to his arm, “you could stop being all mature for a second and learn to take a compliment.”

The rabble erupts in a chorus of laughter and haphazardly-thrown punches, and he makes a face at them, glues their grins to his memory, and announces that they’re making a stop at a nearby store for some snacks, captain’s treat. Only for a while though, he emphasizes once the cheering dies down, so he can still get home in time to help Mom with dinner.

The plant has seen bad days and better days, but it grows. And it’ll keep on growing; Yuutarou will make sure of it.

#haikyuu!!#kindaichi yuutarou #middle blocker zine #m'writing #weebing #a really late post #boy this was a hard fight #mostly because i had to perform blood sacrifice to keep it under 5k sdfjksjf #this was pre-sportsfest before i learned how to keep my words at the minimum

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