#and measure my breathing to chill tf out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rrasado · 3 years

Note

Hello Rras-san, if you have a free time, can you please do a TW headcannon request. Please do a headcannon of the dorm leaders meeting GN! MC’s mother, who is similar to Lady Dimitrescu, with the towering height and glowing eyes. I’m curious about what’s their reaction. Thank you and stay safe.

Meet the Mother

I’m also praying for them at this point dkdndj ive only ever seen Lady Dimitrescue in like clips and tiktoks but I know fully well she’d slice me in half.

When they meet your mom

As someone who also has an intimidating mother, he’d likely be less as shaken as the other dorm leaders dkdn. He really has to look up just to meet her gaze and when he does well..he wasn’t sure what the safest option should be

It’s more on how he meets her in my opinion, if it was planned and on purpose then a little mental pep talk would save him BUT, once he comes face to face with her. Boy would he feel tiny. Like an ant or a door mouse I suppose

“I-it’s a pleasure to meet you madam”

Would momentarily forget how to speak given the sudden chill Riddle would feel once his simple gaze locks with glowing orbs but hey he’ll get used to it djdjd

Knowing how much moms can be scary, he’d makes sure to watch what he says with Mc’s mother regardless. Even if she does offer a cup of tea to the redhead.

Leona can easily go both ways but both routes end up with him just- immediately straightening up his posture because hand to god his already tall stature isn’t enough to measure up with MC’s mother.

Oddly enough, the initial fear and intimidation becomes subtly respect and admiration. Unlike in his home where beast women were revered for their strength. Your mom was normal in biology yet..has twice the effect

“Your mom...?. Nice to meet you I guess..”

Don’t take his reluctancy to answer as hesitance, as a beast one should survey their situation, he’s just testing the water and how much exactly he can dip. More so when his senses all seek to hyphen when your mother looks at him with that killing gaze of hers.

Suffice it to say Leona is the second to take it calmly, you’ll know who’s the first later on dkdn. Tho it would explain to him why you yourself have little to no fear in this school.

Azul, is on the caught off guard side, more specifically- he thought and normal height was exclusive to fae and merfolk so hoW TF- please excuse his sudden faltering he needs time to process.

His first instinct is well, treat her like how he treats the tweels...if the tweels were women and stand at an astonishing 9ft height-

“My my it’s quite the prestige to meet you Madam~”

Behind that cover up of an introduction is an irked octo who feels like a guppy and would rather sink in his octopot. He’ll do what he does best and make do with the situation, perhaps he can use this opportunity to his advantage who knows..

What he does know is that, fear and bigger people aren’t only from the depths. Literally.

Kalim Kalim tut tut tut our dear sunshine please calm down- he likely has a habit of, always meeting someone in eye contact, but the one time he regrets this is when he meets gazes with your mom.

When he looked it felt like he was pulled out or something? He’d never admit it but it was like when he was staring at Jamil during his overblot. Except in this case it’s well...normal. And not of danger?

“Nice to meet you! Would you like anything?”

He’ll use his hospitality to make up for whatever initial slip up he’s made so far. There’s something about your mother that makes him wanna..be decent to at the very least. He has good Intuition when the situation calls for it and this was one of those times.

By the end of the day he’ll compliment your mother for the powerful aura she gives off. To which it’s met with an all knowing smile.

Vil, we all know he’s an actor, someone who’s been in the entertainment industry for so long. Which by extension means he’s seen his fair share of extreme things.

But a behemoth woman wasn’t one of them, especially one without effects nor magic nor special blood whatsoever- no no darling he isn’t scared maybe shaken but he uses his skills to put on the charm and try deflecting your mother’s naturally intimidating aura with a charismatic smile.

“It’s quite the honor to meet your presence Miss.”

A dash of charm here and there and you got the two getting along nicely, Vil even using his vast knowledge of beauty cosmetics and ways to intricately form viable compliments to your mother to which she finds amusing.

But when your mother leaves you’ll Shiite literally see him stopping to catch a breathe, it seems keeping up charisma also takes toll on the star. He’ll admit..now he knows here your beauty comes from. But that’s what he hears from rook anyways..

Idia for some reason I’d feel like. He is fuming on the spot not out of fear but more on admiration cause, as common as tall people are in his family assuming his height is from genes. It’s rare to find tall people in the norm.

She really does remind him of a lot of characters from franchises he follows. But his anxiety knows better than to start rambling about the comparison to your ever glowering mother

“H-hi- great seven I c-can’t-“

You’ll have to ease him of his nerves, he really doesn’t know how to handle the feeling because he really is torn between that anxiety and admiration. Better idea to also bring Ortho along if he does meet your mother.

He is tall as well but he still needs to look up and try not to collapse from the glowing gaze and ever amused smirk on your mom’s face. It feels like he’s being looked down on which he literally is but he also doesn’t wanna just run away out of fear of disrespecting her.

Ahhh yes, the unbothered one, well to be specific the “curious” one. MC are you sure you are not part fae or your family having history of one? How peculiar...

In short malleus is the best person to introduce your mother with given how normal he treats her to which your mother finds nice for a change of pace, yes she may still have to look down a bit to meet his gaze but honestly I think malleus has the capacity to make himself taller if it’ll make your mother more comfortable.

“I presume this is much better for us Miss”

A true gentleman through and through. The only reason he isn’t as fazed as the others is because of how much he’s already seen through his lifetime. But still that is not to say your mother is a norm oh no no no far from it in his book.

After all that gaze of hers wasn’t something normal even for him. Perhaps the nice chat you’ll all share will clear things up? Maybe so.

#whY ISN’T MY QUEUE WORKING I-#no wonder my posts havnt been getting notes smh #twisted wonderland #twst #twst headcanons #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #ツイステッドワンダーランド #rras writes #writings from the eclipse

341 notes · View notes

songoftheshark · 3 years

Text

Gavin x River jealous/overprotective first kiss

Authors note: River lives with Gavin as her father was like a real dad to Gavin. Gavin is overprotective of her and secretly loves her but is too shy to admit it. He's late home from a mission and a worried River heads out.

River's POV:

"... the person you have tried to call is currently unavailable..."

Dammit Gavin! I throw my phone against the headboard of my bed. Why is he so late? He should have been back 2 hours ago!! It's fine... Chill River, he's a professional cop. He can defend himself. But what if he got into trouble on the way home? I anxiously bite my nails, huddled underneath my duvet staring at my phone.

"Gavin... Please be OK..." I sit in silence for another half an hour but still no Gavin. That's it! I'm going out to find him. I throw the covers off of me and run to the door. I pull on my boots, struggling with the buckle, and run out the door.

I make it downstairs, and out into the night. It's cold, I should have taken a jacket. The street lamps are barely working round here. Now which way was the station? Oh right, over... Um.....Crap! I'm lost!

"Hey Little girl..." I swerve on the spot to face the voice. He's a short fat man with a potato nose and beedy eyes. Maybe he's being friendly....? No I'm wearing a long night dress... It was at this moment I knew I had f*ked up. He's deffinately a pervert. I turn to walk away but he grabs my arm. I turn and kick him in the balls.

"Sayonara Sucker!" I salute him and run only to be stopped again by a tall lanky man with a bony body.

"Let me go you lanky Larry!" tf am I saying?! How lame 😅

"How dare she hurt boss?" I try to brake his arm but more arrive all varying degrees of stupidity and ugliness.

"I think we should teach her a lesson."

"No!" then I feel a breeze filled with crunchy leaves blow through my hair which for some reason instantly calms me...it also has a familiar smell a pleasent smell... Of leather? Or perhaps polo's? Wait then it must be...

"Gavin?!" At my reaction, the man holding me turns around to see Gavin floating just above us, and man.... He looks pissed af. Most of the men scatter after seeing him thinking he was an evil spirt, though with the expression on his face they're not entirely off. The man holding me throws me away, I end up landing on the fat old man from earlier, still crying holding his crotch. What a wimp.

I jump and just for good measure kick him again, then while Lanky Larry is distracted trying to doge Gavin's punches I jump on his back (being the short ass that I am) and put him into a headlock. 5...4...3...2...

"One." I jump off him as he hit the ground, I dust my hands of pound but why do I feel..... Scared?

I slowly look up at Gavin, its like there's a shadow.... A type of aura around him. I reach for his arm.

"Gavin are you-" before I reach his arm he grabbed my wrist and began dragging me, to the direction I assume is home.

The walk wasn't pleasent I was being dragged, my feet tripping beneath me. His grip was tight almost hurting me, he was silent. He must be angry but why? I'm the one who should be angry!! We reached our block of flats and he kicked the door open (a little over dramatic if you ask me) and drags me upstairs, with a speed that I had no choice to go faster or I'd trip on the stair.

He opens our flat door and throws me in, as soon as its closed, before I could say anything his lips were on mine. One hand holding my waist and the other holding my wrist. Why is he-?

"Mmph!" He deepened the kiss, letting go of my wrist to hold my head closer. It was as if he was trying to consume my soul.

"Ga-Gavin... Y-you!" He slid his tounge into my mouth, I tried hitting his chest but that only made things worse.. He picked me up and swung me over his back.

"Gavin put me down now!!"

"No, I must show you what happens when you leave yourself defenseless."

I could feel him slightly chuckle at my childish behaviour. Your the childish one here buddy!

He threw me onto the bed, this is very unlike him... As I sat up he pushed me back down, hands on either side of my head. What's wrong with him?

"Ga-Gavin... Are you alright?" I move my hand and cup his cheek stroking his face with my thumb as a tear rolled down. He's... He's crying?

"I'm sorry....i was just..."

He moved closer again, both of our eyes softening as we got closer.

"Scared.... I couldn't find..." Until our noses touched, our lips slightly parted.

"... You."

He seemed to hesitate for a second before I pulled him down. As if a switch went off in his brain, he wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me fully, our tounges dancing together. I was out of breath, yet he wouldn't stop. Then I felt his hand inching up to my thigh.

"Ga-Gavin?! W.. ait..."

Gavin's POV

She.... Fell asleep? Why is she crying? Did I hurt her? Wait.... Why is my hand? What am I thinking?! No! I push up away from her, what have I done? Dammit! You jealous ass! Why are you even jealous? She was almost molested but why do I...? .... I stand over her, moving a few strands away to reveal her angelic face, so innocent....She's perfect... I open up the covers and shift her small body underneath them.

"Goodnight, sweetheart." I gently kiss her lips once more, careful not to wake her

Phew, done. Thank you for reading sorry if its bad its my first one!

#mlqc fanfic #river mlqc #mlqc gavin #Jealous bf #Romance #Anime #Mlqc One-shot

8 notes · View notes

lustresky · 4 years

Text

kahit ‘di mo alam [james ‘bucky’ barnes x f!filipina!reader]

summary: After an emotionally taxing mission, you and Bucky share some stories— and maybe also some leche flan along the way.

wc: 5200ish. (might have went to town on this one.. haha woops)

themes: angst (i need to chill tf out i’m sorry:’’/), some fluff ig, happy but kind of ambiguous ending (mayhaps a sequel....), mention of ptsd/trauma, hydra being shitty, bucky trying his best to comfort reader (this is my first time writing him so sorry if he’s kinda ooc..), filipina!reader, also kinda cliché idk

a/n: psa, i do not know how to bake. all i am is your typical filipina girl who has a soft spot for bucky and also thinks that there needs to be more poc centered readers. that is all<3 thanks to @ panlasang pinoy for da leche flan recipe lmao. also! title is a song by december avenue, which i think fits this story. check it out if you want!:]

requests are open! & pls don’t forget to like and reblog, thank you! c:

You hum quietly to yourself, beating the yolks with a silver balloon whisk that Tony had.

Out of all the things that you would never have thought Tony would own when you first joined the team, a full on expensive ass baking set was on the top of the list. Hell, you don’t even think that he’s ever opened the oven door before; but then again, the guy’s loaded, so maybe it wasn’t really a smart idea to wonder what he did or did not own.

Whatever— you thought to yourself. Pondering about what the billionaire did with his money wasn’t really what you should be focusing on right now, anyways.

You continue with the repetitive motion of your hand, stopping once the eggs were smooth. Gradually, you add the condensed milk, followed by the regular milk and then finally, a few teaspoons of vanilla extract. You mix the concoction once more, your bottom lip caught in between your teeth as you focus on the task at hand.

You didn’t hear the gradual shuffling of feet into the kitchen, nor the opening and closing of the refrigerator door; and so you were startled out of your concentration when Bucky Barnes himself ended up in front of you, a bowl of oatmeal in his hands as he positions himself properly on the island chair.

He doesn’t greet you— and honestly, you weren’t expecting him to anyways. You two were never really close; acquaintances at best, with how high both of your walls were built.

You really only knew Bucky from what Steve had shared. You knew that he was part of the Howling Commandos, that he’s Steve’s life long best friend, that HYDRA had brainwashed him and used him against his own will...

Even just thinking about that acronym still makes bile rise up in your throat.

HYDRA had also imprisoned you, beat you, used your body for their own gain. Your stories were similar. Two unwilling and unlucky humans— taken against their own volition, experimented on like a pack of mouse labs, memory and history wiped out to store target information…

You take a breath, trying to steady yourself.

Baking had been the only thing that you remembered from your past. As much as HYDRA tried to erase your history, the memory of your lola’s kitchen came back time and time again, relentless and the only sense of soundness that you found yourself with. The cartons of eggs, the measuring cups, the light dusting of flour all over the table, the rays of the hot afternoon sun peeking through the curtains, the smell of the freshly baked pandesal wafting through the air…

It was comforting, sometimes it was the sole thing that made you calm down. The only pleasant memory that you had left of the simple life that you barely remembered, but greatly missed and longed for.

Hence, before you knew it, you were in the spacious kitchen of the compound; making leche flan to calm your nerves and trying your best to forget what had just happened a few hours ago.

The mission had ended with the team’s victory, sure, but you don’t think that you’ll ever forget the image that had seared itself in your mind. You desperately wanted to forget the sight of Bucky, vulnerable as he lay on the ground with his metal arm torn off of his body, right before an enhanced individual gave him a powerful blow square on his abdomen.

Blood had spluttered out of his mouth, red, bright, coating the brick walls that you were both enclosed in. The mission should’ve been simple: break in, grab the information needed, and then bring said information back. There should’ve only been a few guards. It should’ve been a quick mission— but the sight of Bucky being plummeted with no remorse brought you back memories. Memories that you had tried so desperately to forget.

You bite your bottom lip harder, unintentionally gripping the bowl and whisk in your hands tighter as your arm mixes faster— faster and faster until you suddenly find yourself with a splatter of batter on your cheek.

You groan. Nice one, Y/N, you thought.

You hear a small snicker in front of you and you look up, embarrassed and annoyed. Bucky just stared back at you, a hint of a smirk on his face.

Taking a quick but good look at him, you notice that he had cleaned himself up. His hair was still damp from a shower. It was wavy, pulled back into a small ponytail behind his neck. His face was clear of soot and blood, and he no longer wore his combat outfit.

You can’t help but flicker your eyes over to his left arm, familiarity getting the best of you. You know that you should be rational, but you still feel your shoulders sink as your gaze missed the glint of metal that you were accustomed to.

Bucky senses your wandering eyes. He shakes his head, head dipping back into his bowl of oatmeal. “It isn’t your fault.” He mutters, voice raspy.

You huff, setting down the metal bowl on the marble counter with a bit too much force. You take off your apron and with it, you hastily wipe the splashed part of your face clean; or at least, as clean as you can without a mirror.

“No,” You argue, feeling your throat tighten as the memory and your emotions flashed through your mind once again. You ball up the now dirty apron, throwing it onto the counter. “It is.”

When you had seen him lying on the floor, taking hits every single second, you were unable to move. You had felt helpless, weak... cowardly. It was dumb. You were an Avenger, for Christ's sake. Your life was plenty of danger— seeing people getting hurt had never shook you so hard to the core before. Hell, you survived HYDRA.

Yet the memories were enough to make you freeze up.

Thankfully, Steve had showed up right before the enemy had landed his final blow. If it wasn’t for him, you highly doubted that Bucky would’ve been sitting in front of you right now, casually eating his oatmeal as if he didn’t almost just die a few hours ago.

When Bucky tilted his head up to look at you, ready to retaliate, you stood your ground and stared right back at his light blue eyes. Neither of you said a word.

You were angry. Mad. Furious. At Bucky? Maybe. Him dismissing the fact that you almost let him die and treating your mistake lightly was a thing in its own, but fuck. You were mad at yourself.

You feel incompetent. Useless. You almost let a teammate die, even if physically, you were completely capable of saving them. You drop your head down, unable to continue looking at someone whose life was in your hands just a few moments ago. A life that you were fully capable of protecting, but couldn’t, just because of some stupid fucking memories coming back to haunt you.

Before you know it, a hot tear ran down your cheek— and you hurriedly wiped it away with your arm. Now isn’t time, you hiss at yourself. Baring vulnerability in the middle of the kitchen? Ha. you thought to yourself.

Pathetic.

You grip the edge of the marble tiles, steadying yourself and trying to control your breathing. In and out. In and out. One, two. One, two. It was shaky at first, but after a few seconds of repeating the exercise, you managed to get a loose grip on it. Just enough of a hold to straighten your posture and set aside your mixture, before bolting away from the kitchen and into your bedroom a few doors down the hall.

Once inside, your resolve crumbles. You didn’t even have time to lay on your bed, your legs just giving up and leaving your body down on the carpet. Fresh hot tears ran down like rivers on your face, your nose stuffed, your eyes blurred. Your lungs heaved, just trying its best to give you enough oxygen, but you’re sniffling, your throat’s dry, and your mind’s weary and everything just feels like absolute shit.

You don’t remember how long you had sat there, your legs against your chest, head in your knees and hands on the back of your head as the rest of the water in your body leaves in tears.

You hate feeling like this. Emotional, vulnerable, sensitive… You aren’t supposed to be like this. You have a job. You can’t let your own personal problems get in the way of accomplishing what needed to be done. There isn’t any backing out in what you’re doing. There isn’t a delete nor reverse button. If you fuck up, you fuck up, and that’s that.

Your bedroom door suddenly opens, the unexpected sound making you flinch. Fuck, you forgot to lock it.

Still, you hold your head down against your knees. You don’t want to see anyone right now, you don’t even think that you have any energy left to make a proper conversation. Your throat’s dry, your nose is stuffed, your eyes are sore. You absolutely feel like shit.

The intruder continued their pace, before stopping in front of you. You hear a shuffling of legs, and something being set on your nightstand, until you feel a warm hand lay itself on the side of your left leg. They gave you a couple of soft pats.

From your position, you can’t really see who they are; you had a gut feeling that it was Wanda— but then again it can also be Nat. Or maybe even Steve.

Whoever it was, you know that they’re just trying their best to help, and you appreciate their concern, truly, but you just don’t think you’re capable of talking about something so close to your heart with someone else.

At least, not right now.

Except, you also know that they wouldn’t leave without any verbal cue, and so you force a smile, a truly fake and horrible one as you lift your head up to try and convince whoever it was who decided to check up on you that you’re fine, thanks, and that you just need some space— but as soon as your eyes focused on the person in front of you, your act drops, as the one who you expected the least stared back.

Before you can even ask him to leave, he beats you to it. “Here,” He says, getting up on his knees and retrieving the bottle of water that he had placed on your night stand. “Drink this.”

Wordlessly, you comply. The quench of the water on your tongue clearing your head, hydrating your body back.

Eyes glued to the carpet, unwilling to look anywhere else, you pass him back the glass. Bucky takes it and places it back to where he had originally put it.

He clears his throat. “Listen, Y/N… I— I know that we aren’t really… we aren’t really on the best of terms but— if you want to talk about it, I’m all open ears— but if you want me to leave and forget about this, I’ll head straight out the door.”

“I just—“ Bucky continues, and although your eyes were still fixating on the tufts of wool of your carpet, from the corner of your eye you could still see him shuffle awkwardly on his kneeling position. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you. We all are.”

You… didn’t really know what to say.

Here Bucky was, a soldier, another person who had undergone through HYDRA’s torment, someone whose walls have since been taller then, a teammate who you respected but aren’t close to— hell, barely even really friends with; offering you comfort, a place to vent, a shoulder to let your head rest.

As much as you barely knew him, you feel a pull in you to let him stay.

Bucky, however, takes your silence as refusal. Your eyes catch his legs unfolding from their position, straightening out as he stands up. He doesn’t say anything else as he turns towards the door.

“No, wait—“ You croak, cringing mentally at your voice. Looks like the water didn’t do as well of a job as you thought did. Letting out a much needed sigh, you finally let your gaze strike his, and once it made contact, you saw him. Clearly.

His eyes are cloudy, concern evident in his features. His dark brows are furrowed, lips set in a straight line.

You muster up some courage, and whisper, “Stay.”

Bucky’s expression flickers for a moment, concern turning into total surprise for just a millisecond, and if you had more energy you would have maybe laughed— but you didn’t. Instead, you cast your eyes back to the floor as you hear him shuffle back to you.

He sits to your left, legs crossed, arm on his lap. He doesn’t say anything for a while, the sound of your breathing and his being the only sounds filling your bedroom for a few minutes.

It wasn’t exactly a comfortable silence, some awkwardness from you both definitely seeping through... but nevertheless, your eyes start to get heavy.

Bucky, somehow sensing your current situation, clears his throat— effectively gaining your attention. Your head snaps up to meet his eyes.

“If you want… you can, you know…” He gestures to his right shoulder with his hand. He doesn’t continue his sentence, knowing that you had caught on to his proposition.

Too tired and sleepy to say no, you let out a breath and say fuck it.

You shuffle closer to his body, and as you lean your head down, a wave of fatigue washes over you. You hear Bucky inhale a breath as you finally drop, the left side of your face colliding with his shoulder.

As much as your body was pleading for you to simply close your eyes and just… rest— it still feels too awkward to do so. The silence is deafening, and as much as you appreciate Bucky lowering down his walls just a bit, you can’t help but let the next words tumble out of your mouth;

“What was it like in the ‘40s?”

You feel him stiffen beside you, and for a moment you worry that you had asked for more than you can chew, but within the next second Bucky lets out a small chuckle. He shakes his head slightly, a few strands of his freshly washed hair subsequently grazing over your face. It tickled.

“It was…” He starts, seemingly finding the proper words to say. “It was definitely a different time.” He concludes, sounding nostalgic and full of wistfulness.

His voice: deep and gravelly, began to lull you to sleep. You’ve never heard him quite like this before, often, his words were quick and precise and straight to the point. Never full of sentiment, never so… warm.

You want to hear more. So you hum in response, wanting to know more about his old life, urging him to go on— and go on he did.

He talked about the memories that Shuri had helped him remember from his time in Wakanda. His secret rendezvous, his childhood with Steve, their adventures and misadventures. He went on, his own memories making place in your own mind and pushing aside the ones that had you freezing up before. The ones that had broken you down are now being replaced by silly anecdotes, wistful memories and nonsensical stories.

Without even noticing it, you find yourself asleep on his shoulder, a small smile on your face as Bucky recounts another thought from the past.

You don’t know how long you had fallen asleep, but the crank in your neck was enough to tell you that it might have just been a bit too long. Your bottom aches, sore from the not so cozy flooring, and your back definitely needs to be stretched. Your body hurts, but at least your chest feels lighter.

You lift your head up from Bucky’s shoulder, feeling him flinch from your sudden movement. His head pulls back from its resting place on your wall. He looks back at you, confused.

He meets your eyes, and it seems that he had just woken up as well… had he fallen asleep too?

Bucky just continues gazing into your eyes, and you can’t help but just… stare back. Thankful for his comfort.

“I…” You whisper, about to thank him, until you remember the dessert that you had just hastily cast aside before bolting to your bedroom. “The leche flan!” You cry out, worried— fuck, if you leave it out for too long it could spoil!

Bucky, however, became even more confused at your outburst. You calm yourself down for a moment, letting out a sigh.

“My— uh, my dessert.” You explain, embarrassed. “It could spoil if I leave it out too long— I need to… I need to get back to it.”

Bucky’s eyes widen, thankfully understanding your dilemma, giving you a nod. So you lift your body up, stretching it just a bit, your bones popping themselves back into place.

You’re almost out of your door when you hear footsteps from behind and to no surprise you see Bucky, hair disheveled and lounge clothes wrinkled. You fight an urge to giggle. The all powerful soldier, looking all messy and drowsy... It’s definitely a sight to behold, maybe even a precious one at that.

He runs his hands through his hair, loosening his ponytail and settling his hair tie around his wrist with one hand. You try to ignore the way his fingers easily managed to do that. “If… I mean if you need a hand… I can— help?” He suggests, voice dropping to an unsure whisper by the end of his sentence.

You feel your mouth pull into a small smile, and this time, you let it do so. “Sure.”

So to the kitchen both of you went, a comfortable silence and understanding settling between you two. You quickly spot your metal mixing bowl from before, alone on the island counter. A relieved sigh falls from your lips as you peek an eye into the container to see the mixture untouched.

“So…” You start, grabbing the apron that you had thrown onto the counter in a fury. You don’t bother with getting a new one— it’s only slightly dirty, anyway. You put it on, tying it around your waist and patting it down slightly in less than a second. “Let’s get you an apron, shall we?”

You open the cabinet in which you keep the aprons and pick one up at random, giving it to Bucky with one hand— your back still turned away from him— as you use your other hand to close the door. When you turn back to face him, a complete look of hesitation is on his face.

You raise an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Bucky clears his throat. He looks up at you, and then at his arm, sheepishly. “Can you…?”

Eyes widening, you quickly nod, ashamed that you had forgotten about something so important. “Yes, of course.”

You walk to his side, grabbing the piece of cloth on his hand and positioning yourself behind him. “Here.” You say, grabbing the bib part and looping it around his neck. You brush his hair out of the way, inadvertently appreciating its softness, as the neck ribbon then lays itself properly against his neck. “Arms up.” You order, Bucky complying instantly. Taking the other two pieces of ribbon by his side, you wrap it around his waist and tie it by his back with a small little bow, tightening it just enough for it to not fall off but still be comfortable. “There.”

“Thanks.” He mutters, turning around to face you with a grateful smile, hair swishing as he did so. You smile, but then you realize that he should probably tie it just so that it won’t get dirty or in the way.

Before you know it, you ask him, “Want me to tie your hair, too?”

Bucky’s eyes widened, and upon realizing what you had just said too, your eyes did the same. Was that too much? You quickly open your mouth, desperately trying to apologize. “I’m just— it could get dirty or in the way if you don’t… and doing it with one hand must be…” You explain, inwardly cringing at your own words and not even trying to finish your statement.

Thankfully, Bucky quickly catches up to what you were trying to say. He flashes you a reassuring grin. “I would appreciate it, doll.”

You tried to ignore the butterflies swarming in your stomach at that little nickname.

Getting the hair tie from his wrist, you desperately ignore the way your hands brushed against his. You angle your body towards his back once more, raking your hands softly in his hair, grabbing it gently and putting it into a comfortable ponytail.

“Thanks again,” He turns around to face you, gratitude clear in his eyes. You just smile back at him, feeling the heat creep up to your face. Thank God your skin doesn’t easily show colour.

You had never been this close to him before— and the bedroom incident (You had decided to label that... ’moment’ in your mind like that as of right now.) just a few minutes ago didn’t quite count as you weren’t looking at him, nor were you a hundred percent conscious during that encounter.

Before things get even more awkward, you quickly turn your body back to the kitchen island. “Well then— let’s continue with this, shall we?” You announce, wanting to just calm your feverishly beating heart and the rise of heat in your cheeks. Maybe agreeing to let him bake with you isn’t as good of an idea as you had thought.

Bucky just gave a hum as a response, and so you went about and explained to him each and every step that needed to be done. Thankfully, you had already finished mixing up the batter, and so now all you really had to do was heat up the sugar, pour the batter into the moulds, and then steam it all up. Just three more steps and you’re done.

“So,” You start, grabbing the metal containers that you had already pulled out from the cabinets before you had started. “This—” You lift one up, pointing at it with your index. “Is called a llanera. What we’re basically going to do is pour some sugar in it, heat that up until it’s nice and brown and syrup-y, and then we add the batter. Got it?”

“A yah-neh-rah?” Bucky asks, rolling the word over his tongue, getting the feel of it. You smile at his well-executed attempt.

“Yep,” You reply, placing the mould down onto the counter. You grab the sugar jar and a tablespoon, dipping it into the container and sprinkling a generous amount all over the metal container. “Actually— I’ll heat up the sugar and then you can pour the batter in, that sound good to you?”

Bucky just gave a hum once more, signalling his approval of your plan.

After about two tablespoons, you put it aside and walked towards the stove top, Bucky following beside you in earnest with the metal bowl containing the egg mixture in his arm. Turning the dial up, you put on an oven mitt as you wait for the range to get hot enough; and once it does, you hold the metal tin a few centimetres away from the top of the burner. Within minutes, the sugar caramelizes, turning into the familiar, brown syrup.

The scent that then fills the kitchen is heavenly, pure sugar wafting through the air. You hear Bucky sniff, and you let out a smile, happy that he liked it too.

You place the hot tin onto a cooling rack. “Your time to shine.” You smile up at Bucky, motioning for him to go ahead and pour the batter in.

With a gentle and cautious hand, Bucky slowly tilts the bowl into the mould, the creamy mixture pouring itself out. After a few seconds, you say, “Okay… that’s good— you can stop now.” He swiftly follows your instruction, stopping when there‘s only 2 or more so centimetres left in the pan before the batter touches the rim. He looks up at you, expectant.

Before you know it, the thought passes by your mind. How cute.

Biting your lip, you set aside the flutter in your stomach. You give him a huge grin. “That was great,” You praise him, genuine pride rushing through you. “Now let’s finish the other ones, shall we?”

Bucky and you then continued on, filling the rest of the llaneras up. It was a pleasant experience, discomfort and awkwardness not present at all while both of you worked on your respective tasks. It was… soothing, you could say.

“Nice!” You cheer, clapping your hands together as Bucky finishes filing the last of the moulds, setting down the empty metal bowl in the sink right after. “Now, let’s cover it with aluminium foil and then we can steam it and eat it.” You grin up at Bucky, who simply nods back at you.

You grab the aluminum foil, eyeballing the sizes for each of the containers. It doesn’t really matter anyway, they just had to be big enough to cover the pans. Within a few, quick minutes, all of the llaneras were ready to be steamed.

Opening up the steamer, you place three of the moulds in— mentally telling yourself that you should ask Tony to buy more steamers so that you can simply just cook the next batch of leche flans all at once. You then close the handle, setting it on medium heat and the self timer on. “There.” You announce, hands unintentionally going to and resting at your hips, proud.

You face Bucky, who seem to be just as proud as you are. It seems like he had something on his mind, though, and so you tilt your head. Curious. “Something on your mind?” You ask.

He hums, hand going back to scratch the nape of his neck. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to…” He starts, giving you a reassuring smile to show you that he meant it. “But… how’d you learn how to bake?”

Your breath hitches in your throat at his question, caught off guard as the answer flashes in your mind. To say you were surprised was an understatement. You had assumed that he would ask you when the leche flan would be finished— not about your… past.

Though, you figure that he deserves to know about your history, now that you basically know all about his own. He had recounted his entire life to you just an hour or two ago, after all. It’s only appropriate that you share some of your own life with him back.

You let your hands fall from your waist, resting them in front of your stomach as you fiddled with them as you compose your answer. “Well—“ You start, taking a deep breath. Bucky, patiently, urges for you to go on with a small nod. “I don’t— I don’t really remember much from my past… just a few memories here and there.” You take a pause.

“But— there had always been this one memory, which… always stood out from the rest.” You bite your lower lip, the recollection taking place in your mind, making you smile. “I was in my lola’s— my grandma’s kitchen, dough in my hand and flour everywhere and we were—“ You feel your throat tightening up, making you take another pause. Bucky, still as patient as ever, gives you a small smile and wordlessly urges for you to go on. “We were making pandesal… a type of bread…” You continue, smiling, remembering the sticky hands and the rays of the hot southeast sun passing by the blinds. “It was a calm afternoon… just me and her, baking...”

“That’s all I really remember of her, and so I… every time I feel overwhelmed or every time I’m having a bad day I just— bake.” You conclude, looking up at him. There was more to the story, more that you have yet to tell him, memories that are still hard to share; but even with the small piece of it leaving your chest, your whole body feels lighter, grateful for having been listened to.

Bucky just stares back at you, respect evident on his face, a small smile still on his lips. “I’m… thankful that you shared that with me, Y/N.” He says, and as your name rolls off his tongue, you can’t help but smile back.

You were about to say something, but the moment was cut off by the steamer's angry beeping. You let out a small giggle as you see Bucky flinch. “Well— let’s check up on those lil’ things, shall we?”

Opening up the steamer and waving the steam away from your face, your mouth waters at the sight before you. They looked perfect.

Quickly grabbing a serving plate, you take one of the tins out and place it upside down on the ceramic— it would probably be even better if you let it cool down first in the fridge, but you can hardly wait. You give it a couple of taps, stopping once you hear the familiar ‘plop’ sound.

You take off the llanera, and a pristine and perfect looking leche flan greets you back. You hear Bucky hum in approval beside you as you take out a fork, getting a slice. Turning to your side and raising the utensil up at him, you ignore the slowly rising heartbeat in your rib cage as you muster up the courage to say, “Want the first bite?”

Bucky seemed to be taken aback at first, and for a moment you fret that you might have overestimated and overstepped your boundaries, but a small nod from him eases your worry. Lifting it up to his mouth, he lets you give him the slice. You decide to ignore the intimacy of the moment, as is the heat in your cheeks; instead focusing on his expression.

He doesn’t show nor say anything at first; and you furrow your eyebrows. Was it too sweet for his taste? Had you accidentally let some egg whites mix in with the yolks?

Before you have the chance to ask him what he thought of it, Bucky swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as his lips curled into a huge grin. “Damn... that’s really good Y/N.”

Relief rushing through you at his approval, you laugh, happy that he likes it. Not wasting another second, you open your mouth and give yourself your own slice; savouring the creaminess and sweetness of the desert. It tasted heavenly.

Looking back at Bucky, you startle yourself out of your sweet paradise as he stared back at you. Light blue— almost cerulean— eyes gazing back into yours.

“Thank you.” were the only words out of his mouth, but that still didn’t stop your heart from fastening it’s pace nor the butterflies from welcoming themselves into your stomach.

His deep and raspy voice clearly enunciated every single emotion, and you know, deep in your heart, that he wasn’t just talking about the dessert.

You smile back at him, eyes crinkling, as you say, “You’re welcome.”

#lily’s lil’ stories #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes x you #poc reader #poc!reader #filipina reader #filipina!reader #this was very self indulgent haha oops #also might do a sequel to explain readers past...... so look out for that;)#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you

89 notes · View notes

asociallyawkwardteen · 6 years

Text

Scared || Yang Jeongin (I.N) FF || Pt. 2

Pt. 1 | >Pt.2< | Pt.3 | Pt.4 (soon)

Pairing: Reader x Jeongin (I.N)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warning: Mention of Social Anxiety, Social Isolation and Depression, so please if you get easily triggered by the mentioned things stop reading here.

Disclaimer: English is not my first Language so please don’t mind my bad grammar ^^’

You were so ready to finally start that new chapter of your life, a new chapter that would be way better than this one.

Or at least that‘s how you wanted to believe, you wanted to believe that after this summer everything would be better, because now you could built up the front you needed, now you could finally be the person you “needed” to be.

You planned everything, during the summer holidays you got colder. You as a person turned colder you talked even less to you parents, you shut everyone out, even you cousin, your cousin which was you favorite and whit which you had a really good bond, you just didn’t reply to her texts anymore without even giving her a reason or anything.

You knew it was very rude but it was for the better, you would only drag her down and that’s what you wanted the least, so it seamed was easier to just shut her out. The only person who didn’t notice anything that was going on with you was Jeongin, plainly because around him you still acted like you normally did, you weren’t cold to him, you could never be cold to him.

You met him every weekend, normally you would meet up every other day but you had to reduce it at least a little, since you thought it would be better if he had more time for his guy friends instead of wasting it on you.

Everything was normal to him, the version on Y/N he got to see was the version he always saw, your happy version, the y/n that always smiled, made bad jokes and was there for him when he was down.

But one day the summer had to be over, the chill nights got less, you had to get you sleep schedule back on track, and you got ready to finally build that front, you always wanted.

~First day of high school~

You woke up on time got ready and left on time, or at least that's how you planed it you.

Well the first two steps were easy but right before you could leave your house you could feel that you were about to have a break down.

You started to breath heavily, your body started to shake and you had problems keeping yourself together. It was hard but eventually you calmed down and you could finally leave.

You walked to the bus head up high, headphones in your ears and a cold gaze that could probably scared children. You were proud, you managed to contain yourself and you finally were that cold, scary and maybe a little mysterious girl you wanted to be.

Most of the time you hid you earphones under your long hair which really wasn’t difficult at all. You got through most of the days without any bigger problems, not being completely cold obviously, you made some necessary connections since you didn’t want to look like a complete loser.

The only things you really struggled were presentations, you couldn’t get through them without stuttering, getting completely red and shaking, and once you got back to your seat you most likely were about to cry, these probably ere the only times your facade broke down. Some days you just didn’t attempt the afternoon classes, you just wouldn’t be able to get through them without a breakdown so you gladly accepted that few un-attempted classes.

Eventually you made it through that school year, but you facade kinda broke and you mindset got worse, the society slowly broke you more and more. And to make things worse the school nurse found out about your cuts, it was a day you actually decided attempted not knowing it was the day of the yearly checkup everyone had to get through. So once she told you to take of you clothes (obviously not your underwear) you knew you were completely fucked, you started to sweat, shake and get red.

But what she did next surprised you, she weight and measured you normally, not mentioning anything about the very obvious scars and only a few day old cuts on your arm. She confused you with that but once you got you clothes back on, she asked about them.

“Look, i saw the cuts on your arms, do you perhaps want to talk about that²

You: “no no I’m fine, they are not so fresh anyways, I’m good now” Your mind: “Bish I wouldn’t be here at all if I knew you were coming so no i obviously don’t want to talk. Especially not to someone I saw for the first time today duuh!!”

She: “Well, they aren’t that old right? But look I don’t want to act to fast, if may make anything just worse and I definitely don’t want that for you. But do you like have someone you can speak with, someone who you are close with, maybe even someone on this school?”

You: “Yeah, yeah I do I have a really good friend, and I told her about it so yeah I’m good” Your mind: “Sure I kinda do have such a person and I told her but she doesn’t get how hard it is to actually deal with all that so I don’t really wanna bother her with it anymore, but I’m fine like it isn’t hard to keep everything in tbh.”

You kept talking with her, assuring her multiple times that you are GOOD and that you don’t need her help.

After about 15 min you finally got out of her room, shaking on your whole body, suddenly breathing heavily, you tried to get you shit together and calm tf down.

Somehow you managed to calm down and after about 20 minutes you headed back to IT class, earplugs plugged in because you surely didn’t have the nerves to cope with all that people around you.

The day went by and you finally got back home, instantly breaking down crying on your bed.

“you are so dump!!” “why did you go to school today?!” “nobody should find out!!” “now she thinks that you are just a drama queen seeking for attention!” “what if someone else finds out?!” “what if she did write it in the letter just telling you that she won’t?!?” “mom and dad will ind out!!” “I’ will be an even bigger disappointment than I already am!” “And then they will have to pay for a psychiatrist and spent even more money on you than they have to already!!”

With these thoughts circling your mind you started to cry even harder. Not caring if you makeup got all over you pillow you didn’t care at all, you didn’t care about anything right now.

Some hours later you calmed down a little, terrible thoughts still roaming in you mind. You changed into a big hoodie and some sweatpants, tying you hair up avoiding any reflecting surface knowing that you would break down gain once you saw you face in that reflection.

That face that was so much uglier then you wanted it to be, putting on make up wasn’t for making you prettier anymore, it was for there to at least cover that ugly-ness and maybe making it at average looking.

The next day you fell back in that empty space. You were blank, lifeless eyes, a straight face, music blasting in your ears even louder that the days before, clothes even baggier that all the days before, covering that scared and unattractive body of your, that body which wasn’t a body anymore, it only was a shell you kept dragging along.

Once you reached school and your classroom you just plopped yourself down on you chair and you head on the table, silently groaning.

You were so done, so so done with everything, you didn’t even want to breath anymore even that was way to exhausting at the moment.

You heard the teacher and the people talking but you weren’t listening, you were looking on the blackboard but not seeing anything, you were sitting there maybe interacting with a few people but you weren’t there. You were floating, you soul was floating somewhere, somewhere without any other people, somewhere you felt save but only temporary since you body was still in this world.

Days went on and you kinda did too, you coped with it, somehow. You coped with being the weird, quiet kid again.

You realized that high school was definitely not how you imagined it to be.

Eventually you spoke with a person from your class which you knew was also depressed, you felt somehow connected to them but still you couldn’t really trust them, yet.

But once the holidays came around everything broke down again. Every time someone asked you to do something your said no. Not that you didn’t want to go but you knew that you couldn’t put up with the countless breakdowns you’d get until you were finally ready to leave this house.

Overthinking the situation you would be in -> Breakdown Doing your makeup, worrying if it was to much or even to less -> Breakdown Doing you hair, deciding if it looked better curled or straight -> Breakdown Picking out some clothes that looked casual and cute, overthinking if it was to less -> Breakdown Trying out 10 different outfits, picking cons at every single one of them -> Breakdown Picking the right accessories to that outfit that you were somehow okay -> Breakdown Checking yourself in the mirror before leaving, having a final breakdown which makes you to text them and say you couldn’t make it.

You kinda isolated yourself from the world, people started to not ask you anymore since you’d only deny anyways. Even the meet ups with Jeongin got less, but you saw his stories on Social media, which showed him and his friends having so much fun.

You were jealous, jealous of all those people that could interact with each other so effortlessly, you envied them so much, you wanted to go out but you mind wouldn’t let you. Constantly telling that nobody would want to be around you anyways, that you were stupid, ugly, fat, worthless, a disappointment, a failure, a shame, everything you definitely didn’t want to be.

Sure Jeongin got a bit suspicious but he just thought that you had fun with your friends he thought you had, he thought that you’d grew up an live separate soon. He didn’t want that to happen, it actually was his worst nightmare, loosing you, the girl he knew for so long, the girl he liked to call his sister, the girl that made him smile every time he actually wanted to just cry, the girl that was always there, the girl that always saw the good human he was, not caring about any failure that he maybe had, the girl that always puts him first, the girl that was y/n and he knew that no one else could take your place in his life and even if there was somebody he wouldn’t let them because they weren’t YOU.

~ ~ ~

Hey there ! I eventually finished the second part and well here it is! ^^ I hope you like it and I really appreciate if someone even reads this and if you do please tell me your thoughts on this little ff

Anyways I’ll try to keep writing and I probably will upload the third part next week or so. Also it isn’t proof read yet so please excuse small errors. Thank you~

~J☯

#straykids #stray kids jeongin #jeongin stray kids #yang jeongin #jyp entertainment #kpop #kpop fanfiction #kpop stuff #social anxious #depression #jeongin fanfic #fanfiction #idk

6 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

Church of the Poison Mind (Trixya) Ch. 7 - Dahlia

A/N:

SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I’ve been going through a lot of pretty heavy real life stuff, and have just basically been overwhelmed, but I am so OVERJOYED to be writing again! And I thank you so much for your patience in waiting for this chapter! Here’s hoping the final chapters follow in quick succession. Thank you so so so much for all of your kind words and messages, they keep me going!

ALSO I’M SO SORRY THIS ENTIRE CHAPTER IS JUST ANGST. You’re welcome. :)

I would not have made it through this chapter, or life in general, without my lovely lesbians DjoodiGarland and Matilda_Queen. Thank you for always being there for me and loving me through this. And to Rosie, my beautiful, sweet love. Thank you for everything, I don’t know where I’d be without you.

“What kind of daughter are you?”

There had been a lot of shouting those days, a lot of name calling, a myriad of misspoken insults that sank into her skin like injections of lost faith.

Trixie spent most of her time calling rental agencies, shaking her mother awake, getting turned down by realtor after realtor because she was, well, she was too young. And truly, how could she expect any respectable adult to take her seriously?

“You have to be at least 18 to apply.”

I’m not.

“Is this a prank call? Where are your parents, kid?”

Hell, if I should know.

”You have to file a credit report, first.”

What’s a credit report?

“Okay so, why can’t your mother come to the phone again?”

She’s ill.

”We’ll get back to you.”

No, you won’t.

Homeless. Trixie kept thinking, homeless . If it continues on this way, the sheriff will come and evict us and we’ll be homeless. Countless nights she’d lie awake, obsessively checking her emails, relentlessly disappointed, and she’d think homeless.

She’d stopped going to school, stopped trying to wake her mother in time for the truancy officers, in time for CPS, and family services. And nobody looked at her the same, they always held the same disgustingly patronizing eyes. Poor trixie, her mother doesn’t care, her mother can’t care, her mother had forgotten to care.

But still, they shrugged her case off. Afterall, there’d been no evidence of physical abuse. Trixie appeared well fed, well kempt. And this allowed for more time, for more phone calls and rejections. Allowed for more empty booze bottles and prescription refills, piling sinks full of dishes and dirty carpets.

And soon she found herself asking, “What kind of a daughter am I?”

—

“I’m very sorry, we… I should not have done this. It was inappropriate of me.”

“Katya…”

Through the fog of lost sleep and Russian folk flowing tinny through the car speakers, Trixie rubbed the sleep from her eyes, stealing glances from her seat on the passenger’s side. Katya’s eyes were narrowed and stolid as she drove, focused on the road, pale hair spilling out in heaps over her thin shoulders. And neither of them spoke, the ever-thickening gravity of the night before weighing on them like a fever dream. Trixie felt tender but weary, fearful. She wanted more, so much more than the situation could allow.

Somewhere, on some plane, Trixie knew that this was fleeting; that any feeling Katya might’ve held for her, couldn’t be sustainable. And she could feel the regret, hanging bitter in the air between them, that even though they hadn’t done anything measurable, it was the tenderness that stung the most. The cloying need for sweetness, need for more, contradicted by the wavering inability to act; but still, she yearned for Katya’s touch, for that laugh, and those wide, curious eyes.

The sun came into full view then, but the hour was still just as pale blue as the shine in Katya’s eyes. And as they pulled up to Trixie’s house, much to her surprise, Katya didn’t look over, but stayed steely, eyes cast over the dashboard. And Trixie sighed complacently, as the warmth had seeped out of Katya’s smile somewhere between Main street, and Beacon drive.

Trixie sat for a moment, quiet in her breathing, searching the side of Katya’s face, silently willing Katya to turn her head. Her sight followed the deep plunge of Katya’s cheekbones, down her neck, her freckled chest; and Trixie wanted nothing more than to reach out and let a hand fall to the back of Katya’s neck, but she resisted.

And just then, with a subtle haste, Katya sent her arm across the center console, over Trixie’s chest, and opened the passenger’s side door.

Confident there was nothing more to be said, she flipped a brief nod of thanks and turned in her seat to step down, but before she could, the light brush of Katya’s fingers found her cheek. And Trixie turned her head to meet Katya’s eyes, just as bright and heavenly as they were the night before, but riddled now with penitence. Trixie closed her eyes, leaning her cheek into Katya’s palm, a deep exhale leaving her like a calm under the waves. Softly, she opened her eyes, took in one last glance, and stepped out of the car, closing the door gently behind her.

Soon Trixie was watching Katya pull away, her car stalling at first, and then kicking up dust as it descended the graveled drive. A chill ran through her, smooth in the November air; and Trixie found herself, bleary eyed and sullen, missing the cardigan she’d forgotten in Katya’s back seat. All the while hopeful, incredibly hopeful, that its presence would carry Katya back to her.

With a forbearing sigh, Trixie carried herself up the porch steps and pushed through the front door. She entered, closed it quietly behind her, and tiptoed through the kitchen, kicking off her shoes by the basement door.

“Well, aren’t we getting in late…”

Trixie turned with a start, her heart skipping a beat. Kim was sat at the kitchen window seat, spooning heaps of sugar into a steaming mug of tea. And as the steam crept into the air, an image of last night’s coffee churned in the pit of Trixie’s stomach. Then she was desperate for it, remnants of that memory still latent on the burnt tip of her tongue.

“Or should I say,” Kim spoke again with a curt grin, “early? Given it’s 5am.”

“Okay, mom. I could ask you the same thing. What’re you doing here so early?”

“Waiting for you.”

“What, why?” Trixie chuckled, scanning Kim’s face.

Trixie crossed the kitchen floor and headed for the coffee maker, her hip brushing Kim’s protruding knee as she passed by. Her head ached with exhaustion, and while she was thankful for the comforting gurgle of coffee brewing, she felt irritable, raw; unsure if the coffee would help or hurt. Trixie laid her upper body over the center counter top, her elbows resting on the surface; and she closed her eyes, self-soothing, rubbing slow circles into her temples.

“So, you did forget?”

“Forget wh-” Trixie stopped, slowed, “oh, shit. Kim, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot we had- I just got so caught up in… wait, so you sat here all night… waiting for me? Why didn’t you just call me?”

“Well, no dummy, I’m not a freak. I woke up a little while ago. And I did call you, last night. But your phone was off.”

Trixie patted around her pockets, and upon finding her phone, ran her fingertips over the surface; the tips of her nails catching in the cracks of last year’s shatter. And while she powered it on, a soft silence hung in the air between her and Kim.

↳ Kim: hey, i just got in, pearl’s cooking again, im whispering tiny prayers for the safety of your kitchen. you leave school yet?

↳ 1 Missed Call: Kim

↳ Kim: Violet said she hasn’t seen you all afternoon, are you okay?

↳ Kim: say yes to the dress is starting in like 5 mins, do you want me to wait… or???? should I just assume I get to indulge in ALL of these facemasks by myself??

↳ Kim: yoooooo my skin abouta be TIGHT

↳ 6 Missed Calls: Caller ID Restricted

↳ Kim: ok it’s literally 1am, where tf are you????? im getting kind of worried here. ive had to stop violet from calling the police like 6 times

↳ 2 Missed Calls: Kim

↳ 11 Missed Calls: Caller ID Restricted

She shook a wave of anxiety and returned her gaze to Kim.

“I… I’m so sorry, I just, my-”

“You were with her again, weren’t you?”

“What?”

“Listen, I’m worried about you, Trix,” her tone softened, and Trixie met her gaze through clouds of coffee steam, “you-”

“Listen Kim, I’ve had kind of a shitty morning and it’s like dick o’clock and I really don’t have th-”

“You’ve just, you’ve been spending a lot of time with her, Trixie.”

“Excuse me? Are you policing who I spend my time with now?” Trixie said, still joking, but a little sharper than she’d intended.

Speech suspended for a moment as Kim drew in a long breath, and exhaled on a quiet sigh.

“Okay. First of all, chill. I just mean that… Listen, Trix, she seems sweet, she really does, but there’s some nasty stuff going around about her and I just don’t want to see you mixed up in that.”

Trixie could feel a bubbling heat rising in her chest, up her neck, spreading into a rouge across her cheeks. She poured the coffee into a mug, some splashing onto the countertop, and found herself rifling through the spice rack for cinnamon; she needed something to shake Katya’s impassivity, to bring her back to last night’s loveliness; but the scent alone burned Katya’s image in the back of her mind, a picture so clear of her face, so cold and distant.

She sipped slowly, cinnamon catching at the back of her throat, and somewhere in all of the coughing, Kim’s patronization had crept beneath her skin and set the surface ablaze.

“Honestly Kim, I love you, but it’s too early for this shit. And thinking about it now, literally none of this is even remotely your business. You don’t know anything about her,” Trixie said, biting. Her headache raged on, a sour pang radiating from the back of her neck. And she could tell she was overreacting, creating something out of nothing; but she couldn’t help but fall farther into it.

“Trixie, I’m your friend. I’m just saying, you always do thi-”

“Well, don’t just say . I’m stressed enough about this as it is, and I don’t need you, of all people, making this harder on me! You’re always on me about this kind of shit, and I don’t need it right now!”

“Wow, okay. You make plans with me. Break them. Fuck your teacher. And somehow, I’m in the wrong? Since when is carin-”

“I did not fuc- did you ever stop and think, for maybe even a millisecond, that the reason I’m spending all of this time with her is because you keep ditching me?”

“Trixie, do not put this on me. You always do this.”

“Do what?” Trixie snapped.

“You always turn things around on me! I’ve literally done nothing wrong here!” Kim stood then from the window seat.

“Oh, so it’s perfectly okay for you to promise me a ride, and then leave me stranded like three times a week, but the one time I make a human mist- “

“I’ve done so much for you, Trixie! This is not one human mistake . I knew you’d find some way to fuck this up. You know, I bust my ass day and night, and everyone fucking wants something from me. I give, and I give, and all you do is take,” Kim interrupted, throwing her hands into the air, and letting them fall hard to her sides.

Trixie watched the argument unravel from a space outside of her own body. She could see the anger leaving Kim in harsh waves; and though the salt water stung, stirred bitter words in her own mouth that threatened escape, she was able to rationalize, self sooth. She couldn’t fully give herself to the argument, knowing that this was long awaited for Kim, that maybe all the stress and chaos had finally gotten to her.

A person could only bend so far before it broke them, could only expend so much before they were due. And Kim, generous and giving as they come, had spent countless hours of her life twisting and contorting her time to fit the moulds of other people; but the words still hurt, still rang of distant memories of her mother’s disappointment, of rage and of acid.

“Fuck what up?” Trixie took a step back, her mind racing.

“Nothing, just forget it.”

“No, you have something to say, say it. You’re not my mother Kim, I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“Oh, that’s rich! You know, I might as well be your mother. Who the fuck do you think found you this place when your actual mother threw you out? Who got you the job you quit because it was,” Kim pulled her fingers into air quotations, “too much? Paid your rent when you couldn’t. Who busted her ass getting you into this school? You can’t commit to anything Trixie, and now, NOW, you’ve gone and figured out the ONE way you can fuck up school, too! I hope Katya’s worth it I really do. Because when administration finds out, you’re both fucked .”

A knot twisted tightly in Trixie’s stomach.

“Stop bringing her into this! You don’t know anything about her! Or me for that matter, clearly. But obviously , you have a lot to say,” Trixie said, almost shouting.

“You think she cares about you? You’re wrong, Trix. You need to grow up, really. She’s using you, just like she did Phi Phi. And when this all blows up in your face, like everything always does, you’re gonna come crying to me. And you know what? I won’t be here.”

Just then, a small noise from the staircase caught their attention. They turned their heads to find two thin figures perched at the top, eyes wide and watching. And Pearl opened her mouth to speak, but Trixie was out the door, leaving her coffee steaming on the counter.

—

Kim’s words, heated and stinging, followed her like a phantom down the darkened halls of her university. And while it hurt, ached a sore plight down the center of her chest, she knew that everything Kim said had been right. She’d been a bad friend, taken too much and given too little. And she could hear her mother’s words too, fresh as the day they were spoken, like silent criminals come to steal her composure.

Autopilot carried her to Katya’s class, wearing the same clothes as yesterday, in the same cracked makeup down her cheeks. Their eyes met and unmet constantly, knowing, each glance holding space a little longer than it should’ve. And Trixie felt as though she could cry at any moment, as the dull ache in her head echoed through the back of her skull, and the glaring need for escape ravaged all the spaces in between. She felt trapped, cornered, unable to escape Katya’s eyes; though she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to. She wanted someone to see her, that she was sure of. Someone to see passed the façade and tell her that it was all going to be okay; and she wanted that someone to be Katya; but some things just couldn’t be, and she was learning then, slowly but surely, that she had to make peace with that. Maybe they could come out of this on top, settle for glances and smiles, chats after class, and maybe, just maybe, Trixie could forget the rush. And if not forget, then settle for a dull ache of what could’ve been.

5 Missed Calls .

Class flew by in a blurred rush of muted anxiety, Trixie auto piloting her way through the motions, all the while hoping she could slip out near the end unnoticed; but much to her dismay, as Trixie had anticipated, the end of class found Katya beelining for Trixie’s desk, and any interaction between them became suddenly unavoidable.

“Listen, Tracy, I’m… I’m very sorry about last night, about this morning, I would never want to make you feel uncomfortable,” Katya started.

“Katya don’t, really. It’s fine, you haven’t don-”

“I think it would be… in better interest, if I didn’t drive you home anymore.”

“I don’t understand,” Trixie said, picking absently at the corner of her thumb nail.

“We can’t do thi-”

“We haven’t done anything.”

“You know what I mean.”

Trixie stood for a moment and let everything sink in, their eyes meeting.

Katya reached for Trixie’s left hand and brought it gingerly to her lips. So tender, so domestic. She placed a soft kiss on Trixie’s knuckle, then let their hands drift together to the left side of her chest. And through the cotton of Katya’s blouse, Trixie could feel the quick drumming of her heart, could see in her eyes a great fear, but also a great acceptance.

“I know,” Trixie said quietly, pulling her hand back.

She turned on a slow heal and started for the door; leaving Katya, small and teary eyed, stark in the middle of the room. And as Trixie stole a final glance, the light of the projector cast her silhouette like a specter across the back wall that sunk into the floor while the door swung shut behind her.

She’d only gotten a few steps down the hall before tears began spilling down her cheeks, probably carrying mascara with them. And Trixie blotted the space beneath her eyes, covertly avoiding eye contact with Jinkx as she passed her down the main hall just before the stairs.

7 Missed Calls.

—

She found herself outside then, heading toward the employee parking lot, under the usual tuck of trees that arched against the rain almost protectively overhead. Though many of the leaves had fallen and sunken into the grounds, there had been just enough to provide her shelter, and she stood for a few beats before realizing Katya wasn’t going to come; then again, neither would Kim. Trixie shivered as the cold hit her, her breath evident in the brisk, and she coiled into herself, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her hips.

She patted around her pockets and produced a crumpled twenty dollar bill, that she smoothed against her books and tucked into the side of her bra, the very last of that week’s allowance. While she scrolled through her phone in search of a taxi company, though they were sparse in these parts, she watched as cars puttered by her, subtly hoping to see Katya’s round the drive.

Before she could hit call, her phone lit up again, buzzing in her palm; a contact photo, her at a young age, eyes bright and glittering, a cheesy smile. And her mother, younger, less weathered, hair still long and curly, thin fingers pinching Trixie’s cheeks.

Until then, the calls seemed more like a minor nuisance, just a permanent fixture on the dashboard of her notifications, but now it cut deep; reminded her of all that she’d lost, all that she’d never regain. And she did something she hadn’t done in months, hadn’t done since Kim had found her and brought her here, she answered . And it went just as swimmingly as she might’ve guessed.

“I’ve been calling you for weeks,” a gravely voice slurred through the phone line.

“Are you, are you drunk?”

“What kind of daughter would ask that?”

Soon there was shouting. And Trixie lost all awareness of her environment, her surrounding; but she knew people were watching, she just simply forgot to care. And tears were spilling out of her, falling onto her shirt, tangling with the rain water washing down her skin.

The air was cold, her fingers red and pruning, phone pressed firmly into her cheek. Everything was spinning and far from sound, and as her mother continued her lamentation, Trixie grew more tense, more unabsolved. She felt trapped suddenly, by all of the forces outside of her own body, controlling her, prodding and pulling like the strings of a marionette. And she came to a startling realization; her life, wasn’t hers. This wasn’t what she wanted, this wasn’t who she wanted to be.

Before she could even hang up the phone, someone was tugging at her arm, pulling her gently from the rain, and from the watching eyes. Guiding her down into a car, her boots finding the comforting crush of empty coffee cups and to-go wrappers. And her phone found its way back into her pocket, as did her fingers, numb from the cold that she pressed into her thighs.

They drove in mostly silence, down familiar roads that were slick now with sleet. And the squeaking of the windshield wipers held an almost deafening stance against the silence.

“Tracy… Ar-”

“Please, Katya. Please , don’t.” Trixie said, drying her cheeks with the sleeves of her sweater.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier, I just… You can still talk to me, you know.”

“No, I can’t. I really can’t.”

Just then, Katya pulled her car swiftly off of the road, hitting the curb and throwing the gears into park. She took off her seatbelt so she could turn to meet Trixie’s gaze.

“What are we doing here?”

“I want to talk to you. I want you to talk to me, there’s n-”

“You know what,” Trixie said, unfastening her seatbelt, “I really can’t. And you know damn well why I can’t.”

“I am not understanding this.”

“Because, Katya! I fucking want you, I want us, I want…” Trixie threw her hands into the air in exasperation, “this! And I’m so sick of everyone in my life telling me what to do, and who to be. Even you! Everyone is always… god, I don’t know! I’m so fucking overwhelmed all of the time by this expectation of who I’m supposed to be, how I’m supposed to act. I have never, ever, not once in my life, not had to fight for every single thing that I have and I’m sick of it. I’m my own person, we are both fucking adults and we can make our own decisi-”

Before she could finish, Katya’s hands were over the center console, pulling her face close, their lips finally meeting.

—

And suddenly her fingers are on me, in my hair, running down my neck. Our mouths meeting like it’s the first time, gliding swiftly over one another, melding us as one exchange of impassioned energy. And her breath is warm, and sweet, intoxicating . Everything I need. Devastatingly, so. From the light of the cars in passing, flickering across her skin, I can see every unspoken word, escaping into the expanse. She wants me, and I want her, and this may be fleeting but I’ve forgotten to care as her hands stroke passed my hair and down my back, sliding with a quick and heavy rhythm like she’s striking a match. Every ounce of angst in me cries out for her, yearns to be closer, to be deeper, to love long and speak sweeter. And I’m falling into her hard, like I’ve never fallen before-

—

Their lips parted as Katya pulled away with haste, her eyes squeezing shut.

“Trixie, Trixie, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have, we can’t do this!” Katya tensed, her accent thicker than ever.

And all of the spinning inside of Trixie stopped, her expression blank, eyes blinking quick and without rhythm. Her skin flushed, hot embers fading into gray coals.

“ Trixie ?” She said in a hushed exasperation, realizing that it was the first time she’d ever heard the name leave Katya’s lips.

“We can’t, I’m so sorry. I just, I care about you so much but we… we can’t Trix-”

“Why not? WHY NOT? You just said it, you care about me! Katya, please, not you too, you can’t do this to me, too. I can’t handle someone else telling me what I ca-”

“Trixie, please try and understand… I’m so so-”

“You know what. Save it. ”

And with that, Trixie was climbing out of the car, the garbage underfoot kicking out onto the sidewalk.

#trixya #dahlia #katya zamolodchikova #trixie mattel #angst #college au #dahliasforkatya #lesbian au #tw verbal abuse #tw mentions of abuse #rpdr fanfiction #submission #church of the poison mind

27 notes · View notes

seokjins · 7 years

Note

Can you believe I listen to Young Forever everyday and cry buckets of tears? Lay the song dissection on me ~F

oh my god fhasdlgadg there is s omuch happening in this song, i’ll try my best to address them best i can. you could spend three days listening to it on repeat and still find hidden parts in the instrumentation or the vocals or the soundbites i just ugh. while reading this, please keep in mind that i’m not a professional musician nor am i an intense music student nor am i even particularly good at playing my any instrument(s), so if you belong to one of the categories above: please don’t hate me lmao

1. electronic vocals (?)

in the original ver of young forever, the addition of electronic sounds manages to enhance the piece w/o overloading the listener. a lot of top 40′s lay on too much of these toggling effects after recording & i get bored of it real fast; it’s banal af and most songs ends up sounding the same. however, whoever produced this / was in charge of sound editing did a great job avoiding a lot of overdone trends !

the song opens with a really quiet, rather high vocal scat (for lack of better words) that is repeated throughout the rest of the piece w/o trying to catch attention. the whole point of this motif is to bring variety to the basic synth piano that starts off namjoon’s verse, but it keeps getting looped back over the chorus and is half-drowned out by the melody later on. it’s an interesting decision to bring it back again, esp when the casual listener won’t catch it.

when most of the instrumentation cuts out around the 2min mark with jungkook’s line, it becomes more prominent again, returning the theme of “quietude” back to the audience. the ending is pretty bare to the bones musically, but this high line is reminiscent of the beginning of the song, and brings everything back full circle. it’s drowned out most of the time, but i’m still in love with this tiny lil touch idk

2. usage of silence

right when namjoon’s voice comes in, the editor made the deliberate choice to leave in his intake of breath. this serves the purpose of making the bass line feel more impactful (aka that note drop u hear; i’m still trying to place what instrument that is) it’s the juxtaposition of the opening, the intimacy of the inhale, and how namjoon gets past the first couple words w only synth support all serve to intensify that first real heavy note

not to forget, hoseok’s verse builds up the tension so high before wiping out completely. it’s the two (? maybe three) lines of percussion and the synth (sounds like unwinding VCR tape) that crescendo with his voice. the whole thing seems to “break” as it reaches the climax, serving to make his scream at the end even more intense. the whole rap part has been leading up to it, and i get chills every goddamn time mmfalsdkhg

this is the same with jungkook’s part. the vocals have a more noticeable percussion line, and the snare (?) drum speeds up + crescendos into the silence. only when EVERYTHING drops out with him, do the busywork of all these melodies and countermelodies smooth out into clapping, the high opening line, and very obvious piano. there are also tons of layered vocals weaving in and out.

there is so much power in the silence as well. the silence right after hoseok’s verse where he yells into the deep, his lines climbing higher n higher every time, silence at 2:03 when jungkook sings, and silence at the beginning of the song. all of it is important to bring about a suspended, anticipated feeling to the listener ?????????and it makes things the song less cookie-cutter + more interesting

3. that One Bass Note

when counting in 4/4 (idk if it’s cut time or not lmao; both seem to work fine w the rhythm), that low bass comes in on the down beat of every two measures, so the suspension is more engaging than to have one every bar. it’s a really small thing, but it helps with the languid, drawled-out sorta feel that this song aims for.

both yoongi AND namjoon have very minimalistic starts to their lines. their rap begins on the pickup and the third word or so is really emphasized bc of the drop (idk what’s producing the noise tho / what exactly to call it). hoseok still gets that bass note, but he starts right on the down beat, which immediately changes the mood of the piece, but draws relatively little attention to it ????

4. musical buildup

the song gets built up verse by verse. namjoon starts with that high line, sparse piano chords, a sort of high-beeping noise that sounds like synth woodblock or something lmao. that sound goes off on the 3rd beat of every measure, while that bass note is the down beat of every second bar.

yoongi gets a fuller sound with low vocals, synth piano in a high ass tessitura (likely to compliment the opening motif), a really nice percussion line, and some nice low bass-y chords to bring in more depth. this is when the song starts sounding healthier, heartier, more gut-wrenching.

hoseok gets double percussion with the start of his lines. there’s a brassy, brush-like sound going on every beat, and a rat-a-tat-tat sorta thing that starts outta it at 1:06, and then takes up a life of it’s own. it has nice syncopation & it gets held off to every 3rd beat, right until taehyung starts singing. then it becomes a consistent line in the background of the song and it makes me nut so hard every time

this signifies a change in the overall dynamics and sound (???i guess) bc it calls in a more harried tone when vocal line goes In For The Kill. from then on, things stay pretty consistent (the electronic woodblock and that one bass note too!), except there are a bunch of easier heard percussion weaving in and out which is expected

5. layered vocals

throughout the song, there are tons of echoey lines, the ones that branch off from the main lyrics right away, others that circle back and show up while hidden way in the background. all it of constitutes to a hallowed sort of feel, like you’re standing on the beach or off a cliff or in a canyon with nothing around you for miles and miles and miles and it just???it takes that feeling of being Alone / at the end of ur time and really drives it home. this effect really goes with the theme of the song, especially when the lyrics turn out to be a death knell of sorts ;((

ex: there’s one really muffled, hidden line mirroring the melody at 2:21, and the first time i tapped into it i Freaked??? who tf is singing????? why is this so genius??? it grounds the half-belting real nice-like. not to forget the way bts harmonizes with themselves but also leave spaces for single words to shine thru (until filling out all the gaps by the end) goes so well with the theme of playing with silence in this song. it’s Genius, i’m telling you. Genius.

6. the singing itself

the vocal line has a natural progression from the lower melody to higher notes. jimin and jungkook both have high ass riffs in falsetto, but every one drops a third, i think. i don’t have enough theory under my belt to break the melody down further (like why the notes sound good or the sound is very unique etc), but the choral parts are my fave bit. i love the minimalistic instrumentals (clapping on the off beats god ,,, always gets to me) while vocal line sings their hearts out on top of it (ಥ﹏ಥ) and then all of bts joins in. the full multi-layered voice effect is so nostalgic n sentimental and that’s exactly what they were going for with this???

wow truly incredible i love bts

in conclusion:

this song utilizes typical effects often heard in pop music, but they’re used in very unique ways that help the listener stay engaged. the sound mixing is impeccable, the melody is neither repetitive nor boring, and hidden instruments as the moving line are done tastefully.

also: silence? yes. silence.

#anon #replies: inbox #music tag #anyway sorry this took legit a full 24 hrs to write lmao #it's also kinda boring i'm sorry about ur eyes i wish i could make this more interesting to read #but i gotta talk about it in person with you in order for that to happen tbh #maybe i'll film a video #maybe i'll start doing reactions to bts dances ... wouldn't that be #[wipes @ eyes] mcfukn amazing

56 notes · View notes