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thewritingisconsumingme · 3 months

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private language

summary: sometimes the thoughts get too loud for takeda

warnings: none :)

For some reason, every thought echoed in Takeda’s head, amplifying in volume every time it bounced around. Takeda winced as another thought intruded into his head and screamed at him. The beginnings of a headache had already formed and all Takeda wanted to do was bury his head into a pillow and go to sleep. He just had to make it through this meeting, and he would be done. He could go to bed and not have to interact with the world and all of its thoughts. He clenched his jaw and his fingernails into the palm of his hand, trying to take the edge off of the throbbing in his head. However, the ache still persisted, prodding and poking at every corner in his head, and he could feel beads of sweat starting to form at his hairline. The pain tore at his mind, digging its claws into his flesh and tearing at his brain. For a brief second, all the voices in the room converged into one, and a blinding pain echoed throughout his head, setting all his nerves ablaze, and Takeda forgot how to breathe. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus his energy into his lungs and to pull air into his lungs.

To Takeda’s side, Kung Jin eyed his boyfriend worriedly. He had looked pale throughout the entire meeting and started swaying side to side slightly in the middle of the meeting. Takeda had been staring off into the distance, not really listening to General Sonya Blade drone on about some new development in the portals leading to Outworld. When Kung Jin saw Takeda’s chest suddenly stop moving and heard his breath slightly hitch, the archer placed his hand into Takeda’s, interlocking their fingers, and squeezed his hand. He hoped the gesture was comforting and gave the telekinetic a way to ground himself away from whatever was happening in his mind.

Takeda cracked open his eyes and glanced over at Kung Jin, who was still looking at Sonya Blade, and Takeda gratefully squeezed Kung Jin’s hand back. His chest stuttered as air flowed back into his lungs, and he gripped onto Kung Jin’s hand as the pain in his head continued to torture him. The archer hardly reacted, only shifting in his seat to get a bit more comfortable. The pain continued to torment Takeda, but with Kung Jin’s hand keeping him grounded, the voices seemed a little quieter and the world didn’t seem so painful.

When the meeting finally ended, Takeda shot out of his seat and dragged Kung Jin out of the room. The archer could barely shoot a worried glance toward Jacqui and Cassie before nearly stumbling out of the room as Takeda kept his firm grip on Kung Jin’s hand. Takeda led Kung Jin through the halls quickly before finally opening the door to their shared dorm and throwing Kung Jin on the bed and cuddling up close to the archer.

“What’s got you all worked up?” Kung Jin asked, a bit confused but nonetheless welcoming the sudden attention. Takeda just shook his head and buried his face further in Kung Jin’s plush chest. Kung Jin figured it was just one of those days and raked his fingers through Takeda’s soft hair. Soon enough, Takeda’s breath slowed down, and his muscles had gone lax, indicating that he had fallen asleep, and Kung Jin pressed a soft kiss to the telekinetic’s head. A few moments later, Jacqui and Cassie opened the door to their room. Kung Jin put a finger to his lips for them to stay quiet. They nodded and entered the darkened room, closing the door behind them quietly.

Jacqui got into the bed quietly and wrapped an arm around Takeda and pressed herself flush to Takeda’s back, nosing Takeda’s neck and breathing in the scent of cherry blossoms. Likewise, Cassie cuddled up close to Jacqui and lazily kissed Jacqui’s neck. The room was silent and soon enough all of them had fallen asleep cuddling each other. When Takeda woke up a few hours later, drool drying on his face and his eyes barely able to focus in the darkness of the room, he found himself sandwiched between Jacqui and Kung Jin, both snoring rather loudly. Takeda just smiled to himself as their thoughts floated lazily in the air. Surrounded by the partners and the soft thoughts of their love clouding his head, he snuggled back into the warmth of their bodies and let sleep overtake him again.

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thewritingisconsumingme · 2 months

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please love me again

a/n: it's actually so important that you read the warnings this time. this was a culmination of stress, and so i implore you to not read if anything triggers you.

please call 988 if you're in the US and having suicidal thoughts or (212) 695-8650 to contact the Trevor Hotline for LGBTQ+ youth. if you've been sexually assaulted or raped, please call the hotline 1-800-656-4673. you do not have to struggle alone.

summary: kung jin wants his heart to stop feeling

warnings: internalized homophobia, homophobia, non-graphic descriptions of rape/noncon, suicide ideation, loss of self, destructive habits, PTSD

Kung Jin hadn’t always thieved for a living. He had a family who loved him and supported him when he was younger. He had been normal by all of their means: got straight A’s, attended every scientific related club, and got along with the rest of his family. He had an especially close bond with his uncle, Kung Lao, and his uncle was the one to encourage his love for archery despite his parents telling him to quit and focus on his studies. He was liked by everyone, and yeah, maybe he was a bit too cocky for his age, but what pre-teen wasn’t?

It wasn’t until middle school when he kissed a girl for the first time, behind the school in between classes, that he knew something was wrong with him. He had kissed the girl and felt none of the butterflies or the whirlwind of bursting emotions swelling in his heart. Rather, he felt dead inside, a little disgusted, and later he wiped his mouth of the taste of the girl’s cherry blossom lip balm. He was supposed to like this girl. The most well-liked girl in their classroom, and the most well-liked boy in the classroom was meant to be a perfect match. But, Jin instead found himself staring at a boy in his class, one that was lean and strong and not too academically gifted but could shoot a hoop like no other in the school.

When he came home that night, he couldn’t get the boy off his mind and felt a deep well of shame bubble in the pit of his stomach. He was a boy, he wasn’t supposed to like other boys, it was unnatural, wrong. And still his feelings persisted no matter how he tried to suppress them. He found himself imagining how soft the other boy’s lips were, how strong the other boy was and how he could easily pick up Jin.

Jin’s mind grew more in disarray as he started heading to the shooting range more often, shooting arrows until his fingers bled and his muscles screamed at him because he couldn't take his mind off his feelings any other way. He still kept up with his studies, but everyday his heart hurt as he watched his doomed romance wilt and die as he watched the boy in class start a blossoming romance with another girl in class.

And then everything changed when an exchange student came to the school, a tall American boy with strong eyes and a sharp jaw. Jin had fallen heads over heels for the boy, befriending the boy as quickly as possible and showing him all the spots in school to hide from teachers and bringing him to the shooting range. His heart pounded everytime he went to drag the boy along to someplace he found sacred in his heart, and whenever the boy got too close to Jin or placed a friendly hand on his shoulder or his chest, the archer’s heart pounded in his chest. He especially loved it when the American commented on Kung Jin’s eyes, admiring how pretty and dark they were.

Then, one fateful day, in the hidden corner of the school, the American boy had pulled Jin close and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, and Jin’s face became aflame and his heart pounded like a bull against its stalls. And that started their little love affair, hidden from the world and from Jin’s family. Every stolen kiss and lingering touch was a risk, a danger that everyone could see, but it made adrenaline rush through his veins and his mind spin every time they hid away to indulge in each other’s love. He didn’t have to think about how his love was wrong, how his feelings for a boy were forbidden. The deep well of shame in his stomach didn’t seem so deep with the American boy pulling him from it.

He spent less and less time with his family and spent more time with the boy, neglecting school and archery to hang out with his lover. He held onto that relationship like a lifeline, as if he was drowning in a sea of his misery and the boy was a lifeguard diving in to rescue him. He didn’t see the signs, eyes blurred with love, as the boy burned his bridges for him: isolating him from his former friends and his family. Even still, Jin still talked to Kung Lao, albeit excluding certain details of his affair with the American boy, but then Kung Lao died and he was alone.

When one day, one of Jin’s former friends went looking for the boy, sent by the teacher to tell him that the office had called for the American boy, the student had found Jin on top of his paramour, kissing him. The American boy had seen the student in the corner of his open eyes and immediately pushed Jin off him, and his demeanor changed right in front of Jin’s eyes. The American shrunk in on himself, pointing at Jin and trembling as he told the other student that Jin had forcefully come onto him and kissed him before he could react. Jin tried to refute, hands reaching out for his former friend, but the student had grabbed onto the American boy and retracted his body in retreat, calling him a disease and that he needed help before disappearing.

Kung Jin ran out of school and ran to the shooting range, notching arrows and shooting them in disarray, his arrows crooked and inaccurate at his lack of practice and tears blurring his vision. His dad stormed in hours later, angry and red in the face as he screamed at Kung Jin in front of everyone, calling him slurs and hateful words and throwing Kung Jin’s belongings in his face and telling him to never come back.

He thought the American boy was saving him from his shame and his fears, but he fell even deeper instead, drowning completely in the black sludge of hate and fear. He fled the town, hopping onto a train and riding far away from everyone he ever knew or loved.

And when he arrived in a new town, he found no one wanted to hire a teenager who had dropped out of high school, and he grew hungry, running out of the meager snacks he had on him. In front of a grocery that rejected his application to work there, he eyed the cheap ramen in the aisle and when the owner wasn’ looking, he snagged some packs and ran far until he was back into the little alcove he stored his belongings. He learned to survive, got used to the cold, used to the rain, used to the sneers that others would give him. He stole and stole, taking things he didn’t really want or need, bitter at the world and himself for loving a boy.

He traveled around China, never staying in one place for two long in fear of getting caught with his stolen trinkets. He spent his time in back alleys, shooting arrows at bags of trash and bottles strung up with dirty string. His fingers bled and his eyes were teary as he released arrow after arrow, but he learned to fight the pain and to suppress it. He would never love someone like that, and no one would ever love him again.

And then, he passed by the mountain where Kung Lao had done his training and decided to go and pay respects to his uncle. Kung Jin stole a coat and traveled up the slick mountain, rain clouds thundering in the distance. He traveled around in the dark of the night, remembering the monks that Kung Lao had introduced to him, old men insistent in their ways. Kung Jin entered Kung Lao’s grave shrine and paid his respects to his dead uncle, forcing his sadness to stay under and to kill his feelings once more. He scowled at the jade statue at the grave and swiped it, needing a bit more money and thinking that Raiden didn’t deserve to have this memento when the god had inadvertently caused Kung Lao’s death.

Raiden had confronted him, and Kung Jin fought him and won. And when Raiden offered Kung Jin a home, where he would be fed and warm and no one would judge him for whom he liked, the archer felt hesitant. If he was betrayed again by someone new he called family, he would never recover, but he decided to place what little trust he had in the god and went to the Shaolin Monastery. True to his words, they accepted Jin for who he was and trained him to be proficient with the bow and martial arts. But, he stayed on the outskirts of the temple, sleeping in the drafty rooms and eating less than everyone else in fear of growing too complacent. In fear of them finding out he was not worthy and that after he had grown used to this life that they would cast him out into the rain once more.

It had been a sunny day, Jin reading the scrolls of Outworld underneath a cherry blossom tree, when he felt a shadow overcome his figure. He looked up to find a boy only slightly younger than him, bright-eyed and curious as to what Jin was reading. And well, he was quite attractive as well, but Kung Jin grabbed the feeling swelling in his heart and shoved it deep back down.

His name was Takeda Takahashi as Jin learned, and against Jin’s will, the boy persisted in befriending the archer and followed him around, asking Jin to train with him, asking how Jin was so pretty, telling him that he had gorgeous eyes. And well, Jin couldn’t resist, and the barbed thorn around his heart grew more dull, more soft until his heart was vulnerable and exposed as a fawn in a flat open field. Jin hated how he opened like a flower for the boy, how Takeda managed to make him happy, how he felt so loved in Takeda’s presence.

The whole battle surrounding Shinnok passed, and Kung Jin watched with hard eyes as Takeda became more and more enamored with Jacqui, taking her out on sweet dates and leaving soft kisses on her lips. He took his heart in his hands once more and willed it to please just die, so he did not have to suffer anymore. He screamed and ripped and tore at his own feelings, begging it to just stop and perish, and yet it persisted, soft and warm as ever.

Kung Jin left, going off to find Kung Lao and bring him back to the living world. He needed to get away from Jacqui and Takeda and everyone. He couldn’t bear to see it. Not when Takeda went up to Kung Jin and asked him to be his best man. Not when he scrambled off, heart breaking at the crestfallen expression on Takeda’s face. But his efforts were fruitless in traveling to the Netherrealm, Kung Lao had only fought him, ripping through Kung Jin’s arrows with his hat and stabbing at the most vulnerable parts of Kung Jin’s self. His uncle that he had adored so much stabbed him with violent words, saying that he should’ve never trusted Raiden like a fool, that he would never live up to Kung Lao’s name, that he was worthless and unlovable.

After Kung Jin escaped back from the Netherrealm, battered and bruised and tired, he went back to the monastery, the last place he had, and Takeda found him. Takeda updated him on how he and Jacqui were doing and asked if his adventure was worth it. Kung Jin stayed silent, willing his tears to just dry up. He couldn’t, wouldn’t cry in front of Takeda.

He burned his own bridge with Takeda, brushing him off, and went to Outworld without a word to everyone else to act as an ambassador. Only Sonya knew he had gone off. and he kept her updated monthly with lengthy virtual transmissions. He drank his sorrows away with alcohol when he wasn’t working, finding women to sleep with every night and trying to convince himself that he liked them. But he only found himself drowning and drowning and drowning.

One night, too drunk to really care about what was going on, a man took him home for the night. Kung Jin couldn’t stop himself from sleeping with men after that, bedding anyone he could see and anyone that possibly liked him back to try and escape his past and his feelings, but it turned for the worse when he was too distracted batting his eyelashes at a patron that slipped something into his drink and stole him away.

It was a personal hell. Rough hands grabbed his body, slapped his face, tore his heart apart, and he stopped fighting after some time. His heart died as more and more time passed and no one came to rescue him. He forgot his past. His family. His friends. His own voice. His face. Himself. His body was starved of adequate food and water, and his mind was broken over and over again when a new customer would come in.

He would imagine that he was back on Earth, with his friends, talking about something trivial with Cassie and teasing Takeda and Jacqui about their relationship.

Time passed, and he imagined it was just him and Takeda together underneath that blossom tree in silence.

Time passed, and he imagined that he was with someone warm and comforting and soft.

Time passed, and he imagined that he was warm and happy.

Time passed, and he imagined that he was warm.

With every customer that wanted the exotic human, he lost himself and his heart sank to the bottom of an endless sea. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since the beginning of this hell, perhaps years. His hair had grown long and unruly, curling down his back and reaching his legs. His body was covered in permanent marks of bruises and scrapes. His face was exceptionally well-kept, the only reason being his owner cleaning and making sure his pretty human looked nice for his customers. He was called ‘Pretty Eyes,’ the only thing he could remember of himself.

He heard loud bangs and shouts outside. Pretty Eyes cracked open his eyes, the man on top of him grabbing onto his limp body and pressing a knife against his throat as he watched a familiar face burst into the room. The knife pressed deeper into his throat as the patron shouted, and Pretty Eyes found that he didn’t care if he died right then and there. He was so tired. So so tired of keeping up appearances, of the cold, of the roughness, of everything. And so, he closed his eyes and waited.

When he woke up again, he was in some sort of medical wing and found someone sitting next to him with a somewhat familiar face. The man jumped up at the sight of Pretty Eyes and excitedly wrapped his arms around Pretty Eye’s body. He instinctively closed his eyes, mind drifting off to another place as he waited for the man to undress him and take what he wanted. But, it never came, and Pretty Eyes opened his eyes to see the man just staring at him in confusion, asking him things in a language he didn't understand anymore.

The man’s face paled as he kept on talking and at how Pretty Eyes didn’t respond and his voice grew more and more frantic, until he grabbed onto Pretty Eyes’s shoulders. So, it was one of those customers. He just let the man shake him, and when he finished speaking, Pretty Eyes started slipping off the uncomfortable gown he was dressed in. The man looked on in horror and stopped Pretty Eyes from undressing himself and left in a hurry. For some reason, Pretty Eye’s chest hurt as he watched the man leave.

Everyday, new faces came in, talking to him and asking him things in a language he didn’t understand. But, that strange man that he woke up to kept on coming, bringing a woman with him sometimes but most times he was alone. He brought food and gifts and talked and talked. When the man spoke slow sentences in a language that Pretty Eyes could understand, one of the languages that the customers spoke to him, he blinked at the innocent questions in surprise: how his day was, what he ate, how he was feeling.

Pretty Eyes tried to speak, but his words were rusty and hoarse. He hadn’t used his voice to speak in such a long time. He relearned how to speak, how to talk, and the man, Takeda he had introduced himself as, brought Pretty Eyes, or as he learned that his name was Kung Jin, on walks around the area. They were in some sort of monastery, open fields and other humans training against each other. Takeda often brought him to sit underneath a cherry blossom tree and soak in the sunlight or to the shooting range, and it felt familiar and instinctual in Pretty Eyes’s hands as he shot bullseye after bullseye.

One night as he was finally taken out of the medical wing and to a personal bedroom for the night, Takeda stayed with him, just laying in bed with Pretty Eyes and making sure nothing happened. Takeda would sleep in Pretty Eyes’s bed some nights and others he would be gone, but he was there more often than not. Sometimes, Pretty Eyes would dream of an American boy, of dry ramen, of Takeda and his familiar face. Other times, Pretty Eyes would open his eyes and feel paralyzed as he felt the ghostly touches of rough and dirty fingers touching his legs, his hips, his neck.

Takeda always woke up when Pretty Eyes did and talked him through those bouts, telling him about anything and everything, how he and Jacqui were doing, how Cassie was doing until Jin calmed down and could move again. And, one night when neither of them could sleep, they lay down facing each other while Takeda talked and talked while Pretty Eyes nodded along. Then, Takeda raised a hand to cup Pretty Eyes’s…Kung Jin’s face. But, it was warm and comforting, not rough despite the callous and the touch was gentle. Kung Jin let the soldier cup his face.

The nights continued like that, Takeda touching various areas of Kung Jin's face, arms, chest, and backing off when Kung Jin’s breath grew too quick or his eyes glazed over. On one night that felt eons away from his time in Outworld, Takeda was face to face with Kung Jin, noses touching whenever they shifted minutely in the bed. Takeda brought his hand up and asked in a quiet voice if he could kiss the archer. Kung Jin nodded slowly, and Takeda brought his face closer until their lips were just barely away from each other. If Kung Jin moved, he would be pressed right against Takeda. The man asked one more time if Kung Jin was sure and when Jin let out a soft yes, Takeda brought their lips together and kissed him soft and sweet.

Jin’s heart warmed just a bit, and when he pulled away, he realized he could feel tears falling down his face. He laid there and cried as Takeda held him in his arms and soothed him. The man listened to Jin cry all night, years of pain and anguish and suffering emptying out of Jin’s soul and heart. He cried out the pool he was drowning in, the shame he carried with him. When he was done sobbing, Jin just stayed silent besides the mild sniffling, and Takeda just whispered soothing words, just cradling Jin’s head close to his chest.

His heart felt warm that night, and he wanted this feeling forever. He needed this warm and soft feeling, and Takeda gave it freely, loving him and touching him with soft and gentle hands. He never pushed, never prodded, and let Jin work through his feelings until he could deal with the negative thoughts in a healthy way.

Jin would never be the same. He never could, but at least he knew he was loved. And that was nice.

a/n: please call 988 if you're in the US and having suicidal thoughts or (212) 695-8650 to contact the Trevor Hotline for LGBTQ+ youth. if you've been sexually assaulted or raped, please call 1-800-656-4673. you do not have to struggle alone.

i wasn't even sure if i wanted to post this on here because i haven't seen something like this on this site. this feels too mature for tumblr if i'm going to be honest. this was dark. as mentioned, this was a culmination of stress about everything happening in life right now. i'm completely fine, completely safe, do not worry about my well-being.

i've always really liked Jin, something about having to live up to a legacy while having to hide your true self hits a little close to home. thankfully and luckily, i have never been raped or sexually assaulted or even cat-called, and it's been a blessing that it has never happened to me. but, that doesn't negate the trauma of growing up with the fear that it can/will happen to you, especially as i've gotten older. it's a terrifying thought to think that someone you know or a stranger can slip something into your drink so that you're forced to do their bidding. it's also important not to victim blame. in regards to this fic, yes, Jin was using his sexual agency to sleep with men but that never ever excuses rape. the person to blame is the perpetrator. they made an active decision to traumatize someone for their own amusement or pleasure. do NOT blame the victim. i cannot stress this enough or enough times.

in regards to the writing of this fic, i wanted to play around with Jin's identity in regards to his name. i tried to use Kung Jin when he is putting on a farce: cocky and confident, the descendant of the great Kung Lao, bigger and better than everyone. i tried to use Jin when he is expressing his true feelings and let's his heart yearn and love. i used Pretty Eyes as a way to remove his personality because that is often what happens in cases of rape/sexual assault. they dehumanize you down to one trait to try and justify their reasons, which are never valid to reiterate. i wanted to try explore the theme of identity because it's something i've struggled with along with internalized homophobia, and i wanted to try and put it into words. i know that this author's note is lengthy and probably not very eloquently worded, but i want you to know that it is okay to not like this post. this is heavy content and not everybody signed up to read this. i posted fluff for a month and then come right into march with this fic? you do not have to like everything that i upload.

if you've made it this far, i applaud you for trooping along. drink some water, eat a snack you like, talk to your friends. don't bottle up your feeling because that's dangerous. you're allowed to cry and scream and be angry. try that new thing and live vivaciously even if others don't approve. you do not have to conform to society's values because this current society in America is built on racism, patriarchy, arbitrary rules, and hatred. it is okay to be different. it is okay to be cringe.

#noodle’s writings #mortal kombat #mk #mortal kombat x #mkx #kung jin #takeda takahashi #kung jin x takeda #jacqui x takeda #dead dove do not eat #whump writing

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