#my mental health this month is hanging there by two strings and these strings are baldurs gate 3 and hades 2 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chimivx · 1 year

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TASTE. -> 'Haven' from the POV of Hyunjin. (Part One of ?)

summary: "Bad things happen in love. That's why I've spent my entire life rejecting it. Everyone I've ever fallen for has failed me, and it's happening all over again, and I get to watch."

word count: 11k

warnings: 18+, infidelity themes all throughout, toxic friendships/relationships, mentions of sex, alcohol abuse, struggles with mental health themes, cursing, if I missed anything PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

a/n: So, this is happening. This is altering my entire Haven universe. Originally, this is the time period I had Haven set in when I first created it... I see a rewrite happening in the future. Enjoy this, and please leave me a message of your thoughts! YES, I had to name the female MC. If she has your name, congrats!

Fixating my eyes on the bland, white ceiling above me, I lay awake for the third night in a row, unable to shake the thoughts that infected my mind like a parasite. Incessant mocking strings of words that my subconscious seems to have created itself for the pure purpose of self torture. Life’s always been that way though, my subconscious versus my conscious mind, both whispering things to me in a way that made it difficult to decipher what was actually real.

During the night after I’ve buried myself beneath my sheets was when they loved to linger. When things got quiet, the thoughts crept out, spilling me secrets, but if it was a night like tonight, they screamed. For weeks now, they’ve been screaming.

Mere hours ago, before the lights were shut off, I had my arms wrapped around the girl who now slept soundly beside me. Straddling my waist with her hands tangled in my hair, we took one another with a hunger, sweating while she sang out a beautiful song inspired by her own lust fueled desire. Each and every time we slept together it was disgustingly greedy, yet relieving, and all the more mind-numbing.

Jade, fast asleep, her eyelashes tickling her cheeks, always appeared as beautiful as her name introduced her. Much like the stone she shares a title with, her personal qualities weren’t as far off. Since I’ve met her she’s been level headed, mature, and honest. Never once have I had to question her sincerity whenever I’m seven inches within her, nor have I wondered whether or not she’d stray away from me.

Until about two months ago.

It was probably my own damn fault somehow, I just can’t seem to piece together where it began, or what the underlying cause was. Within these nights laying awake I start to assume it’s the subconscious cooking it up, but if I attempt to delve deeper into the situation it seems to appear before me clear as day.

She was falling in love with Minho.

The nine of us friends had been hanging out for almost half a year before Jade and I started to hook up. Our group was formed beneath the roof of Haven, all of us were regulars, and Minho was a bartender there, so naturally we grew attached to each other.

Jeongin and Seungmin knew one another previously, childhood best friends or something, if I can remember, as did Minho and Han. Changbin was a close friend of mine through school, we attended university together a few years back, the two of us in the same fraternity. He had a good friend at work, Felix, who he ended up bringing around, and the blonde seemed to find a place with us. That boy was an Aussie, like Chan who was introduced to us through Jade. Those two were college friends as well.

Naturally we fell into little subunits as all friend groups do, though we clung to the ones we started out with. Jade, I’ve noticed, couldn’t let go of Chan, and for good reason. He was a good dude, he worked in a gym, and I didn’t absolutely hate his guts. At least I knew that if she was with him she was going to be safe- which is a thought that always shook me to the depths of my core, and it wasn’t because I was worried about her well-being.

Well, maybe it was because I was worried about her well-being, but that was what terrified me. I had gotten to the point with her that made me want to throw it all away, it was entirely nauseating, every waking second of it.

Taking a glimpse of her now in the dark where she lay with her lips slightly parted, her gorgeous hair pushed backward and her hands beneath the cheek that lays on one of my pillows, there’s a pit that forms in my stomach, one that sends an electric spark up into my heart, spreading throughout my nervous system. If she was dreaming her lips would twitch. I’d gazed at her enough as she’s slept this past year to be able to figure out what was happening in that spectacular mind of hers without her needing to use words to express it.

It’s how I knew she was falling in love with Minho.

Lurching forward with a gentleness to not disturb her, I press the palms of my hands to my eyes and rub vigorously, trying to clear my head of the things I didn’t want to hear. Taking a slow, deep breath with caution, I sense the familiar tightness around my heart and sigh.

As soon as I think about it, it happens. Another breath rips through my chest without warning, and then another. They were coming in quick, their speed relentless, my heart accompanying their pace. I glance down at Jade who hasn’t seemed to stir. She was asleep, I didn’t want to bother her, I wasn’t sure I wanted her help at all. I knew what I needed to do.

Tossing the covers off of me my feet hit the floor, a cool sensation shooting up my legs helping to ease the panic in the slightest way. Hurrying for the door I snatch the doorknob and throw it open, my head beginning to go dizzy.

I rush into the kitchen with a clobber, slamming my hands onto one of the counters feeling absolutely no pain. Blind with anxiety, I begin to rifle through cabinets, slamming their doors along with a couple of drawers.

Where is it, are the only words I can conjure up.

A couple minutes later, or it could’ve been thirty seconds for all I can actively be aware of- I find it. A little more than half a bottle of Don Juilio that Changbin gifted me for my last birthday. It was pushed in the back, hidden behind Jades margarita mixes and fruity shit she’s tried to put me on. Jutting my arm in, knocking over stacked plastic cups and packages full of bendy straws, I maneuver the round glass bottle out of the cabinet without knocking over anything expensive.

Plopping to the floor, I pop the tequila open and take a gulp. It’s cool against my tongue, but it should burn a little as it goes down. It doesn’t. Taking another swig I can’t even feel my chest warm like it should while I drink this. I can’t feel a thing.

Typically this gets paired with some sort of soda, adding a dash of the tequila into the glass before the fizzy mixer is poured inside. Changbin was better at making the drinks, he has been since college. At every party he was the one in charge of the alcohol, making sure we never got a keg. With Changbin it had to be dressed up, a little more spicy than average- which was how he preferred his women.

To me, it didn’t matter. In college I drank to get drunk, and apparently my friends would agree that that still reigns true. I didn’t care if the alcohol was aged perfectly, if it was pricey or if it was cheap, nor did it matter the packaging it came in. If it cleared my head, made me forget what I wanted to forget, and got me off, I was set. Which, ultimately, was how I preferred my women. Or my men. Or my… people.

I knock back another gulp of Don Juilio.

I’d never include Jade in that analogy, though. She was different. She was infectious. She made me break my rules.

We were together, but we weren’t together. We shared a bed, she lived within the walls of my apartment, but we weren’t together. She had her own dresser in my bedroom, her toothbrush resided in my bathroom, but we weren’t together. In the morning’s she’d cook me breakfast and bring it to me with a kiss on the cheek, but we weren’t together.

My heart fluttered whenever I would think about her. She found ways to turn my cheeks pink on days when I never thought I’d smile again. She was magnificent.

Jade was the only girl in my life who didn’t throw herself at me the moment we had met. Most women I interact with try to pick me up or ask if I’m single, then try to get me into bed- you don’t see me complaining- but, Jade. The very first thing I ever said to her was sarcastic, something smart rolling off my tongue when our eyes first caught a glimpse of one another, and she laughed.

It wasn’t a cute laugh. It wasn’t a ‘oh my god, cute boy, you’re so funny, let me giggle like a girl to get you to like me’ laugh. Her laugh was loud, and it was quick, and it turned heads. Essentially she was really scoffing at me, unable to believe I had strolled up to her and Chan at the bar and been so confidently cocky.

She got me right back with a joke that crippled Changbin and Chan, she tossed something together fast about how I compared to one of the neon lights on the wall. It was a flamingo holding a bottle of tequila if I’m not mistaken. Even then she knew me, she could see me.

Months after that was the first time we had kissed, inside Haven, those wooden planked walls becoming a safe place for us. Then soon after we seeked sanctuary in a bathroom stall, drunkenly stupid enough to fuck without caring who came inside to use the other one beside it.

I had played a careful game, intrigued with how she seemed to play it right back. That’s what drew me to her. She was equally as meticulous as I was, though she appeared like the type to want stability, and after getting to know her some more, that’s what she craved.

Dealing with me she knew she wasn’t going to get a relationship, at least not the kind where we’d call each other boyfriend and girlfriend. That was something I didn’t do, something that made my skin crawl.

Titles were a subject for disaster, it always ended in a mess, at least from what I know. I’ve had my own share of enough broken hearts in the past to be repulsed by the idea of a title. Of exclusivity. Belonging to someone, and someone belonging to you, only to have them rip your heart out and tear it to shreds after they confess that they see a forever with you, leading you on, isolating you from your friends and family.

People leave. People don’t care.

With Jade I figured I was saving myself, protecting us both from the horrors of heartbreak. But, somewhere within the year I broke my rules.

I was insufferably in love with her.

And she was falling in love with Minho.

Another swig from the bottle I grasped. And then another.

She was falling in love with Minho. I could see it in her eyes whenever they spoke.

He was capable of giving her everything she wanted.

Another swig, that became more of a gulp.

She was falling in love with Minho, and I was doing everything in my power to push her away. I was wrecking her trust, breaking her down, making her cry, and she wouldn’t leave. I was telling her things to her face, things I had done, things that would cause any person in their right mind to leave me, and she wouldn’t go.

Another gulp.

Our friends said things to me, things I couldn’t begin to put together right now, but I knew they weren’t nice. They watched me hurt her again and again, they’ve tried to tell her to leave me, I know that they have. I know Minho has gotten her ear before, this one shocked me the most, because if she was going to listen to anyone I figured it’d be Minho.

My heart yearned, it ached for her.

The worst part about it was that she loved me too, at least I think she does, seeing as though she’s still here after I’ve cheated on her three different times. I’ve slept with three different girls, and she hasn’t left. Jennie, who I met in Haven, a senior in college out here visiting family for the summer. Lia, who I met at the liquor store, she lived a few neighborhoods over. Nayeon, who I met- No. I never had sex with Nayeon. I kissed her though, and she touched my dick.

Another gulp. The glass clangs against the ground as the bottom of the bottle hits it, my arm getting heavy.

Jade knew everything. She found out about Nayeon last week, and she’s still here.

God, I love her, so fucking much, but I’m pretty sure she’s falling in love with Minho.

Another… another gulp, I attempt. My arms fall limp first, then my back meets the tiled floor, and I don’t know if it’s because of the Don Juilio that’s nearly empty or the panic attack.

“What the fuck, Hyunjin.”

Her spine chilling tone wakes me up. Opening my eyes to the sun leaking through the windows, I turn my chin to look at her and take a deep breath, one that inflates my lungs completely. Jade, standing behind me at the door she just slammed shut, is draped in golden rays of light. It definitely wasn’t morning.

A dull ache rips through my head, my eyes feeling like they could roll back and sink into my skull. They’d roll down to my stomach that churned as I moved my eyes around the room. I was still in the middle of the kitchen splayed out on the floor.

Jade was dressed for work, all black head to toe, with her hair pulled back to keep it out of her face. A little nametag was perched on her chest by her left shoulder where her name was spelled out in cute block letters that she wrote herself. In her hand she carried a brown paper bag that gave off the scent that something delicious was inside, something I’d devour if I wasn’t fighting away nausea.

“I brought you dinner,” she said, her tone flat. Looking away from me she takes herself over to the table and tosses the bag onto the wood, not caring whether or not its contents got jostled. A sigh contorted with a groan escapes her as she walks down the hall toward the bedroom, pulling her shirt over her head.

“Dinner,” I mumbled, rubbing one of my eyes. Attempting to sit up, I roll onto my side and tuck my knees into my chest, propping myself up on them along with my hands. The headache roars through my brain, the room turning blurry for a few seconds.

Sitting back on my heels my hands swing to my side, my left pinky finger tapping what felt like glass. Turning my chin down slowly, I hook my pinky into the lip of the bottle and pull it onto my lap, sighing at what I’d found. An empty bottle of Don Juilio Tequila sat in the dip of my thighs.

“Jade?” I called out, looking toward the bedroom where she had disappeared. I don’t remember how I ended up here.

In a pair of jeans that hugged her hips just right, and a white tank top- that I think was mine- tucked into the front of the waist, Jade turned out of the doorway, shooting me a glare. Her hands were occupied with a brush, pushing her hair backward with the bristles before shaking it all forward. When she tossed it back it was like she moved in slow motion.

God, she was beautiful.

“What?” her tone didn’t match her appearance. She was pissed.

Gesturing toward the floor, moving like I’d aged seventy years, I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders. “When did I…?”

“Beats me,” she grills, perking a brow. “You were there when I left for work, I figured you’d be up by the time I got back, like last time.”

“You didn’t hear me get up?” I asked, genuinely looking for help. Jade simply shakes her head. “I don’t remember getting up.”

“You sure made a mess,” she scoffs, then disappears again.

Turning over my shoulder, slowly, I’m greeted by half open drawers and cabinets. The one beside me, the liquor cabinet, had its contents spilling out the front onto the tile. Plastic red cups were scattered about, and bottles inside the shelf were knocked over.

“What the fuck,” I whisper to myself.

“You can clean it up,” Jade said, coming back out into the kitchen now with a pair of boots on her feet peeking out from under her flared jeans. She’d put lipstick on, a mauve color, and some mascara. Always so simple, yet convicting, and she didn’t even know it.

“Where are you going?” I asked, watching her dance about the kitchen, unpacking the bag she had brought in, crumbling it up to push it into the garbage that lived beneath our sink. Her jeans stretched as she bent over and my heart wanted to burst.

“Haven,” she said, turning around to look down at me. Her eyes travel to the glass on my lap. “Han, Chan and Minho are going.”

Minho.

Suddenly her shade of lipstick made me want to smash the bottle I held into a trillion little pieces. I remembered how I’d gotten here on the floor.

“Oh,” I mumbled, bobbing my head, gazing up at her through the dark pieces of hair that fell onto my forehead. Jade’s eyes study mine, hers laced with uncertainty and a shit ton of empathy.

“You can come with me, yanno,” she said, her sharp tone easing down to one nicer. Licking my lips, tasting a tinge of the tequila, I nod. She offers me a small smile and a hand.

She aids me to my feet and gives my cheek a quick kiss before she whispers, “You need help.” And she’s sufficiently, accurately, shot me in the heart. Though it was spoken with quaint intention, it didn’t soften the blow, not when I’ve heard those three words before. The first time was degrading, and humiliating, and it didn’t come from Jade.

Taking the bottle from my hands she places it on the countertop much more carefully than it appeared I had been moving last night. She backs away from me with two steps and gestures behind her.

“Get yourself ready,” she said. “They want to meet at six.”

Right. Minho.

“If you want,” she adds before I can walk away from her, “I can call Changbin, maybe ask if he wants to join us?” Rubbing the back of my neck I take a breath. How, in her right mind, is she being nice to me?

“He works,” I said, dropping my hand at my side, “But… sure.”

Checking out my appearance one last time, Jade smiles, bigger this time. I can’t even begin to imagine how I look after hours passed out on the floor in a drunken daze. My headache pounded like a kickdrum in my ears and it felt like I was wearing twenty pound weights on each of my limbs.

“Okay,” she sighed. “I’ll give him a call, go take a shower.”

Taking myself down the hall, leaving her in the kitchen, I step into the bathroom and lock the door behind me. Pressing my back against the white wooden panel, I groan and close my eyes for a couple of seconds. The thought of having to put up with Minho for another night made me more nauseous than the tequila, and the fact that Jade was all done up for the evening threatened to make me panic.

Panic and Minho. That was definitely how I ended up in the kitchen on the floor. It always stemmed from there, the overthinking, the imposter syndrome, the false thoughts that weasled into my mind without consent. Imposter Syndrome was laughable, and it is. I wasn’t under the impression Jade was falling in love with Minho. I knew she was falling in love with Minho.

Oh my god, Hyunjin, turn on the shower.

Tearing back the curtain I spin the knob on the wall to scorching hot, letting the small room fill with steam. If I could sweat out this hangover in a few minutes I’d be good to go for the night, I’d be back on my game, ready to handle Minho and her other friends.

Jade said she’d call Changbin, and I prayed that she would. Chan and Han were great, but they were the closest to Minho. Add Jade into the mix pestering her best friend Chan all night, perpetually flirting with Minho without even realizing, and that leaves me alienated, all to myself. Bad things happen when I’m left to myself. Jade would obtain another reason to leave me, and I guarantee, no matter what, she still wouldn’t.

I wasn’t going to be the one to break it off. It wouldn’t be me saying the words, I needed Jade to say it. She had to be the one to leave me, I loved her too much to let her go.

The heat swirling around the air did anything but make me sweat out my condition, instead it made me even more dizzy and nauseous, prompting me to collapse in front of the toilet, getting sick, twice.

Now that made me feel a little better.

Rubbing a few fingers over my lips I slipped two between my teeth, maybe I could make myself do it again…

“Jinnie?” Jade knocks on the door a couple of times. Slapping both hands to the ceramic, I look at the frame and gulp.

“Yeah?” I question after clearing my throat.

“Changbin said he’ll come by after he gets off work,” she said, “Felix is going to come with him, too.” The skinny little blonde Australian boy. Changbin liked him, and those two got along really well. Felix was funny, the moments I’ve spent with him I’ve enjoyed, so I guess his presence tonight would do me some good.

“Okay,” I mumble, willing her with my mind to walk away. “Thanks.”

“We’ll have fun tonight,” she said, hovering by the door it seemed. “I promise.”

You’ll have fun tonight, I huffed. If her attention was going to be on Minho and her friends for the evening I suppose I could take it upon myself to get to know the boy who acted as Changbin’s shadow whenever they were around. Kind of quiet, Felix seemed shallow, like he wasn’t always all the way there, but I probably didn’t know him well enough.

I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt and not let his bleach blonde hair and ditzy smile he always wore get in the way of getting through to him personally. A friend of Changbins could easily be a friend of mine. Being so hooked on Jade I’ve barely had time to even learn where Felix lived. Maybe he’d be the best distraction for the evening.

And so, the subunits within the group will shift. If my predictions were right, if Jade was… falling in love with Minho, then there was no doubt she’d get pulled away by Han and Chan. It already seemed as if those three had a plan set in place to pluck her out of here, so I needed a second option. I needed people on my side, people to stand with me if the nine of us were to separate, or if Jade were to leave me.

Changbin and Felix seemed like an excellent option.

Jade always said that Haven was musty. The old bar was just that, musty. It smelled of heavy old pine and Budweiser, the dark wooden planked walls keeping every scent trapped within the close quarters. There wasn’t a single window on any wall except small rectangular ones in the bathrooms. The screens to the outside were old, a little ripped and covered in cobwebs.

The bar had to have been open for, like, twenty years, since at least the middle of the sixties. The walls and stained concrete floor gave away its age. Arnold, the man who owned the place- Minho’s boss- appeared to be from the sixties as well. Some days I’d be willing to half listen to the history lesson he gave our group whenever he approached us to greet Minho, the old man gloating about his bar, how it’s been family owned for years and that he cannot believe ‘young people’ like us still loved to come here.

Jade loved to listen, she found it fascinating it seemed. Most times I could care less, I just wanted a drink, and I’d love nothing more than to tell Arnold what he could do better with his building, starting with the windows in the bathroom.

It wasn’t my favorite place, but it gave me Jade, and I’m still trying to piece together whether that was a good thing or not.

I could place the blame on the neon multicolored lights or the cheap drinks that were poured heavily for bringing this selfless, incredible girl into my life. These four walls were the reason I was suffering. Something stirred in the air here, something that induced us all into a love drunk haze. Like some type of hallucination you don’t realize the outcome until you’re living with it four months later, saying ‘I love you’ every night.

Already on the dance floor, Jade was moving effortlessly beside Chan. The dark curly haired boy wore a cut off tank, a t-shirt he cut the sleeves off of, and jeans shorts rolled at the knee. A brown belt was strapped around his waist and a skinny gold chain hung snuggly at the base of his neck.

We’ve been here only ten minutes and the two were already a drink deep, lost in the music that blasted from the speakers on the walls.

Sitting at a table in the back corner that our group always occupied, I was slouched in one of the creaky wooden high top chairs with my hand wrapped around a glass full of liquor I was unable to get down. I wanted to chug it before Han and Minho showed their faces.

At least before Han showed his face. The boy was a nuisance. He was loud and nosey, he had to know everything about everybody. I limited the amount of conversations I shared with the chestnut brown, fluffy haired boy. He would never get his sticky little fingers on any of my dirt, but with how he’s gotten close to Jade I can only assume he’s already heard it all. I’ve been on the receiving end of one too many questionable glances recently.

“Jinnie!”

Glancing up from the glass my eyes were attempting to shatter a hole into, I found Jade swaying her hips side to side waving a hand toward me. She wore a smile, a big one. Beside Chan was when she was the happiest, especially if she was also within these decrepit walls.

“What?” I call out to her, my voice nearly drowned out by the bass. Jade takes a breath to answer, but instead hurries over to my side. Chan’s eyes follow her, the content of his expression subtly shifted into unease- at least I think it did.

Jade grabs onto my bare arm and gives me a shake, one that tumbles my stomach. “Come dance, please?” Her voice is sappy-sweet. The drink in front of me appears all the more appetizing.

“Why?” I asked, looking up into her pleading eyes. “You have Chan, go dance with him.”

Her lips form a pout. “I wanna dance with you.”

“I don’t want to dance,” I said. “I still don’t feel good.” Half of a truth.

Jade’s pout dissolves into a frown, her eyebrows taking a nosedive as well. “You never want to anymore,” she said quietly, dropping her grip on me. “What can I do to make you want to dance?”

“I… I dunno,” I shrugged, folding my arms across my chest. A playful smirk tugs at her lips. “You can let me-”

Nudging me with a hip she pulls at the bottom of her tank, untucking it from her jeans, wiggling it up a bit to flash a bit of her midriff. “No, I can get you out there,” she giggles, “I know I can.”

“Stop,” I said. She only slips her tank up a bit further, drifting higher and higher until I reached out and pulled her arms down to her sides. “Stop!”

Rubbing her palms against the denim she wore she bobs her head and licks her lips. The playful energy was wiped away the second I touched her. Taking a step away from me she mumbles, “Bet when Changbin’s here you’ll dance.”

Her black boots take her away to her best friend who, if he wasn’t before, was definitely glaring at me now.

“Fantastic,” I said to myself, focusing back down on the glass that was leaving a ring of moisture on the faded table in front of me. Add it to the list of reasons her friends hated me, or the list of reasons she should leave me, but won’t.

What I said wasn’t a lie, I truthfully wasn’t feeling well, and she knew that. She woke me up only a couple hours ago. I was hungover, and tired, and nauseous, and anxious. Jade didn’t know the anxious part, I kept that to myself, but she knew everything else. I didn’t think it was a crime to not want to dance when I barely had enough energy to hold my head up.

Part of me hates to admit that she was right. I planned to get up somehow when Changbin got here, but only because he was my safety net. Dancing next to Chan, who’s most likely out for blood, without backup wasn’t on my to-do list tonight.

Wrapping my hand around the glass I take a swig, fighting it down with a nauseating cringe. The dark liquor burned the back of my throat, warming my chest. “Christ,” I mumbled. My eyes flicker up to some commotion happening on the dance floor, and to no surprise, Han is there already running his mouth. The boy's hands move a mile a minute, attempting to keep up with his words.

His hair was styled differently, typically it hung over his eyes naturally parted in the center, but tonight the fluff was straightened, completely covering his forehead. In each ear he wore two diamond studs, one smaller and one larger, in size order with a silver chain around his neck to match. Looking at his hands that were latched to Jade’s shoulders I’m surprised to find him ringless. Normally he’d adorn his fingers with flashy rings, more jewelry to show off what a phenomenal job he had.

If he’s not talking about other people, he’s talking about that damn job. His dream job, his fantasy, his ‘so lucky to get straight out of college’ job- working right below the head of the company, the assistant for the CEO or the boss, whichever one Han says. I can’t even remember what the company even does. Jade’s brought it up, something to do with… stocks? Banks?

Either way, he’s the CEO’s son. He was getting that job whether he really wanted it or not, and now he gets to brag about his most amazing life.

I knocked back another swig of my drink with the intention of Han becoming a blur, he moved quick enough anyways, and then another when I noticed the three of them were looking my way. Jade’s smile had started to fade, Chan was biting his bottom lip, and Han wore a grin.

Here we go.

Almost taking out three different people after he detached himself from Jade, Han swaggered over to the table as if he’d already been drinking. When he sat down and leaned toward me, he reeked of vodka and his heavy ass Calvin Klein cologne. In case his get up wasn’t enough he had to make sure people knew he had money by his scent. I’m pretty sure people in the next town over could smell him.

“What in the hell are you doing over here by yourself?” he asked, resting an elbow on the back of the chair he had to jump into. He was four inches shorter than me.

Raising a brow I answered quietly, “Didn’t she already tell you?”

“Who?!” Han’s expression twists into goofy confusion, his eyes going wide. “Jade? No, she didn’t tell me anything. I asked where you were.”

“Oh,” I said, eyeing his flattened hair. Between the gleam of the shiny strands and his gaudy jewelry, his style and personality were entirely out of balance.

“Why so moody, bad boy?” he teased, nudging my arm with an elbow. Pulling away I curled my lip and glared behind him. Jade and Chan couldn’t care less, Nelly Furtado was blaring through the speakers and they were singing every word.

“Not moody,” I sighed. “Hungover.”

Han glanced at the drink in front of me and smirked. “Then you may want to drink that a little faster.”

Gritting my teeth, I said, “Believe me, I’m trying.”

The two of us are startled by a shriek from the dance floor, and then a shout. Han whipped himself around and before I could brace myself he’s shouting as well.

A muscular figure with broad shoulders and silver hair dressed all in black was swinging an arm around Jade, hugging her half around the shoulders. It appeared entirely innocent, the way he kept his head tilted away from her, and how he only allowed himself to use one arm.

Jade used two, throwing both around his chest, keeping her body on the side of his. Given another circumstance she’d have buried herself in him completely, but maybe she just wasn’t drunk enough yet.

She fit right beneath his arm perfectly, like the little crook was made for her. They were both just the right height, neither one was too tall nor small. Jade was shorter than me, way shorter than me. She was shorter than Han, and that kid was short.

“Minho!” he shouted, gripping the back of his chair like a child, dragging out the last letter in the dreaded name that kicked me in the stomach. Tipping my head backward I’m able to down the rest of my drink easily, getting used to the burn, finding a comfort within it as my insides are ignited with nerves.

Silver hair is flipped toward us at the table. His eyes were dark, they always were, but even more so as he took me in. The rare lit up smile on his face falters as our eyes meet, almost as if he knew I was onto him. As much as Jade had been pining after him, Minho had been after her just the same.

The boy dressed in black, just as I was, carried himself with a confident swagger. Minho never cared too much about anything, but all at the same time, cared entirely too much. He was an expert at hiding how he was feeling, it made him a tedious person to be around. Without a quirk of a brow or a frown to go off of, I could never tell what was going through his mind. Unless he was around Jade. The cold exterior seemed to melt a bit if she were around.

“What’s going on?” I hear Minho ask, which can only mean he’s coming closer. Han was beside me, of course he would come closer. The two were attached at the hip.

Standing in front of Han, Minho takes a hand to his best friend's cheek and gives it a squeeze without making a face. I feel his eyes pan over to me, the two soulless pits of dismay attempting to eat me alive so he could swoop in and take away my Jade.

My heart starts to beat heavily, pounding against my ribcage. Curling my fingers on the empty glass I clung to, I debate getting up to refill my glass, but that would give Minho an invitation to talk about me. The two were babbling about Han’s work day anyway, would they even care if I left?

Slipping out of my chair I try to catch my balance, almost falling into the table. Both Han and Minho exclaim some sounds of shock, then laughter once they realize I’m steady on my feet. Faking a smile I tip my empty glass and pop my eyebrows.

“And this was only one,” I said, rounding the table, attempting to escape Han’s dreadful cologne and Minho’s resentful glare.

“And counting last night, or, this morning. Stop the tequila!” Han laughed, waving a finger in my direction. Rolling my shoulders back I eyed him curiously. Minho takes in my figure and I want nothing more than to crawl away to the bar, where I can drown my sorrows in liquor and be alone. He had a way of making people feel so small.

Mulling over what Han has said, I chuckled and nodded, wiggling the glass around. “So she did tell you already,” I said, shooting him a glance with as much intensity as Minho was grilling me with. Han’s lips pull into an adorable smirk as he lowers his chin and flashes me his puppy dog eyes.

“I didn’t want you to know she told me,” he said, his tone sweet. “If you wanted me to know you would’ve said something.”

“Told you what?” Minho asked him, looking between the two of us. Rolling my eyes I heard Minho laugh as I turned over my shoulder to finally walk away. He would get the info out of Han in a heartbeat, in fact, he didn’t really need to ask him, Han would let it slip out eventually. He’s got an uncontrollable desire to gossip, his well being depended on it.

Keeping my eyes pointed forward I make it to the bar without any distractions and plant my glass down on the wood that matched the tables and sit down on one of the stools with a cushion flatter than my will to stay here for the night. The bartender with blonde hair hanging at her shoulders in what I assume is her natural curl pattern approaches me and takes my glass, giving me a smile.

“What’ll it be next?” she asked, resting an elbow on the edge. Her blue eyes hint that I should make my way back here later after her shift is over. She couldn’t have been older than me, if anything she was a bit younger. I’ve seen her here behind the bar a couple of nights prior to tonight, meaning she must not know who any of us were yet. The other bartenders knew how to fill up my glass and leave me be, like Minho.

“Uh, may as well give me the bottle,” I said, and it made her laugh. Attempting to smile, the sound she makes resembles one that every other female I’ve come into contact with has made.

“I’m afraid that’s against the rules,” she said, leaning toward me, now resting both her elbows on the bar. Mimicking her, I cross my arms over my chest and set them on the ledge. She took my gesture as some sort of incentive because the smile that took over her glossy lips gave me the impression that she thought I was flirting with her. “You come around here a lot?”

“Unfortunately,” I mumbled, peering down at the glass she took from me. “You’re new. My friends are here all the time, you’ll get to know us eventually.”

“You with Minho?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. Nodding in response I watch as she laughs to herself and taps the glass on the wood. “I gotchu.”

“What’s your name?”

“Dina,” she said. “Are you Jeongin or Changbin?” It was my turn to huff out a laugh.

“Close,” I smirked. “Hyunjin.”

Dina’s blue eyes are sparked full of intrigue. “Ah,” she sings aloud, “Interesting. In that case,” she holds up the glass, “I really do gotchu. Gimme a minute.”

After grabbing the glasses of the people beside me, Dina whisked her way down the bar to whip up whatever she had planned, or whatever she had heard about me from Minho, and that I can only imagine is a trip. Her flirty eyes switched to ones that irked my soul. She attempted to look through me, she wanted to know me, but only my dirt. No one ever wanted to know more.

Knitting my hands together, I draw my thumb over a small callus on my palm, hook my feet on the rungs of the stool beneath me and sigh. The appearance of my hands reflected how I felt. Torn up, battered, and bruised. As repulsive as they were to me, Jade could never, ever get enough. She couldn’t even describe why they did what they did to her, they just drove her nuts, and she didn’t even care if my work beat them up, she said it made them sexier.

In all of my time spent with her, an entire year, she almost always zoned in to my appearance- complimenting how I looked, messing with my hair, kissing my knuckles, admiring my nose. In those moments that’s when she turns into the other girls, briefly, when she’s got her fingers laced in my hair and she’s biting my lip- because at the end of the day that’s all they want from me.

A full glass is placed in front of me pulling me out of my thoughts that were seconds away from spiraling. Dina is back with a small smile, popping a straw into the tall cup. With a wink she leans over the bar and whispers, “You’ve got a blonde checking you out over there.” Her blue eyes flicker behind me momentarily before she smiles warmly and hurries away to take care of her other guests.

I’ve got a blonde checking me out over there. She definitely didn’t know us, or didn’t know I was kind of involved with Jade. Unless Minho’s recruited her as well, making her play wingman to push me further away from the group, further away from Jade.

Picking up my glass, I place the straw between my lips and spin around on the stool to find this blonde, to see if she was even worth any of my time. I hadn’t decided if tonight was a night to create another problem or not, my main focus right now was to get drunk enough to not be able to remember what Jade and Minho get up to.

Dina was funny. Amongst the sea of people there wasn’t a single blonde aside from herself, which I had to admit, was an excellent play. I spotted Jade between Minho and Chan with her head tossed backward and her eyes closed, feeling the music as they all moved to the beat. Looking for Han, I wasn’t able to place him which was equally relieving and terrifying.

Scanning the rest of the crowd by the door, and then by the DJ, it was pretty packed for a weeknight. Then again, Haven was always bursting at the walls. With the heavy pours and the cheap prices one wouldn’t expect different.

Taking another long sip of the deliciousness Dina has curated, I start to spin back around on the stool, but then I find the blonde.

Wedged against the furthest wall Han sat on the lap of a curvy woman with long black hair with his arms wrapped around her neck. He had his cheek pressed to hers, and his lips were moving a mile a minute as he spoke to a boy in ripped jeans and t-shirt- Changbin. As happy as I was to see him, my eyes were glued to the tall, gangly blonde hovering behind him with his back pressed to the wooden planked wall.

It was Felix. It was Felix.

He was quick to catch me looking, his eyes darted away faster than anything, focusing on the people in front of him.

Hands shoved in the pockets of his baggy jeans that hung on his tiny frame, the loose shirt he wore, covered in tiny green and blue stripes, was cut low enough to give me a glimpse of his collar bone and the tanned skin that lived under it. I’ve seen him wear this shirt before, except it was around Christmas time in December and he paired it with a white long sleeved shirt beneath it for warmth.

There was a watch on his left hand strapped to his thin wrist, and when he adjusted his arms to cross them over his chest I found that he was wearing a couple rings on his middle fingers as well.

His skin was smooth, tan and glistening, and freckles littered his cheeks all the way across his nose. Felix looked like summer, it was as if the sun shone just for him.

The blonde hair that was cut short in the front but grew longer in the back made it hard for one to figure out if it was his real color or not, he could pull it off so naturally. Tonight it was a little curly, twisting against the nape of his neck and over his deep brown eyes covering his brows.

He was simple. He always has been since the day I met him. Happy, too. Felix never seemed to have much to complain about.

Looking at me again with only his wandering eyes, I can’t help it. Lifting my glass, I smile. Dina had no idea who he was, she barely had a grasp on who I was, he probably wasn’t checking me out, if anything he may have been contemplating joining me or not, but with how we don’t really know too much about one another maybe he was nervous or something-

Walking toward me. Felix was walking toward me.

I felt the need to sit up straight and I did. I also tucked my hair behind my ears, cursing myself for not bringing a tie to pull it back with.

Leaning backward against the bar, I slid an arm over my waist and put my other elbow on it, taking another sip from the straw in my glass that was a real curse. Dina should know this as a bartender, you shouldn’t drink alcohol through a straw.

“You know you shouldn’t be drinking that with a straw,” is the first thing to leave Felix’s mouth as soon as he’s close enough to me. I nearly choked on my liquor as I swallowed it while I laughed. The sunshine smiles, perfect teeth all in a row.

“I was just thinking that,” I said after a breath. Turning around to place the glass down, I face Felix again and place my hands between my knees, letting the knobby joints squeeze some warmth into them.

“Hi,” Felix said, his hands sliding back into his pockets.

“Hi,” I said, noticing there was a three foot gap between us. “Wanna sit? You drinking?”

Shrugging, Felix gestures back to Changbin. “I drove us, not sure I should have anything.” His beauty didn’t correlate to his demeanor, he was stiff as a board. Maybe he was nervous.

Glancing to the empty stool beside me, I look at him with only my eyes and smile. “Doesn’t mean you can’t sit.” He had trouble breaking into the group when he first came around, this much I knew, so without a Changbin to hide behind I felt responsible for… well, him.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he said with another shrug. A smile toyed with his plump lips, like it was always there.

Walking around the opposite side of the stool to avoid getting too close to me, he hops on with a soft sigh and shamelessly lets his gaze fawn over me. Feeling grateful that I’d showered, I smiled and spun around so we were both facing the bar.

Just be his friend, I thought to myself, you need a friend.

Which then reminds me how shitty I am at the friend thing. I only ever see anybody when I’m here, and most times it isn’t voluntary, I get dragged out of the apartment by Jade. I wouldn’t even call half of the people I hang out with friends anyway, so it wasn’t like I had many to keep up with. After college Changbin was the one to keep up with me, somehow understanding that I’m shitty at the friend thing-

“Keep overthinking and you’ll give yourself a headache before the tequila gets a chance to give you one first,” Felix’s accent is thick and it turns my ears pink, and not because he’s just read me like a book. Blinking a few times I glance his way and find his big eyes studying me. They’re slightly narrowed, and darting from either one of mine after they draw a conclusion from my brows.

Rolling my shoulders back I attempt to relax my expression finding myself clenching my jaw to the point of it feeling sore once I unhinge it. “Damn,” I can’t help but huff a laugh.

“You okay?” Felix asked. He receives a drink from Dina, which I assume he ordered while my mind wandered into the void yet again. She gives me a cheeky look before she disappears.

“Uh, yeah,” I muttered, leaning forward to suck down my drink until it was almost empty. Felix shakes his short glass around taking a small sip. “Thought you weren’t gonna drink?”

Licking his lips, I totally tried not to watch, he extended his arm to put his glass in front of my face, nodding his head once, telling me to take a sip. Flustered by his forwardness, I lower my chin and let him guide me to taste it.

The clear fizzy bubbles were simply a glass of Sprite.

I cringe at the intensity of the fizz making him laugh, and the boisterous, melodic sound is enough to paralyze me. The edges of his eyes crinkled, and his eyebrows perked up slightly, wearing the amusement purely in his complexion. His smile though… that was enough to cure a bad day, and it was happening without me even realizing it.

“You choose… Sprite?” I sneered, smacking my lips a few times before guzzling down what was left in my glass between the melted ice cubes. Felix laughs again. Soda was the bane of my existence, it was utterly disgusting, I couldn’t see why anyone would find it refreshing or as a first choice for a beverage- but I’d suffer through a glass just to keep him laughing.

“It’s good, you jerk.” The grin he wore negated his choice of word. “I’m responsible for another life tonight, I can’t drink.” Admirable.

“Still,” I shot him a sarcastic side eye, “It’s soda.”

“I just think you’re upset that your taste buds can’t handle the excellence that is this carbonated beverage,” Felix said. There’s a brief pause between us, one that makes us fall into a fit of laughter.

“Carbonated beverage,” I repeated, making us laugh even harder. “So specific.”

“Oh god,” Felix groans amongst the laughter, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Setting down his glass he massages his temples and takes a deep breath. “It’s been a long day.”

Following his breath I took my own, I hadn’t laughed in a while. “You worked, right?”

Dina swung back around to swipe my glass, replacing it with another full one and a wink.

“I did, and it was exhausting,” Felix said. “Everyone and their mother showed up today, I had, like, no breaks.”

Sipping my drink that tasted sweeter than the second one, I twisted my body toward him in the slightest. “Are you in the same… the, uh, same place as Changbin?” I asked tentatively, half worried he’d be offended that I never properly learned what he did for work.

With a smile he nods, sipping his amazing soda. “We’re still in the same place, just different positions, if that makes sense?” I give him a small hum to encourage him to go on. “We’re both with the kids, but Changbin kind of floats around the entire building while I stay in one wing.”

“Right,” I said quietly, zoned in on how expressive his face was as he spoke. “‘Cause he’s the music, and all that.”

Felix’s smile widens. “He’s the music, I like that.” I begged the blush not to rush to my cheeks. “He really is. The kids love him. I swear, most days we don’t make it through without him, ‘specially where I’m at.”

Furrowing my brows I rest my chin in one of my hands. “What do you do?”

“I work with the high risk kids,” he said, giving his head a little shake. “Anxiety, trauma, depression, PTSD. I’m usually the last option before… Well, if what I do doesn’t work out for them, they get admitted.”

Suddenly the quiet, smiley, always nice Felix made so much sense. He was a children's therapist alongside Changbin who worked in music therapy for all ages, all cases. No wonder Felix could feel what I was feeling when he sat down. That’s probably the reason he was checking me out from across the room. He had the ability to see the dark cloud over my head.

“A busy day means you helped a lot of kids,” I offered, taking note of how much I had drunk while he was talking. I was almost down another glass. Felix rolls his eyes slightly, the first tinge of negative emotion I’ve seen touch his angelic features.

“God, I hope so,” he said, shaking his glass. “I have one boy whose mother’s on the verge of taking him in, even though I’m doing everything I can.”

He didn’t intend to, but his words tumbled me back to twelve years old, when I’m pretty sure I had my first bout of panic. My mother was never around though, it was just me and my dad, and god forbid I ever felt nervous in front of him or tried to tell him I didn’t feel good.

“How old is he?” I asked. Felix pressed his lips together in a silly smile.

“I’m not supposed to tell you,” he said, then leaned in toward me to whisper, “Twelve.”

Up close like this, with a few inches between us, I could’ve counted the freckles on his cheeks if I wanted to. He didn’t stay within my personal bubble for too long before pulling away and sipping his drink.

His jaw could cut glass. I could literally slide my hand over it and it would hurt, that was how sharp it was. Although, as sharp as some of his features were, like his jaw or his collarbone, everything about Felix was soft. He was gentle. He was beautiful. No… He was pretty. And to me, that was a step above beautiful. Almost anything could be beautiful, but not everything could be pretty.

I think I’m a bit tipsy.

Clearing my throat, directing my attention to his eyes that gaze at the neon signs on the wall, the ones giving his round cheeks a tinge of a yellow glow, I asked, “What’s he deal with? The boy?”

Felix turns his chin, giving me another look that’s supposed to tell me he’s not allowed to share. The batting of his lashes, that definitely wasn’t intentional, makes my stomach flutter.

What the fuck?

“Let’s just say he’s kind of a nervous guy, okay?” he said, ending the discussion. “What about you?” Felix shifts his shoulders to face me like I had done to him. “Did you work today? Help a lot of people? You do that too, yanno.”

An exasperated breath escapes me. Dropping both hands into my lap I lean backward and shake my head. “No, no work for me today. Or yesterday.” Felix nodded, letting his gaze fall down my torso again before it came back up to my eyes. It was curious, how it felt like he was observing me. The friends in the back would do the same, yet when Felix does it, it doesn’t feel vulgar.

I’m shocked he even remembers what I do. It’s not like it was a career of importance, all I did was service cars in a mechanics garage- hence why my hands were destroyed, I hated the gloves, I worked with them bare. I wouldn’t say I helped people in the way Felix or Changbin did, I wasn’t healing people’s past’s, or working through their trauma, I was changing their oil, or repairing the engine beneath the hood of their ancient vehicles.

Like, seriously, the eighties happened six years ago. Get with the times. Get a new car.

“Do anything fun today, then? Anything exciting while I was coloring on the floor with a nine year old?” Felix’s smile is charming.

“Uh, well,” I began, wondering if I should share the events of last night, or, early this morning, with him. Then again, if Felix was to become a close friend that meant I had to share these things with him. I’d totally tell Changbin, shit, he’d be the first person I called if I didn’t share an apartment with Jade.

Damn it, Jade. It was like I had forgotten about her the second I saw Felix.

Whipping my head around to find her, she was perched on a high top chair with a glass in her hand full of a pink colored drink. One of the guys grabbed it for her without a doubt, they must’ve scurried over to the end of the bar Felix and I didn’t occupy to slyly get by.

Chan was next to her, a muscley arm around the back of her chair. Han and Changbin had found them, occupying the other seats with drinks. Minho and his silver hair, and his sturdy back, and his defined cheekbones were facing away from me. He was across the table in front of Jade, standing, leaning on the wood with a foot propped up on the rung of Han’s stool.

They were looking at each other, Jade’s eyes alight as she ran her mouth. When she paused to sip her drink, Minho spoke, and she watched him like he was made of stars.

Beside me Felix turns, following my line of sight.

“Everything okay?” he asked, like he could see my heart slipping out of my chest. “Wanna go sit over there?”

“Definitely not,” I whispered harshly, declining his offer with haste. Directing my attention to the bar as Jade’s discussion seemed to intensify, I sighed a bit dramatically, making Felix laugh.

“Did something happen?” he questioned. A quick shake of my head isn’t enough to satisfy him, and though it didn’t feel as if he was pestering me, I didn’t want to spill my insecurities to someone who didn’t know an ounce of my struggles. “You guys didn’t break up, did you?”

Slamming a hand on the bar I nearly broke my neck to shoot him a glare. “Do you want to be my therapist?”

My bitter tone slaps him across the face, hard. His lips pull into a small pout and his eyes go extremely wide. Taking a breath he gives me a small nod of his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I overstepped, I’m sorry.”

Raising a brow I wait for him to say absolutely anything else before I choose my response. Apologies weren’t something I usually received, I was always the one to do the giving. All Felix had done was ask me some simple questions that I didn’t want to answer, it surely didn’t seem like anything to apologize for.

“No,” I shook my head, blinking a few times. Felix’s pout dissolves. “I’m… I’m sorry.” Familiar tasting words. Now this was normal.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Felix shrugged, brushing away the matter, sipping his drink. “I shouldn’t have pushed it, we can discuss more of my clients even though I could potentially get fired.” His smile returns and the polite change of subject puts me back in foreign territory. My comment wasn’t lashed back at with a rude remark, nor was it used against me. Felix didn’t get upset, he understood my backlash, why I did it, and moved past it without an explanation.

“I’m sorry,” I felt the need to repeat myself, keeping my eyes locked on his.

After another sip of his soda he puts the glass down and twists to face me completely. A smirk toyed at the corners of his lips.

“You don’t have to apologize, Hyunjin, it’s alright,” he said, reaching over to tap the top of my knee quickly. The sound of my name rolling off of his tongue was spine tingling.

“Yes, I do,” I said, turning myself to face him directly, our knees now touching. My legs were a little longer than his, so eventually my knees were going to have to end up between his.

“Why?” he asked, twisting his brows, giving his head a slight, endearing tilt.

Swallowing hard, I clear my throat and dart my eyes around his face to search for an answer. I had no idea what to say. I was taught growing up that if you made someone upset, you were to apologize for it. Jade’s heard the word ‘sorry’ more times than she can probably count.

The way Felix made a face after I snapped made me want to apologize, but I hadn’t a clue why he was questioning me for it.

“Uh,” I mumbled, finding warmth and comfort within his dark chocolate eyes, enough of it to try to speak up. “I thought I, uh, hurt your feelings, when I…”

Felix waited patiently for me to finish and only butted in when he realized I couldn’t put it together.

“I fired you up first,” he said. “I crossed a line after you tried to shut it down. You established a boundary, you had every right to bark like that.” I couldn’t hide the laugh that escaped me at the use of the word bark. Pressing my lips together in a small smile, I shook my head.

“You really are a therapist,” I said, dragging my eyes sarcastically over his tiny frame. Felix pops his brows, his grin glimmering with glamour.

Lifting his glass like I had before he sat down, he said, “A fine one, at that.” He takes the rim to his lips and shoots back the rest of the bubbles.

Taking this time to admire him and his perfectly sculpted profile, I cannot seem to shake the feeling of desire that begins to manifest within my chest. And, not a desire that I was used to feeling three drinks deep into a hangover recovery night. I wanted him to keep talking. I wanted to watch his lips to tell me more about this boundary thing, and how I wasn’t wrong for having feelings, and I wanted to ask him why talking about it felt weird.

If that would be him talking about work, I felt bad asking him to do it. I know how it feels to get off of a long shift and then have someone ask me to check their tires, I’d hate to make him use his brain when he should be having a fun night.

Felix was eyeing me back, bumping one of my knees by accident as he adjusted his feet under him. Realizing I was staring, I glanced at my glass quickly and found it empty.

When the hell did I finish that?

Looking back at Felix, he was still focused on me. He was waiting for me to say something. My tequila blundered thoughts couldn’t come up with anything smart, and beneath his gaze it was impossible for me to whip up anything sarcastic. He waited. He wasn’t going to… push.

“You look like you wanna say something?” he asked. Okay, he was waiting, but I guess he also wanted to help.

“I do,” I said, and he nodded. “But, I don’t want to… overstep.”

What the fuck is going on, I don’t talk like this.

Felix leans his cheek against the fist of the arm that rests on the bar, and the plush skin squishes on his knuckles, his appearance softening even more so, if it were possible.

“Say it,” he shrugged again. “If you overstep, you overstep. I’ll communicate it with you if you do.” His smile tells me a secret, it tells me he knows my objective. Calm, nice Felix finally shows a hint of mischievousness.

Darting my tongue between my lips, I notice that Felix tries his hardest not to watch. Rocking one of my knees into his I glance down at where they touch and lift just my eyes to look at him. A bit of his bottom lip has gone between his teeth, nibbling at the inside. The chocolate brown eyes that were once sweet had shifted to something that startled me a little to see. I didn’t know Felix was capable of eyes like that.

His knees close, catching one of my legs between them as predicted. “Don’t act so surprised, you’ve been looking at me exactly like that since I sat down,” he said quietly. My lips part, in surprise, and I’m incapable of conjuring up words. Alas, the air within Haven claims another victim. With a small nod of his head to the dance floor, Felix leaned toward me and whispered, “Either tone down the arousal, or tell me what’s happening with Jade. I don’t do cheaters.”

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spinningtop397 · 1 year

Text

Christmas Eve at the Italian Villa (V.2)

Note: this is a second take of the christmas fic i wrote last year. i hope things clear up. i will also update it on Ao3.

Dorothy Sebastian drove herself on the streets of Hollywood. She stopped on account of the red light to look at the wreaths hung on every lamppost. Dorothy loved the holiday season. She would fill up a taxi cab with gifts and deliver them through Hollywood; when she had enough money. When she got the invitation from Buster and Natalie to come over to their villa to help decorate their Christmas tree with their friends, she was happy to be included. However, Dorothy believed it would be a dumb idea to come along since she and Buster were romantically involved.

Sebastian was worried that his wife would make a scene by asking her questions like, ‘Are you having an affair with my husband?’ or something like that. Buster had confided in Dorothy in the past that Natalie was usually the jealous type and would be unlikely to berate them in front of 7-8 people and that Buster was trying to keep his affairs discreet.

The car reached his mansion in Beverly Hills at 8 in the evening. Dorothy saw William Haines and Marceline Day enter the Mansion before she parked the car in the garage with the others. She picked up a medium box from her car and carried it to the door. The one who greeted the guests was Constance Talmadge. “Dorothy!” Constance called upon seeing the dark-haired actress. “So good to see you!”

Marceline waved to her, “I didn’t think you would show up after…. You know.” Marceline didn't continue the sentence. Dorothy frowned being reminded that she had a nervous breakdown after being testified in the tax evasion case and the stock market crash over a month ago. “How are you feeling?” Marceline asked.

“I’m doing better, thank you,” she replied before the youngest Talmadge woman let her in.

Dorothy was led to the sitting room where she brought the attention of the rest of the guests, out of pity for her mental health. The tree wasn’t up in the room, but there were stockings already hung by the fireplace with the initials embroidered to represent each family member; B, N, J, and R.

Dorothy and Marceline talked about working with Buster Keaton. “Spite marriage was going to be a talking picture, but MGM couldn’t do it.” Dorothy said, “At least they’re going to make him a talkie now.”

“On cameraman, the original ending had Buster smiling at the parade but nobody thought it was right so it was changed.” the women both agreed his smile was warm.

“I was going to be his leading lady in Three Ages, but Schenck didn’t want two stars leading the film and my sister Nate didn’t like the idea so instead, they cast a British beauty pageant winner that Norma and I chose.”

Shortly after Dorothy put down the box, Buster came into the room with his wife. “Buster and I are glad you all could make it,” Natalie announced.

Buster followed, "Don't worry if this interferes with your holiday plans. It won't take too much time when we all do our part."

Natalie passed out the overalls for the ladies, and Buster gave the men green aprons. “The boys are asleep upstairs so please no loud noises,” she warned them.

The moment the guests put them on over their clothes, they start to work. Louis Wolheim, whose rugged appearance differs from his personality helped the male guests carry the tree from the truck through the hall.

Keaton and Norma blew the string of balloons. Dorothy was passing the ornaments to Marceline to have her hang them on each branch.

Someone at the party hung a mistletoe on the arch at the opening of the room. Norma and Gilbert were surprised to notice the mistletoe and kissed right there.

Dorothy brought out the candy canes from her box and placed them on each stocking.

Everyone sang as they decorated the room, including John Gilbert, who didn’t care if his voice was good or not.

After work was done, the sitting was full of Christmas spirit. Everyone removed their aprons and overalls and sat down to relax. Dorothy smiled at the decorations that they hung up. They dazzled the room quite well. They were proud of what they had done. When she looked at Buster, it seemed to her that he felt the same.

Someone heard small footsteps. A concerned Natalie turned to relief when it was only the family dog. She and Buster came to pick it up. Constance noted they were standing under the mistletoe. They both looked up; she was right. Dorothy frowned at what they were about to do. It was to their humor that the dog began licking at Buster’s cheek since he was the one holding it. “No seriously,” Constance was unsatisfied. Natalie gave Buster a quick kiss.

It was the first time Dorothy saw him kiss his wife. Sure it lacked emotion compared to their offscreen affair behind the scenes. They would visit each other’s dressing rooms discreetly and she spend the night at his bungalow until she had to leave before everybody else woke up. When it comes to onscreen kissing in Spite Marriage, Buster objected to them. He didn't want his wife to see them kiss.

It was near the end of the party, Buster moved next to Dorothy. His hand ejected from his pocket to sneak into her hand. Dorothy realized he had slipped her a note. She excused herself from the room to unfold the tiny piece of paper. It said, ‘I want to see you in private, meet me outside the east wing. In 10 minutes I will knock on the door, knock back.’

While the guests were leaving the Villa, Dorothy sneaked to where the note had instructed her. She waited by the entrance until she heard a few knocks from inside, then she repeated his knocks.

Buster immediately opened the door and hugged her, “I’m glad to see you again, Dorothy. I’m sorry to hear about your nervous breakdown. Are you alright now?”

“I am but the ’20s were a bit hard for me.”

“Darling, I’ve been through worse. I had a studio where I made films whatever I wanted to. After MGM, they won’t let me direct, and the worst part is that they took away my creative input starting with the next picture.”

“I know dear, I know,” she held his hand in empathy.

“Well, it wasn’t all bad. At least I met you,” Buster smiled.

“I’m glad I met you too,” she followed his expression

“Close your eyes.”

She obeyed him, and at his command, she opened them to see his arm raised. Dorothy looked up to see that Buster held a piece of mistletoe above her. Her smile became more bashful. He kissed her. She rested her hands on his cheeks to secure the liplock.

Their lips parted, and Dorothy’s face blushed, “Merry Christmas Dorothy.”

“Merry Christmas Buster.”

I hope you enjoy this retake! happy holidays

#Buster Keaton #busterkeaton #dorothy sebastion #buster keaton fanfiction #christmaseve #christmas eve

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ppinp · 9 months

Text

WIPJohn

John – Chapter 1 - July

> It’s been too long Staring into your eyes While my thighs Suffocate you I moan Your name in pleasure.

> I’ve been set free Years? 3. I’ve been settling Settled, playing house With a game(r) boy Begging for sex Like it used to be Sloppy All-night I ride Into the sunrise Your face Between my tights.

> Liberated by touch With questing hands Got me questioning realities Clear communication And transparencies In exchange for emotional guaranties. In exchange for hands clasped like piano keys. In exchange for Tongues entangled in between kisses discussing theories.

And when you’re not kissing me head to toe- Talk to me Babbling profanities Knowing exactly what you’re doing without knowing anything about me.

Shaken, after a night of shaking rubbed raw from a never-ending anticipating a closely pending breath take-in. Back arching to the heavens whispering His name in vain screaming yours for your vanity but I don’t mind the insanity when you thoroughly nurturing my soul with no self-serving end goal.

I didn't cum Yet you left.

In the wake of the aftermath I back into the sterile white light of my apartment, crying Not because of your emotional unavailability but grateful that you set me free.

//// Fuck walking I couldn't give a shit if my feet never touched the floor again Don't stop playing with my clit

Drop of color, in a see of non My eyes seek you when I'm on the run

Addict Bad habit It's been 3 months And I have it

Bad case of the shakes Can't fall asleep Can't stay awake

The feeling of having nowhere to be Keeps follow me The feeling of having nowhere to be Keeps follow me Cries for help masked beautifully

Bro I'm falling for you heavily You got me unstable mentally

I'm loosing my self Never had religion

empty my mind empty - your heart fill my void tear me apart

I miss you But I can't say I crave you But you can't stay Hide from the feeling It's so healing

I'm tired of screaming your name Tired of crying in vain tired of living in pain caused by your unavailability game

Kiss the sunrise, still intertwined. Vulnerable conversation, to keep us aligned.

Yet another Saturday I greet the sunrise privately Honey coated words ringing rapidly All the horid things you said to me repeatedly

The look in my eye The bend in my back Trying to communicate how badly I wanted you Wanted you to stay Wanted you

The pain in my chest the very next day Crying on the phone Not understand why You didn't want me as well

Smell of sex Seduction Soft eyes gazing up Malfunction A no is a no by any other name Even when your voice dictates kindness Even when your eyes project softness Even when your perfect symmetrical lips quirk into happiness, or surprise at my attempts to make you uncomfortable in the shower. A no is a no from day no.1 when you made your interest clear that your love is conditional, on the conditions of your health. Well, baby I accept. I accepted every single no and pushed myself further into madness How many times can you tell me no before it starts killing me You saying no to me fits comfortably Any excuse to hang with you Cut my nails like you want me to Teach me the song I already knew Different cities, different lovers Strings attached, doors opened I don't want to be yet another Hopeful hoe delusional that it's not over It was a no before it started We fizzled out before we started Spending Saturdays without you feels like a sin The sadness from last Sunday is embedded in my muscle tee I hate that I'm still thinking of you I hate this ongoing conversation that I keep having in my mind with you Telling you stories about myself When last we spoke I had kept you on the shelf For two days of radio silence Where I tried to wrap my brain around what had happened And I hate myself for scaring you You being scared, scared me too Standing in front of the mirror Now you see me clearer The cracks are so evident That's why I've been keeping you and everyone else at arm's lenght To avoid observing All the intricate ways I'm broken But I appreciate the nail you gave me The final bed you laid my emotional outreach The coffin you placed mine and your emotions in The final no of the series Buried deeply A parallel universe where we could finally be Away from the anxiety of past realities Away from the perceived coolness of silence Intertwined as two lovers unearthed and preserved in Pompey Where you could be mine And I could be yours Away from gender Away from social rules and constraints Away from benchmarks Where you could be mine And I could be yours I bury this feeling In this sacred chest Away from mine, I take you out Out of sight out of mind Don't worry in just a few we'll forget this ever happened I'll forget your last name and substitute it with a Doe - your image will become empty, a placeholder for a no In just a few you'll forget how to say thank you in my own even if it did remind you of your home. Like my body once reminded you Like my lips forced you to Like the eyes, you got lost into Like my touch you liked because it reminded me of you Why am I waking up with tears in eyes Wishing for another series of goodbyes Wondering if I can message you Is it ok to tell you that I wanna see you Is it appropriate to tell you that I miss you Killing myself for not saying that I wanted you A healthy doze to bind us two I find my mind wanders to you Wondering if you see the same sunset as I do But then I snap myself out of it Scribe 10% as a reminder I'm not comfortable with living in the shadows of your ex-partner I want to respect your verbal ques but I can't ignore the energy pulling us two

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suna-reversed · 3 years

Note

Hello :)

Sukuna. fluff. Pretty please.

Could you write something about sukuna falling for itadori's best friend. You can throw some angst in there too because I am a masochist❤️

Sukuna x F! Reader

oh god, this turned purely self indulgent halfway through. low key thinking of turning this into a series to give you the angst you deserve.

A/N: (reader is Itadori’s senior and is 18) (loosely inspired by the song “me and my husband” by mitski)

“And I am the idiot with the painted face

In the corner, taking up space

But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved”

——-

- You had been one of the few poor senior students who had been victim to what had been Itadori’s “elevator pitch” for more people to join the occult club early back in high school. [the said “elevator pitch” being him jumping out at random people with a white bedsheet over his head saying “boo” as he handed you the club form]

- You didn't end up joining the club. But you somehow did end up getting joined at the hip with the chaotic mess under the white sheet.

- Whether it was you two rushing to the theatre to watch Jennifer Lawrence’s new movie, or going to a revolving sushi place [only to get pocky from a nearby vending machine instead because revolving sushi is apparently expensive], Itadori Yuuji had become a comforting and very important presence in your life.

- So of course when he suddenly dropped out of your life, being the worried friend you were, you decided to poke around a little only to find out that he was...dead?

- Maybe a few months down the line, you would’ve started to slightly recover from the tragic news you had just gotten. Instead, what you got was your supposedly dead best friend popping up days later to tell you that he ate a finger and now he was the vessel for some centuries old curse,,,

- Um yeah...safe to say that Yuji did not expect you to go into the fit of emotions that you did [boy had the audacity to call you dramatic for fainting and then crying while hugging him once you gained consciousness]

- some time passed and Yuji and you didn’t see each other much with him practically training to be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Still, simply happy to have him back alive, your brain managed to convinced itself that everything was still the same.

- And it was when he’d sneak out a day or two from his heavy schedule and you’d be back to your normal routine of watching movies, stuffing your face with snacks, getting your face licked by the mouth on Yuji’s hand…

- ,,,wait what

- The first time the curse had made contact with you was simply out of annoyance of why the stupid brat even took the time to see someone as mundane as you so often.

- His plan was to simply scare you into leaving, knowing it would cause the brat pain.

- So he grabbed the opportunity when Yuji moved forward to brush off some popcorn dust on the side of your mouth, not only licking the side of your face but also being successful in slightly grazing his teeth against your tender skin.

- Yuji had mentioned that being a vessel had caused some weird physical “abnormalities” for him. you didn’t understand it back then but at least knowing that had sort of prepared you for such an instance.

- So imagine the curse’s surprise [and an even further growing annoyance] when your eyes barely widened for a second before you burst into laugher,

“Didn’t you train your dog to not bite?”

- by now, Yuji had jumped 5 feet away from you and was still halfway through his string of apologies, but upon hearing your reaction, he mused on your fake calm while letting out a chuckle himself,

- “Guess I’ve got to get a leash for him”

- By this point, the ever so indifferent curse had taken two teenagers talking about him like a mere annoyance as a personal challenge.

- And that’s how it started.

- He’d come out every now and then, licking your fingers as Yuji passed you something or making lewd remarks on anything and everything that you ever started a conversation about.

- But you and Yuji barely paid him attention and it was an understatement to say that it infuriated the living hell out of him.

- Particularly you, who wouldn’t even be annoyed or sarcastic about his tactics anymore. Instead, treating him like a friend who was simply joining you and the brat to hang out.

- He hated it. Hated how bright your laugh was. Hated how you made them stop every time you saw a stray animal just so you could pet it. Hated how your skin was as soft as a cloud and how you sometimes smelled like cherry blossoms. He’d kill you in an instant if he could ugh.

- it was a weekend and Yuji and you had been watching a movie, even though Yuji was barely paying attention. You knew he was tired as his large frame slumped over your shoulder. Pulling the blanket up to his face, you once again felt the wet feeling of the assaults you had grown familiar with on the side of your hand.

- “You could’ve just asked for a pocky if you wanted one, no need to lick it off my fingers you grumpy little thing”, you laughed as you stood up to go to the bathroom

- that snapped the final string.

- Coming back into your living room, you wondered if Yuji had somehow gotten up in his sleep and managed to draw weird black lines over himself all in the span of 5 minutes.

- ‘Yuji, what the fuck?’

- ‘Well well, now who’s acting like a grumpy little thing’

- The deep voice sent rumbles down your spine and you knew in an instant what had happened.

- Even though your breath hitched in your throat and your body begged for you to run as fast away as you can, you held your ground as you simply tilted your head at the curse

- “Well, I’d like my best friend back if you don’t mind.”

- You saw the smirk on Sukuna’s face falter for just a second before he crossed the space between the couch and you.

- Now as strong of a front as you managed to hold up until now, watching something like that stride straight towards you would have had even the strongest of sorcerers shitting bricks.

- Instinctively, you took a few steps backwards, but he simply continued to close the distance between the two of you until you were backed up against the wall.

- You flinched as he slammed a hand right next to your head and he seemed to gain immense satisfaction from that as he looked down at your startled face with a smirk plastered on his tattooed face.

- Sukuna was sure that you’d be begging for his mercy any second now. His smirk widened and he was ready to mock your pleas as he saw you open your mouth to say something,

- “ ...so much for a damn pocky.”

- All those other times you had caught the curse off guard were nothing compared to the “partially-confused partially-baffled” expression that he held on his face now. It almost made him look human. Almost.

- You didn’t realise just how long you were holding his gaze until Yuji took back control and apologized like a million times over, reassuring you that he would’ve never let you get hurt.

- The curse didn’t show up for almost a week after that. And while you were grateful for not having to wash off your hands or face 14 times a day, you somehow felt anxious about its sudden disappearance.

- All those worries were thrown out the window as he once again showed up while Yuji was passed out on the couch after a particularly tough session with Gojo sensei.

- Looking at the curse, you felt anger more than anything, how could he just drop out on you with no warning and then show up in the middle of your living room- ...wait a second, why the hell are you mad at a literal curse for not telling you he was taking a mental health break or whatever it was that he was doing?

- While you sorted out through these conflicting thoughts in your mind, the curse seemed to be going through a similar crisis.

- Having woken up in the brat’s fragile human body with no warning whatsoever, Sukuna wasn’t in the mood to see your face so soon again. He didn’t know why your physical presence unsettled him so much. All he knew was that he hated it. Even more now that he knew what you looked like all scared and small compared to his vessel’s towering build, and how you smelled even sweeter than what he had tasted, and how despite all that you still had the courage to stand up to someone as dangerous as him. Ugh, disgusting.

- “The stupid brat passed out.”

- Such a simple statement caused you to snap your head up at him. But he didn’t wait for your reaction as he somehow managed to plop down on the couch while still looking graceful. Picking up the half eaten box of pocky, he warily pulled one out, eyeing it as if it was a poisoned dagger before breaking off a piece and placing it on his tongue.

- “This is what you would risk your life for, brat?”

- He turned his head slightly to look at you still frozen in place, staring at him with that doe eyed look that made his chest burn a little. Isn’t this what he wanted all along?

- “Are you simply going to stand there and gawk? I don’t bite-...well, not unless you ask me to.”

- He knew that would set you right back to your usual self,

- “...maybe we do need to get a leash after all.”

- Sukuna internally grinned as he saw you move to the other side of the couch, ready to hear whatever more of the snarky comeback that you’d have (not that he was anticipating it, it was just the better alternative to being gaped at. Or so he told himself)

- “You ate the non chocolate covered part of the pocky by the way-”

- “As if a layer of this disgusting brown substance can make the rotten stick taste bette-”

- “Well aren’t sticks all you had to eat in yOuR TiME anyways?”-

—-

- You somehow managed to fall asleep after the bickering, proceeding to sit in silence after you told him to not bother you while you tried to read. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were a little disappointed when he actually didn’t. Instead, he sat on the couch with a slight smirk still plastered on his face, continuing to simply gaze at you. your heart did lunges every time you slyly looked up from your book to take a peak at him. you wondered how many ways he had come up with to kill you so far.

- On the other hand, the curse sat idly, watching you while his thoughts rumbled in his mind. Maybe killing you can be pushed off the agenda for now. There are much better ways to hurt the brat anyways aren't there? Perhaps he could use one of these brownish covered sticks to-...what is he thinking?

- He ultimately deems it stupid brat’s humane emotions and sheer stupidity that must be interfering with his thoughts.

- A loud sneeze snaps him out of his daze as he sees you slumped against a pillow, your book falling off your lap. And then he does something that he immediately decides that he would pretend to have not done for the rest of his existence. Luckily, the brat takes back control right after he does it anyways.

- But that thought slips his mind as he finds himself replaying the serene look on your face as he gently pulled the book out of your hands, and how his hands shook a little as you nuzzled your nose into the fabric of the blanket that he pulled over you. How could you have felt so calm around him?

#jujutsu kaisen #jjkxreader #jujutsukaisenxreader #yujiitadori #sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader #itadori x reader #sukuna #sukuna headcanons #jjk headcanons #sukuna smut #gojo saturo x reader #jujutsu Kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen hcs #sukunafluff

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alltooreid · 3 years

Text

Call It What You Want

Everyone around them is trying to discover the true nature of Y/N and Spencer’s relationship. Little do they know Y/N is trying to figure out the exact same thing.

A/N: Sorry this took a lot longer than I wanted it to.... Mental health is hard but here it is!! I hope you guys love it :)) Additionally I added a lil garvez to this... but for it to work with the timeline we’re all just gonna pretend Lisa doesn’t exist... ok great!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (with a little splash of implied Garvez content for my personal joy)

Requested?: Yes!! :)) “can you do a one shot based off call it what you want??”

Type: Fluffiest Fluff

Word Count: 3K

Content Warnings: None!

“My baby's fly like a jet stream High above the whole scene Loves me like I'm brand new So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to”

The team was sure something was going on between Y/N and Spencer, they just weren’t sure how to prove it.

Every sign pointed to the two dating, but the pair hadn’t said anything about it. Maybe they were trying to keep it a secret, but at the same time they didn’t appear to be being very secretive about it.

So ever since Penelope saw Y/N giving Spencer a ride home a week ago, she has been determined to uncover the truth, and hopefully the truth was her two best friends were in the world’s cutest, most perfect relationship.

She was using her technical brilliance to gather data when she was caught by none other than Luke Alvez.

“What are you doing in here?”

“This is my job Luke, I have to be in here,” she rolled her eyes.

“Well, I know that! I mean what are you doing right now, we don’t have a case.” he smirked “Are you committing any cyber crimes? You know you could get in a lot of trouble for those, the FBI won’t help you. You should let me help.”

She smiled, “You do know I got my job here from committing cyber crimes right? I don’t think I would need your help. Besides, I’m working on a personal project.” After some thought she decided Luke might actually be helpful “I’m trying to find out if Spencer and Y/N are dating.”

“I swear I saw them leaving together yesterday, that seems like pretty good evidence! I could be very helpful to you.”

“I’m way ahead of you, but I guess you can help,” she pulled up a new tab, quickly constructing a timeline while Luke pulled a chair next to her. “So our favorite pair’s relationship would, based on my intense experimentation and surveying, begin here,” she traced a circle around the start of the timeline with her cursor, “on that night we went out after the case and then wouldn’t stop talking to each other.”

Luke and Penelope discussed all the things they saw that led them to believe that Y/N and Spencer were more than just friends, from how keen Y/N was to listen to anything that came out of Spencer’s mouth no matter how difficult to follow, to Spencer’s willingness to touch her. After about 15 minutes however they were interrupted by none other than Y/N herself. Penelope quickly switched tabs, so that it now appeared she was just showing Luke a funny kitten video.

“Hey guys! What are you doing in here?” “Oh you know, just wasting time. . . What’s up?” said Luke.

“I was just checking to see if you wanted to go to lunch! If you have any opinions as to where that would be great too because no one out there can make a decision . . .”

“Of course I want lunch! I’ll be out there in just a sec,” Penelope smiled and started closing her work done as soon as Y/N left, almost forgetting Luke’s presence.

“Um, Penelope?”

“What is it Luke?”

“Do you think you’d ever do anything like what Y/N and Spencer are doing?” he asked.

“Like what? Keep a secret? You know I’m terrible at that stuff.”

“No, no I mean like . . .” he took a deep breath, “You know, like dating a coworker?”

“What does that have to do with anything? Now hurry up and come to lunch, we can keep working afterwards,” she replied.

Luke awkwardly smiled, and they both left.

Little did Luke and Penelope know that as they debated and pieced together aspects of Y/N and Spencer’s relationship, trying to uncover if they were dating, Y/N was doing the exact same thing.

Her and Spencer had been on three dates, each more boyfriend and girlfriend than the last. They got coffee one day, then went to a movie, then a nice restaurant for dinner. Tonight Spencer wanted to keep it a surprise, but that just made her even more confused.

Sometimes her and Spencer would sit next to each other at the round table, and now when they did that he would reach over, not to hold her hand, but just to link their pinkies together.

She didn’t know what that meant.

Sometimes Y/N would go on a tangent and realize she had been talking for almost an hour about nothing in particular, and when she realized Spencer was the only one still listening would apologize for wasting his time. To which he would reply, “Why would I be upset about spending time with you?” She didn’t know what that meant.

And one time, on her and Spencer’s first “date” they were about to part their separate directions, and Y/N had no idea what to do with her body or her hands, Spencer wrapped her into a hug, and she swore she felt his lips brushing against the top of her head.

She really didn’t know what that meant.

Which is why she continued to let Penelope and Luke have their fun trying to decipher her and Spencer’s social cues. She knew as soon as she was about to enter to ask about lunch, Penelope was not exactly quiet and Luke wasn’t any better, but she let them believe they were being sneaky.

Besides, maybe if they found the answer they could let her know.

When the team returned from lunch she couldn’t help but continue to contemplate this issue further, Spencer hadn’t really said anything to her at lunch. Were they still just friends? Were they dating but not telling anyone? Were they going to tell anyone?

“Y/N! Are you excited to hang out tonight?” Spencer asked.

Hang out. So it definitely was not a date. . .

“Of course! Right after work right? Your place?”

“Yep! It’s a date,” he smiled and walked away, leaving Y/N in a state of confused panic. What was this? For someone so logical and scientific, Y/N wished that Spencer Reid would just tell her the kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, and genus of their relationship.

Maybe then she could stop dissecting it to try and figure it out.

　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　

As Y/N stood outside Spencer’s apartment building, she struggled to muster up courage to go inside. It’s not that she was nervous to hang out with Spencer, it was just Y/N knew she needed to have the “what are we” talk with him for her own personal sanity. And she just wasn’t sure yet what his answer would be.

She had made her way into the building and gotten to Spencer’s floor when she ran into the man of the hour himself.

“Oh there you are! I was about to come down and get you,” he said.

Y/N glanced at her phone, “I’m sorry, am I late?”

“No, no, no. You’re perfect, I just got excited.”

That confused Y/N even more, she couldn’t decide if that leaned more towards friend or date territory. However all of her anxieties were forgotten for a moment as soon as she entered Spencer’s apartment.

Almost all the lights were off, except for several strings of lights shaped like stars, strung in different directions across the room. In the corner were several folded up blankets and sheets, and pillows were spread out across the room.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it, although if I’m being honest I don’t really know what it is . . .”

“13 months ago we were on a case, the one were the unsub was killing couples when they went out camping so that no one would look for them for days, and you said that you used to go camping all the time but you didn’t think you could go anymore. So I bought stuff so we could go camping together, right here.”

Y/N was left almost speechless, “I- I don’t even know what to say, Spencer this is incredible.”

He beamed, instantly satisfied with that answer. “I tried to find a tent, but all of the stores I went to said I should order one online . . . I figured it would be more fun to build a fort instead.”

Spencer brought over the supplies he had bought and gathered, various sheets and comforters, pillows, his leather couch cushions, sleeping bags, a large collection of clothes pins, and some more lights. Except Spencer left a single bag in the pile, the only one from a craft store.

“Do you want me to grab that one?” Y/N asked.

“Oh um, no don’t worry about that one. I saw something stupid on that site JJ and Garcia really like while I was passing JJ’s desk. . . Pinterest? Yes that’s it. And I tried to make it but even though I memorized the instructions I couldn’t get it to work. . . I kind of just gave up and threw everything in there.”

“Can I try it?”

He nodded, and Y/N got up and glanced into the bag, in it was a push light, warm toned tissue paper and a couple empty paper towel rolls, all stuck together, but also somehow falling apart. Y/N couldn’t help but smile, “Were you trying to build me a campfire Dr. Reid?”

“Well you said that your family used to have this big bonfire every year, and that it used to be one of your favorite traditions until you couldn’t handle going anymore, so I thought I could make one that would be a little safer for you. Turns out that you actually need four PHDs to be good at crafts though.”

“Spencer this whole date is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me . . . Thank you.”

“Of course, I really want you to enjoy yourself when you're around me Y/N.”

“Spencer, I’ve never not enjoyed myself when I’m around you, and you were with me when I got shot. You’re my favorite person, you do know that right?”

He blushed, “You’re my favorite person too Y/N.”

So the two lovers built a blanket fort, draping sheets over string lights and shoving the inside full of pillows and blankets, giggling the entire time. Y/N taught Spencer the simplicity of DIY projects, and how sometimes the directions needed to be adjusted slightly based on personal preferences and ability. Soon the pair were cuddled up together on the ground, no other space to be except for right next to each other, as the rest of the fort was covered by snacks, pillows, their homemade campfire, and Spencer’s vinyl record player.

“Did you do this on purpose? Making me be so close to you?”

“No, I would never, it’s not my fault this area is so small . . . “

“Mhm, although I’m sure a genius like you could figure out how to make an adult sized fort, I’m very glad you didn’t,” she said, giggling and squishing herself closer to him. They smiled and kissed each other, before Spencer spoke.

“You make me so, unbelievably, happy. I never thought I could feel like this until we met Y/N.”

Y/N smiled even bigger, “Spencer I really, really like you,” she paused, it was now or never, “but um, what do you want to call this, like what we’re doing.”

“Well what do you want this to be? Because I want you to be my girlfriend.”

She smiled, “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

“Well then that’s what we’ll be,” he said, kissing her on the forehead.

“Well you do know the team, particularly Penelope and Luke have the exact same question.”

“Well I think more than Luke wondering if we’re dating, I think he’s just wondering if Penelope will date him. . . So I say let them have their fun for a little while, before we tell everyone.”

She smiled, “Perfect. They’re profilers, they’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Well, I think we should watch a movie. . . Although I mostly enjoy my cinema in Russian, tonight is about you and I don’t want to give you a headache. What’s your favorite?”

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“I promise I will not laugh at you darling.”

“High School Musical 3.”

　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　

So Y/N spent the rest of that night explaining the plot of the first two High School Musical movies, then explaining why the third one was the clear winner, and then finally showing Spencer the third one off of her phone, where she had it saved to her cloud for emergencies.

And although singing and dancing adults pretending to be teenagers was not exactly Spencer’s favorite genre, he loved how happy the series as a whole made Y/N. So he latched onto it, and learned as much as he could about it.

One particular scene however, in one of the earlier films, seemed to make Y/N extra excited, as she spent the longest amount of time talking about it. So Spencer decided he knew exactly what to do to prove to her he was in this relationship for the long haul.

Spencer could tell she was anxious before their date, and it didn’t take him long to guess that it was because she didn’t know how serious everything was to him. Yet, he didn’t want to be too obvious that he wanted her to be his, because if he had assessed wrong he would make a complete fool out of himself.

But when she asked him, she seemed so nervous, so small, he knew he had made a mistake in waiting, and now he wanted to make it up to her.

So as she was walking in the next day he caught her. “Y/N!”

“Hi Spencer! What’s up?”

“I have a present for you. . .” he said, handing her a small box wrapped in shiny gold paper.

“For me? Why?”

“Oh you know, just because. . .”

As Y/N unwrapped the box, Spencer got more and more nervous… What if she hated it? What if she thought it was stupid or too soon or didn’t get it or-

“Oh my god Spencer I-”

“You know what it’s stupid, I don’t even know why I got it for you. I can return it and find you something you’ll actually like-”

“I love it Spencer, it’s perfect. Will you put it on me?”

Spencer hooked the chain around his new girlfriend’s neck, the small “S” pendant shining in the light.

“It’s like Gabriella’s. . . I love it. I can’t believe you would care to remember something like that…”

“Of course I would remember that. I have an eidetic memory. Did you know that although the original purpose and origin of initial jewelry was largely unknown, they date back to the 14th century?”

“No, I just mean… It’s very thoughtful Spencer.”

He smiled, “Well I’m sorry to kill the mood, but I really have to go to the bathroom. I drank 3 cups of coffee this morning and I was standing here waiting for you for 18 minutes and 4 seconds before you came in.”

She laughed, and then hugged him, “Well don’t just stand here! Go!”

Spencer ran off, leaving Y/N to walk into the bullpen alone. As Y/N was making her way to her desk, she was stopped by none other than Penelope Garcia and Luke Alvez, Penelope up front, Luke standing a foot or so behind her, ready to back her up.

“Y/N! We know your secret, you and Spencer are secretly dating. . . We figured it out this morning. You can’t hide from us anymore,” Penelope said, Luke nodding behind her.

“Well yeah we’re dating, but it’s not a secret.”

“What? Excuse me? You haven’t told anyone!”

“Yeah but we haven’t really made any effort to hide it? We told everyone about the time we went to the movies?”

“Yeah but- Um, we just thought we were being sneaky. . .” Penelope said.

“You might wanna get a little better at that guys, the Bat Cave is not soundproof.”

“Dang it, I really need to work on that…” Penelope said. “Well Luke Alvez, I suppose our quest has been conquered.”

“See! We were right, I told you I’m great help,” Luke said.

“Oh don’t get it too twisted, this was almost all me.”

After a moment of playful banter, Y/N stopped them “So when are you two going to start “secretly” dating huh?”

“Uh hmph, I don’t know what you talking about. I would never,” Penelope said.

At that moment, Spencer returned from the bathroom, and came up upon Y/N hugging her from behind and leaning to rest his head on her shoulder. “What are we talking about?”

Penelope threw her head back in defeat, “Nothing, 187, we were just talking. . .”

“Don’t you think Luke and Penelope would make the cutest couple Spencer?” Y/N smirked.

“You know what? Yeah I do!” Spencer played along, “Have you guys ever thought about that?

Luke was beaming behind Penelope, while she looked like she was trying to hide her enthusiasm. “No actually I haven’t,” she said.

“Well you definitely should,” Y/N said, giggling as her and Spencer walked to his desk.

“Hey, wait come back here! What does your necklace have on it?” Penelope asked, half running after them, Luke closely behind her.

“Whatever you want Penelope, whatever you want.”

“I want to wear his initial On a chain round my neck, chain round my neck Not because he owns me But 'cause he really knows me”

Thank you so much for reading!! Please reblog and let me know what you think :)))

holly’s tiny taglist: @reidingmelodies @hercleverboy @rigatonireid @muffin-cup @takeyourleap-of-faith @wheelsup @s1utformgg @averyhotchner @widow-cevans @rotinireid

please let me know if you would like to be added or removed :))

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quiteaweirdworld · 4 years

Text

Anxiety- JJ x Reader

Synopsis: Detailed story of Y/N having a really bad anxiety day. It’s a realistic story, a.k.a. JJ doesn’t immediately solve everything with a kiss. Anxiety is real, it is a struggle, and I tried to portray it as best I could. Based on my own experiences with anxiety. I feel it’s really important for this fandom to have works that aren’t sugar-coated, and that actually show the truth about these mental health issues. I hope this helps you!

Requested: nope

Inspired: Mental Health Awareness Month!

Warnings: YES! Mentions of anxiety, including anxious spiral, self-loathing, and detailed description of anxiety attack. Do not read if you might be triggered by these descriptions.

Contains: whump, soft JJ (my brand), anxiety, fluff, hopeful ending

Words: 2.1K (longest yet)

Today was not a good day. You knew as soon as you woke up that it wasn’t going to be a good day, and it only went worse as the day went on. You woke up alone in the Chateau. This was normal, as it was often just you, JJ, and John B who stayed over for the night, and they often got up earlier than you. This really surprised you at first, expecting the boys to be lazy, but 90% of the time they got up to start working on various projects before you were awake. When this happens, you start making breakfast for the three of you and just wait for them, completely fine, but not today. Today you just knew something was wrong, you could feel it.

As soon as you woke up, you went outside, calling for JJ. What if he was hurt? What if DCS got John B? What if, what if, what if-

“Y/N? You ok?” JJ rounded the corner and saw you, his face immediately morphing into one of concern. You ran the rest of the distance between you two, and his arms were already opening up to wrap you in a hug. He’s there, he’s ok, he’s not hurt. It was just your brain playing tricks on you again. You were doubly sure of this when JJ himself softly said “Hey hey hey it’s ok” while soothingly running his hands through your hair

“Is today a bad day?” he asked, definitely already knowing the answer.

“Yeah, I’m so sorry” you responded, embarrassed about being worried about nothing. JJ only looked at you caringly, and pulled you tighter. You both walked together back to the Chateau, and JJ sat at the table talking to you as you made breakfast.

By the time that John B was back, you were feeling much better and were able to banter and laugh with your boys while you three ate as usual. However, the bad feeling never left your brain. You were tense, feeling restless and constantly looking around the room as subtly as you could, worried that something would go wrong.

If John B noticed, he didn’t say anything, but JJ knew and stayed close to you all day.

Kiara stopped by and organized a boat trip for the day with John B, calling Pope and getting all set up. As they started to leave, she turned back and called to you

“Y/N, JJ, you coming?” JJ looked at you, letting you answer how you felt. You gave him a shaky smile, nodding slightly and responding

“Yeah, we’ll be right there!” You knew JJ was worried about you, but didn’t want to be a burden and ruin his entire day. You couldn’t stand to be a bother to anyone you loved, and JJ had it hard enough as it was without you having a stupid bad feeling.

As you stepped on the boat, beer in one hand and JJ’s hand in the other, you felt the bad feeling come back 10 times stronger. Your heart started beating fast, and you didn’t want to get on the boat. You were sure that if you got on, something horrible would happen. But Pope was looking at you with so much happiness to finally be able to hang with his friends, and JJ squeezed your hand comfortingly, and you didn’t want to let your friends down.

You got settled on the boat, wishing that your stupid brain wasn’t broken, and that you could just enjoy the time with your friends.

You managed to get in the water with some reassurance from JJ, and actually enjoyed yourself a lot. Physical exercise always helped your mind calm down, and soon you were so focused on trying to tackle JJ in the water that you almost forgot about the bad feeling. Of course, it was always there, but as soon as it got too strong one of your friends would help you out. When you all got out of the water, Kiara called you over to braid her hair, claiming

“Y/N can you please do it? You’re the best at it”

You knew that she had just noticed your little ticks and was giving you an excuse to keep your hands busy. Even Pope seemed to notice a bit later, giving you another beer with a soft look.

John B was oblivious as always, but that was comforting in itself. You were just hanging out with you four best friends in the world, and nothing bad could happen (you hope).

As the sun started to set, a new group of fears kicked in. Suddenly, you were worried that the boat would get stuck and you wouldn’t be able to get back.

You’d be stuck in the ocean forever (nevermind that you were barely a mile off of shore), and be lost at sea. No one would ever find you. You friends would hate you for some reason, but of course they would. A rescue ship would come, but there’d only be room for four. They’d leave you behind, but you couldn’t blame them. You’d leave yourself behind too. And then you’d be all alone. And then you’d starve. And then. And then-

And then JJ put his hand on your knee, which had started bouncing out of control without you noticing as you’d spiraled down into your thoughts. John B still hadn’t noticed, talking on and on about some dumb thing or another while Pope and Kiara looked on at you. Luckily, as soon as you snapped out of your spiral, Kiara simply handed JJ a towel to wrap around you and they went back to John B, who hadn’t noticed yet again. That boy had the social awareness of a sloth, but you loved him for it.

Not as much as you loved JJ, who had just shifted you so that you were completely leaning into him. He wrapped the towel around you because while you hadn’t even noticed that you were shivering, JJ had.

JJ, your sweet boy who didn’t deserve to deal with you and all of your problems. You went back into a cycle of self loathing, wishing JJ had a better girlfriend like he deserved, instead of you, but were thankfully interrupted by Pope suggesting that they all head back. Kiara engaged you in a conversation making fun of the newest weird kook fashion that you both saw in the store window of the boutique up by Figure 8 the other day when you were delivering groceries with the boys, and you made it back to land without incident.

You loaded back into the van to head to the hilltop to watch the stars for a bit, and you finally felt your anxiety ebb away a bit. You had made it through the entire day without something bad happening, so you were safe now.

Of course, as soon as you were finally feeling better, something bad happened. The old van had been spluttering for a few minutes, but no one paid any attention to it because it always did. You only even noticed when it gave one big shudder and gave out completely. You were stuck.

You were stuck, in the woods, at night with no help.

It was barely dark, but the air got thick and it was hard to breathe. It was hot, you were sweating, and you were definitely about to die. You faintly heard a voice in the distance, but couldn’t focus. You zoned out, struck with fear. Why was someone talking? Why would someone waste energy talking when you were about to die? Couldn’t they see you were about to die? All of the overwhelming sounds filtered down to just a steady buzz, but it was so much worse. The buzz was overwhelming you, getting louder and louder. You were stuck, in this phantom zone where you were barely breathing and everything was just the buzz, it was all blank.

Off in the distance, you could hear that voice come back, faintly but growing stronger. You couldn’t make out the words or the voice, but something about it was comforting. It kept going, some string of incoherent words you weren’t understanding, but you focused on it. The voice steadily became more distinct, and after what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few more seconds, you could make out who it was.

JJ. Of course it was, it was your wonderful boyfriend. Once you found his voice, it only took a bit more concentrating to pick out the words. He was quietly and calmly describing something… you? He was describing you, and your friends. He talked about the details in your shirt, the blue of John B’s bandana, the purple and red of Kiara and Pope’s favorite outfits. It didn’t matter what he was saying, he knew his voice would bring you out of your anxiety attack.

Sure enough, as soon as you moved he brought your head up to look in his eyes.

“There you are, my beautiful Y/N” he said, cupping your cheek

“You’re ok, are you back?” You nodded, all you were able to do, but he took it like the win it was.

You both settled into the seat again, as at some point you had slid down to the floor and JJ had come down as well to help you.

A few minutes later, JJ still describing random things, Kiara interrupted

“They’re back!”

You hadn’t even noticed that John B and Pope were gone, but you saw them coming back, both carrying what looks like fuel tanks. Kiara explained

“The van just ran out of gas. They went and got some from the Perrys a few minutes down the road. As soon as they get it in the van, we’ll head back”

You just nodded again, still in shock. Anxiety attacks take a lot out of you, and it’s hard to recover quickly. You were still in a fugue state the entire way back, and JJ half carried you to your room that you both shared when you stayed the night. You half heard Pope and Kiara say goodnight and John B ask JJ if he needed anything, but only began to really come back to yourself when JJ laid you on your bed.

“Arms up Y/N, let’s go” he said, and you subconsciously raised your arms as he helped you change out of your shirt into a comfy sweatshirt. You were aware enough to then change into some leggings, but JJ stayed in the room to make sure you were ok. That’s fine, he’d seen you much worse. Much worse. Oh no.

You had freaked out over nothing! He was definitely going to break up with you now. There was no big deal, but you thought you were going to die. They were all definitely laughing at you behind your back, you were so embarrassing. You tried to stop the tears that were flowing down your face, trying not to embarrass yourself further, but they came fast and fiercely anyway.

JJ noticed, pulling you close on the bed. “Shhh Y/N, don’t cry!”

“I’m so sorry! I’m such a baby I’m broken I’m so sorry” you sobbed into his chest.

JJ’s heart broke, like it did all day when he saw you struggling. He hated that his girlfriend, soft sweet Y/N who was so kind to everyone else, found it so hard to be kind to yourself.

“Y/N, you know this isn’t your fault” JJ said has he began to rub soft circles into your back

“I love you so much. You’re not broken at all”

As if he knew how hard that was for you to believe, he kept repeating it. “I love you, you’re so special to me”, and a bit later

“I love you, I love everything about you”

You eventually calmed down, but stayed wrapped into JJ. You still felt bad, but were so thankful to your boyfriend. You’re not fixed, far from it, but with JJ, you’re better.

#holy shit it's done #this was so hard to write #hopefully I did it justice #obx #outer banks #I feel empty now #obx imagine #outer banks imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #JJ maybank deserves a hug #jj maybank #jj #jj x reader #jj imagine #quiteaweirdworld #anxiety

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space-blue · 2 years

Note

Star Wars is just… driving me insane rn so I’m disappearing into fanfic and I was reminded of ur Ahsoka&Tarkin idea. I was curious how that was going, no prob if there’s no updates, I’m just looking for distractions

URGH do I ever feel you Anon.

Half the fandom is screaming for joy as if chaining cameos like beads on a string of fan service is what BoBF should be all about, and the other half has gone from writing fan fiction to coping mechanism fiction. I too can't wait for all the fix it fanart that blithely disregards the Filoniverse. As far as I'm concerned Cad Bane never made it to live action, I'm not interested in facts and I can't hear you AAAAaaaa—

In the meantime... Yes. I still plan on writing the Ahsoka and Tarkin fic. I still have the early chapters written. It still lives in my head rent free.

BUT (for there must be a but, and that one is thicc)

"Distractions" found me before BoBF did. In the shape of a show called Arcane... It's gorgeous, the writing is insanely good, I'm in love with half the cast, and it hurt my soul on such a level I'm in a perpetual "coming home from the war" moment like

I'm still running, honestly. My Muse is in commando gear and camo paint face, screaming "Silcoooo!" — wrote around 100k since mid November, you know, that sort of war on mental health. Try the show at your own peril.

My Cad "Dad" Bane story was meant to be finished before I started the Soka & Tarkin... So as not to have Too Many™ ongoing fics. Now Arcane distracted me from Dad Bane and gave me 5 additional ongoing WiPs.

But I DO have the first two chapters, and I will continue penning the fic, but right now... I need to wrap up some Arcane WIPs so as not to leave fans hanging with the Tarkin fic. I'm afraid I'd post the first two chapters and leave it in limbo. It's better if I don't touch it until I feel like I have the headspace to focus on it.

Alright. All that being said, if you're amenable to a BoBF fic written before the show aired, and honestly better than the show's writing (if I do say so myself) with gorgeous art from Rovent, starring Cad Bane, Meeyan Bane, Cobb Vanth, Fennec Shand, Din Djarin, Boba Fett, Qi'ra, the Pykes, Black Sun and co. and a couple clans of Tuskens, then behold :

It's 12k, completed, and is the work I put the most effort in, as a fanfic author *ever*. It had 3 heavily involved betas, took me over a month to write, and I'm still kinda dejected it didn't just sort of explode. lol I definitely had dreams of grandeur regarding it.

My friend @twinsunstwink is also posting a fascinating Dinluke fic at the moment, and I'm the beta for it. It's fantastic, and I got so obsessed I even made fanart for it! The fic balances unhinged flirting and heavy smut with politics and dark side flavoured angst and it's very chef kiss, very much crop watering and skin cleansing. It updates every Sunday, you should check it out!

Anyway, thanks for letting me rant Anon, even if I'm still holding my Tarkin&Soka to my heart and crying Arcane tears over it...

#ahsoka #tarkin #wip #fanfic #star wars #sw #arcane #ask #thank you anon #snips talks #dinluke #fic rec #cad bane

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 3 years

Text

Something Held | Feeding Habits Update #8

Hi all!

Not me not realizing it’s been 3 months since I posted a Feeding Habits update hahahahahaha. Today let’s chat chapter nine, SOMETHING HELD. This also marks the last chapter in Harrison’s POV so prepare to say goodbye to this icon! TW: body horror, mental illness, trauma

Just a reminder: This is my original work and plagiarism of any form will not be tolerated.

Scene outline, excerpts & a little reflection on making difficult decisions that my not particularly benefit the book but benefit you as the writer under the cut because this update is GIGANTIC.

General taglist (please ask to be added or removed):

@if-one-of-us-falls, @qatarcookie, @chloeswords, @alicewestwater, @laughtracksonata, @shylawrites, @ev–writes, @jaydewritesfiction, @jennawritesstories @eowynandfaramir, @august-iswriting, @aetherwrites

Scene Breakdown

Scene A:

It has been two weeks since Lonan found Harrison at his shared apartment with Suzanna and things are getting strange. Lonan and Suz are getting closer, Harrison is getting more distant and slowly losing it. One morning, Harrison wakes hearing Lonan and Suz’s laughter, and crawls to the kitchen to investigate. When he reaches them, Suz is evening out Lonan’s hacked haircut and they’re both sobbing.

Scene B:

Shortly after this bizarre encounter, Suzanna steps out of the apartment for a breather because her son is sort of terrifying her! So Lonan and Harrison double-team to clean up Lonan’s hair shavings. Harrison begins eating the hair while Lonan stares and they have a conversation about the state of their friendship.

Scene Ba:

This scene is gross and confusing! More hair is ingested. My god.

Scene Bb:

After the above ordeal, both boys rinse off because they’ve been rolling?? around?? in??? hair?? but also?? things don’t stop being a little gross

Scene C:

An air of calm finally settles over the apartment. Lonan brews earl grey tea for him and Harrison to share and Harrison asks if he abandoned Lonan in the final chapter of Moth Work. Lonan doesn’t really answer this question so Harrison continues on his confused, but finally lucid (one-sided) conversation, admitting he understands he burdens his mother, who still has not returned. They circle back to the question of abandonment and Lonan answers Harrison the way he wants to be answered (yes), and this is a moment of freeing, where he feels some sort of responsibility in this irresponsible new life he’s led in NYC. They sort of agree to be friends again.

Scene D:

The boys head into the city to find Suzanna, heading to a bakery near the Hudson River. Lonan drives in his used car, a strange experience since Harrison has not seen him drive in years. Taking the opportunity, he searches through the car and finds a map in the glove compartment. The map is erratically scribbled over and it takes him to moment to realize this is Lonan’s map and the first indication that Lonan, who he has assumed is this stable, perfect person, is not as unscathed as he seems.

The boys pass the waterfront and Lonan nearly crashes the car into an oncoming truck. Harrison regains control of the vehicle tucking them into a side street. Shaken, Lonan apologizes for the mess he’s created both physically from his nosebleed and between Harrison and his mother, which gets Harrison a little antsy because he doesn’t like the suggestion that he’s going to leave. Lonan clarifies, stating he won’t if that’s what Harrison wants.

Scene E:

Later, everyone is back at home and Harrison wakes up to a Lonan-less bed. He gets up to investigate the strange dripping coming from the bathroom and opens the door to find Lonan precariously teetering over a sink filled with water. Harrison, concerned, moves him away and tries to ask why Lonan is presumably going underwater, but doesn’t push. They both stand on opposite sides of the bathroom until the sun rises.

My process:

Honestly, writing this chapter was a huge up and down. The first half of it came much easier to me, but the rest was a literal hellfire to get through. I think I was incredibly fatigued with writing in Harrison’s POV as I’d been writing it since June (I finished this chapter in either December or January). This book has been a pain in the ass to write despite me liking what it is, and I really think it being the only place I’ve physically “gone” since the pandemic makes it even harder to write. I felt claustrophobic in Harrison’s POV since I’ve been writing it for half a year, and in a lil ~breakdown~ my beautiful sister reminded me of something she’d previously told me, “it's not about what works, it's about what you want”.

Let’s chat about this for a sec! I think I was watching a Harmony Nice video on her “hard-to-swallow” self-care, and she basically outline (I’m paraphrasing here) that it’s critical we care for ourselves in ways that might not necessarily be easy to do. Honestly, leaving Harrison’s POV is one of those hard-to-swallow self-care things I literally had to do because my mental health was not happy with me! Y’all know my boys are very close to me, and I’m not picking favourites but Lonan is 2500 times easier for me to write with at the moment. I think Harrison’s situation and how he deals with it is much too similar to mine but in a way that is difficult to place (Lonan and I are unfortunately similar but in a way that is easier for me to understand about myself!). From the beginning of writing his POV I’ve been in Struggleville, but kept pushing through hoping the next chapter would be “the one”. Not to burst my own bubble but there is no such thing in the state of mind I was in! I was pushing myself to find something that doesn’t exist because my brain was really not equipped to do what I needed it to do. I really, really did not want to quit on Harrison’s POV, but I had to, not because I don’t like him (he’s my baby) but because I needed a moment to myself. I felt way too seen in ways I don’t really know how to address in myself, so writing him was horribly frustrating at all times (my fault, not his).

My characters really do live in my head rent-free lol. They live in there! They take up space! They take up energy! They take up concentration, and resources I need for myself! Empathy is so integral to my process, that I give a little part of myself in everything I write. This is a blessing because I really get to dig my heels into the mind of another person, but a curse because I’m not a machine (and sometimes I forget that). It is a lot of emotional energy and labour to give everything you have to fictional people. I don’t think an artist needs to be tortured to create good art (this is not it!) but I never truly practiced this well? In my attempt to be empathetic, I was torturing myself a little bit, not going to lie!

So to combat this, I decided I needed a change. Hence, this chapter is imperfect and probably needs some stuff added to it, and while I’ve only written little of Lonan’s second POV, I’m feeling a lot better! It’s nice to get “outside” in a different place lmao this is so sad (pandemic writing things).

Excerpts:

I wrote the beginning of this in a livestream I hosted on my YouTube channel! There’s also a shoutout here to my dragon tree Lisa <3 miss u boo

Two weeks go by. Lonan sleeps on the couch. Harrison wakes up at dawn—no earlier, no later. Suzanna buys a plant: a Madagascar dragon tree she names Lisa. June grows into the collar. Lonan plays sudoku in the newspaper. Harrison learns to bake focaccia, gluten-free, whole wheat. Suzanna learns to palm read, tells Lonan he’s experienced great betrayal (they stop the reading immediately; Lonan goes back to the newspapers). Harrison begins burning incense at sunrise—frankincense. The dragon tree nearly dies (Lonan saves it). It rains every weekday that contains the letter T. Lonan shifts stacks of soggy newspapers onto the breakfast table, answers crosswords with the help of Suzanna (four across, nine letters, Something held). Harrison burns a baguette. Suzanna buys a hanging basket of pothos. The power goes out for two days and the icebox floods the kitchen tile (Lonan mops it with old newspapers, the ink running like jellyfish). June barks for the first time. Harrison eats a bundle of dried bay leaves. Suzanna waters the plants with rainwater, icewater, wrung into a coffee tin. Harrison leaves the stove on while sautéing shallots (he eats them whole). Lonan wakes up feverish and fills out four newspaper crosswords, then falls asleep on the coffee table. Suzanna moulds panna cotta in coffee mugs and shares the batch with Lonan when they won’t tip out. Lonan teaches her how to propagate the pothos and soon they have twenty empty cans of cuttings poking from the windowsills. They rearrange the furniture, the couch facing the kitchen instead of the TV, the dining table right outside the bathroom, then put it all back the next day. They birdwatch from the tiny window with binoculars and a magnifying glass. They sort coupons. Whittle soaps. Watch Norwegian films without the subtitles. Discuss cliff diving. Make matching anklets (blue beads, elastic string, the plastic clacking how Harrison knows they’re coming). All of this they do as Harrison lies on his bed for two weeks, counting the corners of his ceiling and trying to determine a way to multiply them telepathically.

This is the very next paragraph!

At first he assumes they’re laughing. The sun nearly rising between other high rises, blotting his room with dawn. This is not a surprise. They are probably making pancakes out of buckwheat and discussing the hilarity of whole grains. They are probably laughing at store-bought cherry preserves. Too sour. Their cheeks puckered. But then the laughs get louder, and the sun rises higher and it’s not laughing at all, but gasping.

Here’s Harrison crawling!! is this straight out of the exorcist probably!

Harrison’s instinct is to crawl. As if his smallness against the ground will stop anyone from hearing him, even before he unlocks his door. On hands and knees he shuffles from his bed to his doorframe, edges the door open with his shoulder. On hands and knees he hikes through the hallway, the gasping getting louder, shuffling until he sees them. Lonan sitting on one of the kitchen stools, a grocery bag wound around his throat. Suzanna clacking scissors in two hands so their blades ping in the sun. Her fingers loped around his hair, knuckle-deep, the blades snipping, the gasps growing, them both sobbing, the hair falling, the sun stalking, their bodies rocking. Harrison takes it in from his crawl. Experiences it all on his knees.

So this excerpt seems really you know, normal:

They clean up the hair. Harrison with the dustpan, Lonan with the broom. Harrison still kneels. Lonan still cries. The only thing that has changed since crawling into the kitchen is that Suzanna is taking a walk around the apartment complex. She needs air. Room. If she cries long enough, a cigarette. So Lonan sweeps. Harrison collects. This repeats.

The kitchen smells of nutmeg. Freshly grated from a whole club over espresso, Harrison imagines. He smells this as he tracks Lonan with the dustpan, hovering its open belly for clippings of hair. And Lonan is so compliant, brushes cuttings of himself onto the plastic surface so Harrison can trash it. As Harrison looks on from his knees, Lonan diffuses in sunlight, the window illuminating only his edges. A body so familiar Harrison knows exactly where it flares with light or absorbs it. A body with skin like mulberry silk. A body he could recreate in charcoal with his eyes closed. His archangel translucent and luminescing.

Skip this excerpt if you don’t want to read about Harrison eating hair!! i’m sorry!

Harrison picks a bundle of fallen hair from the dustpan. It’s airy from being recently shampooed, smells faintly of pear, maybe even ginger. This hair, touched by a woman, or a few women, and cut by one, or a few, in different contexts. Eliza’s hands deveining the roots, and then Suzanna’s, trying to fix them. So Harrison eats it. That bundle like a toothpicked cube of cheese. He puts it in his mouth and swallows.

Lonan watches like he’s unconcerned. He watches this feral animal—Harrison must be something feral, starved of something and ravaged by that hunger. Chewing mouthfuls of hair like that will quell of him of what is missing, if there even is anything missing, something unidentifiable in this bland circuit of New York City, this time-loop of sonhood, this fresh start a dousing of flatness. As Harrison eats, he understands he consumes that something like it’s holy communion, reuniting with that something by absorbing it. And still, that hunger moves him, from finishing the dustpan of hair, and closer to Lonan.

“Do you think I’m a bad friend?” Harrison asks, wringing the corner of his lips clean from loose hairs. From this perspective, Harrison on his knees collecting hair, Lonan’s eyes look bluer. Maybe their saturation has nothing to do with the angle, but Harrison feels this is true; his eyes are so crystalline, they are temptingly edible. Like two plump blueberries. Or a matching set of clear glass marbles. Harrison swallows. He repeats, “Do you think I’m a bad friend?”

Lonan swallows, adjusts his grip on the broom. “We’d have to be friends for me to answer that.”

“Aren’t we?”

And here’s the rest of this scene!

“You’re my mother’s friend,” Harrison says. “She trusts you.” He crawls closer to Lonan. “You’ve got secrets. Rituals. Tell me her favourite finger-food and who she wants to marry.”

“I don’t know your mother that well.”

Harrison wraps a handle around Lonan’s ankle. A muscle there jumps like a dolphin breaching the water. He’s memorized this plane of skin, could rebuild it from single grains of sand while blindfolded. He furls his hands across its surface, unfurls.

“You garden with her,” Harrison says. “You share a plate for dessert.”

“She’s kind to me.”

“You cook her breakfast.” Harrison tugs on Lonan’s ankle, knowing it won’t raze him, knowing he’ll come down anyway. “You know the exact temperature she drinks her coffee down to the last digit.”

“I’m trying to be hospitable.”

“You’re trying to be a son.”

Lonan kneels. Crouching so they’re huddled over each other, so it’s nearly impossible to distinguish one body from the other, which one sinks, which one rises.

“My mother’s only got one son to live with,” Harrison says, his voice thin from a clogged throat. He reaches for Lonan’s scalp, scrapes a line down the centre, now an even plane of cropped hair. “And it isn’t me.”

“You’re unstable,” Lonan says, burrowing his face either into a cabinet or Harrison’s shoulder—neither can tell. “You won’t let yourself have friends.”

Farther, toward the tile they go, a pile of hair scattering. “My mother wants me to forgive you by replacing me with you.”

“She’s grieving,” Lonan says.

Harrison loses his hands. He doesn’t know where they disappear to, if he touches skin or tile. “I haven’t died,” he says. Skin or tile. Skin or tile.

Here’s an excerpt from scene C ft. this memoir bit from the time I was shocked that this university I visited had real FANCY teabags:

Lonan brews tea. Earl grey, from a tin. Harrison doesn’t know why he expects it to come from a bag. An individual paper sachet, or if he’s lucky, one of those fancy ones woven from nylon. But it’s from a tin. Two teaspoons into the bottom of a single mug they pass back and forth, wordless at the kitchen table. Strung in the bathroom, Harrison’s t-shirt hang-dries, nearly figure-like, an unfilled phantom. He tugs a throw around his shoulders and stares at his hands. Each crest of cuticle. Each bulb of knuckle. Each maze of fingerprints.

He is material. This is fact. Not just outlines. He’s got skin that goes pinkish when pinched, a pulse that juts from his wrist, two eyes that burn at the scent of lavender, ten fingers. But as he holds his hands up, studying them in the faint moonlight, it is difficult to believe his tangibility. In the city, he has lived as a haze. Fogging over grocery stores, eateries, nondescript. Fresh start has always implied an air of zest, a zing that should have fueled him to plant roots in this restart. But Harrison is rotten, aphid infected, overwatered, underwatered, then not watered at all. He flexes his fingers. He pops the joints. He tries to press his pinkie to the back of his hand. But none of this brings him back to himself. His hands continue feeling like someone else’s. His body invisibly marred in some way he can’t reverse, disconnected in retaliation.

Harrison reflecting on his relationship with his mother:

Suzanna has never left him alone this long, and to her detriment. He imagines her now, living the life she always should’ve lived, the life she lived before he crosscut his way to her most important thing. She’s probably at a salon, having her hair twirled with a round brush, making dinner reservations at some place always too expensive for two (extra points if it has a French name, more if she has to wait a half hour before getting a table). When she talks to her stylist, she doesn’t mention a son, but plans to travel up the west coast, all the way into Canada if she’s feeling adventurous. She’ll buy crime novels she’ll never read at duty-free, reapply a lipstick that cost her a paycheck in the reflection of a hand-dryer. After the salon, she’ll meet a woman at a wine bar, converse about children, and still not mention a son. Suzanna’s singleness will be a celebration.

The boys finally trucing it out <3

When Harrison finally opens his eyes, Lonan is staring at him. His eyes two reels of the Pacific. They cycle in blue. So much of him has changed, and yet he is still the same. Beyond the haircut, Lonan isn’t that much different. He can’t be much different. But as Harrison searches, splaying his palm on the wet table, he knows this is untrue. Lonan is hollower than he was last summer. A little more haunted. They have this in common, then.

“Can we be friends?” Harrison asks. With his pinkie, he finds himself writing against the damp table just as he did Lonan’s scalp not too long ago. Lonan’s gaze follows each loop of each letter, Harrison’s steady left hand.

Lonan is consumed studying what Harrison has written, where each letter connects in near-cursive scrawl. After a moment, he nods, once, twice, and then reverts to staring at the table’s new inscription. On its surface are two words: something held.

The boys in the car like old times <3

Lonan drives. This is strange because Harrison has not seen Lonan drive a car in over a year. Usually, Harrison takes the wheel, but tonight he guides them through the city, in search of Suzanna. His car is clean. This isn’t unexpected. A cherry-coloured hatchback that rattles whenever he makes a left turn. It smells vaguely of cotton air-freshener and the undercurrent of cigarettes.

“You still smoke?” Harrison pokes at the plastic nob for the radio, and it crackles to life. Synth and electric guitar pulse in 4/4 time.

“I bought it used.”

They’ve agreed to get to know one another while they search for Suzanna. Another restart, some attempt at an honest hour. As Lonan changes lanes, Harrison pokes open the car’s glove compartment. A tin of nicotine gum falls on the mat. A hot pink feather pokes from underneath the driver’s manual. Harrison hauls out both, runs the feather along the gum tin, then the back of his hand, and then Lonan’s cheek. When that rouses nothing, he unlocks the tin and removes a slit of gum. Right as he’s about to pop it in his mouth, Lonan says, “I wouldn’t eat that.”

“Why?” Harrison asks. “Did you lace it?”

“Like I said, I bought the car used.”

Harrison puts the gum back, and then the feather. He sticks his hand farther into the glove compartment, feels around until he drags out a map of the state, bilgy and half torn. He unfolds it, careful to avoid the rips, and flattens it against the dashboard. Almost immediately, it wilts against the cold, faded from time in the sun. It’s been marked up. Half with pencil, half with a red ballpoint pen. After a few minutes, Harrison understands the previous owner’s route. Or at least he does at first. Following the red pen arrows, they started at Long Island, then reached Manhattan. Then a much longer arrow takes him from Manhattan to Geneva, and then Buffalo. And then the red pen circles, once, twice, three times, four times, and what is in the centre doesn’t even have a city name. What it does say is HELP, in all-caps, each letter then melting into an illegible scrawl. Harrison sees bits of words: Luke, woe, hands, clay, guard, stray, each wobbly and disappearing into the other, becoming cities of their own, destroying others. He tries to understand the route, but the farther he pours over the map, recircling each line with his finger, the more lost he gets in the ink.

“Is this your map?” Harrison asks. There is no proof that it is. Even the handwriting is all wrong. Ragged. Confused. Desperate. Not like Lonan’s careful, hesitant print.

“Like I said, I bought the car used.”

“But is it your map?” Harrison asks again. Gently, he creases the paper and then slots it back into the glove compartment. Outside, they pass three convenience stores in a row, a flock of couples emerging from a bowling alley, tipsy and cradling leftover deep dish pizzas and mozzarella sticks. They pass two more convenience stores before Lonan finally answers.

“I was confused,” he says.

“This is more than confused,” Harrison says. “It’s disturbed.”

“I’m not disturbed.”

“But something is wrong with you.”

Lonan slows at a crosswalk. A group of teenaged girls whisk by in glitter and lip gloss.

“Yes,” he says.

This is Harrison trying to stop Lonan’s nosebleed after their bizarre swerve which I think is kind of <3 tendy <3

Harrison reaches for him. One hand on the back of his neck, and the other reared toward the red stream. His touch is tactful, so faint his fingerprints wouldn’t even be left behind, but still, the dabbing with his jacket’s hem is enough to redirect the blood’s flow from Lonan’s upper lip to the cuff of leather. The radio is still on, garbled like an unmassing of crepe paper lanterns.

This is the final excerpt for this update that takes us to the very end of the chapter! Harrison has just found Lonan supposedly head-first in the sink and though he asks at first why he is doing that, takes an alternate approach as the chapter closes:

Harrison gets up, his knees popping like gnawed bubble gum. He decides he will handle Lonan at a distance, if he chooses to handle him at all. Like a timid pet owner trying to tame their suddenly-rabid yorkie. Like a friend not trying to tip the full glass. To let its contents film at its surface, but never spill.

Somewhere in the apartment, Suzanna probably listens to them. If Harrison didn’t know her better, he’d imagine her pressed neatly against the door, waiting to hear the shuffle of their bodies or the tang of an argument. Instead, he imagines her at the kitchen table, gripping a glass of water for so long, half of it evaporates.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Harrison says, stepping back until his spine hits the counter’s lip. He curls his fingers under the granite. Looks toward the window, now a faint periwinkle. Lonan heaves. His fingers caging his face, an animal restrained. They stand there until the sun rises.

So that’s it for this gigantic update! I have like four short stories to update you on so I hope to be back soon!

—Rachel

#writing #writerblr #amwriting #writeblr #fostered #mothwork #writingupdates #feedinghabits

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refriedweeb · 4 years

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I MISSED YOU QUITE TERRIBLY (SHINSOU + FEM!READER FLUFF)

A/N: I’ve been feeling sad af about my love life lately so the next few pieces are gonna be fluff and love and soft feels bc I need

Prompt: You had a long, sad day for absolutely no reason. Shinsou picks up on this the second you’re through the door and knowing what it’s like to be on the outs mentally, he takes care of you.

Word Count: 2,183

There were some days where you were just sad. For no reason at all. There didn’t need to be one because sometimes the mind was just cruel, and there was nothing you or anyone else could do about it. It hadn’t mattered whether you had a good day, a great day, or even an okay day. Sadness was something that didn’t care about how happy you were in the moments before, it only cared about showing up to pull your day down like an metaphorical rain cloud over your sunny day.

Today had been one of those days for you. Nothing had gone the way you planned or expected, and it seemed like one thing after another just unraveled any survival of a good mood. The media was full of such negativity, what you consumed warping into negative thoughts about yourself. Those negative thoughts about yourself transformed into reliving sad pieces of your life in the years prior, lost friendships and loved ones that always made your heart feel a little heavier. It’d been a slow day at the agency for you, thankfully your district’s criminals seems to know that you needed a day of simple rest. The paperwork you had done droned on and on, however, and you felt trapped in the proverbial vortex of negative thoughts, emotions, and experiences.

By the time you left your agency, you’d been fighting back tears. Nothing had happened specifically, and maybe that was why you were so frustrated by the overwhelming emotion you felt. If there was something you could pinpoint as the reason for your sadness, for the tears that bit at the corner of your eyes, you could have fixed it. But it didn’t work like that, and you were stuck with the emotions you didn’t know how to handle. The trip back to the place you shared with Shinsou Hitoshi was a long one, a lonely one. All you wanted to do was fall into your bed and sleep away the remainder of a shitty day, and fall right into his arms.

Shinsou might not have been the best at speaking to his emotions, or even getting you to talk about yours, but he never judged you for the bad days you had. Never asked you to explain anything that didn’t come easily. He never better than most the weight of a bad mental health day and how it could change the trajectory of anything positive you had going for you. He had spent most of his middle school career and time at UA dealing with the crisis of his desire to be a hero with the conflicting public opinion he was bound for a path with villains. It’s warped how he viewed himself, how he presented himself and interacted with others. Such a way of seeing himself was something he’d been trying to unlearn, especially now as he was a hero, but taught perceptions of yourself never lifted as easily as you’d expect. So, yes, Shinsou understood that some days were just worse than others and your brain could be an awfully cruel thing when you’d done nothing wrong to provoke it.

He’d been home for a while by the time you returned, seated in the large love seat of your place with a book he was idly picking through. He’d lazily just finished turning the page, one finger moving the ear of it when you walked in. Shades of lavender and amethyst colored eyes flickered up to look at you, his expression narrowing as his brows pulled over his sunken eyes. “Welcome back, love.” It wasn’t hard to pick up on your dejected emotion. It practically hung over you in the physical realm, and he closed his book. He uncrossed his legs, leaning forward in his chair. When he spoke next, his voice was soft, absent of the usual snark that you usually greeted one another with after a long day away from your security. “Everything alright?”

You finished hanging up your coat and turned around. The expression on your face was one of a pout, and Shinsou couldn’t help but think you looked like a little child who had been told they couldn’t have a cookie before dinner. A moment of pause lapsed between you before you answered. “I’m sad today.”

Shinsou let out a little hum and pushed himself to his feet. You, on the other hand didn’t move as he strode over to you, your lower lip starting to wobble with the tears you’d been holding back on the commute home. Wordlessly, Shinsou wrapped you into a hug and pulled you close to the well defined muscle of his chest. Immediately, you were overwhelmed with the comfort of being close to him. The smell of soap, sea salt, and smoke. It was a smell that was so intrinsically him you didn’t think you’d be able to associate those smells by themselves without thinking of him. His hand wrapped around your waist, the other smoothing down the back of your head. A sniffle escaped you, only causing him to squeeze you tighter against his form. “I know, love.” he whispered, his head turned in to kiss at your temple. “I know it’s hard.”

You clung to his shirt, the material fisted in your hands. Unable to hold back the tears any longer, you buried your face into his chest and dampened his t-shirt. Shinsou didn’t say anything, but kept you cradled tightly into his chest for what felt like a lifetime. He rocked you from side to side, shh-ing you when you tried to talk to explain yourself, to apologize for being such a mess. It wasn’t anything he wanted to hear, because he wasn’t bothered by it. Your emotions to him were valid. Anything you felt regardless of why you felt it mattered to him, and he wouldn’t have dreamed of trying to nullify any of what you were feeling in that moment. To Shinsou, you were one of the most important people he’d ever had in his life. Anything he could do to help you, to continue loving and supporting you, he’d do in a heartbeat. His head rested on top of yours, a small smile on his face.

How many times had you done this for him? It seemed like an endless string of times he’d come home just as dejected and sad as you were. And each time, without fail, you wrapped him up in your arms, having pushed him down onto his knees so you could embrace him fully, get into the same positioning you were in right then. Whisper the words of affirmation that he needed, that he wasn’t wasting his time, that he mattered, that what he did in the world mattered. He’d always thought it was impossible to be loved in a way that existed for everyone else because of his quirk. You’d come along and changed everything about that within a matter of months, and since then Shinsou hadn’t looked back. Didn’t want to. He let out a low breath, pulled back so that he could look at you.

His thumbs grazed over your cheeks, under red and puffy eyes from the tears you’d cried. The sight of you, someone who he respected and thought was so strong and indestructible looking so innocent and small, made him smile. “Come on, kitten, let's get you into bed.” His voice was gentle, and he leaned in to press a chaste kiss against your forehead. He waited until you nodded. Once you did, Shinsou scooped down and hooked an arm around the back of your knees, picking you up bridal style.

As he walked you to the bedroom suite, you buried your face in against the juncture of his neck. Breathed in that lovely smell of him once more, fingers idly playing with the lilac hair at the nape of his neck. This was all you’d wanted, all you’d needed after having such a down reason. With Shinsou, you felt safe. You felt protected and cared for in a way you hadn’t experienced with relationships past. Frankly, you couldn’t imagine your life with anyone else.

Shinsou dropped you onto the bed with an uneventful plop, before he motioned for you to lift your arms up. You followed his command, unable to look away from him as he took the hem of your shirt and hoisted it above your head. Tossed it unceremoniously onto the floor. He pressed a kiss to each of your collarbones as he reached behind you, unhooked your bra and did the same toss over his shoulder. The nonchalance of his actions pulled a small smile accompanied with a small burst of laughter. His heart fluttered, and he leaned in to kiss you on the mouth before he went to his dresser and pulled out a worn in t-shirt of his that he saved for working out. Shinsou walked back to where you had been situated, taking a slow moment to appreciate the form of your body. One of the things he loved about you, but not the thing he loved about you. The t-shirt fell over your head and arms, the opening hole of the top getting stuck over the top of your head. A chuckle passed between the two of you as he gave it a tug before it fell shapelessly around your torso.

“Up, love.” You obeyed, Shinsou squatting down to undo the button and zipper on the pants you wore. As he pulled the material down over your legs, he kissed the fronts and sides of your thighs. He wasn’t trying to initiate anything, that subject matter the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. The pants were also tossed without a care. You flopped back on the bed, clad in one of his shirts and your underwear, staring up at him as he ran his thumb over your cheek before disappearing into the bathroom. He returned a short moment later with a warm, wet cloth that he ran gently over your face. “Because I know you hate sleeping in your makeup and waking up feeling gross.” he murmured, lavender eyes leaned down to your level as he reached out with it. One hand held your chin gently, the other massaging the cloth of your eyes, cheeks, and forehead as the makeup wiped away. Bare faced, cheeks and eyes still pink from the tears you’d been crying, Shinsou didn’t think you looked any better.

“There,” he said, also tossing the wash cloth to the side. Then, it was his turn. He pulled his shirt over his head, leaving you to watch the contortion and pull of the chiseled out muscles of his torso and arms. He caught you staring, and shook his head as a blush crept over his cheeks. His pants followed shortly after, leaving him in a pair of cotton boxer briefs the color of deep teal. You reached out a hand, your fingers trailing over the smattering of indigo hair that ran from his naval and disappeared under the waistband of his underwear. The muscles of his abdomen constricted, and Shinsou reached out and took your hand from where you’d been tracing, kissing it instead. “Not tonight, yeah?”

He already knew you weren’t up to the usual ruckus you two caused when having sex. Tonight he just wanted to be gentle with you, to hold you and all that sadness you’d carried around during the day. And you knew you weren’t exactly up for a wild night spend between the sheets, either. You just liked to touch him. Not disappointed, you crawled under the duvet of your bed, looking behind you as Shinsou crawled in after you, the duvet tucked behind him as he settled in. Pulled you back against his chest and enveloped you in his warmth once more. His hand melded with yours, fingers intertwined as he pulled you closer. The warmth of his bare skin ran through the shirt you wore, and you started to feel the heaviness from the day melt away. It wouldn’t eliminate it by any means, but it certainly lessened it. This was something Shinsou knew, and he pressed a kiss behind your ear, nuzzled in against you.

“I love you,” you said, cradled in the warmth and safety of the person you loved. The person who loved you back just the same. Your eyes started to grow heavy, and soon you were fighting to keep them open.

“I love you most.” Shinsou murmured in your ear, his tone one that was fighting off sleep just the same as you were.

Moments later, you were asleep. Shinsou, though growing more and more tired himself, still awake. But he didn't mind listening to the sound of your breathing as it deepened, as you relaxed against him entirely. He was more than content to just lay there with you in his arms, satisfied with life in that moment that he’d been able to help you in some way. Eventually, his eyes lost their battle to stay open, and he drifted into a dream world all his own.

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spinningtop397 · 2 years

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Christmas Eve at the Italian Villa

Note: the fic’s not exactly 100% but it’s christmas and there’s no buster fic in over a month but hey why not. also i might edit time after time. there’s another note at the end.

Dorothy Sebastian drove herself on the streets of Hollywood. She stopped on account of the red light to look at the wreaths hung on every lamp post. Dorothy loved the holiday season. She would fill up a taxi cab with gifts and then drive through Hollywood delivering them. When she got the invitation from Buster and Natalie to come over to their villa to help decorate their Christmas tree with their friends, she was happy to be included. However, Dorothy believed it would be a stupid idea to come along since she and Buster were romantically involved.

Sebastian was worried that his wife would make a scene by asking her questions like, ‘Are you having an affair with my husband?’ or something like that. Buster had confided in Dorothy in the past that Natalie was usually the jealous type and would be unlikely to berate them in front of 7-8 people since Buster was trying to keep his affairs discreet.

The car reached his mansion in Beverly Hills at 8 in the evening. Dorothy saw William Haines and Marceline Day enter the mansion before she parked the car in the garage with the others. She picked up a medium box from her car and carried it to the door. The one who greeted the guests was Constance Talmadge. “Dorothy!” Constance called upon seeing the dark-haired actress. “So good to see you!”

“I’m doing better thank you,” she replied before the youngest Talmadge woman let her in.

Dorothy was led to the sitting room where she brought the attention of the rest of the guests, out of pity for her mental health. The tree wasn’t up in the room but there were stockings already hung by the fireplace with the initials embroidered to represent each family member; B, N, J, and R.

Dorothy and Marceline talked about working with Buster Keaton. “Spite marriage was going to be a talking picture but MGM couldn’t do it.” Dorothy said, “At least they are going to make him a talkie now.”

“On cameraman, the original ending had Buster smiling at the parade but nobody liked it so it was reshot.”

Shortly after Dorothy put down the box, Buster came into the room with his wife. “Natalie and I are glad you all could make it,” Buster spoke. "Don't worry if this interferes with your holiday plans. This won't take too much time as long as we work together."

Natalie passed out the overalls for the ladies and Buster gave the men green aprons. “The boys are asleep upstairs so please no loud noises,” she warned them.

Keaton and Norma blew the string of balloons. Dorothy was passing the ornaments to Marceline to have her hang them on each branch.

Someone at the party hung a mistletoe on the arch at the opening of the room. Norma and Gilbert were surprised to notice the mistletoe and kissed right there. buster and natalie were under the mistletoe but buster only kissed her in the cheek, because she didn’t want anything more than that.

Dorothy brought out the candy canes from her box and placed them on each stocking.

Everyone sang as they decorated the room including John Gilbert who didn’t care if his voice was good or not.

After work was done, the sitting was full of Christmas spirit.

Buster slipped a note into Dorothy’s pocket. She had walked out of the room to unfold the tiny piece of paper. It said ‘before you go, meet me on the east wing. If i knock, you knock.

While the guests are coming home, Dorothy sneaked to where the letter was instructed to. She waited by the entrance until she heard a few knocks, she then knocked back.

“I’m glad to see you again Dorothy. I’m sorry to hear about your nervous breakdown. You seem to be alright now.”

I don’t know I had some hard times lately. The 20s are a bit hard for me.

“Darling, I’ve been through worse. I had a studio where I made films whatever I wanted to. After MGM, they won’t let me direct and the worst part is that they took away my creative input starting with the next picture.”

“Oh, poor Buster.” she patted him in the back

“Well, it wasn’t all bad. At least I met you” Buster smiled.

“I’m glad I met you too.” she followed his expression

“Dorothy close your eyes.”

She obeyed him, at his command she opened them to see his arm raised. Dorothy looked up to see that Buster held a mistletoe above her. Her smile became more bashful. He kissed her. She rested her hands on his cheeks to secure the kiss.

Their lips parted, Dorothy’s face blushed, “Merry Christmas Dorothy.” he said.

“Merry Christmas Buster.”

Note: Merry christmas everyone! I hope you had such a lovely time. I like to thank the tumblrs who appreciated my work , even if isnt written well. Have a warm cozy feeling even if there aren’t any snow!

#Buster Keaton #busterkeaton #buster fanfic #buster keaton fanfiction #dorothy sebastion #actor RPF #silent comedy #christmas #the holidays

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mariuspunsmercy · 3 years

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woodvale: the 3-act musical anthology

So I've been doing a lot of listening to both folklore and evermore and my theatre-junkie brain has crafted 3 different storylines composed of the songs from each album that all overlap in one big story - Woodvale: The 3-Act Musical Anthology. It tells the story of various heartbreaks and healings in a small town - 'cause to me, that's what these albums boil down to.

A few other things:

Though each story seems self contained, I picture the characters from different stories to be somewhat linked, by blood, acquaintance (i.e Dorothea, Inez, James are siblings, Betty is Ada's daughter, etc.)

The acts don't necessarily happen in a consecutive linear fashion (i.e there singular Coney Island trip where everything from each act unfolds)

I've linked the playlists for each to the act title! I'd love to hear feedback, criticism, interpretations and thoughts - I plan to flesh out characters, plot, and maybe dialogue as much as possible, and even hope to get to thinking of staging.

ACT I: that's the thing about illicit affairs

the last great american dynasty - Abigail Lark, the bold and free-spirited 30 year old granddaughter of local historical celebrity Rebecca Lark, introduces the tiny town of Woodvale and Rebekah's legacy there.

cowboy like me - After getting caught in the storm on the way from buying her long term husband, Henry, a birthday present, Ada Lawrence runs into the down-to-earth Monroe Jacob at the neighborhood tennis court and the two... Share A Moment.

tolerate it - Ada finally arrives home and, like usual, is not greeted by the absent-minded Henry -she contemplates how much she is truly being valued in this relationship.

ivy - Weeks pass and Monroe shows up to the Lawrence household ... because he's the gardener Henry hired to fix their backyard for the next few weeks, and while Henry is preoccupied, Ada accompanies him out to the woods and they find themselves entangled with each other, more or less.

the lakes - Monroe and Ada have been secretly seeing each other for quite a while now, and tell each other how much they want to run away from their unhappy marriages together.

hoax - Este, Monroe's wife of 3 years, wonders why her husband has not been as physically or emotionally present in her life as of lately, and begins to come to a heartbreaking conclusion.

invisible string - Some time passes, and Ada and Monroe's affair continues, and they are incredibly happy together. Ada especially is putting all her faith in this man and is willing to risk it all for him.

no body, no crime - Este tells her best friend Abigail about how she thinks Monroe is cheating on her. After Este mysteriously disappears and a mistress begins visiting Monroe's house more frequently, Abigail takes it upon herself to avenge Este's heartbreak and death.

epiphany - Ada mourns the unexpected loss of Monroe along with all the others she had suddenly lost in the past - it doesn't get any easier.

mad woman - Abigail reflects on the gravity and consequences of her unhinged crime, but tells herself that this type of strength and vengeance is what her "take-no-shit" grandmother Rebecca would have wanted.

illicit affairs - While they're both at Monroe's grave, Ada finally comes clean to Henry about the affair, coping with the anger, memories, loss, and questions of morality - while Henry is just shocked.

coney island - Months later. Henry and Ada take a trip to Coney Island, separately - it's a nostalgic place for the both of them. They contemplate the apologies they would've said to each other if given the chance, while Monroe and Este's ghost linger in the air between them.

ACT II: what a shame she's fucked in the head

dorothea - After seeing her face on a movie poster around town, Sylvia thinks about how much she misses her longtime childhood friend and on-again off-again-lover Dorothea, who moved out of Woodvale to pursue acting after they both graduated.

seven - Weeks later, it's a bright summer day on Coney Island and Sylvia and Dorothea both run into each other. Sylvia asks Dorothea to hang out with her and calls upon all the fond memories they once had together, and it's clear that she still has some feelings for her - but Dorothea does not seem to want a relationship at the moment.

'tis the damn season - MONTHS later, over winter break, Dorothea finds herself back home at Woodvale to visit her family, and decides to message Sylvia to finally meet up - things escalate from there, and Dorothea decides to give her and Sylvia a chance.

peace - Dorothea finds herself unexpectedly falling deeper in love with Sylvia, but warns her that she has struggled with self-worth and mental health in the past, and that it may be difficult for them to have a "normal" relationship, and Sylvia understands and accepts this.

champagne problems - Some more time passes and Sylvia finally decides to propose to Dorothea - but she isn't ready - rejecting Sylvia in front of all her family, friends, and hometown.

my tears ricochet - Sylvia tries to cope with the immediate anger from the rejection from someone she had always loved, and Dorothea tries to cope with the anger towards herself for not being able to commit to a good relationship.

marjorie - Dorothea is overwhelmed, lacking support from her hometown, friends, siblings, and father (who had never really supported her love life anyway). She tries to find solace in what her late mother and best friend, Marjorie would think.

the 1 - A few weeks after the breakup, Sylvia is still trying to process her emotions and move on - why didn't it work out between them?

this is me trying - Dorothea takes the train back to Woodvale to apologize to Sylvia - ever since the fallout her mental health had declined, she stopped acting, and she moved farther away. She puts her honest self out to Sylvia, who's astounded and speechless - who acknowledges this apology while accepting that it wasn't the best for them to be together.

happiness - Dorothea and Sylvia separately reflect on their failed relationship, but somehow both know that they will heal individually over time.

ACT III: back when i was living for the hope of it all

long story short - Woodvale High school junior Betty has an unfortunate reputation of failed relationships and "sleeping around", but despite her bad luck with guys, she has finally found the handsome, popular James, who's she's been dating for a while and is incredibly happy with.

gold rush - High school senior Augustine runs into her schoolmate James, who she hadn't seen in forever, at the class Coney Island trip over the summer, and doesn't remember him looking that beautiful last time they talked...

mirrorball - Though Betty is thrilled to be in a new relationship, she is afraid that she'll mess this one up. She opens up to James about her complex worries, and James is reassuring but is secretly unsure about how to deal with this pressure.

willow - James begins seeing Augustine on the side, while still remaining in this relationship with Betty - juggling the two girls back and forth, unknowingly to the both of them, as they become further involved with him.

august - Augustine acknowledges her hopeless romantic attitude and how it's both helped her and hurt her in her relationship with James - then she finds out the truth about him and Betty.

betty - News of James cheating spreads around the school like wildfire, and James contemplates his mistakes, planning to go to Betty's seventeenth birthday party to try to apologize.

cardigan - After denying James' apology, Betty reflects on how used she felt upon hearing the news, and how she has been hurt once again by someone she trusted.

exile - It's been months now - at the winter formal, Augustine sees James, James sees Betty, and Betty sees but refuses to acknowledge James - but they are all hurting.

closure - Augustine receives a text from James, officially apologizing for what he did and checking in on how she is. She is reminded about how wrong she felt about being the person someone cheated on someone with.

evermore - It's December 31st, and James and Betty are in their respective homes, hyperaware of the lack of each other's presence to ring in the New Year together. Because they both acknowledge why the relationship failed, they can take this experience as a lesson to move forward and mature.

#taylor swift #folklore #evermore #woodvale #ts8 #ts9 #ts10 #woodvale theory #folklore and evermore

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mychaptersarebeautiful · 3 years

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Rose colored glasses and what they are NOT.

I feel like I have had the worst string of bad luck and I don’t know what I did to cause it. One after another: my health, my finances, my property, my job, my relationships, all decided to gang up on me at once. I won’t give the dirty details but that’s the gist of it. All in about 3 months time.

And the biggest thing that has annoyed me was when people tell me this:

“Look at the positive! You’ve got other stuff going for you!”

And my normal response is to want to punch them in the face.

But I talked to my crisis counselor about two days ago. I was ugly crying, incoherent, but all I could manage out was I don’t know what to do.

And he gave me the most simple yet almost annoying response.

“You did the right thing. You’re talking about it.”

Um. I can do literally nothing else but talk about it. I feel like I’m at rock bottom but there was a trap door. Literally everything is going wrong right now and the big solution was to talk about it???

But when he said that, it made me stop and think. Especially with what the straw was that broke the camel’s back. I walked out of my car that morning to find someone had hit the front of it and the bumper was hanging off. At the time, my reaction was that the car was totaled and the world was on fire. I broke down after the police officer left, talked to my mom and talked to my counselor. I didn’t know what I needed to hear but I needed to hear something because I was not okay. I cannot catch a break.

Depression and anxiety and other mental illnesses are like a single colored pair of glasses. If you’re looking at a paper with red and blue scribbles and your glasses are red tinted, all you’ll see are the blue scribbles. Before that moment my glasses were tinted with negativity and that’s all I could see. Every bad thing on that paper was all that was there.

My thoughts to anyone ever saying, “look on the bright side!” have probably been similar to anyone reading this. Neurotypical people are those who don’t need glasses to correct their vision. They can see both sides for what they are. Just like someone who’s colorblind, you can’t tell them to see something their eyes are literally unable to see.

So the whole “looking at the world through rose colored glasses” is a bit tricky. I can’t just flip the switch of my view of how things are and suddenly be cured. It takes work and patience and help and kindness for yourself to see the world for what it is: a conglomeration of good and bad. And it’s not successful off the bat.

I regularly forget my regular glasses are even on my face and I can’t see without them. And to tell me to read a sign about 6 feet from my face without them is a waste of time.

You don’t need rose colored glasses. You need glasses that correct your vision and allow yourself to see EVERYTHING in front of you.

In short, the bad doesn’t go away. But neither does the good. And anyone can tell me, “I have nothing going for me.”

If you have blurry vision, I would say to see an eye doctor to help you get glasses. And for mental illness, I would say to see a psychiatrist/psychologist/therapist or SOMEONE to help. Medication, cognitive behavioral therapy, talk therapy, any sort of treatment to help you see the world for what it really is.

So don’t go out and get rose colored glasses to fix everything. Get the glasses you need to keep going.

#depression #anxiety #bipolar #suicide prevention #mental illness #mental health #mental health awareness #hope #recovery #medication #therapy #jesus loves you #i love you #you can do this #you got this #you matter

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buck-nialled · 4 years

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Hello my love, I was wondering if you could write something about Y/N struggling with her mental health and has really bad anxiety and/or depression, especially during this quarantine, and she’s too stubborn and independent to realize just how much she needs Niall’s comfort?

here’s 2.15k words of some good ol’ fashion angst for you anon. btw i don’t write sad shit too often but I hope you like it! (dont hate me if its bad pls)

Fix - N. Horan Imagine

The prescription, even at its highest dosage, did little to calm your nerves. All the accumulated energy you had built from being locked inside all day was not the best aid, either. Even with all of the time in the world to do whatever you wanted in your shared house with Niall, the thing you craved most of the time was letting your eyes shut and having them stay that way. Lately, it was a lot of wishing yourself to be unconscious as you tossed and turned, letting the darkness paint everything around you black while your insides felt as though the sun was still hanging in the sky. The memory foam that always felt like you were floating on a cloud was now a solid block of cold concrete you were stranded on.

Eventually, you would give up in the night—well, actually morning—around 3 o’clock and just lie beside your boyfriend, who was missing your body enclosed in his arms. That was another thing you were lacking lately. Intimacy with Niall, as badly as you missed it, seemed to numb you at just the thought. Every time his arms embraced you in a crushing hug, or he brought your body closer to snuggle into him while lounging on the reasonably-sized sectional, your throat contacted, the invisible danger lodged within it made you feel queasy.

So the hugs became shorter, so he would not feel your body begin to tremble when you were underneath him.

When you feared he could feel how fast your breath was on his bare skin, you moved off but sat as close as you could while still feeling some comfort.

One morning, Niall’s electric eyes peeled open to greet yours, bloodshot and baggy. He lets out a sigh as the teeth you bare at him are not consistent with what your eyes were displaying. Niall has tried comforting you through it all, without you even having to ask. But these “brilliant” ideas he has conjured to keep you perky and alive were doing little to no good. Just this past week he cooked your favorite meal, which was only left on the plate to be tortured by the prongs of your fork pecking at it. Another day, he saw you reading a book to yourself on the couch and thought he would join you with his guitar, and your favorite songs to accompany the two of you as background music.

Upon you sighing and shutting your book, Niall looked up to see you retreating to the bedroom, the book still in hand. The pick’s arousing the strings of Niall’s acoustic guitar came to an abrupt end before his voice filled the silence that followed. “Where are ya going, petal?” His ears almost didn’t catch the response you mumbled about the music being distracting before shutting the bedroom door behind you, making Niall’s heart fall.

Secluding yourself was something you did instinctively, especially in these fits. But the fact that this virus was forcing you to seclude yourself with another person so willing to do without complaint drove you mad. Stumbling into the conjoined bathroom, the book fell from your hand with a soft thud to the carpeted floor before your feet met the cold tile. In only moments, your body (adorned in a hoodie and leggings) was overcome with goosebumps. The lump in your throat returned and felt more prominent than ever before, and you crouched in front of the toilet to dry-heave. You were not surprised that nothing came up, you were barely eating anything this past couple of days. Only small snacks like granola bars and a few pieces of fruit kept your stomach occupied until dinner, where Niall had begun to limit the portion sizes for you because his fridge was nearing combustion by how many leftovers were put away for “later” but never touched by you again. Tears sprung and began falling from your eyes and made the clear water below you ripple. Your reflection, a pink, sobbing nebulous beneath you made you feel pathetic. You knew had to compose yourself before Niall became too worried to let you out of his sight.

Later Niall opened the bedroom door, where you isolated yourself for the last few hours to find you beneath the comforter eyes trained on the book before you which Niall had perturbed you from earlier with his—

Music. His ears perked up at the faint sound of a loud melody playing. It was when his eyes caught the earbuds sticking out of your ears. He felt deceived, and the emotion would be easily detectable on the boy’s face, had you not been so entranced in both the story in your hands and the songs blocking all noise surrounding you. Niall decided you would not miss him for a short twenty minutes while he walked and left the house with only his phone in hand.

The sound of the front door being closed harshly over the beat in your ears caught your attention. Glancing up, you notice the closed bedroom door was now left cracked slightly open, and you tried peeking through it to see if Niall was near. When you did not, you tried calling out his name.

“Niall?” It was quiet, way quiet. He probably would not have heard you even if he was seated right next to you. You take a deep breath and try again. “Niall?” Your voice reaching a volume that high almost felt foreign to you, but it was a little above how you normally talk—or, talked. After getting no response for a minute or two, you decided to explore the apartment yourself for him.

You meandered through the rooms, eyeing the refrigerator you had not given so much as a peek inside for these last couple of days. The television, replaying the same golf highlights as the weeks prior. At the end of your tour, you find yourself standing before the acoustic guitar Niall was plucking at earlier. Curious, your hands reach out to feel the thin wood neck, your thumb grazing the taut strings Niall spends minutes out of days tuning to absolute perfection.

You thought of his rough hands, and how you remember them always feeling smooth and soft on your skin. Why did you begin to feel disgusted by that idea all of a sudden? Not even a month ago you two were all over each other like his hands were permanently attached to your body and thinking back to that, you would not have complained at that. Now just his presence, breathing feet away from you made you bothersome.

“You want to learn to play?” Niall’s voice, now eager at his girlfriend eyeing the instrument made her turn to face him. It slightly startled her, and her mouth dropped open for a moment, not knowing what to say. She wanted to fix herself, she really did. But she did not know how, and something she has been afraid to admit to Niall is how he has a bad habit of fixing everyone in his life when it is truly not necessary on his part.

“I-uh-“ your mind, hazy from lack of sleep, food, and other probably other essentials you have seemed to shrug off these past weeks was left scrambling for words to say.

“Here, let me teach ya.” He rushed over to the guitar and set the strap over your shoulder before you could protest. On his walk, Niall realized space was necessary at some points in a relationship. But when he caught sight of your eyes on his guitar, the exciting proposal to teach you how to play just bubbled out of him before a confronting sentence could. You swallowed hard as his fingertips grazed your arms and made goosebumps rise on your skin.

“Niall, I—” your voice comes out a hoarse whisper, and you were gradually becoming overwhelmed at the sight of your boyfriend racing around your figure.

“Okay, so you want to put your hand here, and…your arm here—”

“Niall it’s okay I was just—” He ignored you, too caught up in setting your arms and fingers in the right places. The touch sent tingles through you, and it made your teeth clench. How difficult was it to see you did not want to do this.

“Now…” He came up behind you and pressed his body into yours, making your breath hitch. Your heart rate picked up, and you felt your stomach distorting within your body. But it was not how it felt a month ago when he was holding you the same way he is now.

“Niall, can we just stop—” Your mumbled plea was barely heard, and the heat washing over your body from his own was a thick blanket suffocating you. It was the fire and the smoke coming up to choke you. It was the lump in your throat back again, building until all that could come from you was—

“JUST STOP, NIALL!” You screeched, as your hands which were in the C major chord position reached up to thrust his hands away from your body. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, and you yanked the guitar off and over your shoulders. You roughly shoved it in front of your body for Niall to take. Perplexity, hurt, but most of all, callous was what ignited Niall to grip his guitar and yank it back towards himself in the same way you offered it.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” You could not pinpoint the exact emotion his voice was trying to convey, as you paid most of your attention to the fact that it was not a usual nickname, he called you that was used. Not even shortened to something smaller, but your full first name. You knew you messed up then, but you were still too blinded by anger and fatigue to give a damn who was right.

“You can’t just do that!” You accused.“Touch you?” He scoffs. “I can’t touch you like I have been for years now—”

“No, this! You can’t just decide out of the blue to fix this! It’s supposed to be mine to fix!” Your voice crackled through the air and your eyes felt moist with the new influx of tears ready to trickle down your cheeks. Your head was pounding, but you were unflagging in your exclamations. “I was supposed to be fine being inside twenty-four-seven because I should have plenty of things to keep me occupied! I’m taking the highest dosage Lexapro offers so I should be fine and not worrying you, right?! I should be handling all of this perfectly, but that’s clearly not what’s happening because I’m standing in front of you crying like an idiot. For these past few days eating felt like an inconvenience but I knew I needed it, I couldn’t even get two hours of decent sleep in this week and the thought of you even near me this past couple of days just ticked me off but I can’t do anything to make it better and all I want more than anything is for you to hold me—"

Your voice broke and was muffled as Niall brought you into his hold once again. You had so much more to say, like how you should not be another inconvenience he has to fret over. You wanted to keep screaming at how many times you tried fixing it for yourself but just couldn’t. Maybe it was screaming that just made you feel a little bit weightless, but all of it pacified through racked sobs and tears soaking into Niall’s shirt.

“It’s okay to not be okay, love. I’m not ashamed of you if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m your boyfriend, it’s my job to help you through things, even this. I know you don’t think about it like I do but your happiness is one of my top priorities. And it ruts like these, if I can find something to make your day even an okay one, I’m going to. You don’t need to hold yourself together for my sake. Letting go is always acceptable if that’s what you need” You nod into the cloth clinging to his body. Your hands subconsciously slide up his torso to squeeze his shoulders, and you tilt your head up to meet his eyes. “Deep breaths. Your sadness is mine to fix, just like mine is yours…yeah?” You take a few deep inhale through your nose and out through your chapped lips as Niall instructs, and shake your head once again.

His hold on you as warm as you shook, like the knitted blanket your mother gave you. It was the fireplace and the hot cocoa he made at Christmastime in Ireland that makes you moan in satisfaction. It was the butterflies in your stomach that you have not felt in months, but it seemed even longer than that.

And before you could even question the lashes, like weights on your eyelids, your eyes closed on their own accord. And there was no interference from you or Niall as you let them.

wow what a sad one that was! if you want a fluffy chaser to this request, feel free to leave an idea in my inbox! or, take a look at my MASTERLIST :)

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highly-opinionated-ramblings · 4 years

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Batshipping masterpost

Sometimes asking yourself the question “what would it take for me to ship these two characters together?” helps you come up with really really good stories that you otherwise might never have thought of!

Very fun writing exercise. Do recommend.

ANYWAY. I like Batman, so I asked myself this question about him, and these were the results!

(Featuring: Catwoman, Riddler, Twoface, Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Azrael, Mr. Freeze, Clayface, Superman, Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, Flash, Green Lantern, Green Arrow, and Aquaman)

What would it take for me to ship Batman with that character? A few key ingredients:

If they are/were a villain, a redemption of sorts. A slow process of coming to terms and actively deciding “yeah, that’s not who I am anymore.”

A connection, a distinct moment where they’re able to talk to Batman as more than just an old enemy or a League ally. A spark that generates interest in developing the relationship further.

An establishment of explicit trust. This usually comes in the form of Bruce revealing his identity to the other and trusting them (maybe tentatively at first, but even so) not to give it away.

An introduction to the kids. I am one hundred percent positive that this is, for the vast majority, not a voluntary action on Batman’s part. But if you raise nine kids to be detectives, you can’t expect to keep secrets from them for long! And once they know you’ve been sleeping with that former villain, you’re going to have to justify that to them somehow.

Then the whole cycle starts again as the villain redeems themselves in the eyes of the kids and gains their trust and acceptance too. Good stuff.

Note: my interpretations of these characters are entirely my own and by no means do all of them line up with any sort of canon. I just sort of do whatever.

Also: some of the bullet points below address some of the mental health problems in the villains, so proceed at your own discretion.

Catwoman: I really like the Gotham tv show’s dynamic between Bruce and Selina, which is to say, they were childhood friends with an early attraction to one another, but had a falling out sometime around the very beginnings of Bruce actually becoming Batman. She spends a few years as a professional thief. He sends her to prison a few times. But eventually she settles down and opens up a casino or whatever, where she deals information under the table. Alfred and the kids know her these days as an ally rather than enemy. So it’s just a matter of her realizing that her attraction to Bruce is deeper than originally assumed, and that if she wants to be with him she has to really dedicate herself to that idea, and for him to realize that she’s being serious and that he needs to prioritize spending time with her over obsessing over his work.

Bruce takes his mask off dramatically, saying something along the lines of “it’s me, Selina” and she’s like “yeah I know.” “What?” “You do this thing where you pace back and forth and nod your head up and down when you’re thinking. Never known anyone else who did that but Bruce Wayne.” “...Oh.”

Childhood friends interpretation is also great because Alfred already knows her and likes her. And she has all these embarrassing stories about 14 year old Bruce to share, which means that even the most resistant of the kids warm up to her right away.

Riddler: the first line in his Arkham file is that he has an obsessive need for attention. And Bruce KNOWS that. But it takes years for it to occur to him, incredibly sleep-deprived and staring down one of Ed’s death traps that he really, really doesn’t want to deal with today....what would happen if he just, y’know, gives it to him? The attention that he wants? And the results are instantaneous. It’s like the floodgates are open and Ed just can’t stop talking. It starts out snide and derogatory, the same way he usually talks to Batman, but the longer it goes on the more it deteriorates into something oddly helpless and vulnerable. Bruce has been so used to cocky, swaggering Ed that it never really occurred to him that this was someone suffering, who needed help. So he sits down and does his best to convince Ed that he’s not going to take him in (how many times has he been sent to Arkham? And what good has it done him, really?) and they talk. He leaves out of necessity (bank robbery in progress, says Barbara’s voice in his ear) but he goes back the next day, and again after that. Ed gets attention from Bruce without having to resort to crime to get it. Bruce gets a break from head busting and an outlet for some of the stale energy inside his head. They tell each other riddles and play strategy games and get to know each other, for real this time.

Ed stops worrying so much about proving that he’s smarter than Batman. Instead he channels all that energy into uncovering Bruce’s secret identity. It’s just another one of their games. Bruce has kept that secret for a long time and he’s confident he can keep it up, but Ed’s always alert waiting for him to slip up, to leave a clue

Option 1 for how he finds out: he sets up an elaborate trap, making it seem like he’s in danger and the only way to save him is for Bruce to take his mask off, so he does. Ed is outraged. “REALLY? BRUCE WAYNE? FUCKING REALLY?” he yells, dropping all pretense of being in danger. The robots he made for this setup drop like puppets with cut strings. Bruce gets ready to Fight.

Option 2: Some other villain reveals Bruce’s identity before he gets the chance (Arkhamverse style). Ed is outraged. “HOW DARE YOU LET ANYONE ELSE BUT ME DO THAT” he yells while Bruce tries his best to ignore him and focus on calling the JL to fix the whole situation somehow

Option 3: Bruce just tells him. Ed is outraged. “I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE ONE TO FIGURE IT OUT YOU IDIOT”

The kids are Not Happy about Bruce dating Gotham’s Most Annoying Super Villain

Twoface: again I gotta go with the whole ‘they were friends when they were younger and Bruce had a raging crush on him’ setup. Cause that adds a whole layer to Bruce’s part of the story, watching Harvey become Twoface and assuming responsibility for locking him up every time he gets out. One day something happens in Gotham- string of murders or something, it’s not important really what it is. Bruce goes after the person responsible and his trail leads him to Harvey. So he busts into the safe house, intending to intimidate anything Harvey knows out of him, and then throw him back in Blackgate. “Ohohoho, noooooo, you got this all wrong,” Harvey says when he figures out what Batman’s getting at. “That motherfucker put a dozen of my men in the ground. This is personal. You want me to tell you what I know, you’re going to take me with you.” And Bruce agrees. Cause he knows Harvey’s got a certain moral code that he can be trusted to stick to, and it’s the most painless way of getting what he wants from him anyway. Working with Harvey is weird, though. He shoots a couple of goons going after Batman and gives him that lopsided smile, says “I’ve got your back,” and suddenly Bruce is like 20 again and Harvey is bringing him a coffee, smiling. During their chase they have a dramatic rooftop showdown with whoever it is they’re chasing. Bruce turns around just in time to see one of the thugs push Twoface over the edge. He gets caught up in the moment and practically screams, “Harvey!” Of course, he’s able to dramatically swoop in and save him, though it’s a pretty close call. When Harvey comes to he sits up and says quietly, “It’s been a long time since anyone’s called my name like that, did we have that kind of relationship?” and Bruce panics and tries to brush it off as his imagination, but Harvey shakes his head and says “once you’ve seen it, you can’t unsee it, man. It’s you under there, isn’t it, Bruce?” And it turns out that knowing Bruce’s real identity turned out to be exactly what Harvey needed. Cause he can identify some of the duality he feels about himself in Batman, now. They spend some more time together, talking some of that out, and it doesn’t take long for Bruce’s crush to return en force.

Poison Ivy: He lets her go. He knew she was at that scene, and she knows he saw her, but he lets her go, cause it wasn’t a big deal. No one died, relatively little property damage, and that jerk deserved it anyway. The next day there’s a potted plant sitting on GCPD’s doorstep and they call Batman thinking it might be dangerous, but it’s just a lovely specimen of a rare flower, which he knows is her way of saying thanks. (He doesn’t let the police know that, though. He just puts it in the back of the Batmobile and tells them it’s nothing he can’t handle). He takes it home with him and treats it well. And she knows it, can kind of sense it, distantly. They have a few more run ins over the course of the next few months and they take it easy on each other, having this sort of mutually unspoken agreement. Eventually something happens for her to need to talk to Batman, so she digs her roots in deep and finds that flower...in the garden at Wayne Manor. She leaves a message for Batman and they meet up and talk about whatever she needed. She doesn’t mention the Manor, so he asks about it. She just shrugs and mentions something about Bruce Wayne’s recent efforts in protecting the environment. “Maybe we’re not as different as I thought, after all.” They give each other more little presents from afar. One day she sees him hanging around (where she knows he knows she can see him), and drops by to talk. He offers her a ride home and ends up spending the night.

This one I think he owns up to before the kids can figure it out. Pam’s a good source of information, and if he was desperate he’d call her even with all of them watching. They’d all think he’d been bewitched, of course. It’d take a while to convince them all otherwise.

Harley Quinn: all it takes is for him to get his first glimpse of the real her and decide that Joker victims need to stick together and help other Joker victims. After the breakup and the subsequent recovery, she’s living free (albeit under Constant Surveillance) in Gotham, and he checks in every once in a while, just to make sure she’s doing ok and not reverting to her previous, Joker-driven, rocket-fueled bad habits. One day there’s an incident in her neighborhood- maybe someone was going after her and Bruce was there protecting her, or maybe it wasn’t related to her at all. Regardless, it’s her who finds him after the explosion and takes him home and gives him first aid. He’s groggy and panicky when he first wakes up in a strange place (not a hospital, not the cave) with an IV drip in his arm (he’s not in a hospital, where did that come from!). It gets worse when he realizes that his mask was blown right off his face in the blast. It gets SIGNIFICANTLY WORSE when Harley appears in his field of vision, waving around a tablet pulled up to Bruce Wayne’s wikipedia page, in full psychologist mode, ranting about how he’s been going about dealing with his childhood trauma All Wrong. But they talk, and she promises not to give his secret away. “What would I have to gain from that? You’d stop coming to visit me then!” It takes a while for the two of them to figure out exactly what’s going on between them but once they’re both sure the others’ intentions are good, they develop a good, strong relationship.

Bonus points if, at any point in the above time space, she walks up to him one day and hands him an unmarked usb drive. “What’s on this?” “My daughter.” “What.” “My daughter! Her location and everything about her.” “Is she...Joker’s?” “I dunno. Could have been him or any one of a number of other guys. Mistah J threw some really wild parties. *shrug* The only part that really matters to me is that she’s mine. And if anything ever happens to me, she’ll need someone to look out for her, y’know?” “And that’s me???” “Well, helping people in need is one of your compulsions, after all. Especially kids, or else you wouldn’t have so many of your own.”

I usually imagine Jason as one of the ones kind of sticking up for Batman, citing how crime has all but disappeared since he started sleeping with whatever particular villain and that who are they to police who Bruce shares his bed with anyway (BONUS bonus points if he’s just entering the early stages of coming to terms with his own bisexuality and never realized that Bruce was bi, too), but that wouldn’t be the case with Harley. He’d feel pretty hurt about that, I think. On the other hand: Dick has been around since Harley’s debut on the scene, and has always thought of her as relatively harmless and even respected her to a degree, as a fellow acrobat, so he’s cool with her dating Bruce

Azrael: His JL team goes on hiatus for a little while, so he calls Bruce up like “uhhh, I don’t really have much of anywhere else to go, so can I come back to Gotham for a while?” And Bruce tells him that they’re actually experiencing a pretty calm stretch for a change, but yeah, he can come if he wants. At first he’s excited because he’s never been invited to the actual, og Batcave, but there really IS nothing going on. He meets Alfred, who offers him tea. He meets Steph and Tim, out of masks, lounging on the couch playing Street Fighter. They assure him that if literally anything happens, one of their gajillion alert systems will let them know. He goes off in search of Bruce, finds him sitting at the kitchen table making his way through a veritable mountain of paperwork. Eventually he admits that he doesn’t really know what to do with himself in the downtime. “I usually try to use time like this to do things for Bruce Wayne, instead of for Batman,” Bruce explains. “You should do something for Michael Lane, while you have the chance.” “But...but...but I’ve been Azrael full-time for years now...” “Alright, well, what did you like to do before you were Azrael?” “UHH...” Before he can short-circuit too much trying to come up with an actual answer to that question, Bruce puts aside his paperwork and takes his arm. They get in the car and Bruce takes him to like a hobby shop or something. They buy model kits and a cookbook and some yarn (”one of the kids can teach you”), and he promises that one of these days they’ll clear some space on the lawn to play football. Michael hasn’t experienced this level of anyone caring for his well-being probably ever? and all he can do is stammer something about “is there anything I can do for Bruce Wayne in return?” “You can keep me company while I file all my paperwork, I guess.” So he sits at the table across from Bruce and builds his little ATAT model kit feeling happier than he has in a long time. Bruce can tell that a little more attention would do him good, so they spend some more time hanging out which leads to having some deep conversations and building up feelings for each other, it’s all very cute

Right at the beginning of Michael developing his crush on Bruce he realizes that something’s different, but doesn’t quite realize what it is, and his mind jumps to the worst case scenario right away. He locks himself in his room, calls Bruce at work, panicking, and says he thinks his St. Dumas brainwashed obsession with Bruce might be coming back. Bruce tells him to calm down, they’ll run some tests. All the tests come back negative, but Michael is visibly shaken, so Bruce offers for him to hang around Gotham a little longer so they can monitor him, which is what leads to his extended stay in Gotham

Mr. Freeze: One day something changes. One day the realization finally, finally clicks into place. There’s a huge floating JL base in the sky and aliens living on Earth and people coming back from the dead and healing from miraculous injuries and plagues all the time. If it was going to happen to him, it would have happened by now. It’s over. Nora’s not coming back. That day he laces up his boots and loads his gun and walks over to the little diner on the corner and wrecks it. Batman gets the call, and obviously he knows that something’s different, this isn’t Vic’s MO, but he goes anyway, of course. Vic blasts away at him with his freeze gun, wildly, recklessly, screaming and ranting the whole time. Bruce dodges out of view, and Vic transfers his aggressions to the nearest object in sight: a table. He blasts that thing in half, and then in half again, and keeps going until it’s nothing but splinters and he’s just standing there, gasping for breath. “Victor,” says Bruce from behind him, “tell me what’s wrong.” “Nora’s dead,” Vic mumbles under his breath. Bruce comes around to face him and Vic is looking at him with THE SADDEST puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen. (I know what you’re thinking right now. “Mr. Freeze can’t do puppy dog eyes.” You’re WRONG, I’m telling you) “That’s the first time I’ve ever said that out loud, I think... I d-don’t...I don’t know what to do…” and Bruce is like, darn, I can’t take this fool to jail. So he brings him back to his chilly lair instead and sits him down and talks him through it a little. Leaves him with a phone number to call if it gets real bad again, but makes the first call to check up on him later anyway. This one is a sloooow burn, it takes Vic MONTHS to get over Nora, couple weeks to realize he MIGHT? be developing feelings for Bruce, couple more weeks to wrestle with the guilt of that. Learning Bruce’s identity is the thing that really brings all of it to a head. Maybe there’s an attempt on Bruce Wayne’s life and later that day Batman shows up with the same pattern of lacerations on his cheek, or broken leg, or whatever. Vic’s not an idiot. He can put two and two together. When Bruce finally takes off the helmet in front of him, it’s a huge relief. To be able to say “I know what it’s like to lose people” and for Vic to know he’s not just talking about heroing. They get closer and closer from there. Their relationship is a weird one, with a lot of compromises to make, but they do the best they can.

The kids don’t particularly mind Bruce going out with Vic. He’s not so much a villain as he is just a guy who’s been dealt a bad hand in life and done the best he could with it. But having around makes the already-cool cave soooo much colder, which isn’t so fun.

Clayface: There hasn’t been an incident with Clayface in years. He’s older, little calmer, little more mature (I like the New 52 plotline of him joining Kate’s crime busting team, but this little scenario works even without that part thrown in). Still, when Bruce hears he’s back in town, he figures he should probably pay him a visit anyway. Just in case he’s planning something. But he goes to the address he was given, some apartment building in Kingston, opens the door, and finds Basil. Not Clayface, Basil Karlo, sitting in a chair by the window reading a paper. “Haven’t seen that face on you in a while,” he says, still unsure if it’s a trick or not. “Oh,” Basil shrugs, unsure if he should be worried about being tossed in jail again or not. “Well, it’s my face. The one I’m most familiar with, takes the least amount of concentration to keep up with. I did make some changes, though, see? Few gray hairs, few lines on my face. Do I look older?” “Yes. It’s a good look.” He keeps checking in with him, cause you can never be too careful, and then because he actually starts to enjoy Basil’s company. Their relationship is one of the more light-hearted ones on this list. They get wine drunk and make out on the roof of the apartment building, very giggly.

“If I learned anything at Arkham, it’s that there are some things that you know are wrong with you, but there are also things that are wrong with you that you aren’t even aware of, and that you couldn’t identify or fix even if you tried.” “One of the psychologists told you that?” “No. I shared a cell with Tetch for a few weeks. That dude is so much more messed up than you realize.”

Superman: Clark calls him up saying something about a mystery in Metropolis that has everyone stumped, and maybe the World’s Greatest Detective wouldn’t mind helping him out? So Bruce drops by to lend him a hand. The ‘mystery’ turns out to be a group of unfamiliar aliens who’re out to get Superman (I don’t care why. Maybe they’re holding some kind of grudge, maybe they’re bounty hunters, maybe they want to sell him off into space-gladiator slavery, whatever). These antagonistic aliens have been very careful in their preparations- they’ve done all the math, and come up with special weapons specifically designed to hit Superman hard enough to knock him out. But they didn’t plan on Batman being there with him, which throws them off just enough that Superman is able to chase them off successfully. In the midst of that fight, though, Bruce takes a hit. A hit calculated for Superman. It breaks several of his ribs and punctures a lung. Clark panics, scoops him up and flies him to the nearest hospital at record speeds. They’re able to stabilize him at Metropolis, and then they send him back to the Watchtower for further treatment. When he wakes up he’s pretty disoriented and confused, but Clark (who had been listening for a change in his breathing and heartbeat from a couple rooms away) comes rushing in, ushering him back to bed and promising to explain everything. Bruce is woozy and wonky enough from whatever drugs they gave him that he lays back down and lets Clark hold his hand protectively without argument. He listens to Clark’s explanation, mumbles something about calling Alfred, and promptly falls back asleep. Clark feels so guilty about his injury that he won’t leave his side for weeks, even following him back to Gotham once he’s well enough to leave the Watchtower.

“God, when will they finally just kiss already,” Jason says, taking cover with the rest of the family in the cave. “I know, right,” says Steph while Tim, Cass, and Duke (and Alfred) all nod in agreement. “SHUT UP,” yells Damian, having a hard time adapting to the idea of his dad and his best friend’s dad getting together

Any Superbat is good Superbat but I enjoy it best in the context of ‘they’re old enough by now to be embarrassed about how angsty and competitive they were when they first met, and they both have huge extended families, and the rest of the JL has been watching them dance around each other for YEARS, JUST KISS ALREADY DAMMIT’

Wonder Woman: I don’t usually imagine Bruce as a flustered kind of guy, but Wonder Woman is everything he wants to be when he grows up and he can’t help it. She’s so effortlessly cool, calm, and collected. And she’s a natural charmer, the public loves her. She always manages to come at things with a fresh perspective that has helped unstick his too-logical train of thought numerous times. She paid him a compliment once and he sat in the batmobile in the parking lot thinking about it for like twenty minutes. One day they get assigned to a League PR thing together that turns into an assassination attempt (surprising no one), but everything turns out ok. Minor damage to the surrounding buildings, a few people injured in the mass chaos, that’s all. She goes looking for him after returning from talking to the local cops, and finds him with a toddler girl on his hip, holding hands with her six yo sister, helping them look for their parents. And she just has to stop and marvel for a minute at how soft his voice is??? How the toddler isn’t even crying??? He bends down to hug the little girl bye after returning her to her fam and Diana almost has a heart attack. “I see that the gods have blessed you with an affinity for children of all ages,” she says. By the time he straightens back up he’s Batman again. “What do you mean by that?” “I can never get kids to warm up to me like that in situations like these...I always thought it was because I was just too big and imposing. How did you do it?” “Oh. Well. You know. *gestures vaguely* You just gotta give them what they want.” “And what is that?” “Security. A promise of safety from an adult that they can trust.” She doesn’t quite get it but she watches him, and talks to his sidekicks sometimes. It amazes her how much kindness and love are hidden under that mask of his. When he smiles from the heart he could melt glaciers. So she starts to press, just a little, just to see how he’ll respond. And once she figures out exactly how flustered he can get, too, it’s all downhill from there.

Martian Manhunter: This one is literally one of the sweetest, most pure relationship dynamics I think I’ve ever written, which really caught me by surprise! The way I think of it is like this: When they first meet, Bruce is really, really uncomfortable with the idea of having J’onn in his head, so J’onn tries to keep telecommunication with him to a minimum. So when Bruce gets his attention during like a meeting or something and subtly lets him know he needs to talk, J’onn knows it must be important. So he opens up a private channel and helps Bruce deal with whatever it is (I don’t know exactly what that would be, only that it’d be some kind of sensitive topic best kept between the two of them). And over the course of that, all those one-on-one mind convos, Bruce starts to get used to talking like that with J’onn. In return, while they’re working together, he helps J’onn get used to human physical contact. It starts with small things- handshakes, little pats on the shoulder- until J’onn is comfortable returning them. One day J’onn has a bad day and it’s Bruce that comes to find him, to comfort him. He doesn’t really say anything, just puts his arms around J’onn and holds him close. Most humans- and hell, even most Martians- wouldn’t have done that for him. What else was J’onn supposed to do but fall in love with him?

I really liked the scene in JL8 where J’onn was trying to, like, share a memory with Bruce or something, and instead he ended up unintentionally stumbling into some of Bruce’s trauma memories, which freaked both of them out pretty badly. I think that little scene would fit quite nicely into this scenario. Bonus, if it happens in the really early days of the League, it doubles as the moment when J’onn first learns Bruce’s secret identity.

Flash: It’s been a longtime headcanon of mine that Barry is very active in the Central City community, not just as Flash, but as himself, too. Namely, he spends a good deal of his free time volunteering with the local homeless shelter slash food bank. I mean, come on, just by the very nature of his powers, is it any surprise that he has a vested interest in ending hunger in his community? One day he stops Bruce in the hall in the Watchtower, and clumsily explains that he needs to ask a favor. The shelter has been looking to expand their operations for some time, but right at the last second one of their backers pulled out. They’re short 7k for the payment on the property they needed to make tomorrow, and Barry didn’t know where else to turn to get that much money that quickly. He promises to pay him back, somehow, eventually. Bruce cuts him a check right there for 10k, and tells him to consider it a gift. Later he even publicly endorses the program on social media, saying he thinks Gotham should implement something similar. Barry invites him down to see the building he paid for, so Bruce rolls up his sleeves and spends the day volunteering with him. It’s a chance for both of them to see a side of the other that they’ve never seen before. Bruce watches Barry shine like a ray of sunshine, bringing light and laughter to a room full of people at their very lowest. Barry watches Bruce inspire trust and confidence in complete strangers, like magic. Not to mention, that smile- Barry tries not to use his powers out in the open if he can avoid it, but he discreetly flashes over to stop a tray or something from falling, and of course it doesn’t escape Bruce’s notice. He grins at Barry from across the room and Barry’s heart fully stops for a second.

I like to think of Bruce as a little older than Barry. Just a little, just a few years. Just enough that Barry always feels like an inexperienced, incompetent baby in the face of The Batman

This one throws the kids for such a loop once they find out about it. “THIS is what you’re attracted to, Bruce? THIS???”

Green Lantern: what I know about Hal is that he’s sassy. And what I know about Bruce is that if anyone he doesn’t have the ability to tell to go to their room is sassy with him, he gets snippy. So he and Hal butt heads a lot. One day Hal is venting to Superman in like, an elevator or something about how Bruce just Doesn’t Get It, Clark, He Doesn’t Understand Me, and Clark says, “well, Hal, can you honestly say that you understand him, either?” And suggests that maybe he should spend some more time actually getting to know Bruce before passing judgement. Hal takes that to mean ‘maybe I should go to Gotham and spy on Batman for a day’. When he spots him doing his best to hide inconspicuously on a nearby rooftop, Bruce rolls his eyes and ignores him. Dick spots him too, though, and invites him to the cave in hopes that maybe they’ll be able to settle whatever their argument was about (Jason, Tim, and Steph break out the popcorn and get themselves front row seats for the Drama). But in the end, an up-close perspective was exactly what Hal needed to realize that there was more to Batman than had been meeting his eye. He watches Bruce juggle ten different comm feeds while giving a press conference AND directing his kids’ efforts in the field at the same time, and he earns a new respect for Bruce. He gets where he’s coming from now, and why he’s always so cautious all the time. The guy has a lot to lose. So he mans up and apologizes. Bruce accepts the apology graciously, says he realizes that they’re fundamentally different people but that he values Hal as a comrade and respects his prowess with the ring, and Hal is like, ‘ah. We Are Friends Now.’ He spends more of his time on Earth with Bruce, and along the way he trips and falls headlong into a debilitating crush on him. Like, a visibly obvious crush. Bruce finds it adorable.

Green Arrow: Bruce and Ollie get invited to the same billionaire shindig one day and neither of them can think of a good enough reason to not go. Ollie’s recovering from a bad ankle sprain, and Bruce hasn’t slept in days, so instead of socializing with anyone else there they just sit in the corner and hang out with each other. Midway through the event Bruce closes his eyes and does this forceful little sigh through his nose. Ollie knows him well enough by now to know that small outward signs indicate big amounts of internal emotions with Bruce, and this is about as frustrated as he’s ever seen him out of mask. Normally his act is impenetrable. “What,” he asks, imagination running full speed ahead thinking about what might have happened, “what’s wrong?” “Firefly just broke out of prison,” Bruce growls, reaching for a refill of whatever he’s drinking. “Wh- Wait, who?” “Pyromaniac, serial arsonist in Gotham.” “How exactly did you learn this?” (read: do you have some kind of spider sense I don’t know about?) Bruce just gestures to his microscopic earpiece. Ollie offers, probably against his better judgement, to take a trip to Gotham and help catch Firefly. Bruce, barely able to see straight at that point (bad combination of sleeplessness and alcohol), accepts. So Ollie gets the full treatment, a trip to the cave and tea from Alfred and a haranguing from the kids and a trip to Blackgate with Firefly, even. In return he offers to have Bruce over in Star City sometime. Ollie is usually a little on edge around Bruce, but then he starts to see the real him and finds out that he does, in fact have a sense of humor. They have goofy adventures together and it’s all very cute

Aquaman: Arthur is hotheaded and when he gets in a Mood, the sight of Bruce and his stupid unmovable face just makes him angrier. But once during a mission, when Arthur is busy working himself into a panic, not knowing what to do, it’s Bruce that snaps him out of it. Grabs him by the shoulders and demands that he get a hold of himself. And it’s enough of a shock that it actually works- Bruce tells Arthur the plan, and Arthur does it without argument. No one is more surprised when it works than he is. He is SHOOK. Eventually he swallows his pride enough to go up to Batman and admit, “I think I’m still too emotionally invested in this, can you help me?” Bruce agrees, of course. He does his best to explain how he always keeps his emotions in check, especially when lives are on the line. It occurs to Arthur to wonder what kind of toll that takes on a person. He decides that Bruce could probably use a little vacation of sorts, and invites him to spend a day with him in Atlantis. A day in the life of a king, if you will. Bruce rolls his eyes and agrees, just to play along, but he ends up really enjoying it. Yes, there are a dozen-odd irons in the fire waiting for him when he gets home, but this time he finds that he actually has the energy to deal with them for once. Which is a good enough excuse to go back and do it again, and spend more time with Arthur in the process.

Dami is usually super resistant to Bruce dating anyone, but he would be ok with Arthur, I think. Like, “you bagged a king? Ok, respect”

Extra notes:

I feel like a lot of my thoughts about Clayface and Martian Manhunter specifically could also apply to Killer Croc, too, in a way. I mean, he’s not EVIL. He’s just never really been treated like a person, and so he embraced his image as Killer Croc instead of continuing to face that rejection. But if anyone can look past his exterior and see the needs of the man within, Bruce could. Feels a little weird to think about but maybe there’s something there.

Polyshipping is GREAT may I interest you in some ot3s??? SuperWonderBat is one of the more obvious ones, and I love it (cause Diana gets to play with TWO flustered boys) but BatLanternFlash is also top tier. And then there’s the villains! RiddleBatCat is one of my favorites! Also TwoRiddleBat and BruHarlIvy. The possibilities are endless!

I considered adding Lex and Slade to this post, but in the end I left them off. Cause it’s hard for me to see those as anything but weird, inherently unhealthy relationships. They’d make great black ships though : o

When talking about Bruce dating someone else from the JL, there’s DOUBLE the kids to embarrass. Can you imagine you’re like, Roy Harper or something, somebody’s sidekick, and you walk in and find BATMAN in bed with your mentor???? WILD

This post really got away from me, haha. Thanks for reading! Hit me up if you ever need someone to talk about Batshipping with (especially rarepairs, I got you fam)!

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