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szuyiin · 4 days

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⠀⠀⠀⠀ ★ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ PJS : LEND A HAND !!

this is a work of fiction & contains: ╰ PAIRING: bff ! soft dom ! jay x fem ! sub ! reader ╰ GENRE: smut. f2l. uni au. non-idol au ╰ WORD COUNT: 10.1k ╰ SFW WARNINGS: food mentions & consumption, let me know if i missed anything :] ╰ NSFW WARNINGS are located under cut to prevent exposure to unwanted content. you are responsible for what you consume.

SZUYIIN'S NOTEPAD — happy birthday lovely :] (this is a repost from an old blog of mine, this piece is not stolen!) proof-skimmed.

if you enjoy, please consider reblogging my works!

-18'S & AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED !!

ABOUT ★ GUIDELINES ★ MASTERLIST

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ★ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ NSFW WARNINGS !! ╰ use of pet names baby, angel, princess. praising. minimal dirty talk. slight teasing. fingering. protected penetrative sex. please let me know if i missed anything !!

the heavy weight of guilt that seemed to bind itself to your shoulders became more and more unbearable as you make your way down the dormitory’s hall, searching the wall for a very specific set of letters and numbers. although he told you that it would never be a bother to help you - that you could come to him for anything and everything - it didn’t change the fact you still felt as if he didn’t say it with full confidence.

you had always done your best to never take your friends’ kindness for granted, always ensuring you could do various tasks yourself or that you didn’t need the extra help with studying. but unfortunately, the front you put up to feign perfect diligence and organization was bound to fall over time.

you check your phone once more, ensuring that you were, in fact, at the correct dorm before bumping your knuckles against the wood no more than thrice, distinct enough for it to be heard by the dorm’s single inhabitant, but soft enough to not disturb his nearby neighbors.

taking a step back, you can hear a bit of rustling, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you - in a rather panicked state - make sure you even look presentable; the harsh winds between the library and the dorms doing much more damage to your previously unwrinkled sweater than you could have predicted.

the lock undoes itself, and only a second later you see the familiar rectangular glasses of your beloved friend with a smile on his face; a gesture you are surely mirroring to him.

“hi, y/n,” he says, the corners of his mouth curling into a small cheshire-like smile as he opens his door wider. “come on in, you can set your things on my bed.”

in moments like these, you are thankful for jay's introverted ways. if he were to not value his alone time as much as he does currently, you might have had to introduce yourself to one - or possibly even more - residents in his living space.

you nod, following his instruction and slinging your bag off of your shoulder once you make it to his room, letting it sink into the grey comforter sprawled across his mattress. “so,” jay begins, catching your attention as you turn to face where he stands at his doorway. “what is it exactly you’re struggling with? or would you rather save that for later and just, y’know, relax, maybe,” he says, his own tone questioning but laid-back, allowing you the comfort of knowing he is content with either option.

“i think…” you begin to trail off, subconsciously sitting yourself upon his neatly made bed beside your bag, finding yourself wishing to stay there longer. “i think relax, if that’s alright.”

earning a nod, jay smiles fully, showing his teeth as his nose scrunches the smallest bit. “i could use a break from studying as well,” he concludes, making his way closer, grabbing your bag, and carefully placing it on his desk chair. “would you wanna watch something then? i’m sure there’s a new release that’ll distract us for a bit.”

you watch him grab a playstation controller from a mounted shelf and turn on the console before easing himself onto the bed next to you, legs dangling off the edge as you push yourself to lay against his headboard. booting up netflix, he joins you, back pressing against the dark leather frame with a sigh.

“genre?” he questions, turning to face you as you purse your lips into a straight line.

“i’m fine with anything, maybe something that’s like… calm? something that can help with the relaxing mood we want, y’know?” you suggest, earning a nod from jay as he returns his focus to the screen before you both.

scanning through the various movies available, you both settle for one, the controller now on his bedside table as he lifts the covers from under himself.

“i’m gonna use these, but if you want a blanket or anything i can go grab you one,” he offers, sliding his legs under the comforter as the first few scenes of the movie start to sound throughout the small dorm. “or if you’re comfortable with it, we can both use them," he lifts the edge of the comforter, offering you a space to slide in next to him if you wished to; you oblige.

thanking him, you turn back to the movie - trying your hardest to think what could have happened in the short moments you missed - as you find yourself falling deeper into the bed’s warm comfort.

it wasn’t a secret your friend had a difficult time standing up against lower temperatures, so it didn’t faze you much when he bunched up the comforter at his waist, creating a small pocket for his hands to reside in.

even with the distance between yourselves, you could feel some of his body heat radiating off of him, especially along your legs under the blanket where the heat was only amplified. truthfully, the longer the movie went on, the harder it was to keep track of whatever plot there was; something that didn’t go unnoticed by the man next to you.

“you okay?” he whispers, almost as if you two were in a theater rather than his dorm room. “you seem a little out of it, y/n.”

you nod and let an exhale slip through your nose, closing your eyes for a moment before nodding in jay's direction. “i’m fine,” you reassure, but the look jay gave you proved he didn’t believe you.

“i’ve known you for, what? two years now?”

“two and a half,” you interject, earning a shake of the head and a bashful smile.

“either way, i’ve known you long enough to know you aren’t telling me the truth,” grabbing the controller, he pauses the movie, hiking one leg up further to face you properly on the bed. “what’s goin' on?”

he always made it difficult for you to not come clean to him about how you’re feeling, his attentiveness always amazes you. you take a deep sigh, letting your head fall back against the headboard before you speak.

“uni’s just . . . been a lot,” you say, turning your head to the side to capture jay within your view, his eyes trained on your own; how they always were. “i’ve been feeling insecure about my studies, and even more now that exams are coming up. it’s all just been weighing down on me lately.”

while the words you spoke were truthful, it most definitely wasn’t the reason you were distracted during the movie - jay's soft gaze locking with your own isn’t helping the dull ache in your heart. he nods, turning to face the now freeze-frame of a scene on the screen while he thinks of a reply. you could practically see the cogs turning in his brain, wanting to offer you absolutely anything that could help with that insecure feeling you were succumbed to.

“is that why you wanted to come over and study?” he asks, and even though he already knew the answer, he found himself needing to hear you confirm it. when you nod, he hums in understanding.

“i think,” he begins, his hands freeing themselves from the comforter-cocoon they had occupied up until this moment, laying them atop his legs as the comforter lays below. “i think you need to consider how you feel outside of your workload. i’ve seen your agendas every now and then, and i’ll tell you, that’s a lot of shit for one person to do in the amount of time you’re given.

“i think you need to take off-days like this more often. allow yourself to be worry free for even just a few hours. let yourself recharge and, y’know, get that needed energy back,” he turns back to you, a soft smile on his face. you could tell he was trying his best to console you - an action that was admirable within itself. “maybe this is a sign that we should hang out again; watch movies together or go out more often.”

you chuckle, the sound of his soft, shy laughter accompanying your own. “maybe i should follow that sign, then,” you conclude. “thank you, jay.”

“you know that you don’t have to thank me,” he replies. “you’ve helped me many many times since we’ve known each other. the least i could do now is help you when i can.”

“you still deserve to be thanked.”

“if it helps you sleep at night, then you’re welcome. now-” he readjusts himself to face the television again, grabbing the controller. “are you actually interested in this movie? or should we do something else, 'cause i can not tell you a single thing that’s happened within the last, like, twenty minutes.”

you raise your brows, a smile playing on your lips. “what’s got you distracted? we talked about me; it’s your turn now.” jay lets out a deep laugh at your eager tone, shaking his head and letting his bangs fall over his eyes, still protected by his glasses.

“nothing to tell,” he shrugs, your eyes squinting at him in disbelief, causing him to laugh again. “just have some things on the mind.”

“school stuff?” you inquire, noting how he shakes his head negatively.

“nah,” he says. “just some other things.”

“jay,” you call. at the mention of his name - in a much more stern tone than you rather call him with - he turns to you once more. “you can talk to me, you know that right? like you said; you’ve helped me so many times, it’ll never be a bother to do the same for you. we’ve been friends for two and a half years-”

in the middle of speaking, you notice his gaze falter. how his brows lower a bit and how the curl at the corners of his lips straighten out just a tad.

“-so trust me when i say that you can count on me, always.”

although to yourself it felt as if you were preaching, you knew jay wasn’t getting that impression, seeming to hang on to the end of your sentence as he processed it all.

“i’ve been thinking a lot about my relationships with people. which ones are the most important to me, stuff like that,” he seems to mimic your exact actions as you had when explaining your internal dilemma - leaning his head against the headboard as he closes his eyes.

“don’t worry, though,” he starts again. “my relationship with you is one of the ones i value the most. i’ve grown to really appreciate what you do; i want to keep you in my life for as long as you want to be in it."

his words pull at your heartstrings, a soft yet prominent chill running up your body - subconsciously reaching your hand to grasp his within your own, your thumb running along the backs of his knuckles.

“jay,” you say, drawing out the last letter as he cranes his neck to see you, a small smile on your face at his kind words. “i want to be with you as long as i can be. our relationship is important to me, too.”

he smiles at your words, bringing his gaze down his lap and watching as your fingers begin to play with his, finding himself turning his hand palm-up and weaving his fingers with your own.

the atmosphere felt much more serene, jay getting off his chest what he’s been feeling for quite some time - even if it was incredibly indirect as well as disguised as a dilemma with every relationship rather than just the dynamic between you two.

with your vacant hand, you grab the controller, saying how you’ll choose the movie this time because you “have an eye for this kind of thing.” jay didn’t argue, he simply watched as you navigated through the movies on screen, and he could help the way his heartbeat increased watching you use the controller with only one hand in favor of keeping the other locked with his.

the air conditioning starting up stirred you awake - unbeknownst to you that you had even fallen asleep in the first place. the dull hum wasn’t the cause of you waking, but rather the gust of chill air that flooded the dorm at an alarming rate.

the movie you had selected was now complete, other recommendations on the dimmed screen, indicating it was close to going into sleep mode. you don’t bother to grab the controller from the other side of jay, seeing as he’s sound asleep as well and you don’t wish to disturb him.

sitting up slightly and angling yourself towards the window, you notice how a blanket of darkness seemed to envelope your campus, small stars peeking through and illuminating the otherwise black sky. although you had just woken up, the sight of the calm, serene city was enough to make your eyes droop, allowing yourself to lean back into the pillows, getting in a more comfortable position to sleep. surely jay wouldn’t mind me spending the night, right? you hope.

you lull yourself back to sleep, the warm embrace of the blankets being too welcoming to ignore. all is quiet until you hear a soft groan, followed by blankets shuffling beside yourself. realizing your own rustling might have woken up your friend, a pang of guilt slices at your chest, heart racing as adrenaline courses through you at the possible confrontation from a grumpy jay.

instead - and to your own shock - jay shuffles closer, perhaps chasing your body heat and pulls you to his side, one arm snaking under your waist while the other simply rests atop your stomach. the pressure was light, barely even there as your body stiffened under his touch.

he most definitely was unconscious - that was something you easily concluded by his even breathing against your shoulder; perhaps if you weren’t as taken aback by his sudden closeness, the soft rhythm would help aid you in your slumber. unfortunately for you, you were - in fact - taken aback; but not disappointed with his closeness - why you feel that way is something you would much rather address with yourself in time, even if the answer has always been at the forefront of your mind.

where his hands lay limp previously now are digging into the soft material of your sweater in an attempt to pull you closer; you knew he was just trying to get warmer, but the action still caused a heat to rise within you.

haphazardly, you try to help; maneuvering yourself onto your side facing him and wrapping your arms around jay without disturbance. thankfully, the plan proved to be successful, your body now pressed against his torso as your cheek rests on his chest.

his hands - with such natural instinct that it made your head spin - splayed across your back, fully extending his fingers to gather as much warmth as he can as well as keep you securely pressed to himself. his legs found their way tangled with your own, effectively trapping you against him.

you didn’t have it in you to readjust for three reasons. one: you knew he needed the warmth - his complaints about being cold so often and pulling his sweater sleeves over his palms as if it’s part of his daily routine being enough evidence of such. two: you didn’t wish to wake him, knowing that the mental strain he’s enduring is surely tiresome, not to mention his school workload and job on top of it all. and three - and while this one is incredibly selfish - you’ve always wanted to be this close and comfortable with him.

he’s never been a big physical touch person, at least not with you. and it sent an electric shock through you whenever he grabbed your hand to guide you somewhere or put a friendly arm around your shoulder. that same electric shock rose within you at this - albeit being much calmer now as time progresses forward.

with his gentle breathing and steady heartbeat against your ear, you feel your own begin to match his rhythm, falling back into a deep sleep while in the arms of the man you have been secretly pining over for the last few months.

when you finally awake once more, it’s to the sound of footsteps. the light shines through the window as you sit up, the blanket falling into your lap as you take in your surroundings - and most notably - the empty spot beside you.

your back arches as your arms stretch above your head, fishing your phone from your sweater pocket - that you happened to leave there, not expecting yourself to fall asleep or even spend the night at all - and noting the bright 8:14 AM on your screen.

reluctantly, you rise from jay's bed, feeling as your muscles adjust to being used after remaining idle for a few hours. smoothing your sweater, you waltz into the main room, hearing a noise from the small kitchen located within the dorm.

assuming it was jay, you proceed, prediction proving itself to be correct as he moves swiftly around the kitchen. he catches you standing in the doorway from the corner of his eye, his gaze landing on your slightly slouched form only a moment later.

“good morning, sleepyhead,” he beams, reaching into the cabinet to grab another mug and setting it beside his own. “coffee?”

you shake your head negatively. “i think i’ll just go for water right now, thank you, though.”

jay nods, instead moving to his fridge and pulling out a water pitcher and pouring it into your mug. after placing the pitcher back and handing your cup to you, he continues with making his beverage of choice.

slowly taking a sip, the cold drink jolts your senses awake - something you were quite thankful for in this moment, jay clearly ready to start his day while you’re still adjusting to the sudden light.

“did you sleep okay? i tried not to move too much once i woke up,” he says, giving you a side glance as he continues preparing his coffee. there wasn’t a grand distance between you two in the cramped kitchen, but enough to have small details slip past if you weren’t looking closely.

and closely you were certainly looking, taking in each hair that stuck out of place from moving in his sleep - and probably running his hands through the strands once he awoke - and how his face was still a bit puffy from sleeping; the most important to you was the faint blush that dusted over his cheeks. if it was due to his comment about you sleeping together or a natural morning flush, you were unsure.

if you were to be sure of one thing, though, it’d be how your stomach flipped seeing him with such a soft expression, naturally glowing as he slowly warmed up to the world around himself.

“i slept well,” you reply, eyes shifting away from him as you feel you’ve been staring too long for comfort. “i’m sorry for crashing here.”

“please,” he says, a sense of disbelief in his voice. “you’re always more than welcome to come over, and that includes impromptu sleepovers. it’s really no issue.

“you made the bed warmer, which is always a plus for me,” he adds, finally taking a sip from his perfectly prepared coffee and sighing in content, turning to lean his lower back against the end of the small countertop.

your cheeks heat up at his comment, confirmation that - at the very least - he enjoyed having you there with him and that close. you both drink in silence, choosing to not disturb the calm atmosphere you found yourself in while you enjoy your morning together. as the sun rises, natural light floods the dorm, proving there to be no need for artificial lighting as the day grows.

it felt pleasant on your skin, warmth from the blanket of light that shone down on the both of you; you were content. in your moments of thought, you fail to notice how jay had flicked his gaze toward you, watching with a delicate smile on his face as you slowly came-to.

it was rare he got to see you in such a state, always having changed your appearance in some way from when you woke up once you met him on campus. it was a pleasant change; a change he thought he wouldn’t mind getting used to.

“we should do sleepovers more often,” he suddenly breaks the silence, voice no louder than necessary to address you from a few feet away. “i can take the couch next time, though.”

“you know i would never make you sleep on the couch, jay,” you correct, a half-smile on your lips as he chuckles.

“is that you agreeing to more sleepovers?”

you take a second to ponder on the offer, knowing very well that whatever you currently felt for your best friend would only grow with each night you spend with him. in the middle of your thought, you are forced back to the night prior when jay had confided in you about how he viewed your relationship with one another.

“my relationship with you is one of the ones i value the most. i’ve grown to really appreciate what you do; i want to keep you in my life for as long as you want to be in it.”

you smile softly at the memory, and with an - albeit hesitant - nod, you smile at him. “i think i am.”

if you had known previously how torturous it would be to be next to jay every night, you don’t think you would have agreed to spend every second of your depleting days with him.

he was in no way treating you poorly - it was actually the exact opposite - and that is precisely what made the whole ordeal torturous. showing up only for there to be an extra plate of food for you, even if you didn’t announce your arrival to him (he just knew). whenever he started keeping skin care products in his bathroom, going out of his way to buy new ones specifically for when you stayed over instead of having you bring yours every time. when he cleared out an entire section of his closet and dresser for you to fit your clothes into so you wouldn’t have to keep borrowing his - even if you loved wearing them and he loved seeing you in them.

it’s only been a month and a half since you began staying over a few nights each week, and you could very much feel yourself growing more fond of your friend - the most difficult part was the internalized feeling that it was all one-sided.

you take a deep breath, swallowing the food jay had ordered in for you both before leaning back in your seat. the air wasn’t awkward, but there was a certain tension that lingered, and that was surely to be one-sided as jay continued with his meal, seemingly unbothered.

poking and prodding at the take-out with your utensils, jay speaks up. “are you finished?” he asks, standing and reaching his hand out to take your plate if you chose to give it to him.

“thank you, jay,” you say, handing him the dish as he abandons his own half-eaten plate in favor of washing yours - always a gentleman. in truth, it became harder and harder to be subjected to his kindness, your intoxicated brain taking each gesture as reciprocated feelings; something you know you should not do.

you make your way over to him, fully intending to hug him goodbye when he places the plate in the sink, switching off the faucet, turning around - and with, unfortunately, wet hands - places them on your shoulders to halt your movement.

“why the sudden change of heart? was it the food or me?” his eyes show nothing but pure worry; worry that he had crossed a line he didn’t know was present. although he was right; it technically was because of him, you couldn’t bring yourself to panic him further.

“just not super in the mood to be around anyone, is all. you didn’t do anything, jay,” you reply, and where you had hoped to see the distress dissipate into relief, the concern remained prominent. his sentences are hushed, as if he was scared to even speak them into existence but knew it was something he must do.

“is it something i didn’t do?”

most certainly not, you think. he’s doing everything he should be doing - but he’s doing everything he should be doing for a significant other.

from the way you hesitated to answer, jay concluded it was something he had failed to do. it was obvious that whatever it was, you wished to not speak of it, so he wanted to remedy what he could with what little information he knew.

“is there any way i can fix it?” he asks, voice sincere and pain evident in his tone; the thought makes you gulp.

you’re awfully aware of his close proximity now, hands on your shoulders and keeping you close to him, as if he’s afraid you would vanish; much like how he held you the night before you started staying over and all the times that followed.

“i think i…” you begin, tongue trying to string along any line of words to ease his anxiousness - only a simple sentence comes to mind.

“i think i’m starting to blur the lines with you, and i don’t think that’s something you’d want. . . with me,” you finally breathe out, expecting some kind of weight to be lifted because of your half-confession, but instead you’re met with intense eyes staring back at you and your heart beating against your chest.

he remains gentle, never letting his fingers dig into your clothing or his voice go over a volume necessary - the exact gentleness he’s always granted you with. you’re almost shocked when his lips begin to curl, the corners of his eyes wrinkling and his nose scrunching as he smiles.

“can you be more specific for me?” he asks, now one dry hand - which one-hundred-percent soaked water into your shirt - sliding up to rest against the side of your neck, thumb tracing along your skin while the other remains in its place. “what ‘line’ are you referencing?”

his tone shifted from caring to teasing in a matter of seconds once he picked up on the implications of your words, something that caused your heart to race and pulse quicken; jay could feel such under his palm.

“like the. . . the line with us. the line between friends and. . .” you take a second to finally break your gaze away from him, now offering you a close-mouthed smile as he watches you pick at your brain. “something more.”

“more?” he questions, but from the look in his eyes, you knew he understood what you meant. “i see,” he says, causing your gaze to catch his once more. “you’re upset with what i did do, because i’m treating you like the princess you deserve to be treated as,” his hand raises from your shoulder to cup your cheek, the other staying planted directly above your pulse point, feeling as it rises and falls. “but you’re also upset with what i didn’t do, because i never made anything official with you - said where i stood with. . . us,” with raised brows, he questions you further, hitting the mark directly. “is that right?”

hesitantly, you nod, his hand moving along with your head at the motion. his smile only widens, causing an ache in your chest for a reason you can’t quite name. was he laughing at you or did he feel the same way?

as if sensing your worry, he fills the silence again. “i don’t know if you just hadn’t realized or never took the time to think you’re more than special to me,” he begins, his eyes tracing over each and every feature on your face, as if he’d like to keep the memory of you looking at him forever. “but i don’t treat even my best-est of friends the way i treat you.

“the place you are in my heart- hell, even in my thoughts, isn’t where the rest of my friends are. you’ve taken over your own little spot, and i let you,” he concludes, and while it all sounded sweet, your brain desperately needed something more direct.

“can i kiss you, y/n?” his words shatter your thoughts, pulling you back to reality; pulling you back into your current position of being held in his hands. “i promise i wanted to confess in a way much more personal but- i don’t think i could have gone much longer without telling you. not when you’re here with me, like this.”

nodding, your eyes meet his - finding hesitance within jay's. “can you say it, please?”

the sudden questions causes your skin to heat, and he can feel the warmth travel up your neck and face; something he found comforting.

“jay, please kiss me,” you whisper, and it only takes a single moment longer till you feel his lips on yours. he was gentle, instead of pulling you to him with the hands he had on your form, he stepped forward to lean into you. his lips were slightly chapped, the partially rough texture of his lips a harsh contrast to the soft hold he had.

his lips move along yours, thumbs dancing along your cheek and neck as if to ground you - and grounding is something you very much needed in this exact moment. when you lean into him more, you can feel as he holds back a smile, pulling away for only a moment to fully express his happiness that he couldn’t hold back before quickly pecking your lips again.

“i can’t believe how dense you are,” he chuckles, watching as your brows furrow and an incredibly small pout forms on your face. “did you really think i felt nothing for you? after the months we’ve been sharing a bed and after the years i’ve known you?”

the question was rhetorical, you knew that. but still, you pushed up any courage you could muster to provide him an answer. “never thought you’d fall for me, to be fair.”

“y/n,” he says, a sudden sternness to his voice that has you frozen in place, yet still soft to let you know he wasn’t going to scold you. “i wish you could see yourself the way i see you.”

his eyes are full of sincerity and love. he views you as someone he loves.

with a sudden rush of adrenaline, your fists grab at the neckline of his shirt, haphazardly pulling him forward to capture his lips again. he doesn’t protest, he allows you to kiss him with need - he returns the gesture with the same amount of want.

his hands drop to your sides, grabbing at your sweater - the wrinkles that formed from your daily activities still present, and jay's grip on the fabric does little to dismiss them. he shifts from handling the sweater to latching on harder to your form desperately as your lips continue to move against one another.

“y/n-” he groans, your name coming out muffled as he couldn’t bring himself to pull away long enough to get a proper sentence out.

you whine, wordlessly telling him to continue. reluctantly, he parts just an inch so he can see you properly; see your lips swollen and how your pupils are blown out. “i promise i wanted to take it slow with you, i don’t want to rush this-”

“don’t you think we’ve been taking it slow already?” you interrupt, watching his brows raise the smallest bit at your interjection. he can’t find it in himself to disagree, bringing back your point about how the lines are definitely blurred, and have been for a while now.

“well. . .” he trails off, gaze loving as he watches you dangle off of every word he speaks, waiting for what’s next. “maybe we don’t have to take it that slow anymore.” his hands remain where they were planted against your clothes, massaging the fabric and skin beneath his fingers.

with ease, he turns you around, your lower back resting against the edge of the countertop as he tilts your head back - trailing kisses from the corner of your mouth to your jaw, then to the exposed expanse of your neck.

it only takes a few lingering pecks until your palms are pressed against his chest, allowing yourself to be at his will while he continues to kiss and bite, never enough to leave a mark.

“are you okay with this?” he asks, his warm breath fanning over your damp skin. you nod, earning a small exhale from jay. “from now on i want verbal answers, okay?”

you caught yourself before you could nod, muttering a small ‘yes’ in reply.

“yes to which? yes you’ll give verbal answers or yes you’re okay with this?”

“both.”

the simple response earns you a smile, a tender kiss to your lips, and his hands grabbing at your waist once more. “as much as i don’t want to waste a second, i think we’d be much more comfortable not in the kitchen.”

and so, you push him forward, freeing yourself from being trapped between him and the counter before you both make your way back into his room. almost instantly, he pulls you towards his bed, sitting you down so you could look up at him - his hand connects with your cheek once more, admiring you.

he leans down to peck your lips a single time before diving in again, kissing you feverishly and holding the back of your head in his palm to angle your lips towards himself. jay's right knee slots itself between your thighs and presses into the mattress, leaning forward, and holding himself up with his vacant hand.

you gasp slightly into his mouth as you wrap your arms around his neck so you don’t fall completely backwards, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue alongside yours, an appreciative hum escaping him as you tilt your head. his hold remains gentle, only moving to lower you completely to his bed before his hands travel to your sides.

“can i take this off, baby?” jay asks, voice soft and pet name falling from his lips as if it was the most natural thing he could address you with, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt.

“yeah, but. . .” you start, quickly losing confidence when you feel his fingertips dance along the skin of your midsection - hands hidden under the material of your sweater he has yet to lift.

“would you want me to take mine off first?” he asks, eyebrows raised and glasses slowly falling down the slope of his nose from the downward angle he was positioned in.

“yes, please,” without hesitance, he smiles, pecking your nose before obliging. he lifts the garment easily, tossing it onto his desk chair and straightening his posture in front of you. from this angle, he looked ethereal; kneeling between your legs with exposed skin close enough for you to run your hands over.

he reaches for his pants next, sliding down the black sweats with ease before tossing them with his shirt. “is this okay?” he asks again, hands returning to their place just underneath the hem of your sweater.

“yes,” you say softly, a gasp soon following as the garment is lifted slowly, feeling jay's knuckles running against your skin as he discards the clothing, letting it join his own on the floor.

“so beautiful,” he notes, almost as if he was speaking to himself before dipping lower, the muscles under his skin dancing with his movements as he plants his hands on either side of your head, lips connecting to the underside of your jaw. instinctively, your hands grab onto the skin of his torso, massaging it under your fingers and feeling each muscle contract as he maneuvers his way lower to kiss at your collarbones.

leveling himself, he trails his hands down to slide underneath your back, making quick work of unclasping your bra and sliding the straps down your shoulders - his hands were delicate and soft with their movements. he lifts his form for only a moment to gaze down at you - looking absolutely stunning laid out on his bed before him.

“you’re even more perfect than i could have dreamed of,” he breathes out, almost as if he was in disbelief you were real; your body warms at the compliment. “just- just look at you. . .”

you watch as his hands move across your skin, fingers rubbing and gripping your waist and hips; it was only then you noticed the tent in his boxers. “jay-” you whine, the sight enough to make you want to pounce on him.

“yeah, baby?” he asks. the vulgar request stayed lodged in your throat, wanting so desperately to be released but you didn’t have the courage to do so. jay seemed to have caught onto this quickly, and you almost felt embarrassed with how easily he read you. “is the princess getting needy?”

yes, you thought, but you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it. jay chuckled, watching as your back arches at the question, his hands holding onto your hips to keep you against the bed. “it’s okay, i’ll give you everything you want,” he says, voice low as his lips curl into a smile. “but first, we still have to get you ready, okay? can i take these off, too?”

quickly giving him permission, he grins as he takes off your pants, not failing to see the wet patch that formed on the bridge of your panties. “oh? i’ve barely done anything and you’re already dripping for me, huh?

“you’re so cute, princess,” he leans down to whisper in your ear, vacant hand grabbing the inside of your thigh to pull your legs further apart. “getting all worked up over some words and little touches.”

two of his long fingers press onto your core, rubbing up and down slowly and nipping at your neck; this time, with the intention to leave a mark on you. you let out a gasp as his fingers catch your clit for just a moment, and you feel as he pulls away from your neck to look at your face - eyes closed and mouth slightly open; you looked beautiful to him.

his opposite hand grabs your jaw softly, prompting you to open your eyes to meet him, fingers now having left your core in favor of rubbing his thumb soothingly along your hip. “are you sure you want this?” he asks, and the thought made your heart swell.

“yes, please. wanted it for so long, jay,” you say, brows furrowing as he beams.

“is that right?” he replies rhetorically, a pleased expression on his face as he looks back down, the hold on your jaw never faltering. “want me to take these off?”

“please-” you beg; music to jay's ears. “don’t wanna wait anymore-”

“i know, baby,” he says, making quick work - well, as quick as he could with a singular hand - to remove your last piece of clothing, leaving you completely bare for him. his fingers reconnect with your naked core, eliciting a small moan from you. “but i still need to prep you a bit, okay? don’t wanna hurt you.”

you nod in understanding as he lets go of your chin, running two fingers between your folds to coat his digits in your slick. he starts slowly, thumb circling your clit to get you more relaxed to take him, before slowly pushing his coated fingers inside.

his eyes are trained on your face, grabbing your hand within his own to help ground you and subside any pain or discomfort you may feel at the initial push. you wince slightly, brows furrowing as jay shushes you softly, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“shh, baby, it’s okay. you’re doing so, so well for me,” he whispers - you can feel as he slowly starts scissoring the two digits inside your core, the sensation pleasurable. “gonna add a third, okay?”

“y-yeah,” you stutter out, and in any other scenario rather than this one, you think you’d smack yourself out of embarrassment; with jay, you were comfortable.

slowly, he pulls his fingers from you, slotting a third one alongside the previous and delving them back in gently. his pace is slow, easing you up to the intrusion and making sure you stay comforted knowing he was there.

“there we go,” he rasps. “are you ready, baby?” jay says with care laced in his tone, fingers never slowing the pace he had set previously as he rubs against your walls.

“mhm,” you hum, eyes closed while he pulls away fully for only a moment to discard himself of his boxers, quickly grabbing a condom from his bedside table drawer. tearing it open carefully, he slides it onto his cock, now finally free from its confinements.

you don’t have half the brain to gawk at him - something that may be playing in your favor at the moment while he returns to his spot over you. with one hand by your head and the other holding his cock, he teases your core with his tip, gathering what he can of your essence.

the initial prod at your entrance wasn’t painful - you hadn't exactly been able to look and see how big he was and if you would be able to handle it - but you could tell he was being hesitant, as if he knew he had the potential to hurt you. your eyebrows knit together, the sudden warmth pushing inside you enough to render you speechless while your hands find purchase on his shoulders.

“does it hurt, baby?” he asks softly, halting his movements until you reply - watching as your naked chest rises and falls with the rhythm of your breathing.

“n-no, jay, feel-s so good,” you manage to get out, your closed eyes guarding you from seeing the smirk that grew on jay's lips. “please, wan’ more, please.”

“oh,” he replies, his tone slightly condescending as his hand raises to cup your cheek, the action causing you to open your eyes and finally see the shit-eating grin he’s been sporting for who knows how long. “anything for you, angel.”

he gives you more, pushing his cock deeper and deeper until you feel completely full, his hips pressed to the back of your thighs while his hands drag down your body, stopping at your waist. “let me know when i can move.”

the stretch had a small sting rise within your abdomen - as the pain slowly subsided, you don’t fail to notice how jay's breathing hitches when you tighten around him suddenly. still, he keeps his composure, being careful to not move a muscle so you could get used to the intrusion.

you squirm slightly, back rising from the bed and chest meeting his - the movement making the man above you groan. “please move, baby,” you plead, voice coming out much more pathetic and desperate than you would have liked it to be.

with a hint of hesitance, he pulls his hips back and pushes forward once more, a heavy sigh leaving his beautiful lips as he soaks in the feeling of you around him. “fuck. . .” he gasps, mouth hanging open as he leans down, attacking your neck with kisses and bites, sucking at the skin. “look so pretty with my cock stuffed in you.”

he sets a steady pace, slow enough to be comfortable for you but quick enough to have you seeing stars, as well as let you know just how desperate he was - how much he wanted you. you could feel him everywhere; the tip of his cock pressing deep inside you, rubbing against your g-spot and kissing your cervix with each thrust. his hands desperately grabbing at your torso while his lips nipped at the sensitive spots on your neck - he was everywhere, clouding every single one of your senses.

you could hear his heavy breathing in your ear, chest heaving against yours as his breath fans the junction of your neck and shoulder, leaving sloppy kisses behind while his thrusts pick up. you barely register how one of his hands travels to where you’re connected because of the cotton your brain had turned into at jay's advancements - his thumb circling your clit with ease due to your slick.

a broken cry sounds within his room, begs of 'please' and 'more' falling from your lips as he increases the pressure of his digit. “you’re just fallin’ apart, aren’t you,” he mumbles into your skin, raising his head just enough to lock eyes with you, pupils blown wide and sporting a grin. “such a pretty thing, takin’ all of me so, so well.”

your hand flies to his hair, grabbing at the nape of his neck to guide his lips to yours, feeling the vibrations of his groans against your lips. he feels you tighten around him, brushing his tongue against your lips and granting him access - he seems to care less about being neat.

pulling away to catch his breath, he sees the mixed saliva coating your lips, most likely his as well. he smiles down at you, thumb picking up speed along with his hips as you mewl. “you close, angel? gonna cum for me?” you nod quickly, breath feeling like it was being knocked out of you with each pointed thrust he delivered, the pressure on your insides causing a tight coil to form in your abdomen. “c’mon baby, wanna hear you, remember?”

“g-gonna cum, jay- please, ‘m so so cl-lose,” you gasp, closing your eyes as you teeter on the edge of your impending orgasm. you hear him chuckle, the sound of skin slapping accompanying his honey voice at it fills the air around you both.

“let go, angel, i got you. cum for me.”

it was so simple, and you never took yourself as someone who could finish just by hearing someone tell you to. but as you gasp jay’s name, drag your nails across the soft skin of his back and arch your own - you found yourself capable of something you didn’t even think possible.

maybe it was the sting of the sudden marks that lined the expanse of his back or the way you sounded so desperate to cum that pushed him over the edge, or perhaps even the way all of his senses were flooded by you: hearing your calls for him, feeling you clench around his cock, watching your face contort as you finish, tasting you on his tongue and the smell of sex that now fills the room. you were everywhere - and he’d have it no other way.

“ ‘m almost there, jus’ a little longer,” jay breathes, pulling his hands to grab at your hips, chasing his high - and with a breathy moan of your name - he spills his seed into the condom, shallowly thrusting through his orgasm.

he manages to keep himself steady, muscles aching as he holds himself up to prevent falling on top of you. catching your breath gradually, you wince when he pulls out.

“sorry,” he whispers out an apology, and if you had the energy in you, you’d tell him he has absolutely nothing to apologize for. closing your eyes, you hear his footsteps getting farther and farther away until they appear again, and this time, he kneels next to the bed where your head is.

“hey, y/n,” he whispers, not wishing to startle you with his sudden presence - you could practically hear the soft grin on his face. “let’s get you cleaned up, okay? then we can rest.”

you gather whatever energy you had left to give him a small nod, easing yourself up onto your elbows - with jay's support - and pulling yourself off the bed, trudging your way to his bathroom. “go to the bathroom, i’ll get you some fresh clothes and water,” he assures, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he makes his way back to his room.

you do as he asked of you, deciding to splash your face with water once you were finished. as if he never left, jay was back at your side, fresh clothes in his hands along with a glass of water. “put these on, then don’t leave this room until you finish this glass, okay?” he asks, stern voice laced with care. “can you walk alright?”

you reassure him you can walk completely fine even though you were leaning against the bathroom counter for support; a smile spreads across his lips. “meet me in my room once you’re done, okay?” with those final words, he pecks your lips, allowing you some privacy to change - as if he didn’t just see you nude. always a gentleman.

you don’t take long, halting for a moment to smile and admire how he brought you his shirt and sweats instead of your own, despite them being in the same dresser. slipping them on and quickly gulping down the water, you shut off the light and - slowly - make your way back to his room.

he greets you with a smile, scanning your outfit before welcoming you into his arms, pulling you into the bed with him. “how are you feeling?” he asks, fingers stroking along the fabric of his shirt as it lays against your back.

“good. sleepy,” you reply, eyes already drooping from the exhaustion you feel.

“let’s rest, then,” with a kiss to your cheek and another to your lips, he brings the covers over you both, tucking you away within his chest and legs tangling with yours to ensure you stay locked within his embrace throughout the night - he doesn’t believe he’ll get cold with you beside him and the warm feeling fluttering in his chest.

a delightful aroma fills the dorm, waking your senses up one-by-one, the final being your sight as your eyes pry open. rubbing at them with the tips of your fingers, you slowly adjust to the light that beamed through the bedroom window, illuminating the rest of the space with its warm glow.

easing your way out of the bed, you notice the vacant spot next to you. concluding jay was then the cause of the aroma, you rise from your place. stretching your arms above you and letting out a pleased sigh, you make your way through the cracked bedroom door.

the scent only becomes more prominent as you navigate your way through the dorm, hearing sizzling and soft humming from the kitchen. you stand at the entrance, following jay's every movement as he makes his way around the space, preparing a meal - usually, you’d feel selfish assuming the food was also for yourself, but you’ve come to learn that jay always cooks with you in mind.

he seems to not know of your presence - you never making any effort to show yourself in favor of watching him work diligently. and while you would have thought you were able to fool him - not making a single sound to hide your company - jay knew all too well that your eyes were on him; choosing to feign obliviousness for your own entertainment.

turning, he acts surprised, lifting himself on his toes to fake as if he was shocked by your appearance in the kitchen. “good morning, y/n,” he says, mustering up his voice the best he could to make himself seem startled. “i didn’t know you were there.”

he was never very good at lying.

“yeah, and i couldn’t smell this from the bedroom,” you say sarcastically, smiling as you approach him. he has no hesitance in pressing a kiss to your forehead, your smile mirrored on his own features once he pulls away.

“it’ll all be ready in a few minutes,” he says, returning his attention to the cooking food before nodding his head in the direction of some filled mugs. “i didn’t know what you’d want - there’s coffee, tea, and water for you to choose from. . .”

“you made every option?” you question, half in disbelief.

“well, yeah- i didn’t wanna wake you,” he says sweetly. although it wouldn’t have bothered you much to be woken up by him, it was proven difficult to be mad at him when his heart was in a good place.

you don’t reply, only pursing your lips before selecting which drink you’d prefer, taking the mug into your hands and taking a sip, basking in its taste with a content sigh.

jay smiles to himself, pleased with your reaction to such a simple drink. grabbing plates from the cupboard above himself, he carefully prepares both of your breakfasts - handing you yours with utensils, you both hastily make your way to the dining room, ready to enjoy your meal together.

“thank you, jay,” you say, pleased with the small assortment of food he was able to prepare.

“of course,” the smile never leaves his lips, not even when he’s taking a sip of his own drink or chewing his food - and most definitely not when he watches you eat what he had made.

your eyes widened, not necessarily because you thought jay wasn't able to cook, but more so by the fact that he always wanted to get take-out when you came over. “you can cook this well yet we always order something?” you question once you finish, already starting to scoop another bite.

he chuckles at your flattery. “sometimes it just seems more beneficial to pay for an already-made meal rather that buy the ingredients and cook myself,” he replies. he was right - a majority of his income went into other necessities (he also just wanted to make sure you always had a good meal, not one he could easily fuck up). "plus, this is really the only dish i can make. it would get boring to eat it over and over again if i cooked every time."

you have a troubled time imagining you'd get bored of the sight of jay in the kitchen, but nevertheless, you understood his point completely.

silence consumes you both - a shared tendency of going quiet when there is food in front of you. peaceful was a fitting word, no pressure to continue past conversation or start up a new one; a comfortable silence is what you found yourselves in.

continuing your meal with little haste, your eyes glance towards jay's hands, utensils teetering in his grasp as they shake slightly.

“are you cold?” you inquire, prepared to stand and grab anything that could warm his limbs; he ushers you to sit.

“i’m not cold, don’t worry,” he says, the smile he offered not very convincing as you sink back into your chair, knowing better than to prod at him. he’d open up when he wished to.

a part of you was glad that jay hadn’t made any comments about the night prior, unsure if your head - or heart - could take such confrontation so early in the morning.

on the other side, you wish to know his thoughts - if he thought of you any differently, and how so. did this mean he reciprocated feelings? and possibly the most important question to you above all else - did he regret it?

“it’s still early in the morning, you normally don’t look so concentrated this early,” he comments teasingly, the corners of his lips turning upwards while your heart thumps an increasing beat in your ears.

“i could say the same about you,” you defend half-heartedly, knowing you’d succumb to defeat.

“let’s do a trade then; you tell me what on your mind, i’ll tell you what’s on mine,” the prospect of it all was so simple, yet it caused your breath to hitch at the mere thought of bringing up your relationship with him while he could easily be pondering over his upcoming assignments or shifts he has to cover.

with a sigh, you lean back in your chair, seemingly done with your plate as your eyes land on jay from across the table. “you first.”

he chuckles at your childish antics, mirroring your position and folding his arms over himself. with confidence, he begins. “i think my relationship with you has become the strongest its ever been. that’s not something i’d trade for the world, but i do have a. . . request, i think.”

you raise your brows. “you think?”

“depends on if you’re willing.”

“you’re so insufferable when you’re vague,” you bite back. thankfully, jay picked up that your words were playful, never meant to actually hurt him.

“sorry,” he says half-heartedly, secretly enjoying the annoyed expression on your face while you gave him the softest gaze. “i think what i’m asking is if you’d like to officially go out with me, see if we’re compatible as more than just friends.”

you smile knowingly, deciding to tease him a bit further in hopes to get on an even playing field, repeating a phrase you said only moments before. “you think?” tilting your head to the side as the man across from you smiles, shaking his head and breaking eye contact for only a moment to compose himself.

“i know i’m asking if you’d like to go out with me,” he finally says, a sudden weight lifted from his shoulders now that the words are out in the open, but the dense feeling soon returning at your impending response.

he knows last night couldn’t be any kind of measure for how you felt towards him (it seems he forgot you practically confessed to him yourself because of his nerves), and he’s been trying his best to keep himself from coming to a conclusion based on his own feelings and wishes. the imminent doom he felt grew to be too much, the tension in his chest when he was laying by your side only expanding as the day proceeded.

you exaggerate your expressions: looking off to the side and tapping your chin with your index finger, even though your mind was already made up - it’s been made up for quite some time now.

jay could see right through your little act, a laugh coming out in a small huff of air from his nose and his smile widened. “you really have to think that hard about it?” he asks, tilting his head to the side, a teasing tone laced within his voice.

“this is a big decision, jay!” you say. “what if we aren’t as compatible as we think and ruin everything?” you couldn’t even take yourself seriously, knowing you were throwing out statements that were untrue - but, whatever show you have going, must go on.

“i think we’re compatible as we are right now,” jay begins, his previously playful tone shifting to one of more seriousness but still managing to keep the lighthearted atmosphere present. “but, if you still want time, i can wait for you. i can show and give you everything.”

your heart aches - and as if suddenly you felt you had led him on for far too long with your reply - you smile, soft and welcoming. “i don’t think you need to wait, jay.”

“you don’t think? y’know, you can be pretty insufferable when you’re vague, too,” he laughs as warmth begins to creep up his neck, settling high on his cheekbones. his gaze remained gentle, never leaving your own even if his nerves were begging him to. “and to think i was gonna cook something myself for our first date. . .”

you gasp dramatically, now both in mutual understanding of where each other stood, you found yourself teasing him (to try and calm your own heart or because you wanted to see him flushed, you weren’t quite sure). “i want to go out with you, jay.”

“good,” he breathes out, smile ever-lasting as he takes a deep breath in, relieved to finally hear confirmation. “i want to be with you, always.”

#⠀⠀⠀⠀★ (SZUYIIN) ⠀⠀⠀⠀#enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #jay smut #jay hard hours #jongseong smut #jongseong hard hours #★ (201130)

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skzoologist · 10 months

Note

Hiya, I absolutely love your work

I'm not sure if you have already done this but could you do a sort of compilation of times Bae took care of each of the members

Thank you

word count: ~7.4k words, roughtly 800-1000 words per member

warnings: descriptions of getting a cold, Jisung having a bad mental day, Felix twisting his ankle (but the latter two are not thoroughly described)

genre: fluff with some angst sprinkled in

a/n: Hey-ho anon! First of all, I deeply apologise for making you wait for so long, I really meant to write and post this a week ago. But then I wanted to write more, so did, and then the word count just kept increasing... Second of all, thank you very much for requesting such a sweet scenario and for loving my work! It really brought a big, dorky smile on my face. I really hope you like it, I did my best! ^-^

Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!

!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!

!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Bang Chan:

Their leader was doing it again, like always. It was a dance they had been doing for years now, a never ending cycle of exhaustion. He would lock himself in his studio -even remain there for several days if he had nothing else to do in his schedule- and just leave the others wondering about his well being.

The members would try to coax him out, usually to no avail. In the worst case scenario, Chan would even get angry and send them out, locking the door ultimately afterwards. It was never a pretty sight, so everyone was careful about their approach, as if they were in the enclosure of an angry predator.

But even with the chance of being yelled at, Bae always remained by Chan’s side.

He would go to the studio, even if he had a long day and it was nearing midnight, it didn’t matter to him at all. Bae would remain by the locked door with his back against the wall next to it, sitting on the floor on a pillow he always brought with himself in scenarios like this. He always knocked on the door when he arrived, but never expected an answer or for it to open.

So, he simply sat there, a big bottle of water and some easily consumable grocery food laying next to him. Bae left those there every single day, and when he arrived in the next, they were gone; so at least he could relax a bit, knowing Chan was eating and drinking at least that much every day.

Nonetheless, he worriedly remained in his place, chatting with the others on his phone -if they were still up, that is- and calming them a bit. It was a hard task to accomplish, seeing as this whole back and forth between him and Chan put a strain on his own well-being as well. He thought he could hide the eyebags and little yawns successfully, but the calculating eyes of Minho never failed to notice them. If he tried to avoid meeting with his feline resembling bandmate, he would be pestered into sending a selfie -god, his phone blew up so much it vibrated non stop-. He could never escape him and his nagging.

But that was how Bae was, putting others before himself and he couldn’t help it, especially not when he knew his beloved leader was putting so much work on his own shoulders. Just the thought pained him enough to put a permanent crease between his eyebrows, lips arching down slightly.

The sound of a lock clicking and a door opening broke him out of his thoughts, his eyes meeting with dull ones.

“Dal, what’re ya doin’ here?” - Chan slurred out, confusion written on his exhausted face. “Taking care of you.” - was the only answer that left Bae’s lips, his body already up, hands offering the prepared food and water to the older male.

With a heavy sigh, Chan accepted them and downed most of the water, if not all, before tearing open the plastic packaging of a bread bun and wolfing it down. Bae eyed him critically, making sure he ate everything well, not leaving a single crumb behind. As if sensing it, Chan showed Bae the empty packages before pocketing them to throw them away later. Satisfied, the taller one nodded and took Chan’s bag before he stepped in front of him. With a little crouch and a swift grab, Bae took Chan onto his back who just let out a strangled little noise in response.

“D-dal, what’re you doing? I can walk. Hey… Hey, Dal, can you hear me? Put me down, come on mate…” - but as he didn’t get a response, he sighed and finally accepted his fate.

Of course he got no response, Bae knew how stubborn the man was. The moment he let him down, Chan would stumble around and Bae would be forced to watch. It had happened before, so Bae adapted to it and changed his tactics to the current one.

Footsteps and quiet grumblings -cursing directed at him, for sure- were all one could hear as the two made their way to the dorms. Luckily they lived in the same one, so Bae wouldn’t have to walk back to his own one at the crack of dawn after making sure his leader was safe and resting.

By the time they reached the door, only soft snores could be heard, Chan’s breathing tickling Bae’s nape with every breath. He smiled, happy the man finally let himself fall asleep, at least for a little bit. He quietly made his way into the dorms, more specifically Chan’s room, not wishing to wake anyone up. Carefully placing the sleeping male onto the bed, Bae took off his shoes and tucked him in, blanket up to his chin.

Looking over the male one more time, Bae let out a satisfied sigh and took out his phone to take a photo. It was immediately uploaded into their group chat, thankfully no one saw it -it was 5 am after all- right away. Happy that everyone was now sleeping, Bae made his way into his own room, but only after glancing at Chan one last time.

Lee Know:

Bae’s menace of a hyung -even if only by a few months- was resilient, the man rarely got sick or hurt. He was precise in what he did, especially in their dance practices, so it was really worrying to see him make several smaller mistakes in a single session. But when confronted, he brushed them off and continued as if nothing had happened.

It continued like this for a few days, Minho looking worse and worse as time went by, but only slightly. His hair was a bit too dishevelled, he cleared his throat just a bit more than usual and asked back when he didn’t quite catch or understand what they said a suspicious amount of times.

None of it escaped Bae’s attention, and he quite frankly had enough of Minho just brushing them off as if nothing was wrong.

“Minho hyung, you’re sick.” “No, Bae, I’m n–” “You. Are. Sick.” Minho merely blinked back at the taller one, surprised he was talked back to so confidently.

“Oh damn, Bae hyung is not playing around anymore.” - Felix commented, Seungmin muttering a ‘Finally’ as everyone quickly left the room, leaving the two to battle it out. Not even Chan’s leader or hyung privileges could help in the situation, so with a pat on Bae’s shoulder, he left as well.

But before Minho’s sick brain could catch up and retaliate, Bae grabbed his wrist and dragged the male after everyone to the dorms. Naturally, halfway through Minho realised what situation he was in and started loudly whining, unsuccessfully trying to pull his hand out of Bae’s hold. No, the taller had none of it, he simply dashed towards Minho’s room and carefully, but firmly plopped the other onto the bed.

“Rest. I’ll be back.” - he said with a pointed stare, not even waiting for a response from the other.

On his way to the kitchen, he bumped into Seungmin and asked the younger one to make sure Minho didn't escape.

“What’s in it for me?” “You can ask me to do anything, even on camera.” “Sweet, jackpot.”

With his soul being sold to the devil, Bae continued on his way to the kitchen to make a nice, hot soup for his sick hyung. He probably caught a cold, if his sniffing and throat clearing was anything to go by, and that called for homemade chicken soup. Thankfully, everything he needed was available in the dorms -pros of having Minho as one of the residents-, so he could get started right away.

Whenever he could step away for a few minutes, he checked up on Seungmin, to see how he was doing and if he was doing his job. But with the rare reward he got in exchange, Seungmin dutifully did his job and held the door closed.

After an hour or two of cooking, Bae could finally grab a bowl and fill it with steaming, hot soup. Putting it on a tray along with the correct utensils, a glass of water and some medicine, he made his way to Minho's room. He thanked Seungmin for keeping their sick hyung in the room and went in, a dark pair of eyes immediately zeroing in on his form.

“Baeee, I told you I’m not sick.” - Minho whined from the bed, standing up to escape. “And I’m the Santa Claus.” - Bae replied, quickly putting down the tray onto the bedside table and grabbing onto the back of Minho’s shirt, swiftly dragging him back.

Naturally, this earned him a slew of whining and high-pitched noises, but only until the older’s throat gave out and his voice cracked, immediately turning raspy. Minho blinked and confusedly touched his throat, all the while Bae looked like he really wanted to say he said so.

But he didn’t, he wouldn’t.

Instead, he just gestured towards the bed with his head, his hyung sighing and finally giving up the fight, sitting down on the bed with his back propped up against the headboard. Not even a second later the tray was put into his lap, Bae sitting down next to him. He brushed a lock of hair away from Minho’s forehead, putting his hand on it afterwards. Thankfully the male didn’t really feel warmer, which earned a happy sigh from Bae.

“Thank you.” - quietly said Minho after he finished, the bowl and cup empty, medicine taken and being digested.

Bae simply nodded, a small smile forming on his lips at his hyung’s pout that freshly sat upon his face.

“Sleep, I’ll be back.”

And he would be, checking up on the male every few hours, and luckily so. By the morning Minho was absolutely done, the cold knocking the energy right out of him. The most he had the energy for was whining, something he constantly did, much to the annoyance of everyone, especially a certain someone.

“Baeeeeee, my head hurts, gimme a head massaaaaaaageeee.”

The man in question just closed his eyes and sighed, but stood up to saunter over towards Minho anyway.

The things he did for his bandmates.

Seo Changbin:

Changbin was always a very careful person around the gym, constantly making sure his and the others’ stances were good and proper. He never failed to help the others or ask for help if needed, not an ounce of shame or shyness in his voice while doing so -not like there was anything to feel like that for-.

That was why it caught everyone who were at their private gym by surprise when he let out a sudden yell, followed by the loud thud of a weight hitting the floor.

Chan was the first who reached him, quickly assessing the situation and taking control. Jisung was lingering nearby, anxiously following their every move and ready to dash and grab something if needed. It was chaotic, especially with Changbin’s loud cursing when he moved his arm in the wrong way, but the boys managed to support the injured dwaekki and got him to sit down while the physiologist arrived there.

Chan was no stranger to accidental injuries, he worked quickly and efficiently, hence why the first thing he did was calling a medical expert. In the meantime, Jisung updated the others via their group chat, his hands still slightly shaking from worry.

The few minutes they had to wait for the physiologist to arrive felt like hours, their heads already filled with countless scenarios about how severe the injury could be and how long it would take to heal. Don’t get them wrong, the most they worried about was their bandmate’s health, someone they spent so much time with they considered family. But being an idol was a demanding job, and a serious injury could have harsh consequences.

Thankfully, it was nothing like that, Changbin merely pulled a muscle and it would heal in a few weeks.

All three of them heaved out a relieved sigh, the physiologist smiling at their reaction, before giving instructions on what to do and leaving. The three went back to the dorms after that immediately, Changbin’s right arm now wrapped in bandage and resting in a sling. If he wanted it to properly heal fast, he had to rest it a lot and ice it too, so he had no choice but to begrudgingly wear the sling.

He didn’t like it one bit, his training schedule now completely turned upside down and he was not happy about it. The whole way there he whined, much to the dismay of the other two. But they endured it, already used to how the dwaekki usually was, especially when annoyed like this.

The moment they opened the dorm’s front door, 6 pairs of eyes greeted them back. Felix immediately rushed over to them from where he was pacing the room, looking over Changbin’s form and assessing the situation himself. As much as Changbin whined on the way over, he voiced nothing of the sort when he answered the sunshine incarnate, merely trying to calm the boy down.

Bae watched it all silently while he was listening to the physiologist’s instructions from Chan, the elder already knowing the situation would be completely under control with their tall member there. Bae nodded once Chan was done and with a pat on the shoulder, he left to check on Jisung and calm his anxiety if needed. A quick glance told him there was no need for such, the quokka already with Minho who expertly took the younger’s mind off of the accident.

So, Bae simply walked over to ruffle Jisung’s hair, then went over to his injured bandmate -who had a Felix stuck on his uninjured side like a koala- with a raised eyebrow.

“Yah, don’t look at me like that, it was an accident! I don’t know what happened, I guess I moved the wrong way or something.”

Bae hummed in reply with a slight nod, brushing a lock of hair away from Felix’s eyes and quietly asking him to move away. Once that was done, he ushered the loud little dwaekki onto the couch to rest, knowing fully well the man would not stay still alone in his own room. But even with all that, he refused to lay down.

“No, I don’t wanna!” “What do you mean?” “I don’t wanna just lay down and stay still!”

If looks could kill, Changbin would have been a dead man long ago. He noticed it too when he took a peek at Bae, so he quickly corrected himself.

“I will only lay down in your lap!” “... Eh?”

The tall man was shocked into silence, his ears already reddening before his mind could properly process what had happened. The others merely bursted into laughter, not that surprised by their bold bandmate.

“Just give up Bae hyung, you know how he is.” - Hyunjin added in, a sly smile dancing on his lips.

Curse them, they all enjoyed the situation a bit too much.

But Bae could only accept it all, since they were right: it was the only way Changbin would rest, and Bae cared for him more than he cared for his own pride. So, with a heavy sigh he sat down and patted his lap while looking anywhere, but his bandmates’ eyes. The sheer joy could be heard in the noise Changbin made and he wasted no time to situate his head comfortably on his victim’s lap.

Since he had to lay on his back to not aggravate his injury, he had the perfect view of Bae’s bashful expression, giggling at it in glee. He absolutely loved flustering his shy hyung, it was one of his favourite things to do. Bae merely playfully glared at him as he pressed a wrapped up ice pack onto his injured arm -that Chan passed to him-, revelling in the little hiss he let out in response.

“Yah, why are you so rough? Will you poke out my eye too when you’re feeding me??”

Yep, there went Bae’s normal skin complexion along with his ability to form sentences, all the while the others just watched in amusement -and maybe they filmed it too, who knows-.

Hwang Hyunjin:

It was a rare moment where they all had a little break from their hectic schedules and they decided to go to a water park, wishing to cool down on a hot summer day. Of course they would be filming there a bit too, but it was going to be much less strict compared to the shooting of a music video or the preparation for a tour.

Everyone was brimming with excitement, some even unable to contain it as they hopped around in place or pestered someone. Bae couldn’t blame them, really, he himself was extremely excited too, given how much he loved water and peacefully swimming in it. Naturally, this meant everyone teased him about being an otter -Jisung as their leader- just like his skzoo, but it was fine. Worst case scenario, he would drag them into the water with himself and reprimand them there, knowing it would shut them up for a solid 30 minutes before it all started up once again.

“Which car will you go in, Hyung?” - bounded over Felix, the epitome of energy.

Right, the park was an hour long drive away and because they were let go by themselves and weren’t driven around in a van, they had to split up.

But before Bae could even consider his options, a quokka and a cat grabbed his arms -one each- and stole him away, leaving a blinking Felix behind. It all happened so fast, Bae could only blink and gape like a fish out of the water after he was shoved into the backseat of a car, the perpetrators sitting in the front -with Minho driving- and quickly buckling up.

“Did you get kidnapped, Dal hyung?” - asked the soft voice of Hyunjin, who apparently sat next to him the whole time.

He simply nodded in response and quickly put on his seatbelt, seeing as the car already started up and they zoomed out of the parking lot.

“Yea, snatched him right out of Felix’s hold. You should have seen his face!” - laughed Jisung, his fingers already scrolling on his phone to search for a playlist and blast it through the car’s speakers. “Huh… Good job Han, you did something great for once in your life.” - Hyunjin replied as he scooted as close as he could to Bae and laid his head on the older’s shoulder. “Hey, what do you mean by that?!” “Oh you know what I mean.” “No I don’t, Mr. Drama Llama, please elaborate.” “You know, when you kept–” - but Bae flicked Hyunjin’s forehead before he could finish his sentence, earning a loud and dramatic whine from the younger.

He also glanced back at Jisung -who was clinging to the back of his seat so he could face them better-, who sputtered out an apology and turned back around as Minho just laughed in amusement at their antics.

“Why did you hit me so hard, aish.” “It wasn’t hard and you know it. Now come here, you dramatic princess.” “P-princess–”

But Bae turned Hyunjin’s head to face him anyway, gentle fingers swiftly soothing the slightly red skin on the younger’s forehead. This immediately shut Hyunjin up, as he now peacefully enjoyed the rare moment and caring touch of his shy hyung. Naturally, once it was over he resumed his spot on Bae’s shoulder and the car ride continued with relative peace amongst the lively chatting and loud music.

It was all fine and well until Bae sweeped his hand over Hyunjin’s forehead to tuck a stray lock of hair away, when he realised something was wrong. Hyunjin’s skin was slightly cold and clammy, a thin layer of sweat coating it. If Bae concentrated, he could hear how the younger’s breathing was slightly off; laboured and a bit forced.

“Jin?” - he gently asked, only earning a quiet hum in return.

This worried the older even more, making his eyebrows furrow in concern, something that Minho noticed from the rearview mirror and gave voice to it.

“Jin is not okay, can you pull over somewhere Hyung?”

No further elaboration was needed as silence took over the car, the lively chatter dead and the music reduced to a mere quiet background noise.

“Jin, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” - Bae tried once more, his hand now actively running through the younger’s hair in a calming effort. “Don’t feel good… Nauseous.” “Good job, thank you. Rest now, we’ll stop soon.” - Bae replied back, brushing his nose against the crown of Hyunjin’s hair as he glanced at the rearview mirror, eyes meeting with Minho’s who nodded to confirm they would indeed stop soon.

Jisung was already on the phone, talking to the others to tell them they would be late and that he would update them as soon as he could. Bae was really grateful he had such competent bandmates who he could call family, who he knew so well they could understand each other with no words.

The moment the car stopped, they all undid their seatbelts -Bae did it for Hyunjin, with the state the poor man was reduced to- and coaxed their sick bandmate out. It took a while, but when Hyunjin got out of the car he immediately hunched over and emptied his stomach, Bae holding his hair away and rubbing soothing circles into his back. The other two rummaged through the car for some water and a bag for Hyunjin in case of an emergency, not wanting to just stand around and do nothing while their friend suffered.

A few minutes of resting -and somehow making Hyunjin drink a bit-, they all sat back into the car.

“Jin, lay down.”

Even in a sick state this surprised the blonde, because it meant his head would be resting in his hyung’s lap.

“It’s fine, just lay down, don’t worry.”

Bae’s statement left no room for argument and with that, off they went to catch up to the others at the water park.

Han Jisung:

That day was no different from any other, everyone’s schedule full as they went their separate ways to get things done. Bae spent his whole day in the practice room alone, doing their new choreography over and over again, until it seared not only into his mind, but his muscles as well. And when that was done, he did it one more time for good measure before stretching down and tiredly walking back to the dorms he shared with half of the boys.

Upon arriving, he called out a loud greeting in case anyone was back already and indeed someone was, namely Hyunjin, who greeted him back. A quick chat later Bae went to shower and hole himself up in his room, but not to rest, rather to work away on his computer.

While he was not part of the 3racha and he didn’t edit songs, he still had his own computer-related studies he had to cram into his spare time. Thus, he put an earbud in -just one, in case he was needed by someone- to listen to some instrumental music as he slaved away in front of the bright screen in the dark room, the notion most probably damaging his eyes, but he couldn’t really care at that moment.

He was fully immersed in his work, mind focused on one task only, when suddenly a noise caught his attention.

It was so faint he almost missed it.

Pausing his music, Bae took out his earbud and swivelled around in his chair towards the door, waiting to hear the sound again and confirm he was not just hallucinating it -wouldn’t be the first time-. And sure enough, there it was, somehow even fainter than before. He didn’t hesitate for a second as he called out and invited in whoever was on the other side, although he had an inkling about their identity as this had happened before already.

The door opened up just enough for a dark mop of hair to peek through, nothing else could be seen from their dark silhouette due to the lack of light in the room. But Bae could tell, there was no doubt in his mind about who it was, saddened that it was one of those days again.

“It’s alright, come in Ji.” - he called out gently with a nickname he only used when needed.

Jisung stepped into the room and closed the door, but did not really approach his hyung, he merely fidgeted in place -only told by the rustling sounds one could hear from the darkness-. Knowing how things went by now, Bae patted his leg in silence and carefully watched as Jisung slowly made his way over to him and climbed into his lap.

With his knees folded, head buried in the crook of Bae’s neck and arms tightly wound around his hyung’s form, Jisung seemed small, extremely so. His vulnerable form softened Bae’s eyes immediately, the elder hugging his form into himself even more if possible.

“Hard day, baby?” - he hummed out, his protective and doting side taking over as he drew little shapes into Jisung’s back and sides.

All he got was a weak nod in response before the younger buried his head deeper into the crook of his neck, a broken breath leaving his tiny form.

There were days when everything got too much for Jisung, when the weight on his shoulders felt impossibly heavy, crushing his very soul; when he felt like he couldn’t go on any longer, like he just wasn’t enough. And on those days, if he had enough power, he seeked out one of his calmer, quieter bandmates. It was normally Bae, especially after their dorm change, because he was the one around when needed. But the taller one didn't mind this one bit, he simply opened his arms and silently welcomed the other every single time without fail, mending the unseen wounds just with his calming presence.

They stayed cuddling like that for minutes or for hours, none of them knew; the computer screen had turned off due to inactivity a long time ago.

In the dark room only the occasional rustling of clothes could be heard, along with Bae’s mindless humming, his soft voice a calming companion.

Soon enough, the slowly calming breathing that tickled his neck evened out, turning deeper as the hold on his clothes weakened with every breath the younger took. Bae patted Jisung’s head, fingers gently gliding through soft locks of hair before he carefully tightened his hold on the sleeping male’s form and stood up. He only had to take a few steps to reach his goal: his bed, still untouched from when he made it that morning, so he skillfully peeled the blanket away with one arm and delicately placed Jisung down, tucking him in. The younger’s grip was still strong, he barely managed to break away from it without waking the other up, just so he could change into his pyjamas quickly.

Before Jisung could start tossing around, undoubtedly looking for him, Bae slipped back into the bed and watched with a warm expression as the little quokka’s hands immediately found his shirt and latched onto it.

“Good night, Ji.” - he muttered out, the exhaustion he had been ignoring was coming back with full force. But if this was the price to help the others, he would do it in a heartbeat all over again.

Lee Felix:

Their younger little aussie was flexible and talented when it came to doing dance moves that were on the more dangerous side, they all knew he would be fine. But that did not stop them from worrying whenever he got the bright idea of doing a dangerous tiktok or a random taekwondo move out of nowhere. If Chan was nearby, he would immediately put down whatever he was doing and give the boy all his attention, ready to move and catch him if needed. Sometimes it was needed, sometimes not, but usually everything turned out fine in the end. They would laugh it off after Chan sent Felix a reprimanding glare, the latter not attempting to do the move once again in fear of his dad’s wrath.

Such was the law of the jungle.

But Chan wasn’t there with them at the moment, no, it was only Felix and Bae in the practice room, fooling around. Well, the younger was, dragging his hyung along in the process, knowing fully well Bae couldn’t really say no to his younger bandmates and their charm.

“Come on Bae hyung, it will be fun!” - Felix pleaded, hands swinging one of Bae’s around in desperation. “No, Lixie, we won’t do it. No one else is here to catch you if needed, I don’t want you to get hurt.” “But pleaaaase…” “No, and that’s final.”

With that, Bae gently pried his hand out of Felix’s hold and went to his phone to put on some music to practice to, shaking his head when he heard the younger quietly calling him ‘no fun’. He would gladly be the most boring person if it would mean the ones he cared about were safe, but of course, things had to go wrong.

All he heard were the squeak of a shoe, a thud and a yell before he turned around so fast he became lightheaded.

There laid Felix on the floor, his left ankle bending a bit too much than it should be able to. Bae didn’t hesitate a moment to grab his phone -tearing out the cord that connected it to the speakers- and sprint over towards his fallen bandmate, sliding on his knees in the process.

“Lixie, look at me and tell me where it hurts.” - he started questioning, his hands on the sides of Felix’s face. “I–... Nowhere? I’m fine, Hyung, why?” “Okay, it hasn't hit you yet. That’s fine-, no, Lixie, look at me, stop squirming around. Whatever you do, don’t move your left leg, okay? Do that for me, please?” “Woah, I haven’t heard you talk this much in a while.” “Just promise me, okay?” The younger boy nodded -as much as he could in Bae��s hold- and watched his hyung type away on his phone and put it up to his ear.

He felt fine, really, but based on the rushed reaction of Bae, he must have successfully injured himself. It wasn’t his goal at all, he just wanted to move around a bit, but… Guilt ate away at his soul, remembering how his hyung warned him exactly of this situation.

“I’m sorry, Dal hyung.” “I’ll do that, yes and– Felix? Why are you sorry?” - Bae asked confusedly, his attention now split between the phone and the injured sunshine incarnate. “You warned me and yet–” - Felix tried to say, but failed as a hiss left his mouth, face scrunched up in pain. “Alright, see you later Hyung. And Felix, it’s okay, we’ll talk about it later. For now, just continue keeping your promise and wait here. I’ll be right back.” - Bae replied with a small smile on his face as he patted Felix’s head once more and stood up, sprinting out of the room, somehow managing to pocket his phone in the hasty process.

It didn’t take long for him to get back, to Felix it was over literally in the blink of an eye as all he could do was grimace through the pain, teeth on the brink of breaking from how tight he was grinding them together.

“This will be cold, I’m sorry Lixie.” - was all the warning he got before cold mixed together with the pain, earning a loud hiss and a muffled grunt from him.

Scooting closer to his face as much as he could, Bae started carting his fingers through Felix’s hair in a calming effort, desperately hoping it would work.

“Chan hyung and the others will be here soon, along with the medics. Just a bit longer, Lix.” - he hummed out, voice even and steady.

But as much as he tried to hide it, his hand shook for a second and he wished the younger didn’t feel it. He didn’t want to make him feel worse or make him panic too, so he hid his own feelings with a gulp of air, putting on a composed exterior.

Felix would be fine, it was probably just a sprain; at least he kept telling himself while simultaneously holding the cold soda can gently to the younger’s leg and petting his head.

Suddenly the door bursted open and he was gently ushered away, only being able to watch as Felix was quickly taken away to be properly checked over and treated. He simply knelt there and watched, the world seemingly cold and numb to him. He could barely register the touch on his shoulder that never left his side ever since everyone arrived, how it softly squeezed the flesh there and drew little circles in place.

His name sounded a bit far away, but a blink later everything crashed back into him.

“Chan, I was so scared.” - he muttered into the crook of the elder’s neck, his shaking body in his hyung’s steady hold. “I know Dal, I know. It’s gonna be alright.” - Chan whispered back, face buried into Bae’s neck as well, the rarely ever seen scared form of his bandmate worrying him.

“Don’t worry, it’s gonna be okay.”

Kim Seungmin:

They were all at a photoshoot, getting ready for their next comeback with full force and determination. Everyone was excited about it and they couldn’t wait to see STAYs reaction to their new album. The boys desperately hoped they would like it, since all of them really poured their heart and soul into each song and music video. Every single day was spent working on it, from morning till night, and as much as they loved their jobs, they were starting to get a bit tired of it.

“Hey, Dal hyung, you wanna come over tonight? We could watch some marvel movies.” - Jeongin suddenly asked after they were finished with the shooting. “Oh? Yeah, come over Bae hyung, we all can do a marvel movie marathon tonight!” - Felix joined in the moment the word ‘marvel’ hit his ears, a wide grin already sitting on his freckled face.

Not expecting this even after so many years -he really should have been used to it by now-, Bae simply blinked at the two pleading faces in front of him. Knowing that it would be loud with the rowdy boys, he worriedly glanced at the two remaining roommates: Seungmin and Minho.

But before he could even open his mouth to voice his concerns, the two answered it for him.

“No, Dal hyung, it’ll be fine. So come over freely.” “Bae, don’t even think about refusing it, or I will personally drag you over, so shush.” Well, that settled it, so Bae simply nodded and watched as Felix and Jeongin did a happy little dance, somehow dragging Seungmin into it in the process.

After getting their makeup taken off, they were all ready to go back and Bae told his roommates about his nightly plan. Naturally, since it wasn’t a rare occurrence, all he got were ‘Have fun’ wishes and rough headpats that left him disoriented.

It didn’t take them long to arrive back in the dorms, everyone quickly changing into comfy clothes the moment their feet were free from their shoes; even Bae, who had a small stash of clothes for whenever he stayed over. He wasn’t allowed to move a finger even in getting the snacks ready, so he simply sat on the sofa with Seungmin, who was somehow roped into joining them.

The boy looked like the definition of exhaustion, his hair dishevelled and looking like a bird’s nest at best, his eyes slightly unfocused and duller than usual. “Minnie, you can go to bed, it’s okay.” - Bae softly spoke out, afraid that if he spoke any louder, the boy would startle. But Seungmin simply shook his head sluggishly, adamant in his decision of staying up with everyone else.

The older could only let out a sigh of acceptance, his attention taken away shortly afterwards by the other 3 appearing in the room; hands full of snacks of every kind. And then the problem came: who would sit on the other side of Bae? It was always a full on war between the boys, wanting to cling to the taller and tease him until he turned red. Bae couldn’t stop it, trust him, he tried so many times in the past.

Instead he let them fight it out, their sly little maknae sitting next to him while Felix and Minho were busy cat-fighting. Their reaction when they finally noticed was priceless and Bae couldn’t help but burst into laughter. The two could only grumble as they sat on the other side of the sofa, Felix having to hold Minho back as Jeongin made funny faces at him.

A quick forehead flick later, Bae put on the first marvel movie -they were watching them from the beginning, according to the timeline- and let the maknae seize one of his arms as a pillow. He didn’t need it anyway.

As time went by the snacks dwindled in number until none was left even before the end of the first movie. No one else seemed too sleepy yet, all except Seungmin, whose body slowly but surely started slumping against Bae’s side. The older didn't mind one bit, letting their little menace sleep on his shoulder peacefully. Even when Jeongin noticed the sleeping puppy and tried to poke at him, Bae quickly put a stop to it, knowing how rare it was for Seungmin to just fall asleep in the middle of doing something. The boy clearly needed some rest, and he would be damned if he didn’t let him have it.

Bae continued on with his guard duties until the end of the marathon, but he didn’t have a hard time as Jeongin fell asleep too, later joined by Felix. His arms were completely numb by now, so he carefully wiggled them out one by one and waited for some feeling to return in his tingling fingers. Unfortunately, the notion stirred the youngest awake and Bae immediately apologised, but was brushed off by the yawning maknae.

“I said don’t worry, I’ll just go to bed now. Good night guys.” He was quickly followed by Minho and a now awake Felix -Minho may or may not have shaken him awake violently-, only Bae and a sleeping Seungmin remaining.

Looking over at the younger, Bae let out a fond sigh and picked him up into his arms, careful not to jostle him too much. He already knew where everyone’s rooms were like the back of his hand, so it wasn’t hard for him to find Seungmin’s room and carefully tuck him into bed.

He knew how hard the younger was working, how much he sacrificed for the band and he wished he would give himself some slack.

“Good night, Minnie.” - with one final, gentle pat on the head, Bae quietly walked out of the sleeping puppy’s room.

Yang Jeongin:

“Innie.” - Bae’s voice cut through the silence, firm and cold even over the mask he put on. “No, I won’t let you in.” - came the raspy reply, voice muffled by the locked door. “Jeongin.” “Nooo, go away!” “Yang Jeongin!”

After a minute of silence, only a sigh and some shuffling could be heard from the other side of the door, before a click cut through the air, indicating the path inside was clear. Bae didn’t hesitate to go inside not even a second later, a tray of warm soup and medicine balanced on one of his hands.

“But now you might get sick too…” - muttered Jeongin before sniffling, quickly reaching for a tissue for his stuffy nose.

His hyung merely placed down the tray on his desk and gestured towards it, giving him no choice but to sit down and slowly eat the still scalding hot liquid.

“I don’t care, Innie. I did the same with Lino hyung, you are no different.” - Bae answered simply as he sat down on the bed, watching the younger’s movements closely.

Jeongin did not look okay. The cold he caught -most probably from Minho- just did him dirty: he couldn’t breathe through his nose, his voice was raspy and almost gone, his breathing was forced and heavy. Not to mention the coughing rushes that sometimes attacked him, every single one sounded as if he was going to cough his whole respiratory system up. Just hearing it made anyone nearby flinch, eyebrows furrowed in worry and pity.

Naturally this meant Bae too, the man having rushed over the moment he heard of the news.

This surprised no one of course, as it was a common occurrence, hence why they teasingly called him mom sometimes. That earned them a lesson, which consisted of being chased around and tickled to death, but they never stopped with it. Bae had to accept his fate, just like he did before he came into Jeongin’s room with the soup and medicine. No matter, he would get them for it later, he had already made a mental note for it.

Seeing as how the younger had finished eating, Bae stood up and went to the headboard of the bed, stacking the pillows and plushies up so the sick little fox could lean against them and hopefully sleep in a half-sitting position finally. Glancing back at him, the older noticed the untouched packet of medicine hidden behind the bowl, a sad attempt made by Jeongin.

“Innie…” - he sighed out, already walking back towards the other. “W-what? I finished, Hyung.” - Jeongin stuttered out, his hands hovering above the tray, not knowing where to grab. “You didn’t take your medicine.” “I-I did!” “Innie…” “ Sigh Fine, I didn’t. But it tastes horrible, I hate it!” - the younger pouted, arms crossed in front of his puffed up chest.

It was an adorable sight, even with how sick he was.

“Hmm, then I guess I’ll eat this by myself.” - Bae replied as he took out a packet of sweets from his shirt’s pocket.

Just by the gasp it elicited, he knew he had won, he had gotten one of Jeongin’s favourites after all.

“Buuut, I’ll let you have it if you take that medicine for me.”

He didn’t even have to wait for a reply, the maknae simply tore the packet open and after dissolving its contents in a cup of water, downed it in one go. Face scrunched up in disgust, Jeongin blindly held out his hand for his prize and Bae gave it to him, even offering an extra head pat as a reward.

Satisfied, Jeongin’s face immediately brightened up as he opened the packet and happily munched away on the sweets. It was amusing to watch, especially how he did a happy little dance after an extra delicious piece. It was probably thanks to the sickness and its numbing effects on the mind, but Bae didn’t mind it one bit. Jeongin kind of reminded him of Hyunjin at the moment and his little americano dance. Either way, he watched the younger absolutely devour the pack of candy with amusement dancing in his eyes, his lips arching upwards under the mask at the sad pout once the sick little fox realised there was no more candy.

“Alright, time to rest now Innie.” “I don’t wannaaaaa.” “Don’t whine at me, I know you couldn’t sleep at night because of your nose. Now use your nose spray and get into bed.” “Yes moooooom…” - Jeongin mocked Bae, but with a sharp glare he quickly stopped and did as he was told to do, sitting in bed not even a minute later.

Bae saw how the maknae’s eyes started drooping, the spray working -at least for a while- and allowing him to breathe through his nose. So, he gently pushed the younger into the wall of pillows and carefully carted a hand through his dark mop of hair.

“Good night, Innie. Have sweet dreams.” - he whispered, Jeongin already at the edge of sleep as he took the empty tray with him and tiptoed out of the room, turning off the overhead lights on his way out.

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suedeuxnim · 3 days

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I got tagged in the 10 song by both @vinelark and @burins and I'll be so honest with you: I've been listening to Utada Hikaru on repeat lately, so you're going to get MOSTLY that. But they're the fucking best musician of all time so you're welcome. This is also a plea for everyone to go watch/listen to Nijikan Dake no Vacance. One Last Kiss by Utada Hikaru - super dreamy song, I love the weird reverby piano in this and also they are SO cute in this music video. Literally always forget this was an Eva Rebuild theme but this and Sakura Nagashi are top tier bops by them so why am I surprised. Sakura Drops by Utada Hikaru - An oldie! Their new album is a best hits album and it quickly reminded me that Sakura Drops was the first non-kingdom hearts related music I heard from them and that I became obsessed with it immediately. Very fond of this one. Michi by Utada Hikaru - another one off the Science Fiction compilation album but I just love the weird beats and vocalizations that Utada does - don't know if that's the correct term but their oh oh oh's will get me like no one else and get stuck in my head lmao. Traveling by Utada Hikaru - another old one, this is face paced and I always bop around to it. Also the music video is SO like 00's Britney Spears coded, like just insane cgi weird outfits and choppy editing in the most fun way. Nijikan Dake no Vacance by Utada Hikaru ft Sheena Ringo - my god. This music video literally made me go "wait..... is Utada Hikaru GAY?" They are in fact bisexual and nb, though they hadn't come out as nb at the very least yet. But its a song about neglecting their daily wifely duties to take a secret 2 hour vacation with their secret girlfriend. Sheena Ringo has such a good counterpoint voice to Utada in this, just this scratchy low lounge-y voice and it makes me insane. The music video is also wildly sensual and beautiful. Ore no Kanojo by Utada Hikaru - low slinky voice in this one that only got better once I read the lyrics, its one of the rare sort of downbeat slow songs that I like listening to but Utada always manages to do this for me. About a girlfriend talking about her role in a relationship and inviting her partner to know her more deeply and intimately than the surface.

Idol by Yoasobi - This song made me watch the first episode of Oshi no Ko and some crimes can never be forgiven. But Yoasobi knows how to put together a banger, even a super eclectic one like this. And the animation for the video is just gorgeous too. Hana ni Natte from The Apothecary Diaries - I gotta be so honest I barely remember how the beginning of the song goes but the second it goes HANA NI NAAAAATTEEEEE and goes off I start singing along so, good anime op.

Sleep Walking Orchestra by Bump of Chicken - Bump of Chicken I love you my beloved, And unexpected but fun opening to Dungeon Meshi, I love how folksy it is and the lyrics go along with the show perfectly too.

I'm a Girl Like You from Barbie in Princess and the Pauper - Look I dont know what to tell you, I'm on a girly 00's media kick and this song is a banger AND opens with a girl being like "well at least you're not an indentured servant" to royalty before bursting into song to tell her that they're totally alike because she wants to stop being served hand and foot so she can go read in her personal library. The vibes in this movie are hysterical but the songs are iconic. I don't have 10 people to tag so if you see this and wanna do it you're it!

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hartmannyoukaigirl · 2 months

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attack on titan's ending is just. so so stupid.

as of writing this, i have calmed down from my fury after witnessing the astronomical bullshit also known as season 4 and Especially the two movies at the end. But clearly not enough because the sheer betrayal i feel pierces through my heart and it. hurts. why did the author do this? we had such a good relationship... attack on titan is such an old anime and so mainstream that everyone and their mother watched it. i just hadn't watched it fully so i thought to

rewatch from the very start and experience what once was a 10/10 unironic masterpiece of fiction that... made me discover and dive deep into the anime world as a newbie. as an irl newbie too i literally was 8 years old ( a bit Young to watch extreme death and murder but god did i love it. it was new and unique and it felt real unlike anything else i watched at that time. and also, ive always been edgy )

i just. can't explain the sheer greatness of the first 3 seasons even if i wanted too. the thing is the anime IS too painfully real and it's such a great story with a greater idea and it.. was apparent that the author knew what he was doing. that he was writing the story with a purpose.

in season 3 i genuinely wailed when THE EVENT happened where i hadn't cried that much in easily 5 years or more. It was dramatic and tense and horrible and yet. it was for a great cause.

AND THEN THE BULLSHIT OF SEASON 4 HAPPENS

HOW

COULD SOMEONE RUIN THEIR BELOVED MANGA OF 10 YEARS THAT HIT WORLD WIDE FAME SO EASILY AND WITH SO MUCH CONFIDENCE.

I GENIUNELY DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT KIND OF ACID THE AUTHOR TOOK. The characters felt so weird and bad and ESPECIALLY ARMIN WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO HIM other than the obvious he geniunely wasn't any more useful than a stone on the street or a sack of potatoes. no, seriously what. after the events of season 3 and him becoming such a big favourite character to me he just became... while we are on that topic how the hell did every interaction he had with eren especially in tense moments go so hard and in the final movie it was... worse than the shittiest fanfiction you could imagine. i geniunely was just laughing at it it was so absurd this is the exact type of things i see on wattpad and yet it is CANON? AND THE ENDING OF A DECADE OLD SERIES THAT EVERYONE GREW UP WITH.

I Absolutely did like eren killing every non eldian however things got a bit annoying. I really didnt like his personality after its shift when he touched historia's hand and having finished the anime i Understand what happened but it left a really sore taste in my mouth. and the ending speech where he came true about why he was acting like that just made me cringe. i missed the old eren. and old armin. :"( however, admittedly

i like that mikasa FINALLY got some semblance of personality in season 4. she didnt scream EREEEEEEH every 5 seconds and Actually stopped mentioning him 24/7 and only existing by his side, actually, a big reason i didnt like that season was bc eren was ?? ? ? god knows where most of the time but the positive of that is that mikasa has... independent moments. ikr. i couldnt believe my mind.

actually after writing this i feel alot calmer, just hours ago i wanted to strangle the author with my bare hands but it is whatever i guess. i predicted this anyways because the first 3 seasons where bombshells upon bombshells and literally everything was perfect. and nothing is perfect and all humans are a proud of a sin and inherently could never rise that far. so it is fine, the author did good for 11 years without breaks to always work on the manga. he couldn't have done everything after all.

i miss the old attack on titan, and i sort of wish i hadn't finished it and instead left it as this perfect anime that was all sparkly and cool and emotional and well written but... alas. :(

somehow, the anime was better when they still remained inside the walls. im not even sure what should've happened, but it definitely wasn't that.

#no spoilers !!!#sighs.....

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jrob64 · 2 years

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Where Her Heart Belongs (my CSSNS story)

This is my first contribution to the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer event, and it wouldn’t be possible without many people.

First of all, thank you to the CSSNS 2022 mods for having this event.

I am beyond excited to be paired with @winterbythesea, who created not one, but FOUR absolutely gorgeous pieces of art for this story! Her banner is at the top, and the other three pieces are scattered throughout the story. I only hope it is worthy of her beautiful work!

Thank you to @hookedmom, who read over the story at least a dozen times to help me plot and make it as error free and enjoyable to read as possible. Thanks also to @winterbythesea and @snowbellewells, who read over it to give me suggestions and feedback. It has definitely come a long way since the first draft!

Story summary: In the Land Without Magic, Emma Swan is quietly living her solitary life. When she finds a unique storybook in the library, strange things begin to happen. A canon divergent story which started out based on the movie “Somewhere in Time”, but evolved into something else entirely.

Rating: T

Words: 9191

Also found on ffn and Ao3

*********

Emma Swan pushed through the doors of the Columbus Public Library and inhaled the familiar scent of paper and ink. She knew many people relied on various forms of technology to do their research and reading these days, but in her opinion, nothing was better than the feeling of having an actual book in her hands.

“Good morning!” greeted the man at the circulation desk.

“Good morning,” Emma returned, looking at him curiously as she placed the books she had finished reading in the return slot. In all the times she had come to the library, she’d never seen this man working before - he must be new.

“Looking for anything in particular today?”

“Umm…I’m not sure. I guess I’ll just follow wherever my mood takes me.”

“You should check out our new fairytales section on the second floor,” the man said, gesturing toward the staircase to his left.

“Oh, uh, thanks. I might check it out a little later,” Emma replied.

“Be sure you do. I think you’ll find something there that will spark your interest.” He threw her a warm, dimpled smile, before resuming his typing. Emma’s curiosity about the man was piqued even more when she noticed that instead of using a computer, he was using an old-fashioned, manual typewriter.

She walked through the adult non-fiction section and peeked into the periodicals corner, where several retired senior citizens were reading newspapers. When she reached the area containing adult fiction, she ran her finger across several of the bindings and pulled out a few books to read the summaries on the back cover. None of them drew her attention, so she decided to go upstairs to search for the area the librarian recommended.

Every now and then, she liked to check out picture books, graphic novels or books for younger readers. She rarely had the opportunity to visit libraries when she was growing up in the foster system, so she ignored the social conventions and selected whatever struck her fancy.

She preferred coming to the library in the late morning when it wasn’t very busy, since most young patrons were in school. The quiet solitude of being among her beloved books was a balm that renewed her soul, and restored the faith in the goodness of mankind that her job as a bail bondsperson often depleted.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she glanced around and didn’t immediately see the new section, but something instinctively told her to turn right and go around the corner at the end of the aisle. There, she saw two very realistic columns decorated to look like those that would belong inside a castle. As she stepped between them, she took in the dozens of books neatly stacked on the shelves.

After collecting a couple of books with gilded edges, she carried them to a nearby armchair to peruse them. Losing herself in the stories, she was unaware how much time had passed, until she pulled her attention away from one of the books and checked the display on her phone.

When she glanced around the perimeter of the area, her eyes were drawn to an oversized book sticking out over the edge of the top shelf. Rising from her chair, she approached the shelf and reached up with one hand to slide the book toward herself. Realizing too late she had misjudged its weight, she tried to grab it with her other hand, but failed to catch it. The book clattered to the floor, flipping open to a page which revealed a very detailed color illustration. She looked around in embarrassment before bending down to pick up the book. Upon getting a better look at the picture, her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

The full-page image featured an extremely handsome, but dangerous-looking man. He was dressed in a black leather coat with a high collar, a black blousy shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, and wore a chain with numerous charms around his neck. He was holding the ship’s wheel and had a hook in the place of his left hand. Mesmerized by his cornflower blue eyes and his dark, wind-blown hair, Emma dropped down to her knees to get a closer look.

Scanning the words on the opposite page, she understood this was the story of Killian Jones, also known as Captain Hook. “Holy shit! That doesn’t look like any Captain Hook I’ve ever seen,” she commented under her breath.

She marked the place with the attached ribbon and closed the cover to see the title, Once Upon a Time, embossed in gold on the rich, brown leather cover. There was no author’s name, so she presumed it was a compilation of fairy tales, and saw more brightly colored illustrations as she skimmed through its pages. It seemed to be written as one ongoing story, which encompassed many well-known and lesser-known fairy tale characters including Snow White, Prince Charming, Pinocchio, and many others.

“Excuse me.”

Emma looked up to see a boy who appeared to be about twelve-years-old looking down at her. Her brows raised as she said, “Do you need something?”

A brief flash of disappointment flitted across his face, before he gestured to the storybook on the floor in front of where she knelt and asked, “Can I see that book?”

“Umm,” she pondered, reluctantly closing it and picking it up. “Actually, I’m planning to check it out.”

He threw her a skeptical look. “Why? It’s a kids’ book.”

Emma pulled it to her chest and crossed her arms over it protectively. “Adults can like fairy tales, too,” she informed him defensively.

Tilting his head, he studied her. “Do you believe they’re true?”

“What? Of course not! They’re just made-up stories.”

“Then maybe you don’t deserve to read them.”

Emma tamped down the annoyance she could feel bubbling under the surface. “Are you telling me you think stories about talking animals and wooden puppets turning into real boys are true?”

The boy shrugged. “Why not? Some people believed they could send a man to the moon, even when everyone else thought they were crazy.”

“I don’t think that’s the same thing, kid.”

“But you don’t know that for a fact, do you?”

“Henry?” a voice called, then the woman to whom it belonged came around the corner of the bookshelf. “Oh, there you are. We need to get going. Do you have all your books selected?”

The boy, Henry, turned to Emma once more with an imploring look. She expected him to plead for the storybook again, so his next words surprised her. “Read it with the heart of the truest believer.” Then he reached down to pick up the other books Emma had set aside and raised his brows at her in question. When she nodded her assent for him to take them, he gave her a huge grin then hurried off to join the dark-haired woman in the navy pantsuit, whom Emma assumed to be his mother.

Emma stared after him for several moments, then shook her head and slowly pushed to her feet. The heart of the truest believer? What the hell did he mean by that?

When she got to the circulation desk, the man who greeted her when she first arrived was no longer there, nor was the typewriter. As she handed the oversized storybook to the woman she usually saw working at the desk, she noticed the books the boy had taken with him sitting on the counter. “Guess the kid decided not to get those after all,” she commented.

“Who?” the woman asked, searching for a bar code on the book.

“The kid who brought these books here to check out.”

She glanced up with a quizzical look. “You’re the only person who has come to the desk in almost twenty minutes.”

“Oh. Well, I guess you must have missed him, then.”

Her brows raised even higher. “I haven’t moved from this spot since I came to work over an hour ago. If somebody came to the desk, I would have definitely seen them.”

Emma’s eyes widened in confusion. “But I just talked to him a couple of minutes ago, in the fairy tale section.”

“What fairy tale section?” the worker questioned, giving up the search for the bar code and raising her eyes to meet Emma’s.

“The new one upstairs. That’s where he got those books, and where I found this one,” she said, pointing at the one titled Once Upon a Time.

The woman narrowed her eyes, clearly puzzled. “I don’t know anything about a new section up there.” She paused for a moment, then continued, “I was on vacation last week, so maybe they added it while I was gone. Funny, the director didn’t tell me anything about it, though. I wonder if they set it up for a book signing.”

“The guy working at the desk when I arrived told me about it,” Emma informed her.

“Guy? I’m the only one working here today.”

“But…he was here…and he was typing and…” Emma stammered, clearly at a loss to explain all the odd things which were happening. The look on the other woman’s face was a mixture of confusion and a little fear, probably for Emma’s sanity. “I…I’m sorry. I haven’t been sleeping well the last couple of nights and I, um…maybe I dozed off up there and had a weird dream…or something,” she finished lamely.

The woman cleared her throat uncomfortably and looked down at the book she was still holding in her hands. “I, uh, I don’t ever remember seeing this book before.”

“Can…can I still check it out?” Emma asked, surprised to find that she was going to be very disappointed if she couldn’t.

The librarian started to shake her head, and then saw the hopefulness in the other woman’s eyes. Emma Swan was one of the most frequent patrons at the library. Because most stakeouts were in the evening, her job allowed her to visit during the day, and she took full advantage of it.

It made the worker’s heart happy to see someone who still loved turning the physical pages of a book, instead of reading them digitally, so she just couldn’t bring herself to deny the request. “Um, okay,” she said, “let me just add it into the system first.” She tapped on the computer keyboard, her eyebrows drawing closer together with every second that passed. “This must be brand new; it’s not even showing in our inventory yet.” She glanced up to see Emma biting her lip and looking crestfallen.

The librarian made a split-second decision and handed the book to the woman in front of her. “I tell you what, I’ll loan it to you anyway and add it to the system when you return it. I’m sure you’ll take very good care of it.”

Emma eagerly accepted it with a bright smile on her face, reverently running her hand over the leather cover as she murmured, “Yes, of course I will,” in a distracted voice.

After the librarian wrote down the title, she glanced up and asked, “Are you checking out anything else?” but didn’t receive an answer, because Emma had already turned to walk out the front doors, her hands still caressing the book like it was a precious treasure.

*********

Emma was almost at the bottom of the library steps before she realized it was raining. “Typical Ohio weather,” she mumbled. The sun had been shining when she left home, so she decided to walk and hadn’t bothered to bring an umbrella. Scanning the dark clouds, she realized the rain wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, so she quickly secured the book against her chest, wrapped her red leather jacket around it, then began quickly walking the six blocks home, dodging other people on the sidewalk.

By the time she reached her apartment building, she was drenched, her hair soaked and sticking to her face, and her shoes making squelching sounds as she walked up the three flights of stairs.

She unlocked her door with shaking fingers and entered, setting the deadbolt and chain locks once she was inside. Removing the book from inside her jacket, she was relieved to see it was mostly dry and undamaged. She was dying to sit down and begin reading in the comfortable confines of her home, but the rain was chilly and she knew she needed a hot shower and some hot chocolate to warm herself up, first.

After having her hot cocoa and a late lunch, she finally sat down an hour later, eagerly pulled the book into her lap and began slowly turning the pages, contentedly soaking in the colorful illustrations and reading it with bated breath. She was so completely enthralled with the tale of the Evil Queen casting a curse over the town and freezing time for twenty-eight years, she again lost all track of time.

Over four hours had passed when the print on the page became difficult to read and she realized dusk had fallen. “Shit!” she cursed, scrambling up from the couch and laying the storybook on her kitchen counter. She was setting a honey trap for the skip she was trying to catch, and was supposed to meet him at a restaurant in less than twenty minutes. She scurried into her bedroom, quickly changed into a dress, applied some makeup, threw on heels, pulled her hair up into a high ponytail, then grabbed her purse and keys.

Casting one last, longing look at the book, she debated taking it with her, just in case the guy didn’t show and the evening turned into a stakeout. Ultimately deciding against it, she left the apartment.

*********

It was after midnight when she returned, limping and sore from having to chase and tackle the imbecile who thought leading her on a footrace through the downtown area was a good idea. He was sitting in jail now, and she had a tidy sum to deposit into her checking account, but it came at the cost of a twisted ankle and bruised ribs.

After gingerly changing into yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt, she draped her damaged dress over the wooden chair in her bedroom, then tugged the elastic band out of her hair. As she brushed out the tangles, she winced, the movement pulling at her tender rib cage. “Stupid asshole,” she grumbled.

Truth be told, it wasn’t the physical pain that bothered her the most, but rather the sting of his words when she berated him for skipping out on his court date, after the wife he was supposed to love bailed him out. “What do you know about love? Nobody would ever love you!” he had spat at her.

“Nothing. I know nothing about love,” she whispered to her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sighing, she shuffled into the kitchen to toss some ice cubes in a ziplock bag for her ankle and get a bottle of water. The book on the counter caught her attention and she almost picked it up, but knew it would lift her spirits, and chose to wallow in her misery instead.

She hobbled to the couch and slumped down on it, propped her foot on the coffee table and placed the ice bag across her ankle, making adjustments until it remained stationary. Rummaging between the cushions, she located the remote and flicked on the television, mindlessly scrolling through the guide, until she settled on a rewatch of Iron Man 2. After attempting to focus her attention for ten minutes, she gave up and decided to go to bed. She lay sleepless for most of the night, with the words of the guy she hauled to the police station echoing in her head.

*********

As Emma dragged herself out of bed the next morning, the aches and pains from the previous night hit her full-force; it was all she could do to get into the shower and allow the hot spray to wash over her sore body. Days like this made her wish she had a bathtub, but that was one luxury that didn’t come with her apartment.

After two cups of coffee, a couple of cherry Pop-Tarts, a dose of ibuprofen, and more ice applied to her ankle, she felt halfway human again. She was relieved it was Saturday, giving her the whole day to rest. Opting to leave the television off, she settled onto the sofa with the storybook propped on her lap and started reading where she left off.

When she reached the story of Pinocchio, it began the same as the original with the woodcarver creating a wooden puppet, who then became a real boy. However, this version went on to tell what happened after the boy grew up and became a man. He began turning back into wood, because he didn’t prove to be brave, selfless and true.

Studying the drawing of the man with the wooden features, Emma couldn’t help but notice the similarity between him and the man she saw, or thought she saw, at the library circulation desk. The hair, eyes, jawline and other features all bore a striking resemblance to the person whom Emma had nearly convinced herself was a figment of her imagination. “That’s just a weird coincidence,” she mumbled, finally turning the page to the beginning of the next tale.

By the time her stomach started growling, it was one o’clock and she was just finishing the story of the Mad Hatter. She was intrigued by the fact that every story in the book had its own unique plot, rather than following the well-known, traditional one.

She heated up two slices of leftover pizza, took more pain medication, then sat on the couch, reapplied ice, and leafed through the book to inspect more of the illustrations. Upon reaching the story of Peter Pan and the image of Captain Hook, she spent an inordinate amount of time studying the handsome pirate, taking in every minute detail.

When she finally decided to peel her eyes away from the picture to continue flipping through several more pages, she suddenly sat bolt upright. “What the hell?”

The illustration showed two people dancing at what appeared to be a royal ball. She easily recognized Killian Jones, even though he was wearing a brown, high-collared frock coat and a white shirt with ruffled cuffs, instead of his pirate garb. But it was the woman with whom he was dancing who drew her attention the most. She wore a bright red, floor-length ball gown with a sweetheart neckline and long sleeves, her blonde hair swept up in a simple updo adorned with a jeweled headband. Emma stared at the woman’s face and its familiar features - the same ones she saw every time she looked in the mirror.

She was looking at a picture of herself dancing with the infamous Captain Hook.

It had to be a mistake. Maybe it was someone who just resembled her and she hadn’t examined it closely enough to see the differences in their appearance. Maybe the artist saw her or her picture somewhere and used her likeness.

Emma let the ice bag slide off her ankle as she put both feet on the floor and bent over the book. Even though the drawing wasn’t super-realistic, it was still detailed enough to see that the resemblance was uncanny.

“Don’t be an idiot, Emma,” she murmured. “It’s just a weird coincidence. There’s no way this is a picture of you in a book of fairy tales.” She continued to carefully examine the illustration, concentrating on finding any possible differences between herself and the woman in the drawing.

The problem was, she knew it was her. She felt it in her very soul.

Tearing her eyes away from the drawing, she quickly read a couple of paragraphs from the story on the opposite page. It told of the couple attending a royal ball in disguise in order to retrieve a ring stolen from Prince Charming by Snow White. When she read that the woman in the red dress was identified as Princess Leia and her partner as Prince Charles, Emma barked out a laugh.

She shifted her eyes back to the right, once again drinking in the image of the dancing couple. After staring at the page for a prolonged amount of time, she found herself whispering, “Killian Jones” over and over, enjoying how his name tasted on her tongue, feeling like it was familiar and somehow very important.

As she continued to repeat it, she gently stroked her fingers across the page, then let out a gasp. The tips of her fingers seemed to sink into the paper, creating a ripple like that of a stone plopping into water. She drew them back quickly, before swallowing hard and hesitantly touching them to the surface again. This time, nothing happened, causing her to frown. “Now I’m either hallucinating or my imagination is running wild,” she chastised herself.

Shuffling her bare feet on the carpet, her right one encountered a wet puddle. “Dammit!” she exclaimed, realizing the ice in the plastic bag must have melted and leaked. She laid the open book on the coffee table, collected the offending bag from the floor, and pushed herself up off the couch to limp into the kitchen for a towel.

Glancing at the clock on the microwave, she was shocked to see it was after seven. No wonder all of the ice turned to water, and the sky outside her window was beginning to darken. She could hardly believe how quickly time passed every time she sat down to read this book.

Shaking her head, she decided to make a cup of hot chocolate and a plate of nachos covered with cheese and leftover taco meat. As she waited for the milk to heat in the microwave, she started to move dreamily around the kitchen. She crossed the room to get the shredded cheese out of the refrigerator, and realized that despite her sore ankle, she was attempting to dance a waltz. Although she had never done that particular dance before, she recognized it as one she had seen other people do on television and in movies. “You’re losing it, Emma,” she said, rolling her eyes at herself.

Cracking open a fresh bottle of water, she took more ibuprofen, replaced the cap and tucked the bottle under her arm. Juggling the plate of nachos and mug of cocoa, she returned to the living room. The entire time she was eating, she was absentmindedly humming.

Just as she was about to stuff another nacho into her mouth, her jaw dropped and so did the chip, right into her lap. Maybe she had hit her head tackling the skip and didn’t realize it. She was hallucinating again, because the figures in the book appeared to be moving around the dance floor in time with the music she was humming.

After quickly wiping her hands off on a napkin, she rubbed her eyes, then looked at the page again. The couple on the page was stagnant and unmoving. “Of course they are,” she reprimanded herself. “People in drawings don’t move. I’m losing my mind, or maybe I have a concussion. I should probably get it checked.”

She cleaned up the mess from the dropped nacho and threw away what was left on the paper plate, her appetite gone as she pondered what she thought she had witnessed. Deciding she was overly tired, she went into the bedroom to change into pajamas, brushed her teeth, and then climbed into bed.

Sleep didn’t come easily, but when she finally succumbed, Emma dreamed of dancing with Killian Jones. She could almost feel his arm around her waist, and hear his deep, accented voice as he uttered that she appeared to be a natural.

*********

One advantage to being an independent bail bonds person was that she could set her own hours. For the next three days, Emma stayed home to nurse her wounds, and nearly every minute of it was spent poring over the book. She read every tale with the excitement of a child, then went back and read them again.

Every time she came across a mention of Killian Jones, or his more colorful moniker, Captain Hook, she marked the spot so she could go back to it over and over. She felt a connection to him that she was hard-pressed to understand.

The illustration of him dancing with the lady in red drew her attention most of all. The more she read the accompanying story and closely examined the drawing, the more she was convinced it was actually her waltzing with the handsome captain. She knew it didn’t make sense, but it was impossible for her to think otherwise.

She experienced four more moments of seeing the figures in the book move in front of her eyes, and twice felt her fingers dip into the surface of the page again, each time feeling a strange, but warm, tingling sensation. It always happened when she was so engrossed in the words and pictures, that she almost put herself into a trance.

As she lay in bed one night after one of these episodes, her mind started spinning in a bizarre direction. If she could break into the page with her fingertips, was it possible to transport herself into the book?

She turned over and buried her face in the pillow, berating herself for having such ridiculous thoughts; but no matter how much she tried to block the idea, it continued to niggle at her brain. If she could get into the book, maybe she could meet Killian Jones.

*********

On Wednesday morning, after hardly getting any sleep the night before, she took her torn dress to the seamstress down the street. Since damaged clothes tended to be a regular outcome of her job, she was very familiar with the two women who worked there.

When she entered the shop, she was startled by the sound of a tinkling bell above the door. “That’s new, isn’t it?” she asked, looking behind her to see the small, gold bell.

“Yes, but it’s nice, don’t you think?” a voice answered, and when Emma turned, she didn’t recognize the person to whom it belonged. Standing there instead was a petite, fair-skinned woman with short, dark hair, sparkling green eyes and a bright smile. Emma sensed something recognizable about her, but couldn’t quite place it.

“Uh, sure,” she said absent-mindedly. “You, um, you’re new too, aren’t you? It’s been a few weeks since I’ve been here. When did you start working?”

The woman cocked her head to the left before responding, giving Emma the impression she was trying to figure out how to answer. “I, um…I started very recently.” Her smile following this statement was almost secretive. Then she stretched her hands toward the dress in Emma’s hands. “How can I help you?”

“There are several beads missing and a couple of minor tears that need to be sewn.” Emma laid the garment on the counter and proceeded to point out the damage.

“Oh, those look like they can easily be fixed. Give us a day or two.”

“A day or two? It usually takes at least a week.”

The other woman’s smile faded a tiny bit, before she recovered to say, “Well, we haven’t been very busy lately, so it won’t take as long.”

“Okay…that’s, um, that’s great,” Emma said, still trying to figure out why the other woman looked so familiar.

“Just come back Saturday morning and we’ll have this waiting for you, good as new.”

Emma nodded, but didn’t turn to go, causing the dark-haired woman’s forehead to crease in obvious confusion. “Was there something else?”

“Shouldn’t you give me a claim ticket?”

“A…oh, yes! Just a second.” The woman searched somewhat frantically under the counter until she finally straightened up with a yellow slip of paper in her hand. She held it out to Emma, who took it and deliberately tore it along the perforated line, then handed the smaller piece back. The woman accepted it hesitantly, clearly unsure what to do with it.

“Are you, uh…are you going to pin that to my dress?”

“Pin it. Of course!” Her eyes fell on the small box of safety pins sitting next to the cash register, and she quickly plucked one out and pinned the yellow tag to the light blue material of the dress. “There. That should do it!” she crowed triumphantly.

“Thank you. I’ll, um, I guess I’ll see you Saturday.”

“Yes, I’m looking forward to it!” the woman chirped.

Emma gave her one last puzzled glance, then turned and headed out the door, startled once again by the slightly obnoxious little bell.

She was halfway home when she suddenly stopped stock still in the middle of the sidewalk, causing the man behind her to sidestep quickly to avoid a collision. Oblivious to his glare and perturbed eye roll as he moved past her, she snapped her fingers and firmly stated, “That’s it! She’s Snow White!”

*********

Throughout the rest of the week, Emma encountered several more people who closely resembled fairytale characters she’d read about in the book. ‘Red Riding Hood’ waited on her when she went to the diner down the street, ‘the Mad Hatter’ greeted her as she entered her favorite coffee shop for her regular order of chai tea, and ‘Prince Charming’ was the police officer who helped process the skip she brought in on Friday evening. She had never seen any of them before, and it seemed like more than a coincidence that they kept popping up in her daily activities.

When she returned to the seamstress shop on Saturday, she expected to hear the ringing of the bell as she pushed through the door, but it wasn’t there. One of the regular workers was behind the counter instead of ‘Snow White’. Emma asked, “Did you take the bell down already?”

“Bell?”

“The one above the door.”

“We’ve never had a bell above the door, although that wouldn’t be a bad idea, especially when we’re both busy in the back.”

Emma’s brows knit together. “It was there when I came in the other day.” She turned to look at the spot where she had seen the little gold bell two days ago and saw that there were no nail holes where it had been mounted. She rubbed her eyes and shook her head, beginning to get used to strange things happening.

“Do you have something to drop off, Miss Swan?” the seamstress asked.

“Not today. I, uh, I should have a dress to pick up. I brought it in on Wednesday.” She placed the yellow tag on the counter.

The lady in front of her looked puzzled, something else Emma was seeing quite often these days. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Miss Swan. We were closed all day on Wednesday and Thursday due to both of us being ill. Maybe it was another day…Tuesday perhaps?”

She shouldn’t have been surprised, but Emma’s jaw dropped all the same. “But…I…there was…um, would you mind checking to see if there’s something here anyway?”

“Sure, just a minute.” The woman picked up the tag and began searching the clothes rack behind her and, finding nothing, turned to the shelves containing shopping bags for larger orders. “Oh, I see you do have a pick-up.” She snatched the white bag off of the shelf and set it on the counter.

“Are you certain that’s mine?” Emma asked. “I only brought in a mini-dress. It shouldn’t warrant such a big bag.”

The lady pointed to the yellow tag stapled to the sack. “This matches your number, and see here? Your name is even written on the bag.” Emma looked where the seamstress was pointing and saw her name written in flowing script.

“Okay, well, how much do I owe you?”

“The tag says it’s already been paid.”

Emma stopped midway to unzipping her purse. “Really?”

“That’s what it says. Don’t you remember paying?”

“Uh, no, but I seem to be pretty forgetful these days, so I guess it’s possible.” She looped her wrist through the handles and dragged it off the counter, surprised at the weight of the sack, since one dress shouldn’t be heavy at all. Peeking into the bag, she noticed some red material underneath her blue dress, as well as a note laying on top, which read, “This isn’t a mistake, Emma. The extra dress is for you.”

Her eyes widened and she shot a look up at the seamstress. “Is something wrong?” the woman questioned.

“No, I, um…th-thank you. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.” Turning quickly, she exited the shop.

On the way home, she was tempted to take a closer look at the red dress, but felt compelled to wait until she was in the privacy of her apartment. Once she let herself in and closed the door behind her, she placed the bag on the coffee table. Removing her blue dress, she noted that it was expertly repaired and set it aside, then reached for the other garment underneath.

When she pulled it from the bag, she nearly dropped it in shock. The red ball gown she was holding in her hands was an exact replica of the one in the drawing of her dancing with Killian Jones.

Once she overcame her astonishment, Emma took the dress into her bedroom to try it on. She laid it out on the bed and ran her fingers over the soft, satin material, feeling a tingling in them that traveled up her arms all the way to her shoulders.

She stripped off her jeans and sweater, gingerly stepped into the dress, pulled it up around her, slid her arms into the sleeves and reached behind herself to try to tighten the satin ribbons. She knew the intricate lacing would probably require another person to close it properly, but to her surprise, the ribbons almost magically slipped through the eyelets, allowing her to tie them in a bow at the small of her back. Smoothing her hands down the full skirt, she marveled at the fact that it fit her perfectly.

Drawing in a deep breath, she turned slowly to take in her reflection in the full-length mirror and gasped. The resemblance to the illustration in the book was unmistakable. She swiveled this way and that to see the dress from every angle, all the while trying to identify the sensations passing through her body. It was as if gentle currents of electricity were running up and down her spine and extremities, and if she was pressed to put a name to it, she would call it magic.

She gathered the material in her hands and lifted it slightly so she could move more freely. The full skirt swished around her ankles as she swayed back and forth, humming to herself. Soon, she was moving around the room with her eyes closed, imagining being in the arms of Killian Jones.

Leaving the bedroom and gliding down the hall to the living room, she swept past the coffee table where the book laid open to the picture of the couple waltzing. It didn’t phase her anymore to see the figures moving. She stopped in front of the table, but continued humming and watching the figures dance in time to the music. Emma hesitantly reached out to touch the page, and a now-familiar sensation progressed up the length of her arm as the tips of her fingers pushed through the surface of it. Biting her lip, she kept going, but then hit an unyielding wall as she reached the knuckles on her hand.

Disappointed, she stopped humming and drew back her hand. Immediately, the dancing couple ceased moving and the solidness of the page was once again restored. She sighed deeply and murmured, “So close, Killian Jones. Someday I’ll make it to you,” then trudged back down the hallway to take off the dress.

*********

The next week, Emma had an appointment at her usual beauty shop to get her split ends trimmed. She had been going to the same hair stylist for as long as she could remember, so she was surprised when she entered the shop and didn’t see the girl anywhere. In fact, there was only one person in the entire place, which was very strange, because it was always bustling with customers and hairdressers.

“Where is everyone?” she asked, directing her question to the pretty, blonde stylist.

The girl gestured to the chair in front of the mirror as she answered, “Well…it was a slow day, so the others went out for lunch.”

Emma took the offered seat and looked into the mirror, her eyes widening when she saw the face of the beautician reflected there. “Cinderella,” she whispered. She didn’t think the girl heard her, until she smirked at Emma in the mirror, clearly aware that she recognized her.

She made quick work of trimming the ends of Emma’s hair, then drew the brush through her golden locks over and over again. “You have beautiful hair. Do you mind if I style it into an updo? I would really like the practice. No extra charge, of course.”

“Uh, sure, that would be fine.” Emma was heading straight home afterwards and was actually rather curious what she would look like with a sophisticated hairdo, since she’d never had an occasion to wear one.

“Great! Just relax and let me see what I can come up with.”

Emma’s eyes closed as the beautician lightly massaged her scalp, before beginning to divide her hair and twist it into an elegant style. After a surprisingly short amount of time, the girl asked, “What do you think?”

When Emma opened her eyes, she gulped and sat up straighter in the chair, leaning forward to get a closer look in the mirror. The style the hairdresser had created was exactly the same one her doppleganger had in the fairy tale book. “It…it’s perfect.”

The stylist smiled. “I’m very happy to hear that! The Captain will approve.”

Emma whipped around to face her. “What do you mean by that?” she gasped.

Wearing the same smirk as before, the girl stated simply, “You’ll see.”

Emma wanted to question her further, but decided against it, since she could hardly wait to get home to see the full effect of wearing the dress with her new hairdo.

*********

As she hurried home, Emma’s eyes were suddenly drawn to something sparkling in the window of a store she had never noticed before. Without hesitating, she let her feet carry her through the door of the small business.

Her jaw dropped when she scanned the cramped space, filled with a bevy of miscellaneous items. Just as she was admiring the pair of wooden marionette puppets hanging on the wall, a man emerged through the black curtain which covered the doorway to a back room. She wasn’t even surprised to recognize the man as Gepetto from the storybook. His smile was broad and warm as he held his hands out in a welcoming gesture. “Good day, Miss. How may I help you today?”

“I, uh, I was interested in the jeweled headband you have in the window.”

“Ah, yes!” he exclaimed. He shuffled out from behind the counter and walked to the window to slide aside the blue backdrop curtain. He gently lifted the band encrusted with sparkling crystals from the red satin pillow on which it rested, then turned to face Emma. With a slight bow, he held it out to her.

After accepting it and running her fingers over the surface of it, she looked up at the kindly gentleman. “May I try it on?”

“Of course!” He stepped back behind the counter and reached beneath it to retrieve a small mirror in a wooden frame. Setting it beside the old-fashioned cash register, he tilted it to a good angle for Emma to see herself.

“Thank you,” she smiled, then carefully placed the band on her head, nestled within her elegant hairdo. It was the finishing touch.

“Oh, my dear! It looks like it was made just for you!”

She looked up at him. “I actually think it might have been.”

*********

Once she got home, Emma wasted no time getting undressed, carelessly tossing her discarded clothes on the bedroom floor. She reverently held the ball gown up in front of herself, not understanding the heightened sense of anticipation which had her hands shaking and her heart racing. She only knew that she felt an overwhelming urgency to get into the dress and try again to push herself into the drawing.

As soon as she had the laces tied, she opened the box from Gepetto’s shop and extracted the headband. Looking in the mirror, she settled it on her head and adjusted it to perfection. Then she went into the bathroom and applied makeup to match the illustration in the book as closely as possible.

When she finished, she returned to the bedroom to check her appearance in the full-length mirror. Satisfied with the results, she collected the book from her bedside table and placed it on the bed, opening it to the correct page with shaking hands. She felt the familiar tingles zipping through her fingers as she ran them across the paper, creating ripples in their wake.

Taking a deep breath, she whispered, “Please let me get through to you, Killian Jones,” before plunging her fingers between the two people in the portrait. This time, she was able to push through to her wrist, the tingles intensifying as a bright white halo of light began emanating around her point of entry on the page.

As her entire hand disappeared into the book, she suddenly felt her fingers brush against cool metal. Her mind snapped to attention as she realized it was curved and shaped like a…

Emma grabbed onto the hook like a lifeline, feeling a burst of magical energy - a burst of hope - that filled her and set her nerve endings alight, before she was pulled completely into the storybook.

She landed in a pair of strong arms and was immediately pulled against a broad, powerful chest. “Swan,” she heard breathed into her ear. “At last!”

Emma drew back to look at the man holding her and a rush of memories flooded her mind. Pulling him from beneath a pile of bodies, watching him bandage her bleeding hand at the top of the beanstalk, seeing his ship come into the harbor to offer his help with rescuing Henry, kissing him in Neverland, defeating Zelena together, falling through her portal into the past...

At the same time, emotions she had fought to repress for so long surged through her and she grabbed his face, pulled him to her and kissed the holy hell out of him.

It only took a fraction of a moment for him to kiss her back, and she could feel every bit of longing he was pouring into it. When she finally separated her lips from his, she kept her forehead pressed firmly to his. “Killian,” she panted, “is it really you?”

“I bloody well hope so, or else I would like to know who you thought you were kissing!”

She giggled and pecked him on the lips again. “What happened? How did we get separated?”

“The Crocodile,” he growled. “When we were still in the Enchanted Forest and he had us trapped in his vault, he must have sensed you were getting your magic back and sent you off to the land without magic.”

She looked around at her surroundings and realized they were in the loft. “How did you escape and get back here?”

“You managed to open a portal before you vanished. Once I got back to Storybrooke, your family and I started trying to figure out how to find you. It took us four bloody days before Regina realized there was still some residual magic left in the mirror you used to see Ariel’s reunion with Eric. We were able to look into it to see where you were, and we could tell Rumplestiltskin had wiped your memories, too.”

“But why? Why didn’t he want me to use my magic to get us out of the vault? Why did he send me away, erase my memories, and replace them with false ones?”

“You heard him when he asked why he hadn’t buried the hatchet in my head. He still had a vendetta against me back then, and had the power and opportunity to cause me more suffering. I’m sure he could sense that tearing you away from me would accomplish that.”

“If I keep getting my memories stripped, pretty soon I’m not going to have a brain left at all.”

He chuckled and loosened his hold on her, allowing her feet to touch down on the floor, but keeping his arms around her. “I missed you, Swan.”

“How long was I gone?”

“Nearly two weeks.”

“Is that all? It felt like I lived there for most of my life. Of course, that’s the way it felt when Henry and I were in Boston and then New York.” At the thought of Henry, her eyes snapped up to his. “Henry! He came to me while I was in the library, and Regina was with him. August was there, too. Oh, and I also saw my mom and dad! In fact, I saw several people from the Enchanted Forest and Storybrooke there. How did they get there?”

“When we realized where you were, Belle helped research ways to help you regain your memory, so you could find your way back to us. She felt a bit guilty for what the Crocodile did to you, even though Gold claims he doesn’t recall his former self doing such a thing. I suppose he could be telling the truth, since your mother and father don’t recall seeing us when we were on our little adventure to the past. Anyway, Belle had a theory that sending people you knew to that Columbus place might help jog your memory, and Regina figured out a spell which would allow them to be transported through portals for short amounts of time.”

“Then why didn’t…” her voice trailed off as she dropped her eyes.

“Why didn’t I come to you?” he murmured. “I tried, Swan, truly I did, but the Crocodile must have put some kind of block on me from being able to pass through different realms. He probably thought he had me trapped in his vault forever, but didn’t want to take the risk of me being able to track you down again, should I be able to escape. I’m sure he had no idea you’d already created a portal, which allowed me to come back here to seek help, before the block took full effect.” He squeezed her tighter and pressed a kiss to her hairline, taking advantage of the fact that she seemed to be quite content to be held in his arms. “Belle realized everyone could go through but me, so she tried to convince Gold to remove the block between us. In the meantime, when she saw that sending Henry and the storybook to you didn’t do the trick, she figured we had to push things a little bit by outfitting you to look just like the illustration in the book. We could tell it was beginning to work when you were able to penetrate the surface of the pages.”

“Were you able to see me all the time?”

“No, only when you were looking at the book. There was some sort of connection forged between it and the mirror. Even Regina couldn’t explain it, but we were bloody glad to have it.”

“So when I was reaching into the book…”

“You were coming through the mirror, but never far enough for me to be able to grasp your hand. Belle knew it had to be the Crocodile’s spell that was preventing you from pushing all the way through, so she gave him an ultimatum - vanquish the block or she was leaving him, so he finally removed it. When I saw you reaching through today, I thought I would offer you my hook so you would realize who it was and allow me to pull you through. Fortunately, it worked.”

Casting her eyes around the loft again, she asked, “Where is everyone else?”

“We had no way of knowing how long it would take to get you back, so after a few days, they had to go back to their usual routines. They hated to do it, but all of us sitting and staring at the mirror twenty-four hours a day just wasn’t practical. We set up a schedule to ensure that someone would always be in front of it in case you had a breakthrough.”

For the first time, she looked very closely at him. His eyes, which were void of the usual koal lining them, looked incredibly tired with deep purple shadows underneath. “How often were you on watch?” she questioned.

A flush crept up his neck, all the way to the tips of his ears, one of which he was self-consciously scratching behind. “I, uh…never left.”

A quick glance at the mussed blankets and pillows littering the floor in front of the mirror confirmed what he said. “For two weeks?” she asked incredulously.

He raised his head to meet her gaze, then nodded slightly and replied, “Aye.”

The significance of his simple, almost bashful answer slammed into her full force. The entire time she was gone, he never gave up hope of getting her back, just like he hadn’t when she and Henry fled Pan’s curse. How he reached her that time, he hadn’t yet shared with her, but somehow she was sure he had to make some sacrifices to do it.

Emma was never good at expressing herself through words, and this time was no different. Overcoming her disbelief at his declaration, she leaned in and claimed his lips in a sweet, soft, but passionate kiss. His hand came up to caress her cheek as his left arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her closer. Her fingers slid up his leather-clad back and drifted into his soft strands of hair, tugging at them slightly to change the angle so she could deepen the kiss.

When they reluctantly let their lips drift apart, they caught their breath with their eyes closed and their foreheads pressed together. After several quiet moments, Emma whispered, “Killian?”

“Yes, Love?”

“Thank you for never giving up on me.”

“It wasn’t just me, Swan. Your family wanted you back as desperately as…”

“I wasn’t only talking about this time.”

He pulled away slightly to look at her, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip nervously. “You mean, when I found you in New York?”

“Yes, and I’m fully expecting you to explain how you did that sometime soon, but it’s even more than that. You have never let me down or turned your back on me, no matter how many times I pushed you away or told you…”

“That it was a one-time thing?” he smirked.

Her stiff posture sagged a little as she exhaled a chuckle. “Yeah, and continuously insisting I was going back to New York, saying Zelena should have cursed someone I would actually kiss, telling you I couldn’t trust you anymore, and so on.”

He brought his hand up to palm her cheek. “You’re worth every minute I’ve had to wait for you. I figured that out from the moment we kissed in Neverland.”

“You’ve been a very patient man.”

“I was just waiting for you to realize that we’re perfect together.”

Out of habit, her eyes searched his to detect any hint of a lie, but, as always with him, there was none to be found. She was suddenly quite certain she could look into those eyes for all eternity and never see anything but honesty…and love. The thought took her by surprise, even though it shouldn’t. Her stubborn heart had been denying what she knew to be his true feelings ever since Neverland. She just never wanted to admit it to herself, because if she did, it would be real, and in her experience, real could bring pain and heartbreak.

“Emma? Are you alright?”

She broke out of her musings to see him looking at her with concern. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I just…” Her words came to a halt as she cast about, trying to figure out how to end the sentence. Several beats passed before she let her lips do the talking again, caressing his in a way she hoped expressed her thoughts eloquently.

“We’re back where we belong,” she said softly, once the tender kiss ended. “Me…and my heart. We’re both here with you, right where we belong.”

A brilliant smile stretched across his face before he leaned in to share another kiss. Just as their lips touched, the door slammed open and the quiet was shattered by several people bursting into the room, all exclaiming loudly when they saw Emma.

“Mom!” Henry shouted, sprinting across the room and throwing his arms around her.

As Emma hugged her son fiercely, David and Mary Margaret surrounded them, turning it into a joyous group hug.

“I thought that was a burst of magic we felt,” Regina said, following the Charmings into the loft. “As usual, everyone ran to Granny’s when they felt it. Henry was convinced it was Emma returning, so we rushed right over. Mary Margaret told everyone they could follow, so the others shouldn’t be far behind.”

Noise filled the space as everyone started talking all at once, asking how she finally made her way back while she tried to answer all of them. The chatter was just beginning to die down when Belle, Ruby and Jefferson entered, closely followed by Marco, August and Ashley. Emma shared hugs with all of them, thanking them for helping her recover her memories, and answering the same questions about her return, once again.

Killian wearily sat on a bar stool, watching the happy chaos surrounding the woman he loved. He knew their quiet moments together were over for the time being, but he couldn’t begrudge her family and friends the opportunity to celebrate her return, since all of them were instrumental in securing it.

His exhaustion rolled over him like an ocean wave as he roughly scrubbed his hand down his face, willing himself to try to stay awake long enough to make it back to the boarding house. When he raised his bleary eyes again, they were met with a pair of sparkling green ones he had missed more in the past two weeks than he could express. In the midst of the happy crowd of people surrounding her, the smile she sent his way was meant for only him.

Ever since Neverland, he knew he would go to the end of the world or time for her. Now, for the first time, he was sure she would do the same for him.

*********

Thank you so much for reading, liking, reblogging and commenting (if you’re so inclined.) Please, please, PLEASE send @winterbythesea lots and lots of love for her fantastic art!

Tagging: @xsajx @hookedmom @kymbersmith-90 @kmomof4 @lassluna @pirateherokillian @teamhook @stahlop @elizabeethan @whimsicallyenchantedrose @resident-of-storybrooke @therooksshiningknight @jennjenn615 @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @killianswannn @stories-enchanted @eleveneitherway @withheartfulloflove @kday426 @lyssapup27 @swanlovato @djlbg @kristi555 @laschatzi @xarandomdreamx @lkles08 @wyntereyez @bubblegum1425 @xhookswenchx @yasbio2015 @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @wefoundloveunderthelight @hollyethecurious @let-it-raines @jonesfandomfanatic @searchingwardrobes @dreamingdreamsalways @oncechicagolove @andiirivera @gingerchangeling @everything-person @klynn-stormz @qualitycoffeethings @vampcoffeegyrl23 @enchanted-swans @ohmakemeahercules @donteattheappleshook @bluewildcatfanatic @the-darkdragonfly @demisexualemmaswan @lavenderbudd @grimmswan @spartanguard @flslp87 @ultraluckycatnd @thisonesatellite @captainswan21 @zaharadessert @mariakov81 @snowbellewells @xouatxcs @kiwistreetswan @batana54 @nadine200179 @probalicious17 @courtorderedcake @julesep3026 @jackieorioncat @whatthehell102082 @jarienn972 @sthonour @linda8084 @carpedzem @pirateprincesslena @daxx04 @winterbythesea @artistic-writer @cocohook38 @captainswan4life85 @molly958 @kingofmyheart14 @badwolfreturns @itsfridaysomewhere@fallingforthecaptain @onceratheart18 @strangestarlighttree @omgmarvelousmorgan @justanother-unluckysoul @mrs-potato-but-likes-tomato @anothersworld @deckerstarblanche @purplehawkcaptain @superchocovian @k-leemac @citygirlscowboy @laughterandbooks @sotangledupinit @apiratewhopines @huntressandlioness1 @cosette141 @gingerpolyglot @motherkatereloyshipper @cs-rylie

#cssns22 #captain swan supernatural summer 2022 #where her heart belongs #jrob64 #art by winterbythesea #csff #cs fic #captain swan fanfic #ouat captain swan fic #separation by curse #inspired by Somewhere in Time #wiped memories #emma swan #killian jones #canon divergent #set at the end of season 3

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lovebugcody · 1 year

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15 questions, 15 people !!

tagged by @faeology <3

nickname; technically char is my nickname and i really don't have any others

sign; aries sun, saggitarius moon, capricorn rising

height; 5'7

last thing i googled; um...red plum season australia. i've been craving them and they aren't in season yet :(

song stuck in my head; this or that by the sidemen (bad/cheap team) but specifically the "this or this or this or this or SANTA GET OUT OF MY HOUSE *wroetoshaw mating*" bit

number of followers; 769 (nice)

amount of sleep; 7-8 hours but i still feel tired because my body hates me

wearing; cotton on bike pants/gym shorts and the black take my hand tour shirt (i have worn it basically every day bar when it was washed since i got it last week. i'm fighting post-concert depression with my seeing 5sos live high)

dream job; i don't have one. but i owe that to being physically incapable of seeing a future for myself so a dream job is useless. a streamer sounds fun though and i do love vid-ya james

movies/books that summarise you; (i have had one main character moment in my entire life so i cannot think of a single book or movie that feels right)

favourite song; at the moment i would have to say flatline by 5sos.

favourite instrument; ooooh that i've played it would be piano.

aesthetic; light academia x grunge cottagecore, dappled sunlight on a stone wall, marble statues left forgotten and to be draped in vines, the stars that fight through light pollution even when you're in the city, the smell an hour after the rain, when you're alone in a library running a finger down the spines of encyclopedias

favourite authors; susan collins and michael grant. i haven't read enough classics or non ya fiction books to have "grown up" favourites lmao

random fun fact; i would call myself a hopeless romantic because i love the soft, sappy things that come with being in love - although i can't stand romcoms, too much second-hand embarrassment - but i am also deeply aware that it is almost guaranteed that i will never be in love because i as a person am unlovable. also my favourite dinosaur is the basic but beloved triceratops

tagging (i don't have 15 mutuals, so i'm doing my best. also if you've already been tagged sorry); @websterss @blanknamed @disgustingtoast @ash-soka @geoguessbur @nettherite @chrismequick @genesisrose74 @cativusfloresco @salted-caramel-tea @two-bats @logangarfieldss @afellowofinfinitejest

#char rambles #˚:✧｡• tagged #char's mutuals #˚:✧｡• tag game

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ryttu3k · 4 months

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End-of-the-year book asks! Check out 2022's and 2021's, too.

1. How many books did you read this year?

Okay let's break this down by length! Novels: 26. Non-fiction: 3. Novellas: 3. Novelettes: 3. Zines: 10. Not including novelettes and zines in that, a total of 32!

2. Did you reread anything? What?

Nope, all new stuff.

3. What were your top five books of the year?

Top three is easy - Hell Followed With Us by Andrew Joseph White, Space Opera by Catherynne M Valente, and Camp Damascus by Chuck Tingle. For the last two, let's go with Jeff VanderMeer's Wonderbook, which is a wonderful craft book especially for SFF writers, and the incredibly bonkers My Volcano by John Elizabeth Stintzi.

4. Did you discover any new authors that you love this year?

See the first three above! I already have Bury Your Gays by Chuck Tingle on preorder, and I've just bought The Spirit Bears Its Teeth by Andrew Joseph White!

5. What genre did you read the most of?

Comfortably in my SFF hole, tyvm.

6. Was there anything you meant to read, but never got to?

*laughs in excessively long TBR*

7. What was your average Goodreads Storygraph rating? Does it seem accurate?

4.24, or approximately 8.5. Yeah, that works!

8. Did you meet any of your reading goals? Which ones?

Read more novels, which I did! I also managed a nice little nonfiction month.

9. Did you get into any new genres?

Nnnnnot really, haha.

10. What was your favourite new release of the year?

Camp Damascus my beloved. (The other two faves were 2022 and 2018).

11. What was your favourite book that has been out for a while, but you just now read?

Wonderbook came out in 2013.

12. Any books that disappointed you? 13. What were your least favourite books of the year?

✌️

14. What books do you want to finish before the year is over?

There's only two and a half days left I'm good.

15. Did you read any books that were nominated for or won awards this year (Booker, Women's Prize, National Book Award, Pulitzer, Hugo, etc.)? What did you think of them?

I read NK Jemisin's Broken Earth Trilogy (which would have been higher up in my listings but I'm kinda salty over her stance over the library thing and that tarnished them retrospectively) and they won. Everything. Three consecutive Nebulas, and The Stone Sky also won the Locus for Best Fantasy (as did The City We Became by the same writer), and the Hugo, with The Fifth Season and Obelisk Gate also nominated for the Hugo, and The City We Became for Nebula. Jeff VanderMeer's Annihilation won a Nebula, Space Opera was nominated for a Hugo.

I'm gonna throw hands if Camp Damascus doesn't win something next year, by the way.

16. What is the most over-hyped book you read this year?

Mmm, maybe Annihilation? I enjoyed it! I actually have a copy now because I spotted an uncorrected proof at a second-hand store for $3! But also I just thought it was 'cool, really interesting' and not like. The greatest in existence.

17. Did any books surprise you with how good they were?

Honestly, not really! Most seemed appropriately hyped?

18. How many books did you buy?

24 ebooks, 12 physical.

19. Did you use your library?

Yup, both for physical and ebook.

20. What was your most anticipated release? Did it meet your expectations?

Camp Damascus, and absolutely. Go read it.

21. Did you participate in or watch any booklr, booktube, or book twitter drama?

No, because I value my sanity <3

22. What's the longest book you read?

The Fifth Season, at 498 pages.

23. What's the fastest time it took you to read a book?

I mean the novelettes didn't take long XD

24. Did you DNF anything? Why?

Nope!

25. What reading goals do you have for next year?

Keep reading. Try not to lose mind too much over Alecto the Ninth. Fail to not lose mind too much over Alecto the Ninth.

For some extra fun, statistics! I worked out each month by page count, so I can work out when I read most and when I… didn't. It works out to:

January: 2,105 pages (5 novels, 1 zine)

February: 463 pages (1 anthology, 2 zines)

March: 1,342 pages (3 novels, 1 anthology, 1 novella)

April: 1,034 pages (2 novels, 1 anthology, 1 zine)

May: 834 pages (1 novel, 1 collection, 1 anthology)

June: 688 pages (2 novels, 1 zine)

July: 1,155 pages (1 novel, 3 nonfiction books, 1 zine)

August: 652 pages (2 novels, 1 novella, 1 zine)

September: 712 pages (2 novels, 1 zine)

October: 911 pages (3 novels, 1 zine)

November: 192 pages (1 novel)

December: 408 pages (1 novella, 3 novelettes, 1 zine - note that this is inflated, the novella is shorter in wordcount but the layout means it's more 'spread out')

Month with most pages read: January, with over two thousand pages over five novels and a zine.

Month with least pages read: November, with one (shortish!) novel.

Month with most out-of-the-ordinary content: July, the month where I focused largely on nonfiction. It also had Camp Damascus <3

Months with the shortest reads: Aside from November, February only had one (novel-length) anthology and two zines, and December had a novella, three novelettes, and a zine.

Most condensed reading month: Aside from November again, October, with all four reads over the course of the one-week cruise.

#year in review #books

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goalofthecentury · 3 years

Text

in my book era #darkacademia

#this is becoming a problem i cant keep buying books #second hand non fiction my beloved

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prismatic-bell · 3 years

Text

So the other day I said a thing about how I felt like a line could be drawn between antis, and the rise of 24-hour news networks. I’ve given that thought some time to bubble to see what, exactly, my brain meant by that statement, and here’s what I’ve got:

When I was a kid (back in Ye Olde 1990s), we had three major news stations in my town: Channel 12, Channel 24, and Channel 35. These corresponded to NBC, ABC, and CBS, but I don’t remember which one was which so don’t ask me. Anyway--you had a half hour of news at 8 or 9 am (depending on which station you watched), an hourlong program at noon in which half the program was stuff like “here are today’s beach closures and some recipes and also if you’re looking for stuff to do with the kids this weekend here are local promotions,” and half an hour at either 5, 5:30, or 6 (again, depending on which channel you watched). One of the three stations also did a half-hour capper at 10pm. So unless you were watching all three stations, and picking the news every single time, the max amount of news you were going to get was like an hour and a half. If you wanted more news than that, you read the newspaper. When my mom was a kid (back in Ye Olde 1960s), this would have seemed like an inordinate amount of news--for her, it was half an hour at 6pm and ten minutes at 10pm and then the station (there was only one station that did the news) played the National Anthem and went off the air until 6am, at which time you might get like . . . the weather and a traffic report.

For anything else, you read the newspaper.

Now with only half an hour to present a whole lot of news, what are you going to do? You are going to stick to the facts. You don’t have a choice. You have a very short time to fit a whole lot of information. “Notre Dame cathedral caught on fire today. French firefighters are working to get the flames under control, and authorities in charge of the cathedral are doing their best to remove relics, paintings, and other holy objects while it’s still possible. French President Mr. Somebody addressed the nation and stated every attempt to save the building, and to rebuild the damage, will be made. In local news . . . “ And that’s it! If you want more information, you’ve got to wait for the newspaper in the morning, and you’re going to have to get a copy of the New York Times or USA Today, because the local paper will only have a blurb, and that blurb will mostly cover what you just heard!

But then the news changed.

By the time I was a teenager, the non-cable news looked like this: All three channels had a morning show that started at 5 or 6 am (depending on your station) and ran until 8 or 9 (depending on your station). The station that ended at 8am then had a half-hour morning news show. The mid-day news at 11 or 12 was still an hour. Channel 35 did a half-hour news segment at 5 and another at 5:30, back to back. The other two stations simply did an hourlong segment. And then one station did half an hour at 10:30, and the other two did hourlong segments at 10pm.

What do you do with that much time? Well, you expand. Yes, you can fit more news, but you can also fit more about the news. “Notre Dame cathedral in Paris went up in flames today. The fire began in the famous historic bell tower, and spread to the roof. At this time, portions of the roof appear to have caved in, and there are concerns about the integrity of the medieval stonework in the cathedral walls. French firefighters have been working since 8am Paris time to get the flames under control, and authorities in charge of the cathedral are doing their best to remove relics, paintings, and other holy objects while it’s still possible. Some firefighters are also helping with this project, as portions of the building have become too unsafe to enter. French President Mr. Somebody addressed the nation late this evening and stated every attempt to save the building, and to rebuild the damage, will be made. Of the cathedral itself, Somebody said, ‘Our Lady has weathered worse troubles than this. Paris as a city, and France as a nation, will overcome.’ In local news . . . ”

Still facts, but a few more facts. At this point the internet as a public thing is just past its infancy, and in theory you could go look up some stuff on, like, AOL, maybe, about what was happening.

(Nina, you were talking about antis . . . ?)

(Yes, I was. Bear with me.)

But at this point you also saw the rise of Fox News and CNN.

Now up to this point, I could trust the news. That is important to know. “Nina, American news is full of propaganda--” Listen, you’re not wrong, but the point is, if Scott Brennan told me Notre Dame cathedral was on fire and priests were trying to remove the holy relics, I could safely assume Notre Dame cathedral was on fire and priests were trying to remove the holy relics. If Channel 24 told me “the blizzard of the century” had occurred the night before, I could look out the window of my snowed-in house and go “yeah, that seems legit.”

I grew up, in other words, in a world in which facts were facts. We didn’t waffle or wring our hands over whether or not Notre Dame was on fire. And this allowed me to take a similar approach to fiction: it is a fact that murder is wrong, and knowing this, I can read a book in which someone commits murder for very good reasons, but still know they did something wrong.

But now you have 24 hours of news to fill.

No matter how you pad it, no matter how many voice clips you play or retrospectives you do, you cannot find enough news in the world to fill 24 hours, seven days a week, 365 days a year. You just can’t.

So they started adding “opinion pieces.”

Notre Dame is on fire--is it worth saving? Notre Dame is on fire--but is it as big a catastrophe as it’s made out to be? Notre Dame is on fire--but France has been steadily calling themselves a secular nation, so is this the punishment of G-d? Notre Dame is on fire--

--wait, what was that?

Yep. You saw it, I saw it, we all saw it. But as the “opinion pieces” slowly took over the regular news and stopped being called “opinion pieces” and started being called “programs,” it became less and less clear what was and wasn’t fact.

Now obviously Notre Dame is on fire. But now we have to ask ourselves: is it worth it to save it or not? Is the financial cost outweighed by the history? Will those answers change depending on how bad the damage becomes? And you, lonely elderly person in your chair whose predominant socialization these days is at church, how does this make you feel about French people? These are questions that once would have been asked of the church caretakers and the French government. Now every single person is being asked to think about them, without being provided all of the context that is available to the church caretakers and the French government. And along the way, you get these nice, nasty little bits of prejudice and slanted thinking and bias sneaked in.

I told you I’d come back to antis. And here we are.

The vast majority of antis are very young. They grew up in a world where those “programs” were the norm. They were not provided with a cultural basis of “these are the facts.” They were provided a basis of “here is what I think about the facts.” They were provided a basis of, as Mr. Banks said in Mary Poppins, “kindly do not cloud the matter with facts.”

There are no facts! Who fucking cares! An anti who’s 15 years old today was eleven years old when we were introduced to “alternative facts”! Is it wrong for a 27-year-old man to pursue a relationship with a 13-year-old girl? Depends on which news channel, and which presenter, you ask!

They literally grew up in a world in which critical thinking was discouraged. Once upon a time, you would have seen on TV that Notre Dame was on fire, and at dinner--or whatever your family did for together time--you might say things like “going to be expensive to fix that, I wonder what they’ll do,” but you wouldn’t have been hit with six presenters telling you exactly why Notre Dame should/shouldn’t be rebuilt. And don’t forget--even if you, personally, do not watch the news (or read it on the internet, which is just as bad, because everybody’s after those elusive advertising clicks, everybody needs the “scoop” two seconds before it happens), you know people who do. You hear their opinions and their hot takes and their retellings all around you. And those opinions and hot takes and retellings will be colored by which “program” that person saw first.

Watch the first thirty seconds of this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dn2RjahTi3M

Walter Cronkite, a legendary news anchor, giving his opinion on Vietnam. You will notice that he states, very clearly: “it seems very clear to this reporter.” This is Cronkite’s opinion, nothing more, and he makes it clear that he is speaking only for himself.

Now skip to approximately 1:05, and watch him report the Kennedy assassination. You can see he’s emotional, but also keeping it under wraps as best he can because he has An Important Job To Do, and that job is twofold: to deliver the news accurately and concisely, and to keep the American public calm (you can see this when he hurriedly says Johnson is probably taking the oath to become President; a missing VP would be a crisis at this moment). This is a man who’s just found out the most beloved president in modern times is dead. And not just dead--murdered. It’s not like Kennedy had a heart attack, his damn head was blown off. This news is still coming in so quickly that you can see him glancing off the screen to get fresh reports. He’s one of the first to receive this absolute blow--and he’s still holding it together, barely wavering. (When I was a kid, this role would go to Dan Rather. He was no Cronkite, but he tried.)

Where is that kind of rock for today’s teens? Imagine--heaven forbid, in the state our country’s in right now--that tomorrow we get the news Biden was shot.

How would we get that message?

Would it be delivered by an even-keeled, just-the-facts reporter like Cronkite? Or would we get it from a bunch of half-hysterical articles and crisismongering “programs”? And would it be delivered to us straight, like Cronkite did, or would it be buried in three days’ worth of opinions on his “legacy” and policies and What This Means For America?

Now: how are you supposed to build any kind of strong convictions and moral compass on a world like that? Where anything can be true if enough people have an “opinion” on it? Where the facts get immediately buried in a wave of bullshit?

Antis are reacting to a world of “opinions” and “programs” being thrown at them 24/7 by trying to create a world they can control, where there are in fact things that are true, in a world that has actively refused them the opportunity to learn how to parse and process facts. And so what they’ve come up with is this grossly distorted version of facts, because gross distortions of facts are all they know. It’s all they’ve ever seen. They’re perpetuating a system they don’t even realize they’re part of, because they never experienced life before it existed.

They’re not lying when they say they were heavily influenced by fiction because the bounds between fact and fiction have been actively erased. On purpose. And it’s difficult to grok that, if you grew up in a world where you didn’t have to go seek out photographic evidence to be absolutely certain that Notre Dame was, indeed, on fire.

So what we need to be doing, first and foremost, is rebuilding that wall of facts, that line of truth. Otherwise, what we’re going to see is more of this, but getting worse daily.

We set them up for this, and now we’re paying the price for it.

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wpdarlingpan · 3 years

Note

How would yandere Damian Wayne react to his beloved having a fondness for books? Will he get jealous that she keeps gushing about non existent fictional characters? Lol I have a feeling he will 🤣

I absolutely love this idea, it was fun to write.

Trigger Warning: Abuse

(Not on Damians end but Y/N’s father)

Nothing descriptive and very brief.

~*~

Damian had met his beloved at school after she was the only one who didn’t chase after him. She didn’t even seem to notice he was there. He was determined to change that.

The first day they talked he introduced himself, waiting to see her reaction to his last name but gained nothing more than a polite introduction from herself than she returned back to the book she was reading before he interrupted her. If she hadn’t got immersed back into the book than she would have seen the surprised look adorning the young Wayne’s face.

From there on he was determined to know everything about her. He used the bat computer to find out that she lived with her father in a nice house near his own. Her mother died during child birth and she had no siblings. Damian wished he didn’t have ‘siblings’ even if he never called them that. Well... maybe Grayson. But Todd could go along with Drake.

He decided to go to her house to check in on her and his excuse was to gather intel, but what he saw was not what he was prepared for. Damian saw Y/N’s Father yelling at her as if she had nine something terrible. Damian watched as the man cursed out his young daughter making Damian scowl and tighten his hands into fists. But they suddenly stopped fighting so Damian left as he had school tomorrow and he wanted to talk to you then. If he had stayed a second longer he’d have seen her getting locked into the cupboard under the stairs without dinner.

But luckily for her she had books. She read hunger games, Harry Potter, and many more. Even twilight even though she absolutely despised the ‘Bella’ character. But they all had love. She loved to read about love and the feeling of euphoria it gave people.

“Maybe one day.” She thought to herself.

The next day Damian Wayne talked to her again. He made more progress but it was hard to keep her away from her book.

It continued for weeks and then to months. He had slowly broke down her barrier and she finally stopped ditching him to read a book.

After 3 months of talking and Damian following her around daily to make sure she was safe he finally asked her on a date.

She met him at the park during sundown. When she arrived there was a picnic blanket with a basket on it and a couple of cushions. She saw someone walk up to her from where they were sat by a tree and they gently grabbed her hand and led her to the set up.

“Do you like it?” Damian asked nervously. He knew that this date was what determined his future plans. She was his beloved even if she didn’t exactly know yet. If she didn’t like the date or found out she didn’t like him the same way he loved her than she would learn to with force and time or she could love the date and he will spend every moment of the day with her after he asks her to be his.

She smiled widely, liked it? She loved it! It was exactly like something out of a book. A grand romantic gesture.

He smirked at her smile and he just knew he was already successful in gaining her feelings. He noticed the shiny glint in her eyes.

“I love it Damian. Thank you.” She spoke smiled at him and leaned over to give him a hug making his heart spike with happiness.

They had a wonderful date and it resulted with a 2nd and 3rd one. Then he dropped the question and she couldn’t bring herself to say anything but yes.

Even as she noticed that some of the few friends she had distanced themselves from her after she agreed to be Damians girlfriend after the 3rd date.

Even when some of her romance books began to disappear, which is what really made her sad. Once she told Damian with tears in her eyes that a. Few of her books were missing he gave in and hid them in her room for her to find the next day.

That’s when something happens. Y/N’s father was killed in a police shooting after he had assisted the Joker himself on a robbery. Worst part was Y/N found out over the news.

Damian was very happy with the news of the death fo his beloveds dad. He found out about the abuse after he snuck in to her house the second time and heard a lock click with no Y/N in sight.

Damian told his father about the girl and Damian played his fathers weaknesses against him he told him that she was abused and that she needed help. She needed to be safe. That thing that convinced him finally was that Damian told Bruce that she was the one and Bruce’s eyes widened greatly before he moved into a smirk. Of course his son had found his beloved, Bruce was a Yandere too of course, where else would Damian have got the tendencies from? His mother Talia or his grandfather Ra’s? They both would be caught dead saying the four letter word.

That’s how Y/N was adopted by the Wayne’s.

That’s how she ended up staying in the room next to Damians.

That’s how she ended up being with him 24 hours a day, since he got his classes switched so he was in all of hers but when it was questioned it was for academic reasons.

Y/N was sad though. She had no friends other than Damian. Her father was dead, her mother was dead, she had no family. No matter how bad her father treated her all she could think was that she deserved the pain.

A month after the shooting Damians Yandere side began to progress. She wasn’t allowed out of the Manor without being accompanied by him if she was allowed to leave at all.

She had been taken out of school alongside Damian by Bruce at the request of his son who didn’t like that boys and girls were looking at his beautiful beloved.

He was obsessed with his love.

A few months after living in the manor, meeting everyone, and adjusting to Damians possessiveness and rules she was doing okay. She wouldn’t dare go against Damian after he had guilt tripped her after she said she wanted to be alone for awhile and take a walk. Damian was glad that she was so easily manipulated that she didn’t even attempt to fight his love. He had to protect her form the cruel world he had experienced first hand. Her kindness, innocence, and trusting nature would get her killed in Gotham. But there was nothing to worry about because he was there to protect her. He always would be.

But she grew slightly distant from Damian after she began reading the books in the Wayne Library. There was a whole room stocked shelf by shelf with books.

She had been in there reading a book where the main character was trained with a sword and was a Assassin but he fell in love with his target. That’s where Damian saw her after he had been searching for after he began to getting annoyed after being away from her for so long.

“What are you reading My Beloved?” She had gotten used to the nickname and would slightly blush at every use of it. It was another thing that seemed like it was straight out of a book, he was her knight in shining armor.

“It’s called His Mission, His Love. It’s about this dashing guy who can sword fight and is a very skilled Assassin. He falls in love with the girl he was supposed to assassinate for his group of assassins. But he failed it by falling in love. I haven’t found out what happens yet. He sort of reminds me of Finnick from that other book I told you about, Hunger games remember? Well he wields a trident and it looks super cool and...” she was cut off from Damian snatching the book from her hands and shutting it without even marking her page making her lose her page.

“Hey!” She cried out as he tossed the book across the room. He scowled when she yelled at him which result in him standing directly in front of her as she sat on the couch and he leaned down to her height the grabbed her chin making her face towards him instead of that insufferable book he had tossed across the room.

“You don’t need that book got it? You have me, and you only need me.” He spoke looking into her eyes as his face was only inches apart from her own.

“But...” she began to say. She loved books, it was nice to image the love. But she couldn’t exactly say she didn’t know the feeling for herself now after dating Damian. He had done so much for her to keep her safe and well after he father died.

“I can sword fight, I’m a assassin, I am even more handsome and richer than any character in those terribly pointless books. You don’t need them when you have me.”

She looked at him weirdly and that’s when he realized that in a fit of jealousy - over a book character- he admitted by secret he hadn’t told her yet.

“Assassin? Fighting? What are you taking about Damian.”

He rolled his eyes at her but explained.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m Robin. My fathers batman, Graysons Nightwing, Todd is Red Hood, and Drake is Red Robin.” He watched as her eyes widened making him begin to lose himself in the beautiful eyes he loved so dearly.

“Really?” She said in disbelief but it did make sense. But that’s when she suddenly blushed at a thought and by the fact it took her so long to blush Damian was thinking that she was thinking back to her book character again as her eyes darted away from him coincidentally to where the book was.

“What are you thinking about My Beloved?” he demanded in a cool tone that was laced with jealously. He grip on her chin tighten a little more and his other hand laid on her waist.

She murmured something he couldn’t hear which was very surprising as he was so close to her.

“Repeat what you said but louder. Please” he spoke waiting for her to say she was thinkjnt about the assassin from her book but he wasn’t prepared for what she would say.

“I used to have a crush on Robin, he is my favorite.” She spoke then closed her eyes willing the blush that adorned her cheeks to disappear.

This would be the first time that Damian let out a huge smile and a slight laugh of disbelief.

“I pictured him... or well you as the character from my book because of the similarities.” She spoke still lightly dying from embarrassment which worsened when he scooped her up from the couch and into his arms before kissing her face multiple times while she laughed at the feeling. Then he sat down o the couch with her in his lap, not letting go as she tried to climb out of it.

“Stay here My Beloved. Why don’t I tell you real stories?”

And that was how Damian got jealous... over himself.

And how Y/N found out the identity’s of the Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and most of all Robin.

And it all started because of a book.

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iliveiloveiwrite · 3 years

Text

travel books and romance novels // Colin Bridgerton

Summary: Colin visits the library for research into his next trip; he didn’t expect to find you.

A/N: Colin’s desire to travel honestly reflects my own. For purposes of the fic, I have aged Colin up - it’s more to fit the plot line of Book Four which is his book anyway. I’m not sure how to feel about this fic, I'm happy with it but I’m not at the same time. I’m not being too harsh on myself however, this is my first time writing for Colin and I haven't got to grips with his character yet. I hope you all like!! <3

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Colin is very cute, pining, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers, female reader, she/her pronouns, marriage proposal, happy ending.

Word count: 4k

Colin Bridgerton had spent over two decades of his life on this planet and had yet to find something or someone he loves more than travelling. The bug first bit him in his early twenties; desperate to experience a Grand Tour – a tradition of which that had strongly died out in the past century. He had read about it so often; dreamed of it nearly every day that eventually he put the idea forward to Anthony and his mother, Violet.

Though Violet was apprehensive at first, she warmed up to the idea once Colin gave her permission to choose some of the countries he would visit. Anthony held no qualms; having travelled to France and Spain before tragedy forced the family title upon his shoulders. Being able to travel would forge Colin into the man he should be; it would give him experience, and plenty of stories to tell his children and then eventually, their children.

Upon arriving back in London after his second trip away, Colin found himself glad to be home. He had sorely missed the sounds and smells that accompany London; the clipping of horses hooves and the constant chit-chat of men and women. It was home; it would always be home.

However, as he stepped off the boat or the train, Colin always wondered the same thing. How long would it be until he craved adventure once more?

------------

A month.

Colin lasted a month in the company of his beloved family before he was desperate to head off on his next adventure. However, he had no clear destination in mind. He had visited Europe, toured the Mediterranean and had hopes of crossing the Atlantic one day soon, but for now - to save his mother’s poor nerves - was content to remain closer to home.

He wasn’t one to visit libraries himself, usually sending a list of books with a servant whenever they visited the place, but this time he fancied the walk to stretch his legs. He had decided that research was the best way forward into finding his next destination, his next adventure. The library could offer such a thing.

It truly was a thing of wonder; so many books and serial publications at home in one place. The library at Bridgerton House was well stocked and Colin knew he could walk in freely and take whatever he would need, but there was something attractive about going out to find exactly what you need. There was also the added bonus of a lack of interrogation from his much-loved mother.

A huff leaves his body as Colin is pitched forward; barely catching himself before knocking into one of the shelves. Turning, Colin readies the words he wants to fling at the person who had yet they die in his throat when he finds you standing behind him with an apologetic look on your face, close to tears.

“Mr. Bridgerton!” You gasp, bowing your head politely and in apology, “I hadn’t meant to walk into you.”

Colin smiles, brushing down his suit jacket, “It’s no worry, Miss (Y/L/N). No harm done.”

“I hope not,” You reply, biting your lip.

His smile grows wider at the note of concern in your voice. “Truly, Miss (Y/L/N), no harm done.”

“Nevertheless, I apologise.”

“What are you reading?” He asks, nodding at the two books in your hand, changing the subject.

“They’re romances,” You admit shyly, “I read to my aunt twice a week. She rather enjoys them.”

“And you? Do you enjoy them?”

“There are some that I enjoy, yes, but I prefer books with adventures if I’m being honest.”

“Adventures?”

You nod, “I like them very much. What do you read?”

Colin frowns; confused at the question. You gesture to the shelves of books surrounding you, “What do you like to read, Mr. Bridgerton? We are in a library after all.”

“Non-fiction,” He replies, nodding his head to the stack dedicated to true life accounts of travellers. “I’m here doing research.”

“Research?”

“For where I want to travel to next,” Colin clarifies; walking towards the stack, all the while knowing you’re following.

“Have you an idea?”

He shakes his head; disappointed at the admission. For his last two trips abroad, he had known exactly where he wanted to go and what he wanted to do and see. Now, however, he was struggling for ideas.

You nod your head; seemingly understanding the predicament Colin has found himself in. Holding close the hardcover editions of the romances your aunt loved so much, you take a step back from the third eldest Bridgerton.

“I hope you find your location soon, Mr. Bridgerton,” You murmur in farewell, turning away from the tall brunette.

“I hope you enjoy your romances,” Colin replies, watching you walk away. Fleetingly, he wonders if he will see you again.

------------

The library remains just as silent as the last time Colin visited. The books he had borrowed heavy in his hands as he returns them to the attendant who nods in thanks. Distantly, he wonder whether he will run into you again. Since meeting you last, he hadn’t stopped thinking about you.

Colin barely knew you or your family; didn’t know much about your lineage or even whether you knew of his, yet he had not stopped thinking about you and the way you held your books so close to your chest, as if protective of them and what they held even if you didn’t own them. He couldn’t explain the urge he had to get to know you. Colin felt certain that if he wasn’t to see you in the next day or so he was to go mad from the unknown.

Luckily for his sanity, he spies a familiar head of hair amongst the shelves, and he cannot help the surge of happiness that runs through him when he recognises you reading the spines of the books. “Miss (Y/L/N)!” Colin calls out in greeting; rushing over to you.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” You smile, “How have you been? Have you decided on your next destination?”

“I have not though I’ll think of something soon.”

“I look forward to finding out. I’m sure Lady Whistledown will report on it.”

“I’m sure she will,” He drawls; his contempt for the author of the gossip sheet well known amongst family and friends. “How did the romances go down with your aunt? Did she enjoy them?”

Nodding your head, you explain, “Very much so. She usually stays awake for a chapter or two before falling asleep, but this time she stayed awake for close to five. I’m here looking for more books by the same author.”

“Would you like some help?”

“Only if you aren’t too busy. I wouldn’t want to pull you away from something more important.”

Colin shakes his head. “I would be happy to help.”

It takes the better part of an hour. Colin proving to be a distraction to your thoughts as you trawl through the shelves in the library. His very presence throws your mind into overdrive; overthinking his intentions for helping you, but also noticing just how handsome he truly is.

“I think we have enough for now,” You eventually comment, finding it hard to keep the sadness out of your voice as you realise that your time with the Bridgerton is up.

“Are three books enough?” Colin asks warily, as if he doesn’t want the time spent together to end either.

Sighing, you nod, “It’s enough to keep her occupied for a while. It takes us a few weeks to get through one book with me visiting her only twice a week.”

Colin nods understandingly, “Then the other romance novels must be for you.”

You raise an eyebrow, “I much prefer adventure novels though I did tell you that the first time we had met. Though I suppose I didn’t make that much of an impression.”

“I can assure you; you did. I just couldn’t help but notice that you must read far quicker than your aunt so surely you must read the other books you have borrowed.”

Caught out, you avert your gaze back to the books in your hand. Colin tries not to smile in triumph but fails miserably. “How often do you come here?” Colin asks, “Do you borrow books for your aunt alone, or do you read to another relative?”

Pursing your lips, you think over your answer. “I only read to my aunt and I suppose I come here at least once a week, usually on a Wednesday.”

Colin nods, “I shall see you next Wednesday then.”

Watching the Bridgerton walk away from you, you cannot help but wonder what exactly you had gotten yourself into.

-------------

The friendship that develops with Colin Bridgerton felt entirely natural; as if at some point in your lives your paths were always meant to cross, and a friendship was to begin. Colin finds you in and amongst the stacks of books the following week; a triumphant grin on his lips and his eyes bright with happiness when he finds you once again in the romance aisle.

He starts to offer you suggestions of books to read, meeting you at the library week after week; all the whole continuing his research into where he wants to travel next. He hasn’t settled on a destination, yet he comes to realise that this is the longest he has remained in London in years. Usually, Colin would return home, manage a month with his family before taking off again. A routine his mother has come to despise despite offering her blessing for every trip.

Weeks continue to pass and whilst his family know that Colin has become infatuated with someone, he isn’t ready to share you with them yet. He isn’t ready for the inspecting glances and interrogations from his mother, brothers, and sisters. For now, Colin was more than content to share you with the romance books you swear you don’t love as much as you truly do.

------------

The café is busy and getting busier from a lunch rush when Colin sits down across from you. His hair remains a mess despite how often he runs his hands through it in an attempt to flatten it; his eyes are bright as he smiles widely at you.

“I thought you were going to be late,” You admonish, but there’s no heat behind it.

Colin takes a sip of his tea, “I could never be late, not for you.”

“You’re a flatterer.”

“And you’re a romance fan, no matter how many times you try to deny it. Tell me, what are you reading right now?”

You purse your lips, deciding whether to relay the information to him, but the longer you wait, the larger his smile gets. “Definitely not those novels,” You comment, “There is romance in my latest book, but I am reading it for the adventure. It has pirates if you must know, very adventurous.”

Colin laughs, reaching for one of the small cakes on the stand.

“I don’t know how I stand your company,” You complain, trying your best to calm your stomach long enough for you to enjoy the food on your plate. The butterflies raging there were making it rather hard.

“You like me, that’s why.”

“I suppose that is more judgement on me than it is you.”

Colin’s only answer is to wink before returning his attention to the food on his plate. For a while, it is silent between the two of you. happy smiles are exchanged between you both and quiet laughter when you both reach for the same cake; Colin, ever so gracious, lets you have the cake. Instead, he tops up his tea and then yours from the teapot.

“I would like to visit Russia next; I think – St. Petersburg,” Colin declares, breaking the silence once and for all.

“Truly? You would travel so far?” You ask, eyes wandering to the globe on the table in the corner of the room, a display item. Centred on England, Russia could not be seen for the distance between them.

“I’d travel to all four corners of the earth if I could,” Colin admits, voice honest.

You sit back in your chair, eyes wide with wonder at the prospect of travelling even outside the county without a chaperone. “I’d love to travel.”

“It is a marvel,” Colin smiles, thinking back to his trips through Europe and the Mediterranean.

“The only chance I’ll get to travel is on my honeymoon which will be a marvel in itself,” You reply, picking at an invisible thread on your skirts.

“Why?”

You sigh, “Mother doesn’t hold much hope for my marrying. She believes that I have been out for too many seasons and have nothing left to offer that could possibly entice a man into courting me, never mind proposing.”

Colin finds himself gripping the arm of his chair in an attempt to keep his anger at bay. Such words leaving your mouth should be a crime. You have plenty to offer. However, at the sight of your slumped shoulders and sad eyes, Colin realises that you believe the words of your mother; that you truly have nothing left to offer.

On a whim, Colin asks, “Are you attending the Duchess of Hasting’s ball tonight?”

Shaking your head, you explain, “Mother isn’t one for huge events no matter the title of its holder.”

Colin surges forward, grasping your gloved hand, “Come, please. My sister won’t mind. I’ll have her add you to the guest list and send a carriage for you.”

You remain silent as you think over his proposition, ready to turn him down and return to your life of safety but the determination in his eyes and the joy in his smile leaves you nodding your head instead.

“Alright,” You agree, “I shall wait for you carriage.”

------------

The London home of the Duke and Duchess of Hastings could only be described as grand. Candles line the way to courtyard in which the ball would be held; they provide a romantic atmosphere, providing many a dark corner where young couples could sneak away from their chaperones.

Upon your announcement, you find yourself walking through the large crowd of people, unwittingly searching for the familiar head of brown hair. He finds you first, however, smiling widely as he notices you in the crowd.

Colin excuses himself from his conversation; making his way over to you as fast as he can without bringing too much attention to himself.

“You came,” Colin breathes as if in disbelief that you stand before him. His eyes run over you; taking it all in as his heart races. He hasn’t felt like this before; he hasn’t ever known anyone to make him feel like this. Colin feels as if he wants to show you everything, introduce you to everyone, but also keep you for himself should anyone want to steal you away.

“I said I would,” You smile, heated from his attention.

“You look beautiful,” Colin states truthfully.

“Thank you,” You answer, “You look very handsome too.”

“Would you care to dance?” Colin asks, a hand outstretched and waiting.

Smiling, you nod your acceptance. You take his offered hand, letting him leads you to the dancefloor where many other couples are readying themselves for the opening notes of the dance. Out of the corner of your eye, you spy Anthony’s eldest brother getting ready to dance with his wife, Kate. He offers Colin a smile and a nod to which Colin’s shoulders relax somewhat. You raise an eyebrow at the brunette only for Colin to shake his head; nothing you need to worry about.

Colin’s hands find themselves in the correct position son your body as you reach for his free hand, resting your hand on his shoulder. The music soon starts up and Colin begins to lead you round the dancefloor in a flurry of spins that leaves you giggling. His face lights up at the sound of your laughter, soon finding himself joining in.

“Stay for one more dance?” He asks as the music dies and you pull away, desperate not to let go of you just yet, happy enough right now to feel your hand in his and your body pressed so close.

“I’d love to,” You answer honestly, letting yourself be pulled back to the dancefloor where Colins hands soon start to feel like home on your body.

By the end of the second dance, you begin to feel dizzy from the spinning. Smiling gratefully at Colin, you apologise for having to bow out. He dismisses your apology with a wave of his hand, “Shall we get a drink? I’m sure I saw some lemonade not too long ago.”

“Lemonade sounds perfect. I seem to have worked up quite a thirst.”

“Then by all means,” Colin declares, bowing dramatically at the waist, “We must get the lady a drink.”

Laughing softly, you follow Colin to the drinks table where he hands you a small glass of the cold drink. He goes to take a drink from his own glass but is distracted by his mother calling his name. Colin apologises before leaving you in the company of his sisters, Eloise and Hyacinth.

“Good evening, mother,” Colin greets, dropping his head to kiss her on her cheek.

“Two dances in a row?” She asks as greeting, curious to know just who has distracted her son in this manner.

Colin ducks his head; not ashamed to have been caught out in his feelings, but ashamed that he hasn’t introduced you to his family as of yet. Across the room, despite the music, he hears your laughter. His attention rests on you as he watches you laugh at something said by either Eloise or Hyacinth. Your smile is wide as you try to cover it with your hand; trying to be polite but neither sister care that much as they continue to make you laugh.

You’re beautiful, he realises. He’s known it all along, of course, but with that smile on your face, Colin cannot help but desire to be the one who brings such a smile to life. He wants to be the cause of your smiles and your laughter; the reasons why your eyes crinkle in the corner. He wants it all; he wants it with you.

“I think you know why you haven’t set off on another adventure,” Violet states pointedly; eyes dancing between her son and where you stand, talking to Eloise and Hyacinth. A mother always knows.

Colin’s eyes don’t need to follow his mother’s; they had been on you since you excused yourself from him. He’s finally ready to confront what he had known along. “I think I know too. Do you approve?” He asks; realising he sounds like a child desperate for his mother’s attention.

Violet Bridgerton smiles, brushing Colin’s cheek softly with a gloved hand. “I think you suit each other perfectly.”

The smile that breaks over Colin’s face could only be described as blinding as he takes his mother’s hand from his face, kissing the back of it before leaning in to kiss her cheek. Against her cheek, he whispers, “Thank you, mother.”

Violet nods, eyes lined with tears as she watches her third eldest son walk away from her. She would be the first to admit how well suited you both are; the need for adventure alive in the both of you. She shakes her head fondly as she watches her son make his way over to you; holding out his hand, asking you to dance to which you graciously accept.

Violet begins to walk the outskirts of the ballroom; feeling nothing but pride and happiness for each one of her children and elated in the knowledge that there was soon to be another marriage in the Bridgerton household.

-----------

The morning after the ball is a pleasant one. The weather wonderfully warm as the sun shines through the windows; heating the drawing room pleasantly. Turning your face, you take in the rays, careful not to risk too much exposure.

Your latest read remains open on your lap as you continue to bask in the warmth of the sun. So far, the book has captured your attention and has failed to let it go. The heroine of the novel too relatable personality wise for you to take a break long enough. At this point in the novel, she had offered an ultimatum to her suitor – he can join her on her next escapade, or he can find another woman to marry. You could only hope he would join her in her next adventure; their comradery was too perfect to end so suddenly.

However, after the events of last night, you found it hard to focus on the book long enough to turn the page. Instead, you found yourself reading the same line over and over again, desperately trying to lose yourself in the witty prose of the author.

But your mind focused on last night: the music, the dancing, the company. It had been a dream; it felt like a dream – only your mind could cook something up so perfect, yet deep down you knew you had experienced every second. You were certain you were still dizzy from the spins you had taken when dancing with Colin.

Biting your lip, you think back to the three dances you had shared with the third eldest Bridgerton. Three dances – could it be true? Shaking your head, you answer your own question. It was true; you remember every moment with crystal clarity. Three dances with Colin had to mean something; it had to mean he felt something for you. Your heart begins to race as you think of the possibilities

“Miss,” Your Butler states, interrupting your daydreaming, “A Mr. Colin Bridgerton is here to call on you.”

“Show him in,” You answer, standing from your window seat, brushing down the skirts of you dress. Biting your lip, you could only hope that you looked presentable.

“(Y/N),” Colin greets as he enters the room, a large smile on his face. A bouquet of red roses and lady’s breath in his hand that he offers to you.

“They’re beautiful, Colin. Thank you,” You whisper, eyes darting around the room for a vase. They would be put in there after Colin had left.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“What did I do to deserve flowers though?” You ask, a teasing note in your voice.

Colin smiles, “I know where I want to travel to next. I came to tell you.”

A pang of disappointment rushes through your body soon followed by upset. Placing the flowers on the nearest table, you do what you can to avoid his gaze as you ask, “When do you leave?”

“That’s the thing,” He starts, shifting nervously, “I have something to ask of you before.”

“What?”

“Travel with me. Come with me,” He all but pleads, reaching for your hand, “As my wife.”

Your eyes widen as Colin’s grip on your hand tightens. “What?” You question, breath coming in a hurry. “What are you asking me, Colin?”

“I’m asking you to marry me so we can travel together. I’ve seen the world once; I want to see it again with you.”

“I have to admit this isn’t what I expected today,” You ramble, trying your best to not look into his eyes. The moment you do, you’re done for.

“(Y/N)…” Colin interrupts, cutting off your nervous rambling. “I need to know an answer, love.”

It’s only then that you let yourself look into his blue eyes; reading the emotions written over his face. He was promising you adventure; the likes of which you had only read in books. Colin was promising you a future full of love and laughter; a dream you had hoped for since you were a young child.

Suddenly, as you look into his blue, blue eyes, it’s all clear.

“Yes,” You whisper, somewhat breathless but entirely ready to begin your future with the man in front of you, “Let’s see the world together.”

********

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff

#colin bridgerton x reader #colin x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton imagines #colin bridgerton imagine

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caxsthetic · 3 years

Text

SLEEP THE NIGHT — miya atsumu

Type: Standalone Movie (One-Shot Fiction)

Cast: Miya Atsumu

Storyline: Tonight, he want to be the best boyfriend that he could be.

Genre: Drama, Slice of Life

He never cooked.

Miya Atsumu never dared to stand in the kitchen because he knew too well what could possibly happen. His twin brother who was now the owner of the infamous onigiri chain always told him that whatever he touched somehow turned into fire.

But he didn't care, at this moment he could only focus on the opened page of his tablet where your favourite food displayed. He tried to find the high rated recipe, even though it was not the simplest one, he just wanted to cook what was best for you.

After all, a perfect woman like you only deserves the nicest thing in life.

You were so patient, always supporting him through every step that he took. Never once you complained about his busy schedule, his almost non-existent presence inside the apartment you shared, or even the way he put you second after volleyball.

Volleyball always came first, that was a fact that you knew since you dated him long ago in high school. He loved the said sport more than anything in the world. His fiery passions, his energy, his time — he gave it all to a sport that he found together with his brother when they were just a silly kid.

And then came you, always silencing all those nosy new supporters when it was time for him to serve. Then came you, helping him answer a question that his teacher threw at him because he fell asleep in class after a harsh tournament.

You, a woman who helped him get through his days as your existence was like a guiding star for him.

He would fall into pieces if you were not there, walking by his side to remind him of time. He needed time to eat, time to rest, time to let loose and hang out with his beloved friends from high school. Atsumu was sure that he would be lost without you there for him.

So just this one time, he wanted to make it right for you.

"You don't have to cook for me, Atsumu." He just hummed to give you a sign that he heard you. "Atsumu, please." But he ignored your plea and continued to read the recipe. He wanted to do something good, something that a perfect boyfriend should do.

You could only let out a sigh as you sat on the kitchen island's stool, eyeing the national setter as he carefully added some ingredients on the pan. He hissed as the oil splashed out a little, hitting his skin that made him go into panic mode.

A chuckle slipped from your lips as you saw him frantically running to the sink, letting out a sigh of relief once he could feel cold water streaming down his hand, easing the pain in an instant. He really tried, today he really tried.

You didn't have the heart to stop him since you knew that once he set his mind on something, he wouldn't care about what anyone else's said. So you just sat there, becoming a company that he wanted, just like you always became for years slipping into his life.

"Come on, Atsumu." He insisted you to stay still as he cooked for you, and you didn't want to hurt his pride by walking toward him without telling him first. "Let me help you." So you asked, hoping that he would accept your proposition.

"Nope! Let me try this on my own." He answered with the same excitement as before and went back to his task. "Just sit there, I am almost done. Promise." Then he calmed down, composing himself so he could cook with a clear mind.

He needed to do it, he couldn't let tonight turn into another day where you ended up being the one who took care of him.

Atsumu turned off the stove before preparing the pristine white plate that would be used to showcase your favourite dish. He smiled in triumph as he looked at the masterpiece. Tonight was the first time he cooked a meal like this, and he couldn't help but be proud of himself for this one achievement.

Though, the glee that he felt right now was nothing compared to the twinkle that was seen in your eyes.

Your lips tugged into a smile as he set down the meal in front of you. He didn't want to eat, no, he wanted to see you first as your hand grabbed the fork. And the second you popped the piece into your mouth, he never felt this happy to see someone he loved enjoying his hard work.

You squealed a little, humming in satisfaction as you tasted the food that the blonde made just for you. It was happiness, written all over your face as you continued to eat, and each bite only made you crave for more.

Maybe this was what Osamu felt, maybe this was the reason why his brother wanted to be in the culinary career. To make people smile, to see the joyful look from your loved one for something that you made.

Wouldn't it be lucky to have the younger twin as a lover? Running a respected business, working together with a dear friend, all bills covered, making something that others could enjoy, things that his lover would cherish at the end of the day.

Truthfully — Atsumu was a little bit jealous of his twin right now.

Because with volleyball, he couldn't do the same. Sure, you were there on almost every match that he had. Yes, there was always a smile on your face as you cheered for him. And of course, you looked so happy as you stood at the stands with pride swelling your chest.

But was that enough to give to a lover?

His winning only belonged to him, it was something that anyone else couldn't enjoy, except maybe his teammate. Unlike food that could be tasted, unlike clothes that could be worn. Volleyball just, well, volleyball. It was a sport that he loved, one that he couldn't share with a lover.

Yet you never changed, you never left him. Even though he couldn't give much, even though he was not that perfect boyfriend who could pay all the bills and buy you expensive gifts — you stayed, for such a long time, patiently there even though he was barely around.

"Atsumu?"

He jolted when his name slipped from your lips. Brown orbs immediately finding yours that filled with concern, face softened at whatever expression that was shown on his facade right now. "Why don't you eat your meal? Do you dislike it now?"

"No, no." He cleared his throat, avoiding your gaze for a moment. "I like it, I like anything that you love, (Y/n)." He wanted to bonk his head for saying such a cliche sentence, but he couldn't help it since it was exactly what he felt.

You only gave him a smile before focusing back to the meal that he made for you. And for him, seeing you like this, so adorable as you shove your favourite food in your mouth — he wished that he did something like this sooner, adding some spices to his endless routine at the court.

Adding you, to his daily routine.

"I am going to clean the dishes, okay?" You said softly as you got up from your seat. Your plate was already empty with how fast you ate the meal. "You already cooked, so let me do this one."

He didn't answer and just ate the rest of the food on his plate. With his speed, he choked a little but kept continuing anyway. He gulped down a glass of water right after his plate was clean without anything on top of it.

"No. Let me be a good boyfriend to-"

"Atsumu."

The setter immediately went silent from the intonation that you used. Stern, yet still filled with warm. He didn't dare to say anything as you grabbed his plate away, afraid that he would ruin the perfect night.

Like what he always did, like all the nights before this.

"Just go upstairs, I will join you in bed once I am done." He didn't move though, eyes fleeting to where you were right now as you walked to the sink.

"You promise?"

You dropped the plate gently, letting out a sigh before turning your face toward him. There it was, a smile that always made him feel at ease. You looked so breathtaking even if you only cladded with old pajamas and hair sticking out like you haven't combed for days.

"I promise, Atsumu."

And with that, he stood up. Knowing for sure that you were a woman of your word.

Atsumu wanted to walk up toward you, wrapping his arms around your torso as he let his face rested on your nape, sniffling your scent as much as he could. But he was afraid, he never did that before, what if you didn't get used to him for being so touchy like that?

He decided to turn his head and ascend to the second floor where the shared bedroom was located. When he thought about it, he was rarely there, sleeping on the same bed with you even though it would be years since he had you as his lover.

Most of the time he was always out, practising until late at night, bonding with his teammates, and decided to crash at his friend's apartment instead since it was too far from his place to their gymnasium. Yet you always reached for him. Making time to give him some healthy lunchboxes and snacks in between your busy hours of work.

He realised that he was such a bad boyfriend.

"Hey, 'Tsumu-"

"You are coming today, right?" He asked with excitement as he zipped his team jacket up. "We are going to play against Suna! Ha, I want to rile him up so much I wonder how he is in the court right now." He looked like a child, gleeful as he looked at his reflection on the mirror. "You gonna be there?"

You could only stare at him, spinning your brain to think about what sentence that you should let out.

"W-Well, of course." You cleared his throat, cursing at yourself for even stuttering. "You promised to take me to that restaurant you reserved after the match too, how could I waste a chance to spend time with my boyfriend?"

And as you saw his face contorted into a shocked one, you knew that you were back in the same cycle all over again. "You forget, didn't you?"

"Fuck, I am sorry." He immediately turned his face toward you, fear coated his eyes. "I forgot to make the reservation and I— shit! I even promised Suna to hang out after that." He immediately took a few steps forward, wanting to cup your cheek as he knew you didn't deserve to be treated like this — from time to time.

"It's okay, 'Tsumu." And this was always the outcome. "Volleyball world comes first, I know. It's alright." For you to be so understanding, for you to realise your place. "Just make it up for me by enjoying your game. Win this game for me, maybe?"

He was relieved that you didn't get angry, most women would kick his ass if he acted like this all the time. But never you, never his (Y/n).

"You know I always win." He chuckled softly, followed by yours as he leaned in to press his lips on your forehead. "And today is nothing different. Why would I need to win for you just today though? The other match wins were all for you too."

"So it's like a routine, then?" Your eyes fleeting to pierce into his brown orbs. "Hey, 'Tsumu, do you have any plan for me today?"

Why did he feel like that question was a trap? With how your eyes filled with hope, he wanted to say that he indeed had a plan for you. But he didn't, and he couldn't lie. Because in the end, you always see right through him. That was proven by how the hope was gone even before he could part his lips.

"I see." There was a little remorse in your tone, and he wanted to cheer you up in an instant. "That's okay, then!" Yet you were the one who cheered him up, didn't want him to worry about anything. "Come on, let's go. I don't want your teammates to be wary if you are late!"

He frowned when he remembered that day. How he dropped you to stay with his twin brother the whole match, the way your eyes glimmered as Osamu gave you a lunch box filled with your favourite filling onigiri. The hug that was shared, that lingered longer as his twin congratulated you a 'happy birthday'.

Atsumu wanted to punch himself when he realised that it was your birthday after all. The reason why you wanted to spend time with him, why you seemed more clingy that day, of course. And yet, he was not the first person who gave you the greetings, even though he was the one who you saw first thing in the morning.

He always wondered about why you decided to stay with him in his free time that was almost non-existence.

How you always let everything slide, how you suck it up and just focus on his well being, how you answer everyone teasing about him being a bad boyfriend — yet you always answered with pride that whatever happened, he was a good one, and you were happy to have him as your boyfriend.

But at one point, anyone must have hit their limit. Right?

"What is clouding in that big head of yours, Atsumu?" You flicked his forehead, and it was like a reminder to him that he had you in his arms right now, laying under the warm blanket in the bedroom that you two shared. "Your upcoming—"

"You." He answered truthfully before averting his gaze from the ceiling to your face. "I was thinking about you, honestly."

There was a flicker of sadness in your eyes, and he wanted to curse at himself for saying something like that out of the blue. "I am sorry, I know that tonight was supposed to be just us enjoying the moment together and not being sappy."

He held your body even closer than before, afraid that you would be gone too soon if he let it loose. His body shifted a little so he could plant a kiss at the crown of your head, eyes fluttering close as he bathed on the scent that reminded him that he would never be alone.

No words were being said after that, just you and him in each other's embrace. Your fingers stayed in his unruly hair, caressing the blonde strands that slowly lulled him to sleep.

But he didn't want to sleep yet. He didn't want to close his eyes. He wanted to savour the moment with you, one that he rarely felt with how he always prioritised volleyball above everything else. Above you, even.

Atsumu rubbed his eyes from time to time, insisting to stay awake and gripped your hips a little tighter than before. Just one more minute, he wanted to feel your warm body cuddling against his skin for a little longer.

"Hey, (Y/n)." He called out, earning a little hum of acknowledgement slipping from your lips. "Can you call me like you used to?"

He could feel how your body went rigid for a second. Your breath hitched, halted as if the request was something that could hurt you. "I understand if you can't though. I am okay if you didn't, I just want to hear it again."

One second, two seconds, everything felt so heavy as he waited for your answer. He wanted to hear his nickname from your lips, it sounds so lovely, not irritating like how his brother called him with the same name.

"Okay, 'Tsumu."

He felt so relieved as he heard his name rolled down your tongue. Happiness, love, comfort, he found it all with the way you called his name. You always use that nickname ever since you dated him, and it felt like a lifetime ago since the last time he heard it from you.

It was just Atsumu now. No more 'Tsumu, just his full first name that still sounded so odd since he still couldn't believe his mind. No, he could believe it. With how much he neglected you, with how much he was never there in your life — he acknowledged it. He just didn't want to.

"You should sleep, 'Tsumu." Your fingers trailed down his cheek as you looked up. "You have practice tomorrow, right?"

You knew all about his schedules, all the things that he allowed to eat and things that he had to do. You printed his routine in the back of your mind, somehow up until now, you couldn't help but care for him.

"Yeah, I have practice tomorrow." He gulped down before booping your nose playfully. "But I want to stay awake a little more. If that's too much to ask?"

He mustered his puppy eyes, pouting a little and tightening his embrace around you. This was your weakness, to see him all clingy like this. And when you let out a sigh and giggle, he knew that he got you.

"God, I love you so much to resist you, you know that?" You whispered out under your breath. But then as if you knew in an instant what you had said, you cleared your throat. "Okay, I give in. Stop giving me that puppy eyes, Atsumu."

"Sorry, sorry." He smiled sheepishly before resting his head comfortably on the pillow once again, securing you in his embrace as you laid back on his chest. "One more question, (Y/n). And then I promised I would zip my mouth after that until we fell asleep."

"Alright, shoot."

He frowned a little, eyes scanning the unfamiliar ceiling. He was not supposed to feel like a guest in his own place. Yet as he saw the beige coloured ceiling with some starlight sticker, he didn't feel right. Yeah, it was the price that he had to pay for rarely here in this apartment with you.

"From scale zero to ten, how perfect of a man I am today?"

He heard a sigh, another one slipped from you. Atsumu could count how many times you had sigh because of him, and he really wished that he could make you laugh instead of giving you headaches like this. "Don't sugarcoat though, I just needed the truth."

"Ten." You answered without doubt, yet as he looked down, wanting to see your eyes, you didn't look up. "Not just today, you always had a perfect score as a man. Passionate, have a big dream, would do anything to achieve it. If not I am not going to be your girlfriend for so long."

Ah, he just realised that he used the wrong term in his question.

"Let me rephrase it, (Y/n)." He closed his eyes, thinking if he was ready to hear the truth or not. "From scale zero to ten, how perfect of a boyfriend I am today?"

You clutched the tight shirt that he wore at his question, burying your face on his chest to hide yourself. He raised one of his eyebrows in confusion, didn't know why you couldn't answer it. Maybe it was that bad, maybe he could never be a good boyfriend after all.

"Perfect." He almost couldn't hear your answer with how it muffled on his shirt. "You are so perfect today, 'Tsumu."

Though he could hear it so clearly, the answer. He wanted to hear the other statement, of how he was always a perfect boyfriend, just like how you told him he was a perfect man. But of course it was not possible, he never became a lover that you could be proud of.

All these time, you complimented him, you showed to the world his capability. His skill in volleyball, his soft side toward his brother, how loyal he was to his friends — but you never said anything about how good of a boyfriend he was.

It was just all about him, not how he treated you.

"Hold me," He pleaded, biting his lips since he didn't want his voice to waver. "Hold me tighter than usual." His voice sounded like a whisper as he held you close, and he wanted you to do the same. "Please?"

Miya Atsumu was not someone who liked to beg, he knew you always gave what he wanted anyway. "Just tonight." But he wouldn't gamble anything right now. "I just need it tonight."

He swallowed down the tears that entreating to escape from his eyes. With how your arm moved to hold him close, caging him in a circle filled with comfort, maybe this was enough to be remembered.

Maybe this was enough to be remembered forever.

"I love you, 'Tsumu."

You sat in the living room with your head hanging low, hands covering your face as you didn't have the courage to look up at where your boyfriend sat. "But I am… Tired."

This was the first time he saw you cry. No, the first one was when he won national all those years ago in high school as he screamed at you that he won for you too. But never like this, the tears you shed right now was different from back then. "I tried, I really want to stay with you, to kiss you every morning, to cuddle with you under the blanket."

He couldn't say anything, heart thundering as he knew what would happen next. He was not stupid, of course everyone had their limit, and after years went by with a stagnant pace in the relationship — of course you were going to hit it, sooner or later.

"But you are never there, 'Tsumu."

You finally looked at him, and you could feel your heart shattered even more when you saw his expression. He was dumbstruck, tongue-tied. It was as if he knew that this day would happen, but he still didn't want to believe it.

He didn't want to believe that one day you would get tired of being second in his life.

"Does that mean…" He couldn't ask, knowing the answer to his next question. But he needed to make sure. "Does that mean you want to end this?"

The sunlight that slipped in between curtains was the one who woke him up. He hissed as it reached his eyes, forcing him to wake up. But he closed his eyes once again, stirring his body a little to wrap his arms around you, wanting to feel the warm that your body radiated.

Yet he was only met with cold.

And that was the thing that woke him up in an instant.

His breath laboured as he sat on the bed, brown orbs scanning the room that he shared with you. No, you didn’t just leave, right? But he scanned the room, again and again, searching for any kind of sign that you were still there.

Then again, who was he anyway, to know the signs. He was never here, he could count how many nights that he slept here with you. Atsumu didn’t even remember there were any photographs of you and him together hanging on the wall, he didn’t even know the time you decided to put some starlight sticker on the ceiling, he didn’t know what was the difference between this morning and the others.

Though one thing that he knew for sure, you would always be there when he woke up here.

“Then, please. Give me just one day! I just need one day of your life.”

Atsumu knew that this morning would come, when emptiness met him and reality sinked in as he remembered all the flaws that he had. His feet dragged him out from the bedroom that now felt suffocating for him. He needed you, he had to see you.

“But, Atsu—”

“I will prove it to you! I promise that I’ll make things right for you.”

It was so quiet, there was no music playing on the soundbar. You used to play some upbeat songs to fill the silence as you waited for him to show up after shower. Yet as he walked down the stairs, he could only hear his own footsteps.

“And then you can leave. You can sneak out when I am asleep. You know how much of a heavy sleeper I am, right?”

But then, he was right from the start.

“Alright, Atsumu. I will give you one more night.”

You were indeed — a woman of your words.

MASTERLIST

“and it cracks” taglist @roseestuosity @mistypoison @samanthaa-leanne @tycrackculture @aomineavenue @tris-does-stuff @tremblinghearts @p0taytoes @too-many-lanes @ntimacy @sunflwrsandprettyskies @chibichab @tsukkiboii @oikawoahh @hoefor2ds @edvigelacivetta @playboygeniusphilanthropist @wompwomphq @himichii @shoyomeow @miyayane @graykageyama @bakugou-akaashi

#miya atsumu #atsumu miya #miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu angst #atsumu miya angst #haikyuu scenarios #miya atsumu imagines #miya atsumu scenarios

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shirophantomvox · 3 years

Text

Flower Pedals Hisoka x reader Part 2

Part 1

❤️♣️❤️♣️

As the day went on, Hisoka volunteered as a chaperone to your younger cousins. They wanted to play in the water while Hisoka sat under a coconut tree, sipping on a strawberry margarita. It would be pointless for an intoxicated man to be a chaperone but he is quite immune to heavy alcohol. Somehow, the sun’s beautiful reflection made Hisoka look like the man you slowly fell for. His job as a bodyguard for the most dangerous mafia in the country, his ability to speak French like a flipped switch, and of course his bulging muscles. Seeing him interact well with your cousins made him seem father-like. But why did he have to act so egotistical? Why couldn’t he be like the guys you saw on the Hallmark channel? Is being loved that hard to ask for? Then the hurtful incident earlier that day entered your mind once again. You didn’t want to break up with Hisoka but it was the only choice.

A tear ran down your face, something you hadn’t done in a while. A silent weep is something everyone needs to do once in a while but weeping in front of others can feel humiliating. Suddenly, you hear a knock on your door and someone enters without your permission. You quickly wiped your tears away and turned around quickly expecting it to be Hisoka. Instead, it was your beloved uncle smiling with a DVD in one hand and popcorn in the other but once he got a quick glimpse of your sad face, his smile disappeared. This time he didn’t run to your rescue but rather asked what’s wrong from a distance. He already knew it had to do with Hisoka but he was curious to hear more.

“Is it about your boyfriend?”

“Yes…”

“Did he hurt you?”

“Physically, no. Emotionally, yes. He has flirted with many people and disregards that I am there. He used to be all over me and now he acts as if I do not exist!”

“That’s horrible. But I have to break it to you. Some men like it when their significant others are jealous. It’s thrilling to them. If you dislike that, you should tell him.”

“I have! He will not listen to me!”

Your uncle grunted in anger and shook his head. He placed his index finger and thumb under his chin, thinking hard about something. Tears rolled from your eyes and felt like they could not stop.

“Come with me, darling.”

Following behind your uncle like a 5-year-old, he led the way to his newly renovated basement, and in that basement stood something that mimicked a lab. He removed a large blanket that covered a table full of glass test tubes and pink liquid. You were hopelessly confused as to why your uncle was smiling at his little creation.

“Uncle…what is all this?”

“Can you guess?”

“Sorry. I have no idea what it is.”

“It’s a love potion!”

You gasp and step back rather far from him. You frowned, not believing what your uncle has told you. Love potions were depicted and always fictional; they simply don’t exist. Hell, Cupid DOES NOT exist and yet he claims that he has made a love potion?! You have always known your uncle to be a wacky man but NOT THIS wacky! Not only did he have a small test tube of this love potion but he had at least 100 small bottles of it too!

“Uncle….don’t tell me…”

“Maybe Hisoka can take a shot of this…”

“U/N! No! That’s wrong!”

“Huh?”

“If he doesn’t love me anymore, I’ll break up with him. Plain and simple.”

“But y/n!-“

“No buts!”

Gosh, you sound like your aunt!

“Why do you have that anyway? I could have sworn you and auntie madly in love anyway.”

“We are….” He stopped talking for a brief moment as he made his way to the door. He did not want your aunt to overhear him speak or else she’d have his head.

“We’ve had a few tiffs lately and she is being distant. I was thinking of giving her this potion.”

“You can’t just…give her that! What if she’s allergic to any ingredient you put in there?”

“SHHH! It’s not a drug, ok darling? It’s essentially a cupid’s arrow in liquid form.”

“Oh yeah! And Santa Claus is real, right? Come on Unc. I’m going to sleep now.”

“Y/N wait! Wait!” Your uncle ran up the stairs after you to try and have an actual heart-to-heart conversation with you. In reality, The love potion wasn’t anything that would harm Hisoka or your auntie; it was something that everyone had. This “love potion” has many variants in the market already. It has its own juice, pop, and merchandise line. When people gave testimonies about them falling madly in love with their partners, you thought it was an absolute joke!

The day had reached 11 PM. The sun had set for the day and the bright stars shined brightly against the beach. Chrollo and the others had left hours ago probably forgetting that you and Hisoka had tagged along. As you cleared the dinner table, the love potion sat there, in its small slender glass frame. This had been extracted so it could be digested but still, you didn’t go anywhere near it.

“Don’t leave this unattended. If a person drinks too much, they’ll become a fool for you and as romantic as that sounds, it can be VERY overwhelming.”

As you turned the lights off downstairs, the front door barreled open. Your eyes had been adjusted to light for the last few hours; seeing in the dark was nearly impossible. But one thing is for sure, that infamous bubble gum small dashed towards your nostrils.

Hisoka.

The lights turned on once again and this time, they began to flicker a little. Hisoka’s piercing golden eyes were able to grab a hold of yours instantly. It felt like you were paralyzed with sudden fear and anger. So many emotions raged throughout your body; your brain sending many signals to the various parts of your body. Both of your cousins come running in, arms stuck out like airplanes zooming all through the living room. One flew underneath Hisoka’s legs and the other flew many times around you. Their sudden joy made you smile a little; they were so full of joy and hope…that is until they grow up.

“I like your boyfriend, y/n!”

“Yeah! He’s so fun! He taught me how to play Poker!”

“You what?!”

“Hey! She needs to know in case she needs to make some cash.”

“Ok, you two. Up to bed. Mom and Dad are waiting for you.”

Both of your cousins zoom into their rooms making loud airplane noises.

“I must admit, I see potential in those kids. They made their own marshmallows, mingled amongst people their age, and even reminded me when their bedtime was.”

He looked from the staircase to you. “Thank you for—“ he stopped as he looked at your angry face.

“—Are you still mad about earlier?”

“What do you think, jerk?”

“Would you stop playing hard to get? You haven’t given me a kiss today.” He bent down and puckered his lips, expecting you to respond. Instead, you turn the lights off leaving a kiss-less Hisoka in the dark. Hisoka stood in the middle of the dark living room beyond confused at your actions.

Finally! Alone at last. No one to interrupt your thoughts or sleep, just you in your auntie’s guest room. The bed was extra comfy! It was so fluffy that it almost made you get up and inside Hisoka to sleep with you.

“No. He needs to learn his lesson,” you thought to yourself. Besides, a non-married couple sleeping in the same bed together was NOT going to fly in this house. Before you knew it, your eyes were closed for what felt like 20 minutes but were actually 8 hours. The sun beamed through the curtains acting as your silent alarm clock. Stretching your muscles and yawing felt amazing after a good night’s sleep. Checking your phone was a reflex but feeling an odd source of shadows made you freeze. As you slowly turned around, Hisoka was laying in your bed, with his boxers on, smiling, and gawking at you; something he’d never done. You thought rubbing your eyes twice would make him go away, but he was still there in the flesh. Still angry about yesterday's encounter, you stare at him plainly.

“What in the world are you doing here, Hisoka?”

“To be with you, of course, my dear.” His tone was much softer; it felt as if he was barely moving his tongue. His lips slightly puckered as he spoke. Your boyfriend was always mysterious but it can be said that he was never predictable.

“What are you talking about?”

He scoots closer to you; his bare chest rubbing against your right arm. He places his left arm around your neck pulling you closer. So close that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. He took his index knuckle, placed it under your chin, and lifted.

“Oh, how I missed your face…the sound of your voice…my heart aches for you.”

You blink twice.

Am I dreaming? What is going on here?!

“Hisoka—“

He placed his index finger over your lips; his long nail gently scratches the top part. “Shhh….” Quickly but softly, Hisoka gives you a kiss but not just an ordinary kiss, one that is very breathtaking. His lips were much softer than you remember and a lot moister. He didn’t force anything; he gently moved his lips to make you more comfortable. What felt like a lifetime was truly only 10 seconds and on the 11th, he parted. Gazing into his golden eyes this time made your heart skip a beat. You remained silent, slightly afraid to say a word as he stared into your eyes deeply. This was not his blood-lust look at all but awfully similar. His eyes were half-lidded but they were soft, much softer than you had seen before. Just as you were about to say something, he gently grabs your face and begins to kiss you all around without remorse. This overwhelming amount of affection not only made you bluff but be utterly embarrassed if your aunt and uncle caught you two in this state. It’s more of the family “aww’ ing” than anything else.

“How did Hisoka suddenly do a 360 from last night?”

“Might as well enjoy this while it lasts.”

Hisoka continued to place soft kisses. He began to pepper your lower jaw with them, earning a slightly satisfied grunt from yourself. He then professed his love for you as he kissed you in between phrases. The magician himself was as red as an apple while you were a giggling mess. He moved his lips to another part of your body. His hand kisses felt amazing once more. He moved his way up your arm and to your shoulder.

“You smell terrific, kitten,” he said in a lower huskier voice.

You growl in response; something so embarrassing that you are happy your nosy little cousins did not hear.

“You’re so adorable, kitten. So delicate that I’d be afraid to touch. So beautiful like the colors and aroma omitting from a blossom tree.”

“I love you to the moon and back.”

Before Hisoka said another word, he placed his right hand where the bottom of your head and neck met. He gently caressed it as he pressed his forehead against yours. The soft feeling of his nose moving swiftly against yours felt like ecstasy. Nothing could ruin this moment.

“Hisoka’s a simp!”

Both of you jerked your heads to the door. Through the crack, you could see two curious pairs of eyes, staring into your room. Before Hisoka could leave the bed, you jump over him and march to the door.

“You know, it’s rude to stalk people in their bedrooms.”

“And? It’s rude for you to be staying the night in my beach house and not giving us any money. Hand it over sis.”

You close the door and jump back into bed with your new boyfriend. Hisoka practically had hearts in his eyes. It’s as if he saw no one but you.

Maybe he has changed….

Your uncle’s voice could be heard a distance away and that’s when it hit you.

“Don’t leave this unattended. If a person drinks too much, they’ll become a fool for you and as romantic as that sounds, it can be VERY overwhelming.”

Oh shit! Where is the potion?! No! It was left on the table last night!”

"Really, Unc? I think I can deal with this. After all, he is less insufferable. I’ve always wanted my beau back and I hope he remains this way…falling on his knees before me."

To be continued....

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shezzaspeare · 3 years

Text

Pilot/Episode 1: Patching Things Up With Pastiche & Fanfiction

Hi, hello, and the wait is finally over! My name is Blessie, and welcome to the first episode webisode log installation I've decided to call these things an episode for now because why not also let me know what do you actually call these things episode of The Science of Fanfiction, where we take a closer look into our beloved works of fanon because we've all got plenty of time to spare till Season 5. Before I continue, I would like to thank everyone who's liked and reblogged the last few posts before this one. It means a lot for a small and growing Tumblr user like me, and your support is something I cherish more than my modules. You guys rock!

Anyways, like with most things, we have to talk about the boring and bland stuff before we proceed with the fun stuff. For today, we are going to settle the difference between a couple of things: first being the confusion between pastiche and fanfiction; then the distinctions between tropes, clichés, and stereotypes, which we'll tackle the next time. It's important for us to establish their true meanings in order for us to really understand what fanfiction truly is, even if it's merely just a work done for the fandom. I know – it's boring, it's something that shouldn't be expounded that much, but I believe that all forms of writing (unless it's plagiarised) is a work of art — and fanfiction is not something we always talk about. I hope that by the end of this, you'll learn about what they really are as much as I did. Let's begin to talk about the—

[Image ID: A flashback of John (left) and Sherlock (right) finding an elephant (not in the screen) in a room in The Sign of Three. End ID]

. . . I did say that this GIF will always have to make an appearance here, didn't I?

So, just as with Sherlock Holmes, all other works of fiction have their own pastiches and fanfiction, and many more original works out there have taken inspiration from them to create their own books. Although they've gained popular attention, this will not be possible if they did not have taken inspiration from the materials their writers had at the time.

[Image ID: Various actors as Dracula. Jeremy Brett in 'Dracula' (1978) (upper left), Adam Sandler in a voice role for 'Hotel Transylvania' (2012) (upper right), Gary Oldman in 'Dracula' (1992) (lower left), and Bela Lugosi in 'Dracula' (1933) (lower right). End ID]

For instance, Bram Stoker's 'Dracula' (the second most adapted literary character, next to the consulting detective himself) has been portrayed on the screen over 200 times — from Gary Oldman to Adam Sandler — and has spawned off numerous books and pastiches of its own such as Stephen King's 'Salem's Lot'. Its cultural impact served as a basis of how we see vampires today, since some characteristics of the Count were made by Stoker himself. Stoker's creation is the brainchild of his predecessors and inspirations.

[Image ID: Vlad the Impaler (left) and a book cover of 'Carmilla' by J. Sheridan Le Fanu (right). End ID]

Other than the ongoing hysteria over dead back then and the existing vampire folklore, Stoker also took his inspirations from the published books on vampires he had at hand. He is said to have taken inspiration from Vlad the Impaler, a Romanian national hero known allegedly for having impalement as his favourite method of torture. He is also said to have been inspired by the J. Sheridan Le Fanu's 'Carmilla', a Gothic lesbian vampire novella that predates Dracula by 26 years. I could go on, but hey, we're going back to Sherlock Holmes now before I deviate any further. However, if you want to know about Dracula's literary origins, I suggest you watch Ted-ED's videos about the subject matter such as this one or this one.

Very much like Stoker, ACD didn't just conceive Holmes on his own. He took his own inspirations from what he had available at the time.

[Image ID: Dr Joseph Bell (left) and Edgar Allan Poe (right). End ID]

As we all know, ACD's biggest inspiration for Sherlock Holmes was one of his teachers at the Edinburgh University, Joseph Bell. He was famous for his powers of deduction, and he was also interested in forensic science — both characteristics which Holmes is greatly known for. He also drew inspiration from Edgar Allan Poe's sleuth, C. Auguste Dupin ('The Purloined Letter' & 'Murders in Rue Morgue'). As ACD himself has said at the 1909 Poe Centennial Dinner: "Where was the detective story until Poe breathed life into it?" Some other writers he took after are Wilkie Collins, Émile Gaboriau, and Oscar Wilde.

Now, what does this say about us Sherlockians/Holmesians (depending if you're the coloniser or the one that was colonised)? Basically, ACD laid the groundwork for us with Sherlock Holmes: his humble abode 221B that he shares with his flatmate Dr. John Watson, his adventures, memoirs, return, casebook, last vow, and all that. Now that we have this material at hand, we can now make our own versions, takes, or even original stories featuring the characters of the Canon. Our inspiration comes from ACD's Sherlock Holmes, and we now get the chance to make our very own stories/conspiracy theories about them.

As I have mentioned earlier, Sherlock Holmes is the most adapted literary character in history. He has been adapted in over 200 films, more than 750 radio adaptations, a ballet, 2 musicals; and he's become a mouse, a woman, a dog, even a bloody cucumber. On top of all that are numerous pastiches and fanfics, and finally, we have arrived at the main topic of our post!

Fanfiction and pastiche are often confused together since they have three common elements: they take after the original work, they usually use the characters in that original work, and more often than not do are they set in that same time frame/period or not long after that. The common misconception is that pastiche are printed fanfiction, which is only partly true. While pastiche is definitely fanfiction in some ways and vice versa, there are fanfictions out there that aren't necessarily classified as pastiche that have been published.

Let's get on with our definition of terms to clear up the confusion a little more. Pastiche, according to Literary Terms, is:

. . . a creative work that imitates another author or genre. It’s a way of paying respect, or honor, to great works of the past. Pastiche differs from parody in that pastiche isn’t making fun of the works it imitates – however, the tone of pastiche is often humorous.

A good example of a pastiche is Sophie Hannah's 'The Monogram Murders', which is her take from Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot.

[Image ID: A book cover of 'The Monogram Murders' by Sophie Hannah. End ID.]

Although this was a commission from Christie's estate, it's still considered as a pastiche as:

It's takes after Christie's writing style;

It is set in the early years of Poirot's career (1929), which is still within the time frame that the author wrote him in;

It features Poirot and;

It pays respect to Christie in a sense that it stays true to her (Christie) characters and way of storytelling.

Meanwhile, our good and slightly unreliable friend Wikipedia defines fanfiction as:

. . . is fictional writing written by fans, commonly of an existing work of fiction. The author uses copyrighted characters, settings, or other intellectual property from the original creator(s) as a basis for their writing. [It] ranges from a couple of sentences to an entire novel, and fans can both keep the creator's characters and settings and/or add their own. [ . . . ] [It] can be based on any fictional (and sometimes non-fictional) subject. Common bases for fanfiction include novels, movies, bands, and video games.

To avoid any copyright infringement issues if I ever use a popular fanfic in the fandom, we'll use my (unfinished and unpopular) Sherlock Wattpad fic, 'Play Pretend'. You can read it here.

[Image ID: The second self-made book cover of Blessie/shezzaspeare's 'Play Pretend'. End ID]

Why is it considered a fanfiction and not a pastiche?

It takes after an adaptation of Sherlock Holmes (BBC Sherlock) which is a TV show, not the ACD canon itself;

The author (in this case myself) uses her own writing style and does not take after the original story's style;

Although it is set well in modern-day London and after Season 4, it also features scenes decades before the actual fanfic is set and outside of London;

I added a considerable number of characters, i.e. siblings to canon characters;

I had my own take some of the canon characters' personality especially after the events of Sherrinford;

It is written by a fan – myself. It is a work of fan labour and;

It is only a work of fanon, and isn't likely going to be considered by the show as its writing style is different from the actual show.

To put it simply, you can have more freedom in a fanfiction as it does not necessarily restrict you to follow or take after the original stories. Alternate universes (AUs) such as Unilock and Teenlock are perfect examples of this thing.

So can a pastiche be classified as fanfiction? Yes.

Can a fanfiction be classified as pastiche? Not all the time.

What's the difference? While yes, they share the basics, pastiche is technically leans more onto the original work's fundamental elements whereas fanfiction is a broader range of works inspired by the original work but doesn't necessarily follow all or any of its fundamental elements.

In order for us to understand it more, I'll give another example.

[Image ID: The 'Enola Holmes' title card (upper left) and Henry Cavill as its Sherlock holmes (upper right). Underneath it is a a scene from the opening titles of BBC Sherlock (lower left) and Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock Holmes in A Scandal In Belgravia. (lower right) End ID]

Most of you are familiar with these 21st-century adaptations of Holmes: the 2020 adaptation of Nancy Springer's Enola Holmes books and BBC Sherlock, which needs no further explanation – but for those who don't know, it's basically Holmes and the gang if they were alive today. I specifically chose these two as they are the ones that I believe would get my points across best. Though both are considered as wonderful pastiches with a well-rounded cast and awesome visuals, if we break them down bit by bit, we'll see which one is more of a pastiche and which one is more of a fanfic. (Yes, I know they're both screen adaptations. However, as Enola Holmes was based on the books and BBC Sherlock's fanfiction has the show's scenes written out in most fanfics, hear me out.)

They share these characteristics of a pastiche:

They feature characters from the Canon (Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, and Lestrade);

They have additional characters added by the writers (Including but not limited to Molly Hooper, Eurus Holmes, and Philip Anderson for BBC Sherlock while Enola Holmes has Lord Tewkesbury, Eudoria Holmes, and Enola herself) and;

They pay respect to the original Canon as their stories are based on the cases (BBC Sherlock) or simply what was going on around them (Enola Holmes).

They also share these characteristics of a fanfic:

They are made by enthusiasts of Sherlock Holmes (Moffat has called himself and Mark Gatiss 'Sherlock Holmes geeks', while Nancy Springer's Enola Holmes books are not just one or two but six);

They follow a common trope (we'll discuss these tropes in the following episodes) that goes on in the fandom (Sherlock's Sister & Modern AU)

They are based on a fictional subject (Sherlock Holmes);

They used characters and story elements that are copyrighted by the author/author's estate (fun fact: prior to the production of Enola Holmes, the Conan Doyle Estate filed a lawsuit against Springer & Netflix over Sherlock's emotions since he was more 'sympathetic' than he was portrayed in the Canon – this was later dismissed by both parties) and;

Their writing styles don't necessarily follow ACD's.

Despite these similarities, there are very obvious differences between the two that separates them from being a pastiche and a fanfiction.

Enola Holmes embodies pastiche more as it doesn't stray far away from the original elements of the Canon. It's still set in Victorian England. While Springer added characters of her own and definitely twisted the Canon to suit her series, she didn't necessarily place them out of the social construct that was going on around the characters. It follows ACD's writing style more as Enola Holmes' setting still remains within the Canon's original setting.

Meanwhile, we can safely say that BBC Sherlock is a work of fanfiction. While it did give us The Abominable Bride, the main series focused on Holmes and Watson in 21st-century England, which is drastically different from Victorian England. There are phones, black cabs, and cellphones — things which ACD Sherlock Holmes doesn't have. It also diverted from the Canon in the characters themselves, which is mostly seen in the names: Henry Baskerville became Henry Knight, Charles Augustus Milverton became Charles Augustus Magnussen, the H in Dr Watson's name stood for Hamish and Sherlock's full name is actually William Sherlock Scott Holmes. They also changed the personalities of some Canon characters: Mary was actually an ex-assassin, Mrs Hudson was an exotic dancer who drove a kick-ass sports car, Irene Adler is a dominatrix, to name a few. Moffat and Gatiss created a world of their own featuring the characters of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, which is really what most of us fanfic writers do with Mofftiss' rendition of Holmes.

In conclusion: while pastiche and fanfiction could have been the same thing, they're actually not. There's more to them that just printed fanfiction or pastiche e-books, and we all should take some time to see and observe them in a closer perspective.

And that's it for our first episode! I hope you enjoyed it. It was a lot fun for me to write this, especially now that I'm only starting. I would also like to note that while intensive research has been done on this series, some parts of this comes from my own observation and opinion, which may vary from yours. I am very much open to criticism, as long as it is said in a polite and civil manner. I'm still young, and to be educated as I go is something that could really help me with this series.

Like and reblog this you like it. It helps out a lot. Be sure to follow me as well and the tags underneath if you want to see more of TSoF.

See you soon!

Blessie presents – The Science of Fanfiction: A Study In Sherlock (2021) • Next

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SOURCES • Pinterest, Google Images, Wikipedia, Literary Terms, Conan Doyle Estate, Definitions, The Sherlock Holmes Book, and Google

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