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jjkeverlast · 3 days ago

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seven days a week | jjk

✦ pairing fwb!jk x fem!reader

✦ rating explicit (+18)

✦ summary jeon jeongguk has always had crazy ideas, but wanting to fuck you every day of the week was the last thing you expected.

✦ warnings & tags college AU, smut, pwp, domesticity, it’s jeongguk’s birthday so y’know BIRTHDAY SEX!!!!! YIPPIE!!!, soft shower session:(((, it turns hot tho lol, they’re freaks okay, foreplay, fingering, handjob, unprotected again lmfao, cute aftercare:(((, funny ending lol

✦ word count 3.4k

✦ author’s note this is a re-upload, if you’ve seen this before, this is why:)

masterlist

The constant ringing beside you is what causes you to stir awake in your sleep, Jeongguk’s face resting in the crook of your neck. You squint one eye open, realizing it’s dark outside. Groaning as you stretch, you realize it isn’t your phone that’s ringing but Jeongguk’s.

“Guk.” You mumble, running your fingers through his hair to wake him up gently after your nap, that may have turned into a full night sleep instead.

“Mhm.” He nuzzles his nose further against your skin, breathing in your scent as you feel his smile starting to stretch against it.

“Your phone is ringing.” You explain, voice a tad hoarse.

Jeongguk doesn’t move, only his arm reaching over his one night stand to fiddle after the constant buzzing. When his hand lands flatly on his phone, he grabs it, not in the mood to check and puts it against his ear.

“Hello?” The moment another voice rings through it, Jeongguk moves up and walks out of the bedroom. You don’t question him, hearing it’s his mother talking to him.

While he strolls directly to the living room, you take the time to bring some light in his room. You check the time, realizing it’s a bit past midnight. It takes you by complete surprise by how you and Jeongguk were able to sleep for so long.

You also quickly realize you have to use the bathroom, and that’s when you walk out to do so only to hear—

“Thank you for the birthday wish, mom. Miss you too.” He speaks softly.

Wait, it’s Jeongguk’s birthday today? You halt in your steps, considering if you should ask further but you go against it, proceeding to go to the bathroom.

When you walk back into the bedroom, Jeongguk is changing the covers with a smile pampering his face.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” He bites back a giggle, and that’s when you can’t help but ask.

“Sorry, it wasn’t meant for me to overhear, but is it your birthday today?” You ask with caution, careful not to overstep. After all, you and Jeongguk just started ‘this’ and it’s still new, therefore the last thing you want is to cross boundaries and make Jeongguk uncomfortable.

In regards to that, Jeongguk surprises you by walking up to you and pulling you by the waist, letting your foreheads touch and support against each other.

“It is.” He confirms, smiling much wider now.

“Happy birthday, Jeongguk.” You wrap your arms around his waist, nuzzling your noses together which creates a slight tickle.

“Thank you, baby.” He pecks your lips slowly, embracing the warmth from your shared kiss.

When he slowly pulls away, his eyes are still closed.

“How do you want to spend your… night?”

“Oh shit, you’re right.” His eyes pop open when he realizes he has more than a whole day ahead of him, his birthday barely starting.

The expression on Jeongguk’s face is comical, causing you to laugh against his cheek as you rub your hand on his back in circles.

“I wanna eat fried chicken.”

The only fried chicken shop that’s open right now, is a good ten minute walk from here but if it’s Jeongguk’s wish, you’re happy to accompany him to create the best ‘day’ for him.

“Then, let’s go.”

Jeongguk’s face brightens at your comment, excitement already increasing as you both get ready to step out of the door. He’s kind enough to lend you some clothes that fit your size. The air is a bit more chilly now as the night has settled in.

The hoodie smells like Jeongguk, as you swallow your face into it, stepping out of his apartment with him trailing behind.

Namjoon is apparently first arriving early in the morning, so for the night it’ll be just you and Jeongguk and a lot of fried chicken to digest.

With hands intertwined, Jeongguk swings your arm back and forth as you walk excitedly to the 24 hour open shop.

“Are you planning to go to Busan tomorrow?” You ask, remembering that it’s his hometown, and surely his family must want him home and celebrate him as he deserves.

“Yeah, my mom also called to double check if I’m able to. I’ve done it since I moved to Seoul, hence why I’m so excited today as well. I’ve really missed my parents… And Bam.”

“Bam?”

“My dog. I’m not able to have him in the apartment with Namjoon due to the rules in the building, so my parents promised to take good care of him.” The conversation results in Jeongguk sharing and showing you endless pictures and videos of Bam.

You coo as you watch the close up videos of Bam booping his nose against the camera when Jeongguk calls his name.

“I would be excited too if that was waiting for me at home.”

Jeongguk is quick to agree with your comment, and shortly after, you’ve reached the destination. Since it’s his birthday, you’re offering to pay, Jeongguk quickly shutting down your kind gesture but you’re having none of it. Your stubbornness is worse than his, causing you to win against him and pay the older man who owns the shop.

Jeongguk decides he’d rather eat it at home, which is why you carry a big white plastic bag on the way back. The smell accompanies you the whole way, stomachs rumbling the closer you reach Jeongguk’s apartment.

Finally entering the warmth of Jeongguk’s place, you squeeze yourselves in the kitchen to grab the necessities. Jeongguk tries to push you away whenever you want to help, because ‘it’s my day, I decide.’ Which is true, but you want to do more for his birthday.

Finally, you sit by the edge of the couch, opening the white box filled with fried chicken. Jeongguk hands you a glove, before diving in himself and munching down on the crunchy food. You join him later, salivating at how good it tastes and how the flavors mold nicely together.

Jeongguk wanted every kind of dip, which explains why there’s an exact number of eight dips sprawled on the coffee table. He’s not even dipping one fried chicken in one, no, he’s taking a bit of each. The action causes you to stifle a weirded out expression.

“How come one dip isn’t enough for you?”

Jeongguk becomes offended, raising an eyebrow. “How come you think you’re allowed to speak in regards to that? Hmm?” The tone he uses shows he’s forcing himself to ‘play’ annoyed rather than actually being it. You find it cute, therefore you pinch his cheek with your clean hand.

“Just eat your food.”

The following hour, you eat in silence, Jeongguk moaning and complimenting the food with every bite. It’s a peaceful and endearing activity. The longer you hang out with Jeongguk, the more you’re grateful that you took that risk Friday, by finally admitting what you’ve always felt for him.

Slowly but surely, the food disappears and rests peacefully in your stomachs. Jeongguk wants to digest by watching the newest k-drama available on Netflix, and you condone, letting him watch whatever pleases him.

It results in you both laying together on the couch, Jeongguk has his head on your lap, stroking your knee with his tattooed hand. Your fingers run through his hair, soothing him slowly as the drama evolves on the screen in front of you.

“Is there anything else you’d like tonight?”

“A warm shower.” He stretches, changing position so he faces you directly.

“Okay.” You’re about to move aside to let him shower in peace, but Jeongguk takes you by surprise once more. When isn’t he full of surprises?

“Join me?” He asks softly, doe eyes staring up at you and how can you say no?

“Sure.” You smile at him, cupping his cheek and rubbing down on the scar gently. He leans his face towards your warm palm, closing his eyes for a bit and you notice every small detail about Jeongguk’s face. The length of his eyelashes, the mole under his lip, the paired silver lip rings and his boopable nose. Everything about Jeon Jeongguk is mesmerizing.

Carefully, you trace the tip of your finger on every curve and edge of his face. The skin is soft against it, the edges of his lips are a bit wet as you press. Jeongguk opens his eyes, kisses the pad of your finger and moves you both upwards to scurry to the bathroom.

Jeongguk opens the shower door, turning the water on hot while you lock the door behind you. The sound begins to erupt in the small bathroom of water running down. Jeongguk doesn’t hesitate to throw his hoodie and t-shirt off in one go, exposing his well built abs and full tattooed sleeve for your eyes.

You gulp, feeling hot by the sight of his body in such a natural situation. You clear your throat, distracting yourself by removing your own clothes. A shower is needed for both of you, forgetting to do so yesterday after having sex deciding on a nap instead.

Jeongguk is first to enter the shower, his broad and built back turned to you. You want to touch and feel but hold yourself back, following suit. The warm water hits you both, easing you down the longer you stand under it. Jeongguk has his arm wrapped around you, as he uses his free hand to prevent you from getting water in your eyes.

Instead, you both turn around, the water trailing effortlessly fast down on Jeongguk’s chest and further down to his abs. The sight is indescribable. The droplets compliment his skin, making everything more prominent for you. Jeongguk is pushing his hair back with a free hand, closing his eyes as he covers his face completely. His Adam's apple moves when your hands land on his chest, caressing him under the circulating warmth. Jeongguk removes his face from the shower head, his gaze fixated on you instead.

He doesn’t question your sudden touch on him, it feels nice. Having you touch him so gently and in total admiration. Jeongguk wouldn’t love it any different.

“Can I wash your hair?” You ask, wanting to do something for him. Jeongguk simply nods, handing you the shampoo for you to use. With that, you pour some down on your palm and bring it up to his hair, massaging the soft strands as they straighten under the pressured water.

Jeongguk hums in satisfaction, loving how you don’t miss a single spot, massaging his scalp gently as the shampoo regains a foamy consistency. You ask him to turn around, making sure the longer strands on the nape of his neck are taken care of as well. He turns back around, winking your way when he notices how concentrated you look. You roll your eyes, slapping him lightly.

“All good.” You confirm, “close your eyes.” Jeongguk obeys, and you grab his jaw so he’s placed back towards the shower head to wash off the excess. The white bubbles trail down Jeongguk’s body when you rinse out his hair. Jeongguk is wearing a tight lipped smile, eyes crinkling as he has them fully shut and the sight is adorable, your heart almost does a whole flip.

Succeeding your mission with Jeongguk’s hair, you proceed and wash the upper part of his body. Jeongguk has a yellow luffa hanging beneath all the products. You grab onto it, squeezing some vanilla scented body wash and scrub on Jeongguk’s sleeve. You move from his shoulder blade to his chest, moving downwards to his abs and that’s when you hear a hiss from Jeongguk. You lock eyes, Jeongguk’s mouth agape by how your movements have slowed down, now only moving further down.

“Baby.” He mumbles, leaning forward to kiss you but you want to play this for a little longer, enjoying his reactions a tad bit much.

“Let me wash your back.” Your fingers are gripping onto his waist, indicating you need him to turn and Jeongguk mumbles to himself, hiding his face from you.

“Fucking tease.”

You hear the words loud and clear, giggling shamelessly because he’s absolutely right. You are a tease. Even though it’s his birthday, he’ll never be able to avoid you wanting to mess around just a tiny bit for fun.

You don’t notice until now how much you’ve been craving to touch Jeongguk’s back. The sight has you at loss for words. He’s so… broad, yet his waist is tiny and that has your brain spiraling. Jeongguk moves his arm to scratch a spot by his neck, revealing his muscle moving and retracting in a short second. You’re close to dropping the luffa, too stunned to proceed with your fun little game because quite frankly, Jeon Jeongguk might be the death of you.

It’s as if Jeongguk notices how you’ve completely stopped, causing his head to turn to gain a peak. “Is there something wrong?”

“Why are you so… hot?” You don’t mean to blurt it out, but it’s said, out in the open in the middle of Jeongguk’s shower.

“I— I mean.” You try to cover up how raw and honest that comment was, especially when Jeongguk sports that ridiculous grin that signals you’ve boosted his ego. Hiding your embarrassment, you proceed to scrub his back, tracing your hands down his spine in awe. Jeongguk suddenly begins to feel your nails scraping on the lower half of his back. You’re unaware of your own actions, mind too caught up with what’s in front of you, until Jeongguk lets out a small moan.

“Fuck.”

Your ears perk up by the sudden noise, about to retract your fingers until Jeongguk pushes against your touch, a way for him to tell you to continue. You don’t question it, grazing your fingers from his lower back and following his spine upwards. Jeongguk lets out a huff of air, leaning his head backwards as the water hits his face harshly.

Every movement of yours causes Jeongguk to grow hot in front of you. He tries not to show it, but it’s noticeable with the way he’s giving himself completely to your touch. It doesn’t help you either how you’re able to touch him this way, so gently yet so intimately.

Jeongguk has grown impatient, turning around swiftly and grabbing your jaw to kiss you. His mouth is wetter than usual, met with your own as your tongues graze against each other. You accidentally drop the luffa down to the tiled floor, both hands roaming on his chest and abs instead as your heads tilt in a synchronized rhythm.

He catches you off guard when his own hand travels down to your ass, gripping it harshly so you land flatly against him. The soap from Jeongguk’s body melts onto yours as you grope each other shamelessly.

When Jeongguk stops kissing you, he grabs your nape to keep your gaze fixated on his. He wants to watch every reaction of yours when his hand soon enough touches your core. Your eyebrows furrow by the action, biting down on your lip when his fingers slide in between your lips, not surprised that you’re already wet.

Jeongguk smirks, playing with your clit as your face morphs completely due to the intense pleasure he’s causing.

“F—Fuck.” Your hold on his chest tightens, nails sinking into his skin. Jeongguk groans by how roughly you’re touching him.

Seeing you already so messy by his fingers causes Jeongguk to grow hard. You notice, as your gaze quickly runs down and up again to see Jeongguk’s darkened gaze.

Therefore, you reciprocate, grabbing onto his cock and stroking him slowly. You’re both moaning against each other's lips, overwhelmed by not only the intense pleasure but the warmth from the water making this completely different than any other time you’ve had sex.

“Turn around.” Jeongguk orders.

You stop touching him, turning around and bending slightly, knowing where this will lead. Thankfully, you’re able to support yourself with both hands on the wall. Jeongguk positions himself behind you, biting down your earlobe as he slides in with ease.

“This fucking pussy.” Jeongguk breathes out, loss for words when you wrap around him so perfectly. It’s almost as if you were made for him.

You lean your forehead against the wall, eyes watching Jeongguk slowly easing out and in of you again. Whenever his tip is about to leave you, you clench and Jeongguk’s grip on your waist tightens.

The water is still running between your bodies, Jeongguk watching how droplets of water paint the curve of your ass nicely along with your naked back. Jeongguk runs his hands on your skin, quickening his thrusts.

The skin slapping sounds are more wet than usual, the water jumping along with each thrust from Jeongguk’s end. He feels himself enjoying this much more than all those times he’s seen you from behind.

Something about your body being completely soaked as he fucks into you, has Jeongguk spiraling. He’s out of control, teasing you with his intense thrusting that slows down whenever you’re close to a high.

Jeongguk wants to keep himself buried inside of you if he could, and internally wishes he never finishes.

You make it harder for him when you push back towards him, the movements growing harsher and more rough. The more you push back, the closer Jeongguk feels he’s on edge.

“Don’t move.” Jeongguk manages to say before he’s moaning again when you stop, half of his cock leaving your warm heat.

Before Jeongguk continues, he reaches his hand down to play with your clit, just like how you love it. Your hand joins his, holding it there for support as your legs are almost about to give out.

“Fuck me. Please Jeongguk—“ You plead and Jeongguk bites back a groan, before doing so. His body meets yours smoothly, cock filling you up to the brim.

The intensity grows again, the orgasm you so desperately chase for, seeping through the corner.

“Yes— Keep going.” You mumble, completely out of it, mind hazy and eyes barely able to stay open. Jeongguk doesn’t waste a second, holding you tightly to fuck you just like you deserve.

The minute you’re about to reach your high, you look behind you, noticing how Jeongguk’s head is leaned back paired with a mouth open. Fuck. The sight is what does it for you, coming undone all over his cock. As you clench again when you come undone, Jeongguk feels his own orgasm approach him.

He removes his hand from your clit, gripping both sides of your hips, chasing his own high.

“Fucking hell, baby.” You hear behind you, right before the last thrust falters and Jeongguk’s cock twitches inside of you, filling you up completely.

Slowly, Jeongguk slides out of you, helping you even though your body has given out completely due to tiredness.

It’s funny how the roles switch as soon as you’ve had sex. Jeongguk ends up taking care of you next, washing every inch of your body as you fix your hair.

When you’re both pleased with the shower, you walk out drying yourselves. Jeongguk giggles when you wrap a towel against his head and ruffle his hair with it. Your cheeks hurt from smiling too much, Jeongguk joining you on that end.

Despite it being three in the morning when you’re both done, Jeongguk is still wide awake wanting to watch the next episode to the k-drama from earlier. You don’t hesitate to agree.

Both of you end up sitting in new clothes, wrapped up in a big blanket.

One thing that’s dangerous about k-dramas is the length of each episode, and the constant cliffhanger they leave you with. It results in you and Jeongguk staying awake until the sounds of keys ruffle from outside and someone steps inside the apartment.

You’re guessing it’s Namjoon, and you’re right when he tiptoes into the living room, thinking Jeongguk is fast asleep.

“What the fuck?!” Namjoon almost screams, not expecting to see you both awake at not even seven in the morning.

“Good morning roomie!” Jeongguk greets with an overly excited voice. You’re pretty certain it’s because he’s overtired at this point.

“H-hi?” Namjoon questions, not expecting them to have a guest. “Who’s…”

“This is Y/N.” Jeongguk says casually and Namjoons’ frown turns quickly to a smile.

“So you’re Y/N. What a pleasure.” Namjoon reaches over to shake your hand and you smile, repeating his own words.

“Now how did this happen? I mean weren’t you guys just… You know?”

You quirk an eyebrow, surprised Namjoon knows anything about yours and Jeongguk’s earlier relationship.

“Well. It’s funny you ask.” Jeongguk starts off and you already have a bad feeling about this.

“It started with me convincing her I could fuck her everyday for a week straight and—“

“Jeongguk!”

THE END

#jeon jungkook #jungkook bts #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook fluff

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thelov3lybookworm · 3 days ago

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Alone (part 2)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: The morning is bleak, business as usual. Nothing new. Nothing fun. Until someone decides to make it fun.

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Word Count: 1568

Warnings: just yn being depresso espresso and done with life and az lol, some vague descriptions of the previous part i think, and kidnapping teehee 🤭 ig you could also say angst? idk tho lol you decide

A/n: GUESS WHOS BACK MY GUYSSSSSSSS 🥹🥹🥹 ive been SO DESPERATE TO WRITE SOMETHING THE PAST FEW MONTHS but couldnt cus of exams and stuff and then had a bit of writers block lol but OMG IM SO HAPPY RN

this is like. a sequel to Alone, a ficlet id written for starfall week hehe. ALTHOUGH THIS IS A SEQUEL, IT CAN STILL BE READ AS A STANDALONE!! so go ahead and pls comment hehehehe i love reading comments <3

this purely exists because of the amazing people who commented on the previous part, and also people who asked to be tagged in part 2 hehe: @blessthepizzaman @vanserrasimp @sophieliz and @saltedcoffeescotch

ANYWAYS, ENJOYYYY!!!🥳🥳🥳

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Brows furrowed, Y/n pushed her face into the pillow, her annoyance slowly rising.

Why did every morning have to start with sunrise? Why couldn’t she wake up and it be night outside for once?

This had become a routine, almost. Her, lying in bed, then glaring out the window at the sun that didn’t seem to care, and then rolling as far away from the rays as she could without tumbling over. Nothing was fun anymore. Nothing to be excited about, nothing new. Only fatigued nothingness remained.

The only time she left her bed was when the rumbling in her stomach became too loud to ignore.

Which, as was evident by the slow but steady feeling of her stomach starting to cramp up, Y/n figured would be happening sooner rather than later.

Lungs expanding, air filling them, Y/n shoved the covers off of her body, scowling at the soft material, then swung her legs over the side of the bed, huffing. A small moment passed, and then two, as she stared down at the grainy planks of wood.

Somewhere outside the small apartment she had rented out a week after starfall, children played amongst themselves. The sounds of loud, free and innocent laughter that would have made her smile once now only served to grate against her nerves.

Eyes closed, breathe in, breathe out.

A flick of her wrist, and the house was covered in a sound barrier, suddenly silencing any and all sounds that before penetrated the walls. Quietly, Y/n stood, pushing strands of hair away from her face and then tying it up in a bun with the small strip of leather lying on her bedside table.

Feet bare, Y/n traipsed down the hallway to the kitchen, trying to remember if there were any leftovers she could have as she splashed her face with cold water from the tap. But the clean, empty counters told her that no, there were no leftovers.

Checking the cabinets, Y/n realised that the two slices of bread she had stored away to eat someday when there was nothing to eat had caught mold and now looked like the sadistic announcement of doom.

Pulling her lower lip between her teeth, trying desperately to find something, anything to satiate her needs for the day, she looked around. But alas, not even a dust particle dared to show face.

Having had her mental health on a downward tumble the past few weeks, Y/n disliked doing anything, much less cook for herself the first thing in the morning, and so, caving, she walked back out and towards the main door of the apartment, pulling off her thick coat from the corner where a lone shoe cabinet stood haphazardly.

It had been one of the things the homeowner had left for her in the partially furnished house. Granted, it looked older than the mother herself, much like everything else in the building, but it held up, and that was all that mattered.

It wasn’t that Y/n couldn’t afford to rent better living quarters. She could probably buy around three of the buildings in the area and still live out her life comfortably from what she had acquired. It was just that she didn’t want to get anything fancy.

What was the point in pretty things, anyway?

After all, she had lived her whole life bathed in riches and jewels and luxury, and yet, the thing that mattered most in life stayed just out of reach. All the warmth she craved, the comfort, the feeling of belonging, remained contained in books and soft bedding.

All the love she craved right in front of her eyes. Always there, never hers.

Glancing in the small mirror covered in questionable stains that for some reason refused to budge when taken to with a rag and soap, Y/n deemed her hair to be… fine, for an errand that was meant to be quick. She just had to walk a few blocks down, grab a few necessities, bread, and maybe a cup of coffee from the shop across the street that always tasted way more watered down than it should, and then it was just her and the comfort of the apartment against the world.

Preparing herself mentally, Y/n quickly pushed her feet into the boots set in the corner, tugging up the hood of her jacket, and pulled open the door. As she stepped outside and began to lock the door, a stale breeze from the cracked window in the far end tickled her nose, making her scrunch her face in distaste.

She always wished they would repair the thing, because not only did it make her cold sometimes, it often brought in smells of alcohol and everything else that disgusted her, and she hated it with every fibre in her being.

Not to mention, the stench also reminded her of cold nights alone on a high peak, surrounded by lights and glitter and stars, bottles and tears and liquid that made her throw up in the Sidra when walking all by herself in the snow while a party raged in her wake.

Y/n shook her head, shoving the icicles on her hands into her pockets as she walked down the steps, glad no neighbour of her seemed to be out and about.

Going unnoticed in the streets was almost too easy, considering she blended well in with the crowds of people going to work. All of them wearing dark coats, so bleak and ordinary. It would be a lie to claim she did not prefer this over the fur and jewels her friends decked themselves in.

Well, most of them anyways.

The tiny little building of the bakery was easy to spot, not because of the peeling colours and cracked steps, but because of the scented smoke billowing out of the chimney first thing in the morning, announcing the making of new, fresh bread.

The door creaked open under Y/n’s stiff fingers, blasting her in the face with the warm whiff of freshly produced goods, and she sighed, letting the door fall shut behind her. Instantly, the air warmed up her skin.

The bakery was fairly crowded, mostly filled with some buying smaller packages of cakes and muffins to eat on the go, and others bringing bigger packs of bread, likely to feed their families. Ignoring all that, Y/n walked over to the small old lady behind the counter, calling out orders at the younger female running about in the back visible through a small window, likely baking more.

"Good morning, darling. What can I get for you today?"

Y/n tried her best to offer her a smile, she really did, but she was ready to bet her small toe that it looked more like a grimace than anything else. "Just a roll of white bread, please."

The lady quickly put the bread in a brown paper bag, then paused, before adding in a small muffin. Y/n began to protest, but one wink from the lady and a secretive smile later, Y/n once more stood in the bustling streets of Velaris’ almost forgotten square.

Its on the house. You look like you could use a bit of sweetness, child.

The words were so simple, yet they swirled around Y/n’s mind like a whirlpool.

Maybe I do need some sweetness.

With the thoughts in her mind, Y/n began trekking back to the ramshackle apartment. One foot in front of the other, an occasional sidestep, and repeat. Until a pit opened up in her stomach, making her pause.

Y/n looked up, scanning her surroundings. Nothing out of the ordinary, and yet…

Am I just hungry?

She continued on, shaking off the concerns. But with each step, the pit deepened, spreading, and encompassed all her insides with unshakable dread.

Maybe… this isn’t hunger.

But just as she had the world breaking intervention from the mother, there was a crunch behind her. A whoosh, and then a bag was thrown over her head.

The first thing she noticed, even in her panic- aside from the sudden darkness, of course- was the stench coming from the threadbare bag.

A stench she, as part of the inner circle and one of the more skilled chemical researchers of Prythian, was quite familiar with.

Faebane.

Faebane, mixed with something more…acrid, something she recognised but couldn’t quite put a finger on, but knew it was meant to put someone in a deep, uninterruptible slumber for the very least of a day, or something similar to that.

Way to go down, I guess.

Y/n decided, then and there, as the bag tightened on her head and she was pulled back and to the side towards her captor- and what she assumed was into the small, dark alleyway, away from sight- that she wouldn’t fight back. What was the point in trying to overthrow someone who undeniably had you in captivity?

At least I can say I went with dignity. No kicking feet and screaming.

The bag tightened, and tightened, and tightened, and gradually, her head became lighter, and whatever limited vision she had began fading, her limbs loosening, falling limp. With barely any consciousness left in her, she felt her body being jostled, thrown over someone’s shoulder, maybe, before the person started walking off.

Into an adventure, I hope.

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ACOTAR taglist <3

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@daycourtofficial @sweetorangeblossom @serenescureforboredom @cassie6392 @harrystylesfan2686

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@buttermilktea11 @loving-and-dreaming @yucanbmylxdy

@dnfhascorruptedme @fuckingsimp4azriel @moonchildlv @12358

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cherryite · 1 day ago

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champagne coast - 1. the swan and the raven

summary. you're in your senior year at gotham university when a series of murders on campus leads to a reunion between you and your childhood friend, jason. when his older brother asks you to help solve the case, you become entangled with the world jason tried so hard to keep you from. (wc. 3.4k)

content. jason todd x reader, fem!reader, childhood friends to lovers, ballerina!reader, light college au, yearning, slow burn, falling in love, hurt/comfort, angst, vague forced proximity, tension, jason is a literature nerd, jason is a yearner but slightly emotionally constipated

warnings. eventual smut, murder bro, blood/violence, talks of death and dying (duh it's jason lol), tags will be added as story progresses

authors note. OMG its here!! so many people expressed how excited they were for this fic and i'm proud to say it officially starts today!! this is mostly just an introductory chapter but i hope you all enjoy none the less!! much love!! (this is also cross posted on my ao3 if you would prefer to read there!!)

(now playing 'what once was' by her's)

series masterlist. ao3.

Gotham has a way of pulling you back in— no matter how far you run, no matter how detached you think you’ve become from its poisonous claws. Your parents worked so hard to get you out of this place, and still, you threw yourself right back into the lion’s den the moment you were admitted to GothamU. And after seeing the news this morning, you really wish you hadn’t come back at all.

Two young women. Both had attended GothamU. Both found dead in the Gotham Opera House.

The headline had sent a chill crawling down your spine when you had seen it, the words glowing on your phone screen beneath the dim lights of your vampire literature lecture. Students around you whispered in hushed tones, like speaking the victims’ names aloud might curse them to the same fate. It feels like eyes are on you, prickling the back of your neck, but when you glance around the crowded lecture hall, no one is looking.

Lauren Fischer had been a junior at the university, a theatre major who had just wrapped up her role as Lady Macbeth in the Opera House's production of Macbeth. You hadn’t known her personally, but according to friends and family she was bright, bubbly, and kind. Her sweet brown eyes, wide smile, and tight coils of auburn hair haunted the corners of your memory now— burned into your brain from the dozens of photos posted online.

But Kara Nakamura… you had known her. Only briefly did you both cross paths. You weren’t friends, necessarily, just acquaintances. She performed in nearly every opera that was staged there, and your ballet company often collaborated on joint performances. She was a senior, getting a bachelors in music and vocal performance. She had a voice so striking and pure it barely seemed human. Like she had been an angel. Her stunning long black hair and a calm but gentle demeanor had stood out to you when you met for the first time.

And now they’re both dead.

Lauren had been missing for two weeks before she was found. Kara had turned up just yesterday. Gotham has never been a safe place— everyone knows that. Murders happen nearly everyday here, even with all the vigilante justice that gets dealt out. But this was different. It had struck a cord in the campus community at GothamU— people are quieter now, walking in pairs, their eyes darting around nervously when it got later in the day. A tension lingers in the air, tight and unrelenting.

You had never wanted to come back to Gotham. But Gotham City Ballet was prestigious, despite the city it called home. People would kill for a place in that company. And when they offered to cover your tuition, you would’ve been a fool to say no. So back you came, in the city that never sleeps, calling you home like a siren luring sailors to their deaths. There was nothing here for you, at least not anymore.

As you cross campus, orange leaves fall from the brittle branches overhead, and looming dark brick buildings tower above. They feel more like a group of mausoleums than places of learning. And you think of him. Jason Todd, your only friend from school, your best friend, your greatest friend. For a few years, he had been everything, a rescue buoy in a city that was constantly trying to drag you under. The adopted son of Bruce Wayne, he was the only one who ever really understood you. Nostalgia digs its poisonously familiar nails into your heart, leaving a pit of loneliness as you think about him.

When your parents finally found jobs outside of Gotham, away from the crime and the darkness, you should have been happy. But the idea of losing Jason made your chest ache. So you made a pact. You and Jason had decided that every week, you would write a letter to each other. A pen pal situation, to keep in touch until you could meet again. You had a whole year of letters—messy handwriting, stories of what you were reading, how life was.

Then one day, they just stopped, there was no goodbye, no warning. Jason had been so bright. He was kind in a way that felt rare in Gotham, fiercely loyal, always making you laugh when you needed it most. You couldn’t imagine him forgetting you so easily.

You hated to admit it, but four years ago, when you came back to Gotham, a small part of you hoped you would run into him again. Hoping to meet him again wasn’t new. You’d been praying for a letter in the mail ever since they had stopped. Whenever you had a recital, or accepted an award for ballet, you would search for him in the crowd. In your return to Gotham, you half hoped to run into Bruce, or run into Jason’s older brother Dick, just to ask what had made Jason go dark all those years ago. It was silly, hoping and wishing like that.

You wonder now if you would even recognize him if you saw him again. You’ve imagined it plenty of times, what he might look like now. Would his dark hair still curl around his ears? Would his eyes still look like oceans filled with turbulent waves?

You sigh, shaking your head. It seems like Jason is always on your mind lately, for absolutely no good reason. Maybe it’s the stress; a new semester, the newest ballet your company is performing, the murders that have been occurring on GothamU’s doorstep.

You shake the mess of thoughts from your head and tug your coat tighter around you as a gust of wind threads through the trees. The leaves crunch beneath your shoes as you round the corner toward the quad—only to find yourself slowing, then stopping altogether. A crowd has gathered and you nervously hitch your ballet bag further up on your shoulder.

There’s a small stage set up outside the administration building, flanked by two Gotham City Police cruisers, lights off but ominous all the same. On the makeshift podium, a detective adjusts the mic. His voice crackles through the speaker like lightning through a stormy sky.

“We want to assure the students of Gotham University that the GCPD is working tirelessly on this investigation,” he says, the words practiced and his tone neutral. “There will be additional patrols assigned to campus, and we encourage all students to travel in pairs, avoid walking alone at night, and report anything suspicious immediately.”

His voice fades under the pounding of your heartbeat. You don’t realize how tightly you’re gripping the strap of your dance bag until your fingers start to ache.

“…we are asking the public to remain calm and vigilant,” the detective continues. “We understand that this situation is frightening, but we are committed to protecting our citizens—especially our students.”

You turn your head, willing yourself to step away from the press conference. Just as you’re contemplating where to grab lunch, your gaze accidently collides with another.

You don’t mean to stare, but something roots your feet in place.

The figure is tall, broad shouldered. Even beneath the dark leather jacket that swallows his upper half, you can tell he’s athletic. His skin is lightly tanned, and from this distance, you can make out the faint scar that cuts across his left cheek. A strong nose, sharp jaw and heavy brows adorn his face, and dark hair curls at the nape of his neck— an abnormal lock in the front is stark white where it rests against his forehead.

You have to really look to catch the color of his eyes, the view slightly obstructed by a pair of glasses that sit perched on the bridge of his nose. But when you do see them, it feels like the world has been turned on its axis. Blue, tinged with swirls of green, very similar to the ocean, very similar to Jason.

You had just been thinking about him again, it’s almost like your thoughts conjured up a replica. Or maybe, it’s brought you the real thing. Real, grown up Jason Todd, right before your very eyes.

Apparently you’ve been staring too long, because the maybe-Jason tears his gaze from yours and starts walking away. Your feet move before you can even tell them to stop, weaving through the dissipating crowd. With racing thoughts and a racing heart, you follow after him, and before you even can stop them, the word tumbles from your throat.

“Jason?”

You can’t think about how embarrassing this will be if it isn't him, or even how embarrassing it will be if it is him, but it’s too late for that now.

The man’s shoulders tense, his back to you as he halts his steps. You stand frozen as well. You half can’t believe you even let your imagination get the best of you; to the point of following some man you’ve just stared down for who knows how long. The wind whistles through the buildings and catches your hair, leaves falling all around you as your pulse pounds in your ears. Your mouth opens to apologize, to admit you must have the wrong person. Then, you hear your name. Your eyes snap upwards, the man turns, and whatever you were going to say dies in your throat.

“What’re you doin’ back here?” His voice is deeper than you remember, but it still sounds like him despite it all. Your jaw flaps awkwardly, struggling to find the words. You’ve imagined this moment plenty of times, rehearsed what you would say. And now that it’s actually happening, your mind is blank. Gathering yourself, you take a few steps nearer.

“School. I go to school here.” The wind whispers through the courtyard again, colder this time. “What are you doing here?”

Jason seems to hesitate just before he answers. He shifts his weight, one hand in his jacket pocket, eyes flicking somewhere past you before landing back on your face.

“School,” he finally says. "Just started this semester,” he pauses, “and I live here. Obviously.”

“Sorry. Silly question,” you say, your voice is hushed, as if convinced that if you speak too loudly, he’ll disappear. You blink at him, still not entirely convinced this is real. Your mind is still catching up, still trying to fit this grown version of Jason over the memory of the boy you once knew—when you realize you’ve been staring.

He shifts again, glancing toward the street like he might bolt. That’s when you finally find your voice amidst your panic, sparked by the thought of him possibly running off.

“I was just about to grab lunch. Uh, you should come with me. Catch up a little.” You tuck your hair behind your ears, suddenly realizing how desperate and pathetic your words come off as, even to your own ears.

Jason’s eyes flick back up to your face, his brows furrowing, like he’s weighing all his options. For a brief second, you wonder if he’ll make an excuse, to get away from you and this situation. You’re half expecting him to dart away, like a rabbit cornered by a fox, fleeing from the jaws of the predator that's got it cornered.

“Lunch sounds good.”

You can barely contain your excitement in the way you perk up. You nod, relief flashing through you like sunlight between passing clouds. For a moment, neither of you moves. There’s a hesitancy, a wordless beat, suspended between your shared past and this strange situation at present. Then Jason shifts his weight, jerking his head toward the sidewalk. You fall into step beside him, your breath misting faintly in the cool Gotham air as you breathe out in relief.

Beside you, Jason keeps his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. He doesn’t walk too close, but he’s just close enough that your shoulders ghost by each other’s as you walk. Close enough that you can hear the soft scuff of his boots on the sidewalk and pick up on the way he glances sideways every now and then. You’ve caught him a few times now, a mix of hesitancy and nervousness swimming in his eyes. It brings you comfort that he’s just as nervous as you feel.

You used to be best friends, and he knew nearly everything about you, but you’re practically strangers now after all the years you’ve spent apart. Part of you wonders if he’s anything like the Jason you once knew. Does he still love reading? Is he still deeply empathetic with an even deeper sense of morality? Is he still the Jason that stood up for you no matter the consequences? Even if he isn’t, you still desperately want to know him again and you find yourself chasing the warmth the possibility provides. Gotham was lonely, and besides some of the fellow dancers at the company, you spent most of your time alone. The thought of having someone, never mind someone who had once understood you like the back of his hand, was undeniably appealing.

Eventually, you end up at a café tucked just off campus, one of those cozy places with scratched wooden tables, mismatched chairs, and the faint smell of cinnamon baked into the very foundation of the place. The bell over the door jingles as you walk in, and Jason ducks slightly inside behind you.

You both order— he gets an americano, you get a chai and a scone— and you settle into a corner booth near the windows. The late afternoon light of late autumn light slants in through the glass, making the dust in the air shimmer. Jason slides into the seat across from you, and shrugs off his jacket, draping it over the back of his chair. You can’t help but notice how much bigger he is than he was at fifteen—shoulders broad with age, arms solid beneath the sleeves of his hoodie. With his coffee between his hands, he hunches forward slightly like he’s bracing for something. Then he leans back slightly in his chair, thumb tracing around the rim of his mug.

“So,” he starts, his voice low and careful, “you still dance?”

Part of you is surprised he spoke up first, considering he looked like a cornered animal earlier. You glance at him, unsure how much detail he wants.

“Yeah,” you say, “Gotham City Ballet. They, uh... they pay for school.”

Jason nods, eyes dropping to look at the swirl of his coffee. “Figured you’d be doin’ something like that. You were always the best at your recitals.”

“I don’t know about the best,” you say, almost sheepishly, “But I’m far better now than I was then.”

“That doesn’t surprise me either,” Jason replies, tapping his fingers against the side of his untouched drink. All you can do is nod, bringing your cup to your lips. The chai is warm, sweet, and comforting—the heat slowly works through the anxious tension sitting heavy in your chest.

“What did you end up majoring in?” You manage to ask, the soothing heat of your drink grounding your nerves.

“English lit,” he says simply.

“I’m English lit too,” you say, unable to hide the smile curling at your lips, “guess all those classics you made me read rubbed off on me.”

That gets a real smile out of him—small and fleeting, you would have missed it if you weren’t observing him so closely. It flits across his face like a shadow crossing your vision, then disappears again just as fast. His smile is still the same. Even in that quick moment you can see flashes of the boy you once knew. But in those flashes, you can see him—fifteen again, sprawled out on your living room floor with a dog eared copy of Wuthering Heights in his hands. Jason lets out an amused huff, finally drinking a bit of his coffee.

“Good to know I had an impact,” he responds.

You huff a soft laugh into your cup, setting it down gently. Outside, the late autumn sun has risen high in the sky. Golden light pours through the windows, framing Jason in soft amber. It almost looks like something out of a memory. There’s a pause between you two now, a silence that stretches between two people still figuring out how to exist around each other again.

You pick at your scone absently, before glancing back up at him.

“So,” you say, “have you ever taken classes with Professor Blake? I’m in his Vampire Literature class, and I’ve never had him before.”

Jason blinks once before his eyes drop down to look at the dark liquid that swirls in his cup. “Yeah. I’m actually takin’ that class this semester.”

Your brows lift. “Wait, really? Were you in the section at 10:45 this morning?”

He nods, “Mhm. Small world.”

You smile, puzzled. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice you.”

He lifts a shoulder, trying to appear casual. “Big lecture hall.” he adds quickly. “Guess I missed you.”

Something in your heart tugs sharply. Thinking back to class, you try to imagine him there, taking notes on Carmilla amidst the buzz of the tension in the hall. Existing in your orbit, like a small planet that hasn’t been charted yet—two celestial bodies spinning in the same sky, unaware of the other.

“I must’ve missed you too,” you say lightly. The words stick to your throat, because you nearly slip up and say I missed you instead. But the inflection of your voice gives you away as Jason’s eyes portray a flicker of softness.

He holds your gaze for a moment longer than he should.

“Yeah,” he says, hushed. The air thickens between you again, like a blanket of nostalgia.

Then, quieter, Jason says, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

You look at him, heart stuttering in your chest. The feeling is familiar. It’s the same one that used to rise in you after every unopened letter, every unanswered birthday. You spent so long hoping, but the pessimistic part of you always whispered sickenly that you’d never get closure. It almost feels like you’re caught in a dream, dreading the possibility of waking up.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Me neither.”

Jason looks like he’s about to say something—his lips part and his brows twitch— but his eyes lock onto something over your shoulder. His brows furrowed and his shoulders tense, just slightly. You glance behind you, but all you see is the usual foot traffic of campus, students walking by in groups, heads down against the chill.

“I, uh, I gotta go,” Jason mutters aloofly, already reaching for his jacket, already half out of his seat. You nod quietly, your eyes flit over him as he fishes a pen from his pocket.

“But,” Jason says, scribbling a combination of numbers on a napkin before handing it to you, “here. This is my number. We can catch up again. Maybe talk about class?”

You take the napkin from him, fingers curling around it as if it will crumble into dust if you let go.

“Uh, yeah. I’ll text you,” you say as he finally gets up, adjusting the collar of his jacket.

“Get home safe,” Jason breathes out, his eyes swirling like the sea before a storm, “I— it was— It was great to see you again,” he makes out, his cup gripped in his hand.

“Good to see you too,” you say, your voice soft, masking your disappointment and confusion. Jason finally tears his eyes from yours, making his way to the door. Without thinking, you turn your body, peaking over your shoulder to watch him leave— just as he does the same. Jason blinks as your gazes intertwine, his hand half on the door as he breaks free from the connection and suddenly he’s gone, swallowed by the brisk Gotham air.

Sighing, you slump in your seat a little, the napkin still clutched in your hand— the only proof that Jason Todd was real and not a ghost of the past. You look down and scan the hastily written number, a small J signed underneath. You run your fingers over the fresh indents from the pen, your breath stuttering slightly as you realize what just happened.

Ever since the letters stopped, there had been a Jason sized hole in your life. After all your wishing, all your hoping, you had never thought it could be filled. Now suddenly, he’s found his way into your life again.

Now, your only hope is he won’t disappear again, like an apparition of your memories.

#my writing!!#jason todd #red hood #jason todd fanfic #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #dcu #dc comics #red hood fanfic #fem reader #fanfic

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bintheredreamedthat · 3 days ago

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋆.˚ 𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘺 𝘈𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘺

pairings: therapist!soobin x officeworker!reader

summary: it was supposed to be something mandatory. you weren’t supposed to catch feelings for your therapist. now, you were starting to wonder if he was letting you get away with things no other patient of his would. because when he tells you you’re hard to read, it doesn’t sound like a professional observation. it sounds like a challenge. and the worst part? you think you want him to lose.

genre: one-sided enemies to lovers LOL, forced proximity, eventual smut, dom!soobin, nonidol!au, reader is stubborn asf, more to add on later.

note: the nurse finally let me out of my room....teehee. this is my first series and I'm so excited to write this. the tags aren't completely finished yet bc I'm not quite sure where I want to go with this. I really wanted to write something yandere but I'm still testing out the waters of this account...please let me know where you'd like to see this go! ALSO, thank you guys for all the love and support on my last fanfic omg T.T it meant so much to me! lots of love <3 ramble finished.

part one | part two(comingsoon)

------

You’ve been working at MOA Solutions for almost three years now. It was a mid-sized tech company, nestled in the heart of the city. It was the kind of place that prided itself on innovation and fast deadlines.

Your desk was tucked away in the corner, a small island of organized chaos surrounded by buzzing coworkers. You preferred it that way as it gave you a semblance of control in a place that felt anything but.

Your role as a project coordinator meant juggling expectations from every direction—clients demanding miracles, managers breathing down your neck, and a team that looks to you for answers. It was exhausting, but you liked the challenge. It made you feel competent, even if your confidence didn’t always show.

The truth is, you’ve never been good at asking for help. You’re fiercely independent, the kind of person who buries problems beneath layers of sarcasm and late-night overwork. Vulnerability felt like a weakness you couldn’t afford.

That’s why the announcement blindsides you.

An all-staff email pops up one Monday morning, announcing a new initiative: Mandatory mental health check-ins. Starting next week, everyone must attend a series of therapy sessions with the company’s newly hired licensed therapist.

The message was carefully worded, but the reason was clear: last quarter, one of the junior developers had a breakdown at their desk, overwhelmed by stress and anxiety. The incident shook the company.

You stare at the screen, the words blurring as your brows furrow. Therapy? At work? Mandatory?

You didn’t need a stranger telling you how to fix your problems. You believed this would be old news by your first session; therefore, you never gave it more thought.

But then the days passed, and the email still lingered in your mind like a shadow you couldn't shake. At work, conversations buzz around you, hushed whispers about the junior developer, sympathy mixed with tension, rumors of the burnout spreading like wildfire.

You caught yourself glancing toward the counseling services door more times than you’d admit, each time stepping back before your feet could move forward.

The day of your first session arrived faster than you’d like.

You woke up that morning with a knot in your stomach, the kind that only tightens every time you think about meeting deadlines. You dressed carefully, opting for your usual armor: neat, professional clothes that make you feel invisible yet in control.

You sat at your desk, trying to focus, but the minutes crawled by. Your calendar notification blinks, reminding you: Therapy session at 3:00 PM.

You stared at it as if it were a challenge.

The clock ticks closer, and every step toward the counseling office feels heavier than the last. You replay the announcement in your mind. Mandatory. Mental health check-ins. New licensed therapist. You wonder what kind of person they hired for this job. Is it someone warm and understanding? Or just another corporate cog sent to analyze its employees' every move?

You hesitate outside the counseling office door, the plaque gleaming softly under the fluorescent lights: Employee Wellness Services. You take a deep breath, knocking once. The door opens before you can step back.

“Hello, ” a calm voice says. You look up.

There he was—tall, composed, with a quiet kindness in his eyes that unsettles you. He wore a blue button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up just past the elbows, tucked neatly into some dark pants. He was wearing glasses, ones that made him look studious yet surprisingly charming.

“Come in,” he says, stepping aside.

You step inside the room cautiously, half-expecting it to smell like a doctor’s office or desperation. Instead, it was… warm. A soft lamp glows in the corner, taking the edge off the clinical overheads. The air was clean, not scented. There’s a single framed print of a landscape on the wall, and you can’t decide if it’s thoughtful or strategically bland.

Your eyes flick to the man across the room—the so-called therapist. He closes the door behind you with a soft click, no fanfare.

You took the seat nearest the window. It felt like the better option somehow, an escape route, maybe. His chair was angled across from yours, not directly opposite. Strategic again, less confrontational. You saw what he was doing.

He picked up a tablet from the side table but didn’t tap on it yet, and folded his hands loosely in his lap, his legs crossed, in a casual pose. Comfortable. He waits for a moment before speaking, as if letting the silence stretch just long enough to see what you’ll do with it.

You don’t do anything. You stare back.

“I’m Soobin,” he says eventually, voice calm but not too soft. "Licensed clinical therapist. I’ve been contracted here to provide temporary support for MOA’s mental health initiative.”

You nod once, short and tight. “I read the email.”

A pause. He smiles, polite but unreadable. “Right.”

Another pause.

“Would you prefer I call you by your full name, or—?”

You say your name before he finishes the question, not because you were feeling generous, but because you wanted to get this over with. He repeats it with perfect clarity, no mispronunciation or hesitation. That annoyed you a little more than it should.

You crossed your legs, leaning back like you’re just here to waste thirty minutes and not unravel your entire life.

“So,” he says carefully, “before we begin, I want to make it clear that nothing you say here will be shared with your supervisors, your team, or anyone outside this room. This space is confidential.”

You nod again, slower this time. “Unless I’m a danger to myself or others. Yeah. Got it.” A flicker of something passes across his face; surprise, maybe. Approval? You don’t want either.

He nods anyway. “Exactly.” He taps the screen on his tablet, then sets it aside again without looking at it. He seemed less interested in jotting notes and more interested in reading to you. You don't like that.

“So,” he says again, “what would you like to get out of these sessions?”

You barked a quiet laugh, sharp and dry. “I’d like them to not exist.”

That earns the smallest shift in his posture, not a flinch nor offense. Something more like acknowledgment.

“To be honest,” you continue, “I think this whole thing is performative. The company panics because someone cracked under the pressure, and instead of easing workloads, they send us to therapy like it’ll fix burnout.” You didn’t mean to say that much; it tumbled out like it had been waiting. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears.

Soobin doesn’t react. He didn't try to argue; instead, he just listened. After a moment, he tilts his head slightly. “You’re not wrong.”

You blinked. He lets that sit.

Then, softly, “There’s truth in what you’re saying. Sometimes companies try to manage appearances instead of systems.” That… wasn’t the answer you expected.

You narrowed your eyes. “You agree with me?”

“I understand what you’re saying,” he replies evenly. “But I also think that doesn’t make this space useless. If anything, it means this space is even more important.”

You don’t say anything. He waits patiently, unruffled. God, you hate how unbothered he was. You leaned back again, studying him. He doesn’t fidget. He doesn’t force conversation. He just is. Like still water.

“You’re really good at this,” you mutter, then tack on, “the whole therapist thing.” That earns the smallest, faintest smile. “I’d hope so.”

“Do you actually care,” you ask, more sharply than you mean to, “or are you just paid to?”

Another silence. This one was heavier. When he spoke, it was slower, quieter, yet not unsure.

“I care,” he says. “Even if I wasn’t paid to.”

Something in your chest pulls tight. You shift in your seat, uncomfortable with the softness of it, with how quickly the heat behind your ribs changes from irritation to something else. You cast your eyes toward the window. “That’s convenient.”

Soobin just lets the moment settle between you. Somehow, that unnerved you more than any forced empathy would have. You glanced at the clock. Ten minutes down. Twenty to go.

You couldn't decide if you wanted to get up and walk out or ask him to keep talking. Neither felt like something you’d normally do; you were already in dangerous territory.

You don’t like the way the quiet stretches between you. It’s not uncomfortable exactly, at least, not the kind that made your skin crawl, but it left too much space for you to hear yourself think. And you’ve worked very hard to avoid doing that lately.

So you shift gears.

“So… Soobin,” you say, trying not to sound like you’re testing the name out loud even though you were. “How long have you been doing this? Therapy--I mean.” There’s a beat before he answers, just enough to make you feel as though he was deciding how much to give you.

“Six years,” he says. "Started in private practice. I’ve worked with all kinds of people — students, couples, professionals. Corporate settings are new to me, though.”

You hum. “So this is your first time working inside a company?”

“It is.”

“Do you like it?” That’s the first time you saw him pause, the first genuine hesitation. Not long but just long enough for you to witness. His lips tug faintly, but it wasn't quite a smile.

“I like being useful,” he says finally.

You snort. “That’s a very neutral answer.”

He shrugs lightly. “It’s an honest one.”

He was being impossible. Not in an overtly aggravating way, or in the cocky, smug therapist you were envisioning. In the infuriatingly good at not reacting way. You couldn't rattle him. You weren't even sure he could be rattled. It makes you want to try harder. Which was annoying in and of itself.

“Do you always just… sit there?” you ask, tilting your head. “Or do you ever actually talk about yourself?”

He studies you. “This space is for you.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that one before. Still sounds like a cop-out.”

Another pause. Then, with deliberate calm, he says, “I think sometimes people ask about me when what they really want is distance.”

Your jaw tightens just slightly. “That’s very therapist of you.”

He doesn’t flinch. “You’d rather I lie?”

You glared at the carpet. It was a nice carpet. Probably chosen to feel soft and safe, and it had you wondering just how many people have yet to cry into it.

“I just think it’s weird,” you mumble. “Talking about myself to someone who won’t even say what kind of music he likes.”

That gets the faintest flicker of something across his face. Amusement, maybe. He leans back a little, hands still relaxed in his lap.

“I like R&B,” he says. “And the occasional oldies playlist.”

You blink. He meets your gaze, expression unreadable.

“Happy now?” he adds. You don’t answer. But for the first time since entering the room, your mouth twitches at the corners. You’re not smiling, obviously. It was just… something. You settle into the arm of the chair slightly, a casual shift that says I could be here or not, it doesn’t really matter to me.

But inside, you’re keeping count of the minutes. Of how many questions you can throw back at him before he circles back to you. You’ve been in enough meetings, smoothed over enough client calls to know how to control a conversation without looking like you're in charge.

The trick was to keep them talking.

“You don’t look like a therapist,” you say next, watching him for a reaction. He tilts his head, eyes warm but cautious.

“What do therapists look like?”

“I don’t know. Older. Slightly burnt out. Cardigan energy.”

His mouth twitches. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You shrug, tapping your fingers along the edge of the armrest like you were bored, even though you’re anything but. He doesn’t fall for it. Yet, he doesn’t get defensive; he just waits once again. You press on, voice light. “Do you like working with people who don’t want to be here?”

“That’s most people,” he says simply.

“Do you psychoanalyze everyone you meet?”

“No.”

You narrow your eyes. “But you’re analyzing me.”

“I’m listening to you.”

“Same thing.”

“Not really.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from reacting. He’s too good. So you double down.

“Alright, what’s your favorite part of the job?” you ask, folding your arms. “Let’s get into your psyche instead of mine.” Soobin pauses again. He wasn't thrown—more like he was weighing whether answering you was worth it.

“Helping people name things they’ve never said out loud.” That catches you off guard.

“What, like secrets?” You blink at him.

“Sometimes. But more often, it’s the quiet stuff,” he replies. “Feelings they’ve minimized. Thoughts they’ve learned to ignore. Patterns they didn’t realize were patterns.”

You shift uncomfortably. “Sounds invasive.”

“It can be,” he admits. “But it’s not about forcing anything. It’s about inviting people to see themselves differently.”

You scoff. “Sounds like a tagline.”

He doesn't smile this time. “You’re very good at deflecting.” You freeze. He had said it like a fact. It wasn't a dig at you, but was addressed like… a truth, gently dropped into the middle of the room.

“I’m good at staying on topic,” you correct, trying to sound flippant.

“You haven’t stayed on topic once.”

You glance at the clock.

Just five more minutes

Five more minutes and you won’t have to be in this stupid chair with this too-calm man and his wire-frame glasses and rolled sleeves and maddening patience. Soobin sits back a little. Still no notebook.

“I’m not going to push you,” he says. “You can come in here and talk about music or cardigans or the weather if that’s what feels safest. But I’ll always be listening. And I’ll always circle back to you — eventually.”

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t fill the silence this time. It stretches between you, no longer hostile, but still poses no comfort. You glance at the clock again.

Two minutes.

He notices. Of course he does.

“You don’t have to come in with answers,” he says finally. “You don’t even have to come in with honesty. But if you keep showing up, I think something will shift.”

You rise from your seat before he can finish the sentence.

“I showed up, didn’t I?” you say coolly. He nods, standing too. “You did.”

You head for the door, hand on the handle, before you thought to look back. He was still standing there, his face holding no smugness or claiming himself as the victor. Just calm.

You hated how that made you feel.

“Same time next week?” he asks. You hesitate for a half-second too long.

“…Yeah,” you mutter. “Sure.”

And then you’re gone, walking quickly back toward your desk. You didn’t say a single real thing in there. Didn’t give him anything. And yet, somehow, it feels like he saw right through you.

—

You don’t go straight back to your desk.

You take the long way, through the break room, past the stairwell, around the quiet hallway that no one uses after 3 p.m. You swipe your badge through the side door and step out into the alley behind the building, where the loading dock smells like cardboard and burnt cigarettes.

The air is sharp against your skin. You pull out your phone and check it, even though there are no notifications, just something to do with your hands.

For some reason, you felt... weird. Not in the way you thought you would. You weren't upset or shaken. You were just aware, in that awful, itchy way that made you want to peel your own thoughts off like wet clothes.

He didn’t say anything that personal. Yet, somehow, it still felt like something cracked open.

You thought about the way he looked at you when you asked if he was analyzing you. Calm. Like he knew exactly what you were doing, and didn’t take the bait.

You hated how quiet he was—that everything didn't feel like a performance.

And you especially hate that somewhere in the middle of asking dumb questions about his taste in music, you started listening like it mattered.

Your phone vibrates. A message from one of your team leads.

Can you circle back to the client doc before EOD? Small changes. You don’t respond right away. Just staring at the words, letting them float in front of you. Eventually, you tap out a quick on it and head back in.

When you reach your desk, your coworker, Mira, leans over the divider with an eyebrow raised. “Well?”

You pause mid-sit. “Well, what?”

She gives you a look. “Therapy.”

You shrug. “He’s fine.”

“Fine?” she echoes, clearly unsatisfied. “That’s it?”

“I don’t know. Tall. Glasses. Probably drinks green tea.”

Mira hums. “Hot?”

You glare. “He’s a therapist.”

“That wasn’t a no.” You don’t answer. She backs off with a grin, satisfied enough. You turned back to your monitor and tried to dive into your edits, but your eyes kept flicking to the calendar — to the next placeholder where your name sits beside Counseling Session – Week Two.

It was just a line of text, but it felt like a countdown.

—-

You almost don’t go. You stare at the calendar invite for a good ten minutes before finally grabbing your badge and muttering something about "a check-in" to Mira, who gives you a knowing smirk and a you’ll text me everything look you pretend not to see.

You take the stairs instead of the elevator this time, maybe hoping it’ll slow your heart down. Maybe it’ll give you time to think of something clever to say before you walk into that room again, not because you want to impress him (you don’t), but because if you don’t steer the conversation, you’re afraid of where it’ll go.

The door’s already cracked open when you get there. Soobin looks up from his tablet as you knock once and step inside. No glasses today. His hair’s a little messy, like he ran a hand through it too many times before you showed up. He still looks irritatingly composed.

"Welcome back," he says simply, gesturing to the same seat as last time. “Come in.”

You hesitate a beat before sitting. Same room. Same lamp. Same too-soft chair that makes you feel like it’s trying to receive your trauma, like it’s Wi-Fi.

"You came back," Soobin says, not as a pleasantry — more like a quiet acknowledgment.

You glance at him. "Didn’t have a choice." He nods like he expected that answer.

“I figured,” he says. “Still. I’m glad you did.”

You hate that that lands. You shift in your seat and fold your arms, eyes scanning the room like something about it might have changed in the past week. It hasn’t.

“So,” he says, “how have things been since last time?” You shoot him a look. “You think one session fixed me?”

“I don’t expect that,” he replies easily. You fidget with the zipper on your sleeve. “I’ve been busy.”

He waits. Just like last time. You wait too. You're better at silence than he was; you can ride it out.

But instead of filling it, Soobin speaks again, not about you. “I’ve been thinking about something you said,” he begins.

You glance up, caught off guard. “Which part?”

“That this whole setup feels performative.” Your shoulders stiffen.

“I don’t disagree,” he continues. “And I think it’s fair to feel skeptical of being told when and how to process things. Especially when it doesn’t come from you.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re not trying to convince me this is actually worth it?”

“Would it work if I did?”

You hate that he always throws your questions back at you like that. You hate that it works. You lean back, legs crossed, and say flatly, “You like playing this game, don’t you?”

“I’m not playing anything.”

“Right. Because you’re perfectly neutral. A vessel for all my emotional insights.”

He lifts an eyebrow, and something like quiet amusement flickers across his face. “I’m here to help you get to your own insights. Not hand them to you.”

You scoff. “So basically you’re like a mirror with a psychology degree.”

Soobin doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he nods once. “That’s one way to put it.”

You sigh, eyes drifting to the window. The light’s colder today, clouded. You wonder if it’s going to rain.

“I didn’t think about this place once all week,” you lie.

“Mhm,” he hums. You glance at him. “What does that mean?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You hummed.” He tilts his head. “Did it bother you?”

You exhale sharply through your nose. “You are so annoying.” That actually gets a smile out of him. A real one. Small and quick, but still there. It does something to your stomach you don’t want to name.

“I’ll take that as progress,” he says.

“It’s not.”

“Noted.” You go quiet again. This time, it’s heavier. Not just defensiveness — something closer to... fatigue. Eventually, you ask, “Do you ever get tired of this?”

Soobin’s brow lifts. “This?”

“Holding everyone else’s shit all the time.” He looks at you a long moment, not looking away to dismiss it.

“Sometimes,” he says honestly. “But I chose this work. No one forced it on me. And even when it’s hard, it’s... real.”

You don’t know what to do with that answer. So you go for the easiest thing: deflect.

“You’re very full of wisdom for someone who looks like he should still be in college.”

Soobin laughs quietly. “You’re not the first person to say that.”

“And yet you still roll your sleeves up like you’re trying to intimidate people with your forearms.”

He laughs again. Actually laughs. It’s soft, low, a little surprised, like he hadn’t expected to enjoy that. You blink. You didn’t mean for it to come across as a joke, and you definitely didn’t mean for him to laugh like that, as if you’d said something funny, not defensive. Your stomach twists.

He sobers a little. “If talking to me isn’t helping,” he says, more gently now, “you can say that. You’re not obligated to stay.”

You pause. You look at him. No smugness, no corporate gloss. Just a man sitting in a chair, offering a space you don’t quite know what to do with yet.

“I don’t know if it’s helping,” you say honestly. That’s the most honest thing you’ve said in two sessions.

Soobin nods. “That’s okay. You’re allowed to not know yet.”

You glance at the clock. Four minutes left. He doesn’t rush to fill the silence, even with only a few minutes left. You can feel his eyes on you, but not in the heavy way most people look, not expectant or searching. Just... there. Waiting, like he’s leaving the door cracked open if you want to walk through it.

You don’t. Of course you don’t.

So you say, “Same time next week?” His mouth lifts slightly. “If you’re willing.”

“I’m contractually obligated, remember?”

“Right,” he says softly. “The contract.”

You glance at him, his sleeves still rolled up, the collar of his shirt slightly rumpled now, like even he’s not immune to time. You don’t thank him because that would feel like giving something away, so you just nod once briskly and step out the door.

“Next time,” he says softly, voice low but mischievous, “I might have to up my game. Can’t have you thinking I’m too predictable.”

You freeze for a moment, caught between rolling your eyes and laughing. He meets your glance, the smile deepening, like he’s dared you to guess what that means.

You clear your throat, a small laugh slipping out.

What were you doing?

Without another word, you turn and walk away, that sly smile lingering in your mind longer than you’d like.

But something stays with you. You noticed the way he laughed. You hate that you want to hear it again. You walk faster, as if distance could fix this.

Back at your desk, Mira peeks at you over the divider again.

“Well?” she asks. You roll your eyes. “Still a therapist. Still a waste of time.”

And before she can say anything else, you put your headphones in and crank the volume. You’ve always been good at shutting things out. But this time..it was harder than it should be.

-----

i love you nonchalant soobin <3

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elsa-fogen · 1 day ago

Text

Okay Au-crossover

I decided. The Trix gonna be new hunters, after Rumi, Mira and Zoey.

Winx lore also present. But just Icy ALSO got sent to Earth when her family died (but later than Bloom, so she remembers magic and stuff)

Stormy's backstory is pretty much same, but instead of Miros, she was born on Earth.

And Darcy also was born here, and lives with her mother.

Icy ended up in orphanage, but she hates it there, and runs away all the time. Probably Stormy is also there, and they DON'T have good relationships. Stormy tried to pick on her, they had a fight... maybe multiple... but since Icy started running away, they almost don't see each other.

Icy is trying to develop her normal magic, but also notices the Honmoon, and is trying to figure out what the heclk is this. One day Rumi notices her trying to interact with the shield, tells her what this is and mentions demons, and Icy being like... yay, cool... gtg now, bye (she thinks Rumi is crazy)

They ended up meeting again, maybe Icy run into a demon, and Rumi protected her, and took her in, to teach her to be a hunter. This is what I've got so far.

Somehow the'll find Darcy and Stormy (oh and would be fun if Mira became Darcy's mentor, and Zoey Stormy's), and then they're trying to introduce girls to each other... it doesn't go well since Icy and Stormy have History. And Darcy just doesn't want any of this shit, she was just enjoying her singing lessons.

So older girls are flabbergasted, like, wtf we have to do with this now.

Also Stormy's being like... Slaughtering demons? Hell yeah, every day, sign me in. But singing and becoming a star? Give performances?? No, nope, not her cup of tea.

Eventually they WILL become close friends, form their bond and will be great hunters, but how they get there will be fun to see.

With winx i haven't decided shit yet, Since the Trix aren't in magix and aren't searching for the dragon's flame, Stell won't land on earth and bloom won't meet her... So i just can make all other girls demons, who escaped underworld (or whatever it called) and are trying to live normal lives. Or break honmoon. Whatever will work for the plot.

Okay reason i decided to leave the winx lore (by lore i mean - my headcanons duuhh), is the Order. The order that is after Icy's head, the one that killed her family. They know that Icy survived. They were searching for her. And found her on earth.

So Icy has to fight not only demons, but also people who is after her and want her dead more than said demons. ___________________

Adding also tag for my main winx au so you can refresh your memory on my lore lol

#(HUN)TRIX || Winx AU #No more Trix || Winx AU #winx #winx club #winx club trix #the trix #trix #kpop demon hunters #k pop demon hunters #winx au #huntrix #icy trix #winx icy #winx club icy #icy winx #kpdh rumi #rumi kpdh

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ao3commentoftheday · 10 hours ago

Note

the medieval skin you made for AO3 is so cool! how did you go about it, and where did you get the assets from? :D

June 23rd. Someone in a discord channel asked if anyone knew of a medieval/fantasy site skin out there. I said no, but I was frustrated with the one I was working on and I could give it a shot.

The drop caps came first, and the idea of a parchment background. Then the marginalia idea. I discovered how to turn images into borders and I tested out putting a border around the fic. The one I tried first was too thick and the fic ended up too narrow, but it showed me I needed to expand the title, summary, and notes to full width or else it looked awful.

I tried to find ways to put random pawprints on pages because of this article, but nothing really looked that good.

After that, I started experimenting with button styles and at one point they looked like this

But after a while I thought they just didn't look "button-y" enough, so I reverted to just changing the colours on the existing style.

After that, I started adding the little guys everywhere. The rabbit on the news announcements. The dudes next to the twitter/tumblr links, a few variations on what comments would look like. And then I added the border around forms.

I had problems finding good backgrounds for the notice messages. I wanted them to stand out from the rest of the parchment but I also wanted the text to be legible overtop of the illumination. At one point, the background was the Bayeux Tapestry

Eventually, I decided to just make it a darker shade of the colour of the parchment.

To make the buttons fancier than just the normal buttons but sepia toned, I added a diamond image border around the selected button.

The last thing I did (other than adding more lil dudes in places) was put the borders and background on the fic tags.

When I make a skin, it's all about the aesthetic and that's why my code jumps around a lot. I'll start by styling the home page and then I'll go through the dashboard or the fandom or the comments etc. Whichever one I have an idea for next.

The assets (images of the lil dudes etc) are all culled from medieval manuscripts. I found a few on google images to start, but after I posted my WIP post, I got a lot more suggestions. I grabbed the illustrations that suited what I was going for - like the S for the site skins icon or the woman throwing hearts for the favourite tags - and then I used gimp (free photoshop) to cut those pieces out of the manuscripts and put them on a transparent background so they'd fit into the skin.

I finished the skin on June 27th after putting pretty much all of my free time into it. I was a woman possessed, but when I was done I was done lol.

#asks and answers #more detail than you probably wanted lol

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bit3mebabyx · 2 days ago

Text

Father Figure

🕊️coming home after college was supposed to be chance to repent, find your way back to god, how could you stray so much further🕊️

warnings: 18+, religious themes, eventual smut, slow burn, forbidden relationship, big but legal age gap (joel is in his late 40s reader is early 20s), power imbalance, slow burn, small town/ conservative vibes, no outbreak au, no ellie, tags will update as story progresses. not proofread + im literally illiterate lol

Part 1: Homecoming

The tires pull to a halt, crunching beneath the gravel of the driveway. You stare up at the same old house, unchanged. The same porch steps you tripped up and broke your wrist on when you were nine. The same old planter filled with herbs still with a slight crack on the side.

You had forgotten how still it is here, how unchanging small town Texas can really be. And hot. God, so hot. That dry heat that burns and leaves your lips cracked and bleeding. You definitely didn’t miss that.

You also didn’t miss the subtle judgment wrapped in a saccharine bow from your mother. She envelops you in a tight embrace. You can tell she did miss you, even if her concerns about you straying from your faith were evident in her words. “We’re glad you’re back, sweetheart,” she says. “Service tomorrow starts at 9 a.m. sharp. Don’t think you’re sleeping through it either.” There it is. The reminder that this small town hasn’t changed, and neither has she.

Your father walks up the porch steps, a suitcase in each hand. You turn and smile at him, comforted by the knowledge that your college diploma is safely nestled inside one of them. “Go upstairs and try and unpack, honey,” he says gently. “We’ve got an early start tomorrow.” You nod and head to your childhood bedroom.

Sunday morning comes like an old ghost, one you had managed to mostly avoid at your East Coast school. It’s not like you didn’t try to retain your faith at college, but the local pastor there was just so... rigid. Even more than the late Father Rodgers. It all felt hollow. Tight around your throat like you were suffocating.

You sit on the edge of your childhood bed staring at your suitcase, open and taunting. You have nothing to wear. Every dress is wrong. Too short. Too low cut. Too loud in design. Dresses you wore with confidence hundreds of miles away now seem to echo that maybe you made a mistake coming back.

You settle on a white cotton dress. High neck. Ends just above the knees. Boring. But that’s what you needed.

You smooth the fabric down one last time, trying to ignore the way it does little to hide your figure.

The hallway is still dim, the morning sun not yet hitting this side of the house. You pause by the mirror outside your room, the one framed in gold, speckled with age. It’s always been there.

Your fingers lift your hair. It feels heavy today, the heat making it appear (at least to you) unkempt. You twist it into a bun just above your neck, holding it there.

The curve of your throat looks longer this way. Your collarbone more pronounced. Your lips part without you noticing.

Maybe you look—

“Down,” your mother says behind you, voice clipped.

You jump, caught like a child.

“Hair down for church,” she adds, walking past. Her shoulder grazes yours. “You’re not trying to turn heads in God’s house.”

She doesn’t say more. She doesn’t have to.

You let your arms fall. Let your hair shroud your shoulders again. You follow her out the door.

The church is the same. Canary yellow bulletin board out front, faded announcements. Inside, the air is stale and heavy with heat. The pews are packed, though, just like they always are. Nothing has changed.

You sit beside your mother, hands folded in your lap. Your father mouths along with the opening prayer.

You try. You do. You mouth the words, but they fall flat. You count the beams in the ceiling, the organ keys, the seconds until it ends.

Your fingers move restlessly, picking at the hem of your dress, rubbing at a frayed edge you hadn’t noticed until now. When that gets tired, you switch to nibbling on the cuticle of your thumb. Teeth grazing the skin. Biting and pulling.

You feel young again. Not in a good way.

Another prayer starts. You bow your head. Everyone does. But your mind wanders. You wonder what your friends are doing. If it’s just as hot in New York. You doubt it.

Is this what penance feels like? Dry and long and so fucking boring.

Then. A shift. Not sound. Not movement. Just a feeling. Heavy and sudden.

Like the heat of the sun through stained glass.

Someone is watching you.

You don’t lift your head. Instead, your eyes shift just enough to see through your lashes.

He’s standing at the pulpit.

Broad-shouldered. Dark tie. Bible open in one hand.

Father Miller.

Joel.

He’s speaking, but you don’t hear a word. Because his eyes are on you.

Not a glance. Not passing.

Held.

You've stopped biting. Your thumb rests against your bottom lip. A ghost of pressure. Bringing half-comfort.

His gaze drops, then lifts again.

You pull your hand away. Quickly. Fold it into your lap like you’ve done something wrong. Heat creeps up your neck.

You look down. You try to listen. But you can feel him watching. And you don’t think he’s praying anymore.

The rest of the service passes the same way it began. Dull. Stifling. Predictable.

Except him.

You can’t escape it. His voice. His eyes. The weight of him like a hand between your shoulder blades.

You keep looking. Every time you do, he’s already looking.

Commanding without effort. Like he’s the only one who knows you don’t belong here anymore.

Like he sees everything. The drinking. The nights you said you were studying. The hands that slipped under your clothes. The way you only pray when someone else is watching.

He knows.

And it makes your skin burn. Not just from shame.

From being seen.

The service ends. Fans flutter. Your mother exchanges God bless yous in the lobby.

You stay quiet. Barely present.

The ride home is slow. The AC rattles, fighting the heat.

Your father glances at you in the rearview mirror. “It was good to see you back in church,” he says.

You nod. A smile that barely lands.

Your mother adjusts the radio volume. “You know, Father Miller’s new in town. Came from Austin. Thought it’d be nice to invite him for dinner. Proper welcome.”

Your eyes lift. “Dinner?”

“Tonight,” she says. “You’ll be on your best behavior.”

“Man like that,” your father adds, pulling into the driveway, “giving his life to the Lord? Deserves a warm meal.”

Your stomach tightens. Not just with nerves.

Something darker.

Something warm.

You lay the table in silence. Forks left. Knives right. The linen won’t sit flat. Your chest feels tight again. You smooth the fabric. Adjust the centerpiece. Ignore the tick of the hallway clock.

Then.

A knock.

Not the doorbell.

Heavy. Intentional. Like someone who knows you’ll answer.

“Get the door, sweetheart,” your mother calls from the kitchen.

You wipe your hands and cross the hall.

You open it.

He’s there.

Joel Miller. Father Miller.

White shirt rolled at the sleeves. Dark slacks. That serious face softened by something you can’t name.

His fingers wrapped around the bottle neck—a Beaujolais, rich and dark and deep as blood in the right light. The label clean. Elegant. His grip easy, like it belongs there.

“Thought I’d bring somethin’ for the table,” he says.

You step aside. His shoulder brushes yours as he enters. You can smell him. Clean. Warm.

Dinner starts. Roast. Green beans. Cornbread.

The wine is poured. It gleams, almost purple.

You sip. Smooth. Earthy. Complex.

Everything else is loud. Chair legs scraping. Glasses clinking. Your heartbeat.

You keep your eyes down until he speaks to you directly.

“So, what’d you think of service?” he asks. Voice low.

“Bit of a homecoming, huh?”

You glance up. “It was fine... Father Miller.”

“Call me Joel. We’re not in church now.”

Your mother tuts. “Don’t tell her that. Give her an inch, she’ll take a mile.”

He doesn’t look at her. Just at you.

“That right?”

You blush. Try to speak. Nothing comes.

He notices.

Then your mother again, halfway through her bite.

“I just hope this return home brings her back to the path. College life’s changed her. We worry.”

You freeze.

“Not that she’s lost,” she adds. “But sometimes the Lord needs to remind us who we are.”

Joel sets his fork down. Wipes his mouth. Looks at you.

“Well,” he says. “Discipleship can be a powerful thing.”

Your mother nods quickly. “Exactly what I was saying.”

But he’s still looking at you.

“Sometimes guidance just means being willing to walk beside someone. Close. Patient. Let them speak when they’re ready. Tell you what they really need.”

You swallow. Your hands in your lap, tight.

“If you’re open to it,” he says, “I’d be happy to offer it. One-on-one.”

Your fork scrapes the plate.

Your stomach flips.

Not from fear.

But because, for the first time since you’ve been home, you feel something.

#bella bites #pedro pascal #dark! joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader

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glubglubgurgle · 18 hours ago

Text

honey crisps (end)

calebmc college au! they finished the semester and we're finishing the fic with some fluff!

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 end

pairings: caleb/unnamed afab mc

tags: college alternate universe, FLUFF, calebmc are both freshmen, AU where they both have parents lol..., childhood friends to lovers, fake dating/practice dating/practice kissing/practice more...?, caleb third person pov, caleb yearns as usual, their moms are best friends with each other lol how cute, TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF ENDING

word count: 2.6k

a/n: end of honey crisps!! thank u to everyone who enjoyed, i love you all mwah mwah gimme a smooch back!! i'll be doing one shots and stuff for the meantime until i write the CALEBMC OFFICE AU heehee im excited!! i hope u like the ending!

ping list!!: @mcdepressed290 @st4rlight707 @auroranavi @plzdonutpercieveme @ippilulu (it wont let me tag u TT) @honeycrispangels @kiyadeleine

CROSS POSTED TO AO3

end

The school semester went by insanely quickly. Once the two of them were together, everything worked like clockwork. Caleb was worried that his jealousy issues would turn things for the worst until he realized that she was really into it. And then he found out that she had it almost as bad.

For his finals, he had a group project and one of his teammates happened to be the girl that asked for his number on the first day of school. “Can’t you move teams…?” She huffed when he was talking about his group. “Or do it yourself! I’ve been learning that coding language thingie. I can help you instead!”

Caleb couldn’t help but laugh at her attempts. He caught her using a coding program for kids one night when she fell asleep at her desk, and it warmed his heart knowing that she tried to understand what he was doing. “I would do it myself if they let me, pips. And I don’t think they have a drag-and-drop function for this project.” He said, trying to contain his teasing tone. “It’ll just be for a few weeks. If we have to meet outside of school, I’ll invite them here so they can see that I’m very much taken.” He was sat on the living floor with his laptop on the coffee table while she sat pouting on the couch, covered in textbooks and notebooks. Caleb brought his hand up to caress her cheek, massaging the frown from her face.

She glared at him. “Oh, so you wanna bring another girl in this house?”

His hand moved swiftly to the back of her neck, pulling her down for a kiss, earning a yelp from her. Quickly muffled by his lips. A few books and pencils fell off from the sudden angle change. Their teeth knocked against each other, but she instantly gave into the kiss. Her hand held his cheek. When he pulled away, her face was flushed but the scowl returned once she was aware again. “You’re really hot when you’re jealous.” He smirked, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke.

“Don’t make it a habit…I’ll end up killing someone, I think.” She wriggled away from his grip and sat back up. “Hmph. I trust you. I just don’t like people staring at what’s mine.” She smoothed out the paper that accidentally crinkled and then held her hand out for Caleb to hand her the fallen items.

Caleb’s cheeks felt hot and his pants tightened. Despite her saying it casually and lovingly multiple times, the possessive sentence made his head whirl.

“I can see you’re hard, mister. I’m not doing anything about it until you finish that paper, and I finish this paper.” She huffed, snatching the pencil from his grasp.

He immediately got back to work, typing twice as fast as usual and intently focused. He knew she was almost done with hers, and all he had to do was be done with his. Once he finished, he slammed his laptop shut and immediately got on his feet.

“Cal-” She started, before he pushed away every book and lifted her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Caleb!”

“I’m done! Maybe you should remind me who I belong to now.” Caleb said as he walked them into their bedroom. “My neck’s been really empty, what if they think I’m single?”

–

The two of them planned to visit home once the semester finished, but their moms decided to visit their home instead. They were confused when they arrived in two separate cars when they could have easily carpooled, until Caleb’s mom jumped out and stuck a bow on the roof. “Surprise!” She handed him the keys and got next to her mom, both with an excited smile on their face. “We were worried about the two of you living alone, but you guys made it! And thank god you guys are together.” His mom explained.

Her mom chimed in, “Yeah, we’ve been planning on getting this since the start, but it would have been awkward if you guys weren’t dating yet! The car’s for the two of you! But let’s be real, my daughter got my bad driving gene…”

“Mom!” She groaned, covering her face.

Caleb laughed, slightly agreeing with her. Despite having her license, he always wondered if the instructor just felt bad for her. He really should have felt bad for the cars driving beside her. “Thank you guys, this is really cool.” He hugged the two of them, one at a time. “Quick question though…were you guys betting on us?” He asked once he let them go.

“What? No!” His mom said, clearly lying.

“Yes! I won!” Her mom cheered. “Caleb, you’re truly a strong man, but I’ve never met a bigger coward when it comes to this…no offense. I knew she would make the first move, just like me back in the day.” She daydreamed before pulling her daughter into a hug.

She reacted like a deer in the headlights. “You knew I liked him?”

“Please, honey. You always asked for extra copies of all our vacation photos, even when you weren’t in them.” She tousled her hair.

She covered her mouth with her hands, stopping her from saying anything more. “Haha! Let’s go upstairs! He made his famous braised chicken!” She dragged her into the apartment, leaving Caleb and his mom on the street.

Caleb gave her another hug, “Thank you again. Sorry you lost the bet.”

She rolled her eyes, patting his back. “Don’t even worry about it. I’m just glad you’re finally happy. It’s so funny…I remember back when you two were in elementary school and she received a Valentine from another boy, you came home crying. Silly kid. I didn’t even know why until her mom was gushing about it on the phone.”

He blushed from remembering the scene. It was the first time he’d seen another guy so close to her. They were really young, but it triggered something in him, and at the time his child brain couldn’t comprehend why he was so sad, so he just cried. The kid was also taller than him, but when he hit his growth spurt, he was able to keep them away. “I guess I loved her a little more than anyone realized.” He smiled at the floor, his face burning. “Come on, let’s eat together.” He beamed at her, dragging her up the stairs.

Their first dinner as a couple with their moms. Embarrassing stories were exchanged throughout the night, explaining how everyone knew they would end up together. Whilst she was embarrassed to all hell, he was enjoying every minute of it. Laughing at the idea that he ever thought otherwise. Everything felt pure.

Despite the hopes of having them altogether for the weekend, the parents were called back into work the next day. This left their weekend free to celebrate however they wanted.

“Since we have a car now…we should go to the amusement park in Skyhaven!” She beamed at him, excitement filling her eyes. They had just woken up and she instantly got on her feet at the new plans. “I’ll even drive!” She put her hands on her hips, posing like a superhero.

Caleb couldn’t help but laugh at her, “I would love an amusement park date…I would also love getting to said amusement park in one piece. Soooo I’ll drive, pip.” He removed the blankets covering him as more warm sunlight shined through their window. He stretched his whole body, eyes shut, and then he felt her weight on top of him.

“Woah, you’re really hot.” He opened his eyes and found her straddling him.

“So are you, baby…but if you want to go to the amusement park today, I suggest you go get ready. Otherwise, I’ll have you in this bed all day.” Caleb stated, perfectly fine with either option.

They went to the amusement park the following day.

The two of them had to park their car before riding a ferry to enter the park as it was on an island off of Skyhaven. She was slightly limping when she got out of the car, and she glared at him as he tried to help her.

“Hey, if we went yesterday…you’d probably be walking fine.” Caleb held his hands up as a surrender. “And weren’t you the one who was begging me to go har-” He was muffled out by her hands slapping over his mouth.

“Oh my GOD, Caleb…there’s PEOPLE around.” Her face was red as she looked around them. “You’re carrying me if it gets too much, okay? This was your doing anyways.” She dropped her hands from his mouth, poking at his chest. “Jesus…do you ever stop growing. I feel like I never see you workout.” She stood up straight and poked at his chest again.

“You have to be awake before noon to see me workout.” He rolled his eyes. “Now come on, the ferry’s gonna leave soon.”

The amusement park was much more than they remembered as kids. New rides popped up whilst the old ones were revamped. Which was slightly comforting since they surely would have not been up to safety standards. It was a sunny day, clouds scattered throughout the sky. The ferris wheel always had the perfect cloud at the top to peek over once you reached the peak. His pocket grew heavy at the thought of going on it at the end of the night.

She was instantly dragging him onto the most outrageous adrenaline seeking rides. High drops, looping rollercoasters, and spinning cups. Her favorite being the pendulum swing. Yet it was also the ride that tested her stomach. Afterwards, she was on the bench clutching at her stomach.

“I told you not to skip breakfast…” He came back to her with an ice cream cone. Caleb wanted to get her something more filling, but she swore the sweet treat would be the only one to fix her. A line that suddenly reminded him of their old neighbor-friend from when they were kids. “I thought you were a pro at these nauseating rides? You’re getting old, pips.”

She shook her head, licking the ice cream that was placed in front of her by him. “I think I just got too excited. And besides, if I had a good Caleb breakfast, I would have projectile vomited everywhere. We eat AFTER the fun rides.” She finally took the cone from his hands and licked away, suddenly no longer needing to clutch at her stomach.

He sat beside her, her head dropping on his shoulder like it was by instinct. “You wanna take a nap?”

He could feel her shake his head against him. “Caleb, in a happy place like an amusement park, no one wants to waste time sleeping.” She stated.

“Really?” He looked around them, noticing the bright colors. The chipper of people and their children glowing with excitement. “Well, this place kinda feels like a dream. And I don’t think it’s a waste of time to sleep in a dream.” He shrugged softly, hoping not to move her too much.

“Hm, what if the world explodes tomorrow and I wasted our precious time together by taking a nap at this great place?” She responded, taking another lick of her ice cream.

“The world we live in is already in mid-explosion.” He recalled the doomsday documentaries she made him watch. “So even if it comes to an end, we can always move on to the next one.” Caleb joked, although he would truthfully move mountains to be with her. “Let’s ride the ferris wheel, we can start scouting for cooler planets once we reach the top.”

She eagerly lifted her head from him, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. Her lips were slightly cold from her treat. “I love you, silly.” She said before grabbing his hand to pull him up, dragging him to the ferris wheel.

The ride up was filled with giggles and pranks as the two of them kept trying to scare each other by moving around too much inside the carriage. The closer they got to peeking over the clouds, the calmer they got, excited to see the view. The sun was setting as well, the sky turning orange with shades of purple. Caleb’s hand was in his pocket, gripping onto a box that felt insanely hot to the touch, whilst his arm was wrapped around her waist. Her head was nestled under his chin while her arms were wrapped around his chest. “I’m so glad we’re here.”

“I’m happy, baby.” He said, a smile spreading across his face. They were almost at the peak and he knew it was time. He pulled back slightly so he could look her in the eyes. “You have no idea how happy I am that I have a place in your heart that’s different from before…I want to share every adventure with you in the future.” His other hand began to slip out of his pocket, gripping onto the box. He saw her breath hitch, eyes darting at his pockets. “Now…don’t completely freak out. It’s not what you think just yet…” He pulled out the light blue box, dropping his hand from her face to open it. Inside was a ring, the stone was purple with hints of orange, matching the skies and his eyes. “It’s more of a promise…” Caleb was going to continue until her hands grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss. He moaned softly out of surprise.

She stopped the kiss, still touching lips as she looked at him with teary eyes. “I love it…I want to promise my future adventures with you also. I honestly would have said yes if you popped the question, right now…” She laughed, her eyes crinkling, forcing a tear to fall. She moved back to wipe it and then held his hand that was holding the box. “It’s beautiful…”

His eyes widened, “Wait, can I change the ques-”

Her finger touched his lips, shushing him. “Too late. Now put it on me!” She held her hand out, wriggling her ring finger.

He faked a pout before taking the ring out to slip on, admiring how it looked on her. It felt like a mark on her, for everyone to see that she’s his. Caleb brought her hand up to his mouth, kissing it softly. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” She replied, pulling him into another kiss. She giggled against his lips, “We’re engaged to be engaged.”

–

The drive back home was quiet. She fell asleep holding his hand as he drove. He couldn’t help but admire her the whole ride back, and admiring the ring on her finger. It made him more excited for the next chapters and the next set of rings. Just thinking about waiting for her at the end of the aisle made him tear up, he knew that when the day came, he would be a sobbing mess.

He pulled into their underground parking spot for the apartment, now of use to them since they finally had something to park. Caleb looked at her sleeping soundly and moved to unfasten her belt when she turned towards him, blinking awake.

“Hehe, good morning.” She said, sleepy eyed.

“Hey, princess.” He smirked.

“This reminds me…” She yawned before continuing her sentence. “...of a certain thing we were about to do in your best friend’s car.” She reached to poke his nose, her other hand pressing on the button of her belt, having it reel back with a thud. “We should finish what we started back then, shouldn’t we?” Her hand reached out to hold his face, before she turned it to look at the ring on her finger. “Our first time with a promise wrapped around my finger.”

Caleb grabbed her hand, “Anything for you.”

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kdh-tally · 3 hours ago

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Hiiiiiiiiii I have been absolutely obsessed (no pun intended) w the sasaeng demon ficlet u posted & was wondering if u have any plans to write a part 2? But if u don't that's perfectly fine!!! bc what u did give us was so intense in all the right ways & sometimes a story hits harder when left up in the air or without the resolution ppl r expecting & I just keep rereading it every other hour lmao

My favorite line is definitely when Romance tells the girls their weapons & the Honmoon aren't hurting the sasaeng demons bc these demons don't want to hurt them, they want to own them & OMFG tht line gives me chills everytime I read it & it gave me chills just now writing ABOUT it!! U should b so so so so SO proud of ur writing!!!!!

Gosh & the unease tht builds & builds in the beginning till there's tht tipping point of the box appearing in their penthouse w those pictures & tht line: "they start locking the windows."

did u know tht u had a banger on ur hands when u wrote tht??????

The way the saja boys figured it out & also deduced tht the girls wouldn't immediately jump to demons being the sasaeng was a great characterization! Bc yeah, I don't think the hunters have much knowledge of the underworld beyond how to send demons back there & how to defeat Gwi-Ma & keep him at bay, so they wouldn't recognize a sigil right away the way Baby did or deduce these r pureblood demons, bc if they didn't know tht demons do feel & tht demons r tormented by shame & guilt & pain than it makes sense they wouldn't know these other things!!!

I'm legit going to go reread it after I send this ask bc it's just tht good!!!!!! Also, if u have no plans to continue it... would u b at all opposed to others (me) taking on the idea?

No cause you actually made me cry 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

I was in the middle of scheduling posts from my request box when this came in and i couldn't stop giggling and kicking my feet. (I showed this to my mom too bro i was so excited)

Thank you so much for your kind words, you have NO IDEA how much they mean to me!!!!

I keep on rereading this cause i never EVER thought someone would go this deep into analysing my posts :( I wish you the best of luck in every thing you strive to achieve and I send love to wherever you are <3333

I will most definitely be writing a part two but i absolutely would love to see what ending others (you) would come up with!!! Honestly as long as you tag me so i can read it too i got 0 problem but there WILL be a pt 2! (I'm still writing so much so it might take me a minute lol)

THANK YOU AGAINNNNNNNNN

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whoreiorcats · 5 hours ago

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hello ella. would like to start a discussion from one of your tags saying that imark is not a bad listener unlike omark... because i think he kind of is hear me out. okay so i feel like throughout s1 instead of listening to helly's concerns he is more focused on getting her to conform to the realities of the severed floor. he doesn't even realise how she's doing mentally in 1x04, and obviously after that he becomes way better at listening. and then in s2 he doesn't realise that she's not helly even though he arguably should know her the best out of everyone? and yeah we can make 293029 theories on why that is but i feel like him not paying attention has got to be some part of it right?

on the other hand, let's say imark is a good listener and omark is a terrible listener, do you think we will get an explanation as to why and what do you think it is (something to do with his upbringing is myyy guess but i'd love to hear your thoughts) okay much love byeee xx

HOO BOY YESSS. Ok ok ok very fun question! Gonna answer this step by step:

When I say bad/good listener I don’t really mean considerate or not, I mean literally attentive to another person’s words and actions. Mark Scout is consistently shown to be poor at remembering things that the people he cares about tell him (forgets Devon’s dinnerless dinner party is happening, calls Ricken “Rick” even tho he expresses that’s not what he likes to be called, keeps on calling Alexa a doula when she’s told him more than once she is a midwife, “I said I like plants”)

Mark S is constantly invalidating Helly’s feelings and trying to get her to conform but he is not checked out of what she is telling him. He is almost immediately adjusting his behavior to try to connect with her (admitting to breaking protocol at her ice breaker in front of Milchick, including her in Eagan Bingo even tho he knows Irving will get mad at them because he knows that’s the only way he could make this excursion enjoyable for her, him being RIGHT about that, intervening when Ms Casey is making her uncomfortable and knowing how to subtly tell her he’s trying to sneak her out for a walk)

In s1e4 I see it as that Helly was either actively hiding her mental state from everyone else (the juxtaposed shots of her preparing to hang herself vs extreme closeups of her smiling up at Mark in this really calm and beautiful way and telling him she’s “good”) OR that she was having that suicidal intention boost where she felt like she saw the the light at the end of the tunnel and was just genuinely excited to execute her plan. DARK I know but, that’s Helly’s state of mind for ya. So I can’t really blame him for not seeing what was about to happen.

Going off of @gemmafuckingscout ‘s timeline Helena was probably only on the severed floor for a grand total of TWO days followed by a day of ORTBO before she was exposed, so I also can’t really be that surprised Mark didn’t pick up what was off. He had a lot on his plate in trying to find Ms Casey and feeling really big huge feelings he’d never felt before and Helena playing into what he wanted to hear did not help in keeping his critical eye open! Irving, to be fair, had some psychic dreams that helped him figure that one out.

The text of the show also wants us to think that Helena and Helly were super duper similar in behavior “you’re like her, or she’s like you” (it seems that is debatable, lol). WHATEVER

I DO find it interesting to compare that with Scoutie who, on the other hand, identified Ms Casey as not really Gemma after like two seconds of reintegration flashbacks, same with Cold Harbor innie who he was able to communicate with very effectively. Like, it’s not black and white, clearly!

The other direct comparison is Gemma telling Mark that she was nervous to start the fertility treatments and him telling her to “turn around and bend over” (very funny and charming until they’re arguing and he’s saying shit like “I have no idea how you’re feeling”) and meanwhile when helly tells mark she’s nervous he validates her and says “me too”.

I was just talking to @spareham about this but I really have no strong opinions on what made oMark “like that”. All we really know is that he and his father are both alcoholics. Could be as little as a very bad example being set for him at a young age on how to deal with your emotions.

His sister and wife are willing to meet him where he is, so why would he change? Alexa tries to meet him where he is, he tries to change for her, fails, and then when she comes to get her phone he is! Idk! He’s drunk again, he’s pushy, he’s intense as hell and surprised that she does not respond well to him ripping up that picture of Gemma.

He’s forced to leave his teaching position and he knows he won’t be able to pull himself together enough to get a regular job elsewhere, so he severs, which is just an extension of his usual instinct to numb himself to any pain he’s feeling (and the pain others are feeling around him!!!) He’s just as devastated to have lost a child as he is to see Gemma so distraught, he’s probably nearly as pained by his own struggles as he is to see Devon fearing the worst every day for him. In both cases he just tries to drown it out in whatever methods available to him.

He is very resistant to change and growth, while Mark S is very much willing to and capable of improving himself for Helly. He changes his perception of himself, of her, of the way the way the world is and becomes a braver, more selfless person because she inspires him to be so.

Devon tells Mark S that Gemma “was wonderful, made [him] wonderful.” But what do we really see of that? He is clearly happier when Gemma is in his life, rough patch in marriage aside. Now I’m speaking from the pov of someone who has like, lived with an addict for a while (tmi, whatever) but IDK. I think the relationship didn’t seem to actually influence him to self improve; I think it alleviated some of his stressors and then it added to them later, terrible coping mechanism intact the whole way through.

Gemma could never fix Mark because no one can fix anyone. Helly didn’t fix Mark S, she just inspired him and he did the work to change his mindset. Mark S didn’t fix Helena Eagan, he just inspired her to see herself and others differently and seems to be doing something behind the scenes to benefit people other than herself/Lumon (see recent Helena posts). Gemma did not fix Mark Scout and her death did not break him, he just continues to deal with his problems the same way, no matter what, even if it’s fatal! And it will be if he does not finally self improve and face his grief and loss head on. If he doesn’t respect himself (both literally his own self and Mark S) he will lose himself.

I say all ALL of this as a big humongous softie for Mark Scout. I genuinely love his character, all of this fucked up baggage included. Based on Mark S’s behavior (and his second date with Alexa), he’s obviously capable of being a better partner. Based on his behavior (and s2e5) Mark S is capable of being a worse partner. I suspect as Mark and Helly end up with more free time as a couple things will crop up. But we will see! I hope this was interesting to you!

#my THOUGHTS #mark scout #forgive my conversation maria #severance #gemma scout #helly r #helena eagan #mark s #markgemma #markhelly #evermored #ask answered #severance meta #Sev meta

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xxx-ang3l-w1th-a-sh0tgun-xxx · 1 day ago

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ty for the tag!!!

i feel like ppl know a fair amount of random info about me hmmmm

I've recently started volunteering part time at a charity shop

my childhood bedroom in my old house had lilac walls when i was really young and then when i was about 9 or 10 (i think) i had them painted light blue

i studied art, photography and film in 6th form but i dropped film i think in my second year ? can't really remember when i stopped studying it as it was a while ago lol

i had 2 cats growing up, then a hamster and then 6 degus and now i have a dog

my favourite colours are pink and purple

my childhood special interest was how to train your dragon and I've read all the books and watched the films MANY times

I've never been on a plane or in a boat for travel or holidays

I'm currently learning to drive!! so far I've had 2 lessons and I'm learning in an automatic

i have astigmatism so sometimes i wear glasses

I've broken my right ankle twice and my left foot once (i cannot be trusted on trampolines)

i love documenting my whole life on Instagram and use it as a kind of visual/photo diary

i played Minecraft so much in 2019/20 that all of my dreams at that time were literally just Minecraft but from a first person perspective. usually i don't dream about hyperfixations or special interests at all which is strange considering how much i think about them (i usually dream about college or work or people I've seen recently which is a bit boring lol)

@thetwiggiesttwig @justalexisfine @spooked-skull-studios & anyone else who sees this and wants to join :3

IT’S TAG GAME TIME!!

Share as many fun facts about yourself as you want! Tag other beings to do the same! I’ll start:

•I’m a mod on the Officalverse Discord server

•All the walls in my room are moss green

•My mom made flap jacks dipped in melted chocolate today and they’re great

•I’m a big fan of boxes (small to big, Idc)

•I love it when mutuals wanna get to know me because anyone who follows me is guaranteed autistic n also it’s fun

@the-angst-k1ng @popsicle-fish @silvashapeshifter @kelpseahorse @astersselves @wizardex-yt

#tag game

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jjkeverlast · 3 days ago

Text

seven days a week | jjk

✦ pairing fwb!jk x fem!reader

✦ rating explicit (+18)

✦ summary jeon jeongguk has always had crazy ideas, but wanting to fuck you every day of the week was the last thing you expected.

✦ warnings & tags college AU, smut, pwp, minimal angst, fluff steps into the picture, fingering, unprotected sex, squirting, jeongguk finds it hot lol

✦ word count 2.4k

✦ author’s note this is a re-upload, if you've seen this before, this is why:)

masterlist | next chapter

There isn’t anyone to blame but yourself.

After all, you’re the one that left Jeongguk after he had silently admitted he was jealous. The reason behind it is something you’re still trying to figure out. You’re uncertain about how your body reacted, but mostly you’re afraid of the definite answer.

That night, you stared at your ceiling, reminiscing every moment you’ve had with Jeongguk since the first semester. It was weird in a way, because before you and Jeongguk started casually hooking up, you were an amazing pair of friends.

Until the Halloween party happened and you both had way too many jello shots.

Jeongguk initiated the first kiss on the porch, whispering how he’s going to do something incredibly stupid but he can’t contain himself anymore. You found it cute, reciprocating the kiss back, it evolving into something more and now you’re here. Having sex whenever either of you text, mostly it’s Jeongguk, and leaving each other as if nothing happened.

You still act like great friends, in class too, no one batting an eye in your direction when it comes to your ‘so-called relationship.’

Jeongguk was always a friend, one you occasionally hooked up with on the daily but again, a friend.

Until recently, when things had taken a drastic turn. Ever since Jimin openly admitted that Jeongguk has always liked you, everything changed. Then, yesterday, he silently admitted he was jealous by kissing you rather than walking out as you expected. It was messy, all of it. Mostly because you were still uncertain what exactly you felt for Jeongguk.

But then, why is your heart breaking watching him kiss someone else in the corner of the living room at this party? Why does it hurt you?

The answer stays buried, too scared to admit towards yourself that he might mean much more than you thought.

Jeongguk removes himself from the person’s face that’s tracing their tongue all over his neck and that’s when he locks eyes with you. You quickly look away, staring down at your half filled cup. Suddenly you start feeling sick, your stomach playing tricks on you, leading you to walk towards the bathroom in a hurry. Jeongguk watches you scramble away, almost as if you were caught staring and Jeongguk’s curiosity peaks at your behavior.

Something everyone knows about you, you’re hard to read, no one is able to read through you despite the situation. Jeongguk has always had a hard time, trying to see if you’ll ever become vulnerable around him but it never seemed to happen. Still, Jeongguk loved being around you. Which also explains why he’s currently following you, leaving the person he spent the last thirty minutes making out with stranded.

He finds you sitting down, leaning your head on the bathroom door, it being occupied by someone not feeling their best.

You hadn’t expected Jeongguk to be standing here, looking down at you with a worried gaze.

“Hey…” He starts off, fiddling with his silver necklace.

You stand up abruptly. “What are… What are you doing here?” You can’t look directly at him, instead focusing on the tiny details of his oversized t-shirt.

“Why’d you leave like that?”

A simple question, yet you find it hard to answer. It’s not because you don’t want to, you just don’t have an actual answer. You’re still trying to find it yourself. Why did you leave like that?!

“I don’t know.” You settle on.

Jeongguk sighs, shaking his head while his grasp tightens around the plastic cup. “Aren’t you tired?”

Confused, you raise an eyebrow. “Tired?”

Jeongguk steps closer to you, his feet almost touching yours. “This game, where you pretend that you don’t like me.” He tilts his head, his eyes locked onto yours.

You turn your head, avoiding his eyes, scoffing. “I’m not pretending.”

“Right.”

You think it’s the end of the conversation, stepping sideways to move downstairs and find Jimin.

But before you can, Jeongguk grabs your elbow gently. “Y/N.”

“What?” You’re still not looking at him.

“Look me in the eyes, and tell me you don’t like me.”

You debate if you should turn and say it so you can leave, but a part of you holds you off. You keep still for a good second, Jeongguk growing a smile behind you.

“Okay.” He says, sounding like he won and knows you like him. But the wall you’ve put up for yourself throughout college is not about to break over this. So, instead you turn, fixating your eyes on his.

You wait a second, stocking all your emotions on a shelf before speaking. “Jeon Jeongguk. I don’t like you.”

In mere seconds, Jeongguk’s expression falters. His brows drop along with his smile. He clenches his jaw, looking away as he walks past you. He seems angry, and you can’t really understand why because if there’s anything Jeongguk never is, is angry. It stuns you, causing you to swallow a clump, feeling suddenly small and uncomfortable in the space where everything went down between you.

You walk away, trying to find Jimin but instead you catch Jeongguk grabbing his jacket and walking out of the party in a hurry.

Forcing yourself to find Jimin is hard, because every inch of you wants to run after Jeongguk, fix everything you’ve messed up by lying to him. He deserves the truth, even though you’re scared of what will happen.

Fuck it.

You grab your jacket, slamming the door behind you shut and running towards Jeongguk who’s walking with his head down.

“Jeongguk!” He flinches, turning around slowly.

“What are you—“

“I’m such a liar.” You say, moving towards him at full speed and kissing him. Jeongguk stumbles back, in shock of you kissing him after you rejected him coldly.

“I like you. I do. I’m sorry.” You mumble against his lips, causing his own to stretch into a genuine smile.

You continue to kiss on the street, the loud music from the party growing distant. Jeongguk grabs your face gently, tracing his fingers all over the edges, admiring you while you look at him.

“You were scared, weren’t you?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You breathe out, letting your guard down and being completely honest.

“I’m scared too.” He admits, pecking your lips.

“So… What now?” You raise an eyebrow, wondering if Jeongguk has any thoughts of what’s bound to happen between you.

“Want to come back to mine?” He suggests, his hold tightening as you smile at the request.

“I’d love to.”

One thing, you have never been inside Jeongguk's place. While you both were actively hooking up, your dorm was easiest because Jeongguk lives a few minutes away from campus in a shared apartment with a guy named Namjoon. He’s spoken once or twice about him, telling you how great he is and how he’s become an inspiration for Jeongguk throughout college.

You aren’t exactly expecting anything from Jeongguk’s place, but you have a certain idea of what it looks like.

When you both finally arrive, you notice how you weren’t quite wrong. The apartment is cozy, plants in some corners and very suitable. Jeongguk takes off his belongings while you do the same, noticing how the apartment is completely dark.

“Namjoon is gone for the weekend, he’s visiting his family.” Jeongguk explains, noticing how your head tilts to catch a sign of his roommate.

“Bummer…” You mumble, a bit excited to meet Namjoon.

“You can meet him when he’s back. He’s been wanting to meet you, as well.”

“Is that so?” Jeongguk’s ears turn red, realizing he’s admitted how he talked about you to his roommate. Fuck, he truly does like you. The thought affects your heart, making it pound loud enough for anyone to hear.

“Come on, I’ll show you my room.” You nod, trailing behind Jeongguk in the darkened hallway. Jeongguk swings his door open, turning on the lights and it’s just as you imagined. The color palette, the set up and how his covers match the color on the walls.

“Do you want to borrow something to sleep in?”

“Sure.” Your heart flutters, still in shock over how you’re currently in Jeongguk’s place and how you both admitted you like one another.

Jeongguk pecks your lips, moving towards his white cupboard and fetching you a t-shirt and some boxers. When you grab ahold of it, you turn around walking towards the bathroom.

Yes, he’s seen you naked plenty of times but it’s different. You’ve grown timid regarding everything, and Jeongguk isn’t any better. He’s fumbling with words while you scurry out to change.

While you’re away, Jeongguk makes sure his bed is ready for the both of you to lay in. He’s getting nervous, because this will be the first time you’re going to sleep besides one another. Jeongguk tries to lay in different positions, uncertain if he should lay down or sit on the edge. As you walk in, you find Jeongguk shuffling on the bed sheets, mumbling nonsense to himself.

“Are you okay?” You ask with a tint of humor, adoring the sight of a nervous Jeongguk in front of you.

“Of course!” He tries to prove to you he isn’t internally panicking over this. Cute.

You don’t respond, instead moving towards him on the bed and pulling the covers to lay underneath. Jeongguk notices how comfortable you are in his bed, his clothes and everything feels unreal.

He takes a second, before joining you and holding you flush against him. Your hand intertwines with his, as his arm is snaked around your waist.

“Is this okay?” Jeongguk asks with caution. You look behind you. “Yeah.” You answer, kissing him softly before returning to your position.

Jeongguk nuzzles his nose in the crook of your neck, pecking your skin with his soft lips. Your heart flutters at the sweet gestures, enjoying the warmth that’s invading your whole body.

“What made you realize you like me?” Jeongguk suddenly questions.

You trail your fingers on his tattooed hand, taking a second to truly reflect on when it happened. “I think a part of me always has… But I was scared and I pushed everything away.”

“Relationships are scary…” Jeongguk admits.

“Yeah. But, I’m willing to overcome that fear to try this with you.” Jeongguk grabs your face, making you turn to look at him. His gaze is soft, eyes tracing each detail of your face as his thumb caresses your cheek.

“Me too. You have no idea.” Jeongguk whispers, leaning forward to kiss you again. Jeongguk tastes like everything that’s good about this. You curl your hand around his neck, fingers fiddling through his soft hair as the kiss grows more heated.

Jeongguk’s hand tightens around your waist, pushing himself forward so you can feel him growing under the material of his sweatpants. You’re no better yourself, your core starting to dampen.

What started as an innocent kiss, turns into you both moaning in each other’s mouths as you grind on each other shamelessly. Jeongguk’s pressing his hard-on against your ass, while you push it towards him growing more needy by the minute.

“Do you want this?” Jeongguk pulls away to ask.

“Yeah, I want you.” You respond with certainty.

Jeongguk grins, returning to kiss you roughly, caressing and pulling every part of your body.

The heat grows in the room, your bodies heating up beneath the covers. Jeongguk pulls it down, noticing how you’re resting one of your legs on him, spreading out for him. He doesn’t waste another second, placing his hand on where you need him the most. The material of the boxers is wet and Jeongguk grows dizzy by the thought of how wet you are already.

“Fuck—“ You breathe out, enjoying the feeling of Jeongguk’s fingers tracing on your pussy and clit. It’s hard for you to kiss back with every movement, so Jeongguk settles on kissing you on the neck instead, biting it a bit.

Jeongguk continues, while letting you feel how hard he is behind you.

“Jeongguk— I need you.” He doesn’t answer, instead he pushes himself upward to remove his sweatpants and his boxers on you. He’s about to grab a condom when you stop him.

“I want to feel all of you.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m on birth control, and I trust you.”

“Okay.” He closes his drawer, moving back towards you. He places his cock in between your thighs, feeling how wet you are and you both hiss by the close contact.

Jeongguk pushes you against him, moving his hip upwards as his cock slides in with ease. Both of your mouths are agape, panting and moaning by the feeling. Jeongguk thrusts upwards, holding you around the waist while his tattooed hand rubs down on your clit at the same time.

The intensity grows a lot quicker, your brain shutting off completely as you let yourself feel everything. Jeongguk has never felt you clench around him so much, making it hard for him to last long because fuck, he can feel all of you. He can feel how warm you are, and wet.

“Shit—“ Jeongguk breathes out behind you, forehead planted on the nape of your neck. You can’t even respond, too overwhelmed by everything. Jeongguk doesn’t ever stop moving, his thrusts precise and consistent.

You can feel yourself grow closer, although the feeling is a lot more intense than you had expected. It’s something unfamiliar and a part of you is scared yet curious.

“Fuck— Jeongguk I’m.” You grab onto his waist, tightening around him as your body tenses for a second.

Jeongguk quickens his movements, hitting your g-spot continuously and that sets you off. As you come undone, Jeongguk notices you squirting all over the sheets.

The sight and thought of you squirting because of him, causes Jeongguk to come only a few thrusts later. When he finally pulls out, he notices you covering your face almost in shame.

Jeongguk is still in shock over what just happened, because throughout your deal, never once had you squirted. Hell, Jeongguk hadn’t even known he was capable of making someone squirt.

“Holy shit.” Jeongguk exclaims, beginning to laugh as he’s delighted over the situation.

“Shut up!” You mumble, still covering your face.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” Jeongguk has never been more honest in his life.

“Don’t say that—“ You almost sound frustrated, and Jeongguk figures it’s due to you getting affected by his words.

“Come on baby, let’s go shower.” He kisses you all over, trying to make you feel better and you give in.

After a warm shower, you both return under the covers, your head on Jeongguk’s chest as he nuzzles your arm.

With a few words exchanged, you both fall asleep, unaware that this will be the best sleep you’ll both have in years.

#jeon jungkook #jungkook bts #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader

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zillychu · 12 days ago

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Can we please politely push for DPxDC content to not use the main DP tags?

An AU overtaking a main tag is a fairly common fandom thing to happen, and when it does happen, this is generally how it's dealt with. There's no solid guideline of when to do it, but at some point, an AU becomes so widespread that blacklisting doesn't really help.

It's also simply not fair, nor logical to shove a fandom out of its tags and into a different tag or community. What about new fans who peek into the main tag and see nothing but an AU they weren't looking for?

(This is a great place to also remind people that only the first five tags on a post get sorted site-wide. Anything after those are purely for your own organization in your own blog. So you can still tag your stuff with canon tags after the first five!)

I really think DPxDC stuff needs to be posted in a dedicated tag/community. I really don't want to have to start blocking individual users, but after waiting for... what, three years, I think? In hopes that fans would self-govern and use a bit of common courtesy I've seen in other fandoms? I'm unfortunately almost there. Not to say that this is deliberately rude! I'm not sure the fandom at large has really talked about it enough for DPxDC fans to catch on, so I don't blame any party here.

I just think this is something we could very politely ask for more. Be kind, be patient, and see if we all can't make this fandom space a bit more comfy for everyone, yeah?

#danny phantom #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #fandom #zilly squeaks #i hope this doesn't come across as mean!#I've just seen a lot of frustration popping up again lately #and it's becoming more frustrating to me too #I've kinda. not been as active in the fandom lately bc of it #so I'm just throwing my two cents out into the pile of coins #this happened to TAU btw!#it was starting to aggravate ppl in the main GF tag so we just as a community decided to stop posting there #it was easy and freeing in a way! no one felt guilty or worried about posting too much TAU after that #we only had our own tag to flood then lol

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bacchuschucklefuck · 1 year ago

Text

soon it'll be dawn again

transcript under the cut ⏬

page 01

Fig: no way? - you're still up?

Riz: Wh– yes?

Riz: Why'd I not be.

page 02

Fig: I me~~ean - that took.

Fig: whole day.

Riz: Yeah?

Fig: 'm beat.

Riz: you should sleep.

page 03

Fig: nah. my guy's still up

Fig: I wanna hang out.

page 04

Riz: That's really nice.

Fig: Hah! - Nobody ever expects an Archdevil rockstar to be nice.

Riz: … yeah. - 's just budget work tho. (the stuff I'm working on) - I've heard it's boring.

page 05

Fig: yeah, but you do it…

Riz: It keeps things going, right? - Nothing happens if nobody sits down and - does the thing.

Fig: That's right… - though. Yeah.

page 06

Fig: sometimes it's someone else who - doesn't want the same thing to happen.

Riz: … - mm.

page 07

Riz (off screen): …It took me a long time to get that not everyone likes doing what I do. - 's probably because you guys are so nice– - or. - kind.

Riz (off screen): to anyone too, not just. - the people you /love/.

page 08

Riz: that's not how it is elsewhere. - The world's– not. hostile. - but 's not like it's kind.

Riz: So I'm doing as much as I can now…

page 09

Fig: Hey.

Riz: ?

Fig: Go dig some dirt with me.

page 10

Riz: [blank speech bubble] - oh you meant like - actual dirt. (not incriminating information)

Fig: o yea.

Fig: there's clay in the backyard soil. - sometimes when I'm sun deficient or something I go touch dirt for a bit.

page 11

Fig: here u go

page 12

Riz: uh

Fig: now we make a thing! - 'm pretty good at freehanding a bowl.

Fig: I'll show u

page 13

Fig: just– yep, flatten that out as evenly as u can, then–! - actually ur nails'd be so good at cutting out the strip. [larger than usual space] wait. - wait. wait u can carve patterns with them! we HAVE to try

Riz: uh - What. do I carve?

Fig: anything!!!

page 14

Fig: and– yep just seal the inside uh. seam?

Fig: yep that works - okay time's up! all contestant hands up

Riz: [blank speech bubble] - okay - wh. what's next?

Fig: haha - watch this.

(sound effect text): FWOO—MP

page 15

Riz: WH– DON'T JUST DO THAT???

Fig: Now it's fired!

Riz: THAT WAS NOT SAFE

Fig: (actually it's just dry. if u add water rn it'll dissolve)

Fig: ok catch!

Riz: [blank speech bubble] - careful!!

Fig: dw no need haha

page 16

Riz (thought bubble): oh - it's warm…

Fig: now I want you to throw this.

page 17

Fig: u gotta do it - c'mon

page 18

Riz: wh– - It's like 3AM right now

Fig: oh it's not /fired/ fired it's not gonna make a loud noise

Riz: And then just? leave a pile out here?

Fig: pour water over it & it'll be gone I told u

Riz: but

page 19

Fig (off screen): RIz.

page 20

Fig: I've done all this before.

Fig: Can you trust that at least?

page 21

Riz: no, I– - I do. - I trust you.

page 23

Riz: okay what happens now

(sound effect text): glob

page 24

Fig: we do it again!

page 25

Riz: wh. [larger than usual space] What do you mean. (this clay's too wet also)

Fig: see! you're already learning

Fig: [blank speech bubble] - there are flows that are futile to fight. - The world changes.

Fig: Things change.

page 26

Fig: I've learned my lessons with "forevers". - But - as an artist

Fig: I can give you one thing: - You can always do it again.

page 27

Fig: most of everything depends on the rest of the world, - but this. - making new. - that's yours as long as you want it.

page 28

Fig: So?

page 29

Riz: Yeah. - Yeah! - let's make another one.

#dimension 20 #fantasy high junior year #fhjy #riz gukgak #figueroth faeth #technically no spoilers in this comic but listen. I Will be gloating in tags. I will Never Shut Up #for the record!! this was fully conceptualized and sketched Before the finales. I started sketching this after the boat fight #and when murph closed riz's arc this season with ''maybe it's okay to change and welcome new things'' I pogged irl #I am simply the best at reading comprehension what can I say! (<- grown ass man with roughly the same perspective on teenhood as the player #fucked up that this became so long (almost 30 squares lol) that it took me this long to finish #lmao I say all that but. genuinely I am delirious and my feelings abt riz's arc this season are so big... I was getting psychic backlash #for a While lol. it was scary!!#had to sit down and do therapy on my own ass for a bit. the teenage apocalyticisation is real. that word isnt tho Im pretty sure #truly anything you do at that age feels like that's it that's all you've got going on forever. and its not true! its simply not true #you'll be okay my guy. you love your friends so so much but also there will be more to love out there #this one goes out to fellow aroaces and also folks leaving somewhere theyve called home for a long time #nothing lasts forever but that means new things come by too! ur ability to make new is infinite!!#there's no magnum opus people leave but new people come by too etc. I am too sleepy to remember what I wanted to say uhhh #well. thank u for looking at my art. I think thats the one pack it n ship it boys

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whenmemorydies · 6 hours ago

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Thanks for the tag @freedelusionshere and for this really thoughtful meta! I definitely think you're onto something with the scallop dish being an analogy in and of itself of Carmy and Syd's relationship: to each other, to their histories and to the industry they're in.

I do think, as we've discussed many a time, that ultimately the star is not going to be the point and that Syd will come to that realisation. Like others have said, I am curious as to what is driving Syd's desire for a star in the first place. Is it to show that she can achieve it given how shit Michelin's track record has been in giving the star to non-white chefs and/or to establishments with a focus outside of European tradition? I think more likely, her desire for the star is to give her father, her family, and maybe her broader community something to point to, to say that their time, love, investment in her was worth it. This goes to Sydney's fear of failure which she articulates in her Ina-Garten-fuelled nightmare at the start of 4x08 Green and in her teary confession to Claire in 4x06 Sophie.

But like you point out, once you get the star, then what? I mean it could increase business for the restaurant but then we have that crush to retain it (and its accompanying anxiety and dread as Carmy articulates in S2), the pressure to churn out products like replicants which Marcus and Tina are already feeling in S4. Is that really what folks think this show has been telling us from the start? That a happy ending for these characters is to gain recognition in a stacked, racially biased system? To be towering stone monuments in their field, frozen in time and fear? Or is it to subvert that system, in pursuit of connection, joy…in being the sand?

I haven’t really looked at the significance of scallops in Italian or in West African cuisine (the two heritages we know Carmy and Syd have respective ties to. Carmy shifting Syd’s dish to just scallop and served in a scallop shell certainly evoked strong imagery for me: The Birth of Venus by early Renaissance Italian painter, Botticelli. But that’s another romantic meta for another romantic time lol.

I actually think Carmy may have learned a lot about his heritage through his chosen profession (e.g. him being able to identify tonnato sauce for his mother who may have lost that cultural knowledge or never had it to begin with…as so much gets lost in the shift to becoming a diaspora). I’d be keen to see this explored next season. I wonder if this might also be the case for Sydney. Imagine learning about your mother’s heritage after she’s gone, by learning about the food she would have eaten growing up. I can’t think of many things more intimate and visceral. I think there are clues to this throughout the show including in The Bear’s office. I can’t recall the exact titles but once the office gets set up in S2, we see a DIVERSE range of books on its shelves with lots featuring African American and Southern Black food cultures. These go well beyond anything we’ve seen in terms of the books on the floor of Carmy’s apartment. I presumed they were added by Syd as at that point, she’s the only other character we’re told and shown has a store of her own cookbooks.

I’ll stop there as this will get exceedingly long otherwise! But thanks again for tagging me and the delicious food for thought!

The Twisted Journey of The Bear's Scallop Dish

Syd first makes this dish in S2 as 7 Fishes, and her father eats it on Friends and Family. There is part of her in that dish, there is a specific scene where Emmanuel tastes it and looks towards the kitchen window with pride. I wouldn't be surprised if it's not connected to her mother's influences.

See that little scallop sitting in there?

When Carmy gets stuck in the walk-in on F&F, he gets out, Syd is waiting there for him, and he tells her that he'll never leave her alone again, after she completed service without him (with Richie's help). This is actually the origin and sticking point of Carmy's resentment for Richie which @fairestbeard has pointed out; Syd needed Richie, but did not need him. Also, possible that Carmy realizes Richie has met Syd's dad in the FOH and he has not, when Syd knows his whole family and he wants to meet her dad.

In S3, Carmy subtracts her dish (shades of Chef David) to the point that all that is remaining is a scallop, and it doesn't even look like the same dish. She's not happy about this at all but doesn't really push back and even agrees with him that it's better for service. Because Carmy promises Syd that they are going to get the star she wants.

Later, Shapiro will bring up this exact dish, and say that it doesn't feel like Carmy, and she will tell Adam that it's her and Carmy's dish. But clearly, Syd is holding onto bitterness here about what Carmy has done, which is how Shapiro worms his way in.

In S4, Syd takes this scallop dish and subtracts Carmy from it, or rather, Empire Carmy, and makes it affordable with fewer and more available ingredients and makes it taste even better, and the dish goes viral and becomes a hit. What also takes a hit is Carmy's ego, and the idea that Syd needs him in any way at this point.

It's perfect, he says it's even better than perfect, and this is what Syd wanted. She wanted Carmy's validation. You can see it in her face. It comes up repeatedly throughout the season what she thinks about Empire Carmy, she speaks to both TJ and Donna about him like this. She admires him. It's complicated. Is it just about the dish she ate at Empire, or about him being one of the best in the world?

But Carmy doesn't seem to want to be that guy anymore. I don't actually think Carmy is as concerned about his greatness as a chef at this point, but about how much he's lost by investing his entire personality into that, but a convo for another time.

Adam brings up wanting Syd to bring her Afro-Carribean influence to his new place, meaning, regardless of how much the appearance of the dish has changed, there are flavors still within it that are distinctly not Carmy. Which, there is of course this meta by @whenmemorydies that I return to time and time again when I think about this show and the nature of imperialism and cultural appropriation which the fine dining scene is rife with and always acts like it's trying to get better at this, but then you have white chefs beating indigenous chefs on cooking shows all the time because they changed things up to appeal to Western (white) palates.

On Carmy's list of Non-Negotiables? Respect tradition. Didn't do such a great job of that with this dish the first time around, did he? Does he even know himself or his own heritage, which @whenmemorydies has brought up before? I doubt it.

Syd's Nigerian on her dad's side, and we don't know about her mom's background yet (Adam switching up the music on Syd at his new place might be a hint about how clueless he is about the flavors going on) but we also see hints from the original 7 Fishes she made and when they grill outside The Beef in S1 that seafood comes up often, and Emmanuel calls her mother a southern belle and now we know she did community theater, so she loved artistic expression.

With Syd having red shoes on in her dream and that connection to the themes of the movie The Red Shoes, it starts to paint a picture of what is going on here and how extractive and consuming it is to chase fine dining dreams and Michelin stars, when underneath it, these two people are seeking connection and authenticity and validation, but I still continue to think it's about love at its core.

The scallop dish is Syd and Carmy's blood orange hamachi dish mashup at The Bear. They are doing things to themselves and each other through this dish, in ways that tell a story about the system, and specifically Empire (not subtle at all).

I don't think that this is the dish that will ultimately bring them closer, but it seems to be representative of the push and pull going on with them right now and where they both want to get validation.

What do you guys think? @whenmemorydies @moodyeucalyptus @fairestbeard @currymanganese @ambeauty

#the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #sydcarmy #the bear meta #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto

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