#I love my dm and I don’t think I could ever be mad at him

[weaselweaselweasel]

I’ve come to expect that my dnd group will never be ready to run a game session nor are they interested in rescheduling

Still I shall hold out hope that my game next Sunday will be happening because if they all cancel the day before for the fourth time in a row

I may have to go Michael Myers on their asses

[yoonieper]

For the Birds— Part 2 | JJK

I want you to stay even though you don’t want me.

♡ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader 

♡ Genre: angst, smut, future fluff, a hint of enemies to lovers~ 

♡ Rated: L for Loathe

♡ Series Warnings: Lots of smut (not always healthy), cheating, discussions of depression, this series includes Jk in a pretty toxic environment, degradation (not the sexy kind), manipulation, and overall Jk being in an emotionally abusive situation! 

♡ Chapter Warnings: Y/n and Jk tension, mentions of substance abuse (alcohol), mentions of Jungkook getting reealllyyyy drunk, <— throws up 😬, Jimin is best boy and the bestest friend but my man is ready to throw hands… 

♡ Word Count: 11.6k

♡ Summary: As the son of the CEO at Golden Tech, a marriage was arranged in the name of business. Jungkook really tried to make the most of his situation and be the best husband he could be, but no matter how much he tried, his wife just doesn’t seem to want him. Then you… you came into his life and his eyes couldn’t help but wander.

♡ Now Playing: Honsool by Agust D— see masterlist for full playlist! 

♡ Betas: Thank you so much to @illyrian-book-lover and @teawithhoneyandlemon for reading this part for me! If you’re interested in betaing a future part, dm me! If you're interested in becoming a permanent beta for this series please first click here and refer to 'details about the job' section for more details and dm for any questions you might have! 

♡ Author’s Note: This chapter is the calm before the storm, but we ain’t slowing down at all for part 3 >:) ~ Y’all can thank Smoke Sprite for this hehehe (it just came out when I wrote this)

No reposting, modifying. Translating is not allowed unless given explicit permission. Thank you so much : D

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Seven months later…

Knowing what you know now, you felt bad that there was ever a phase in your life when you hated Jeon Jungkook. Hate was a strong word, you know that now, and you knew it back then too; but it was always the first word that would pop into your head whenever you’d think about the man. 

Ever since your first day at Golden Tech, he made your life working at the company an actual living hell. You loved your job, and you were dedicated to it a hundred percent. You had worked way too hard to get where you were to slack around. You were living your dream— you were still young, working a stable, well-paying job at a high-end tech company, you had great coworkers for the most part… There was nothing to complain about besides the person who supervised your department. 

That’s what made it so frustrating. 

And to make matters worse, it was probably for the dumbest of reasons. Sure, no one wants coffee spilled on them, you would have gotten a little mad if you were in that situation; but there was no need to make someone’s life miserable because of a simple mistake— for years.

It’s not like you purposefully ran into him. You both had just turned the corner at the same time and bonked into each other. It happens. Some of your coworkers said you should have gone to his office later and begged for his forgiveness, but you thought that was ridiculous because it had just been an accident. A simple, unintentional mischance that could have happened to anyone.

It’s also not like you didn’t try to apologize— you both ran into each other the very next day, and as soon as you saw him, you hurried to catch up to him to tell him how sorry you were; you even offered to pay to get his suit cleaned or replaced. Jeon Jungkook hardly paid you any attention as he said it was fine and walked away with his posse of executives following him. It was strange, but you hoped that it just meant that your first meeting was water under the bridge and things would be fine. If you knew what you were in store for, you probably would have quit right on the spot, but not before you gave him one good, firm slap on your way out.

No, your ambition clouded your vision each time Director Son would give you assignments straight from the boss himself, and it was always mountains above your coworkers. You wanted to believe he saw potential in you, that maybe this was just an initiation into the office and all the newbies were given more work straight from the Head Director himself to showcase their abilities. This was just a test, you kept telling yourself for far too long, and in the end he’s going to see just how capable you are, earning his respect like everyone else did at some point. There weren’t that many people who worked on this floor in comparison to the rest of the building. All the teams were on the smaller side, so you figured this was just a tight-knit department you needed to steadily break your way into.  

That’s how you kept yourself cheerful despite how it seemed like every night your workload would have you staying in the office until the wee hours of the morning trying to get everything done. 

Everything changed when you weren’t the newest employee in your department anymore. Jungkook was oh so welcoming to your hoobaes and would give them slightly less work before steadily building up to the overwhelming amount everyone was eventually given. It wasn’t great, but it was lightyears ahead of what you experienced during your first few months at the company.

You kept telling yourself that there had to be a reason. You never really spoke to him, there was hardly any opportunity to piss him off; surely there was more of a reason than the incident on your first day.

The next person who joined the department after you did, you slowly began to notice the difference from your initial few months, and at first you had tried to come up with this whole theory in your head that maybe he was flirting with the newest member of the team. She was pretty and a lot of the guys around the office talked about her. You figured your boss might be like them, just another man trying to get into her pants, and for some reason easing her workload was his way of flirting.

That theory quickly died when Taehyung told you he was married despite you both apparently being the same age. Then Hoseok started working at the company and was given the same special treatment as her. Jungkook was seemingly nice and welcoming to everyone else but you.

That’s where your… annoyance, turned into hatred, because at the end of the day, you knew this was all simply because you had ACCIDENTALLY SPILLED COFFEE ALL OVER HIS STUPID, EXPENSIVE ASS SUIT (you checked when you got home how much it would cost you to replace it. If he would have taken you up on your offer, it would have had you living on ramen alone for months) AND HE JUST WANTED TO MAKE YOU MISERABLE BECAUSE OF IT. 

And maybe, just MAYBE, if that was the only suit he owned, you would have understood his pettiness a little better. You have this one nice dress you splurged on when you found out you’d gotten an interview for Golden Tech, and if someone had messed it up, it would have taken a lot more than an “I’m sorry” for you to fully get over it. But every day your coworkers would talk about how expensive his suits were, all belonging to brand names guys around the office knew about and would rave over. They would stand around sighing about how handsome he looked and how they felt like they needed to pay him just for gazing upon his presence.

It was a little dramatic, and even though Jungkook was never around to hear it, you always thought it was just another way to kiss his ass a little harder, vaguely hoping for the chance he would hear and reward them for their willingness to bend over backwards for him. 

But that’s besides the point. One thing was clear from their words: Jungkook had money, and a lot of it, there was absolutely no valid reason for him to be that upset at you.

So you despised him. 

You hated Jungkook longer than anyone at the office did. At first, they just seemed confused whenever you would rant your troubles to them— saying things like, “he normally wasn’t like this.” But as months turned to years, Jungkook’s pettiness began spreading to all the employees who worked under him. You couldn’t say he was the best boss in the world when you first started working at the company, but as the days passed, he seemed to get that much more rigid, cold, and reclusive.

It probably hadn’t even been a full year after you started working at Golden Tech, when all the employees joined you in complaining about how annoying he was to work for.

You used to see him all the time walking around the office doing this or that, but later on, you only saw him arrive but never leave. There were many instances in which almost everyone on the floor was given so much work, that you’d all have to stay past your normal hours; way too many times than anything reasonable. All he ever did was work, work, and work, making sure everyone was going above and beyond their job description. It was excessive, so much so that some people in your department ended up leaving because their job was interfering with their personal lives too much.

To make matters worse, everyone was always on edge. There were rumors that some of the people who were fired over the years were let go because they weren’t able to keep up with his outrageous demands. Some of your coworkers said that they left his office in tears because he basically belittled them to the ground, calling them worthless, and many other unspeakable things. It was awful. You never knew if this was actually true or not, no one really did, but it kept everyone on edge to the point that the mysterious Jeon Jungkook was feared amongst most. But it didn’t really matter to you. 

You used to think you had a good understanding of him. All your coworkers who were brought into the department before you would always say he was this bright-eyed, sweet, eager to please kid who everyone had high hopes for. Jungkook had never shown any of this during the time since you’d been working here, so you honestly doubted their assurances. 

According to you, ‘Jungkook’ and ‘sweet’ couldn’t even exist in the same sentence.

Jeon Jungkook was just a spoiled, rich kid who had no real interest in Golden Tech. He seemed to have no idea how to be a boss, was a sadistic asshole who got off on making people miserable, and was just there, waiting until the CEO position was handed off to him just because of who his daddy was— which you were sure would result in the crash and burn of the whole company.

A few months ago, he literally just didn’t show up to work for a week without any sort of notice. This left your department scrambling because important deadlines were coming up. When Friday rolled around the next week and he still wasn’t back, people kept asking where he was because certain things couldn’t get done without him at the office. He was basically MIA, no one was able to contact him. 

Jimin had emailed everyone later that day because the complaints grew too loud. Jungkook apparently had been diagnosed with pneumonia earlier that day and wouldn’t be in for a while. An excuse, for sure, but that didn’t explain where he’d been for the last week. Maybe he was off vacationing in one of the many homes his family owned around the world, while your team was left scrambling during his absence.

But it seemed as though you were the only one who harbored any real hatred for him. 

Many girls around the office would still fawn over his handsome face, making you roll your eyes every time, because all they needed was one glance their way and they were squealing like schoolgirls. Was that really all it took for everyone to forget how awful he was? You didn’t get it, not even one bit.

Even your friend was somehow pulled into the allure. When you’d pass by him in meetings, despite Solmi oftentimes being the listening ear to your rants about how impertinent you thought Jeon Jungkook was, she would still sometimes gaze at him sympathetically; it was something everyone around the office occasionally did.

“Something’s just off.”

“He wasn’t like this before, he was such a sweet kid.”

“Maybe it’s just stress?”

They would always have an explanation ready. You never understood why, but you weren’t working there yet when he was still “nice,” and they also weren’t on the receiving end of his pettiness directly.

Someone might laugh at the fact that you were still feeling the effects of your little incident nearly two years after it happened. But no matter how hard you worked, how many times you tried to apologize, nothing you did was ever enough to make him forgive you. So you opted to hate him, and you used that hate to fuel your ambition even further. 

In some strange way, Jungkook’s pettiness ended up helping you in the long run. All that hard work you put in made the other executives notice you. Due to your previous experience at another big tech provider, you were quickly promoted to be the manager of one of the finance teams when the position became available.

That just helped open even more doors for you. It was only a few weeks after celebrating your second year at the company (October 6th, 2023, a little over 24 months after you were hired— not that you were bragging or anything), when Director Son informed you about the promotion. The associate director position became available due to her retiring; apparently, even while being relatively new in comparison to the other managers and on the younger side, they still believed you would be the best one to take over the position.

Of course you took it. You were only twenty-six and now the Associate Director of the financial team for the Seoul division at a trillion won tech company that was led by the CEO’s son. Again, not like you were bragging, but your resume was insane.

As nice as the high was, this… this is when everything changed.

See, some might call you strange that you hated someone so deeply when you barely even knew them. You honestly had no clue about him, you hardly ever saw the man besides during the very occasional meetings; but most of the time, he only met up with Director Son and the old associate director to get updates. You could probably use your fingers to count how many times you both have spoken to each other. Any time you’d normally communicate would only be over email, and it didn’t help how much he was in his office. The only things you really knew about Jungkook were that you both were the same age, that he was the CEO’s son, and supposedly, that he was married.

That's what most people knew about him, and of course there were probably tabloids out there if you ever wanted to learn more, but you never found the need to know anything else other than the basics.

That’s why when Jungkook called you into his office after your promotion, you were in for a rude awakening on the fact that you never really know what goes on behind closed doors.

The meeting itself wasn’t that eventful. Jungkook just wanted to elaborate more on your new role as an associate director and inform you about your new duties on the projects your team was currently working on. However, you ended up feeling differently than expected. 

You’d spent the whole morning preparing for your first meeting with him. You had coached yourself the day before on how to approach it— you weren’t planning to be rude, but maybe a bit passive-aggressive; just enough to set a boundary to be taken seriously and establish yourself as a professional, not just some pushover. 

You’d picked out your best ‘bad bitch’ outfit the night before— not for him— but to give yourself the extra confidence you needed to stand up to the person who’s been the bane of your existence for the past two years. You wore a tight, black dress with gold buttons detailing all the way down the front. It was probably the nicest thing in your closet besides the dress you bought for your interview. You paired it off with matching gold accessories and black stilettos with a cute gold heel. You couldn’t tell someone how long you spent working on your hair and makeup this morning trying to get that last level of perfection. 

It was all worth it though. When you arrived at the office that day, you held your head high as you made your way to your desk. A smile was plastered on your face as your heels clicked through the halls. Your coworkers were staring and whispering while you walked past them, the attention making your heart swell, because at the end of the day, you knew they were only saying good things.

It gave you a nice confidence boost, but as the time ticked away, it was obvious to your friends you weren’t as composed as you wanted them to believe. As the time of the meeting approached, Taehyung and Solmi tried their best to calm you down as you rehearsed what you thought would happen later.

“Grrr, I’m Jeon Jungkook, and I hereby bestow you this mountain load of paperwork.” Solmi said dramatically, as she shook a piece of paper in front of your face before setting it down gracefully on your desk.

You cleared your throat. “I’ll take care of these, Director Jeon. And as the new associate director, I hope we can establish a more compassionate relationship.” When you finished, you eagerly looked up at your two friends.

“Yeah, she’s going to get eaten alive.” Taehyung sighed, concern filled his eyes the longer he stared at you. Solmi shared the same worried look.

“Calm down guys, I think I got this.” You smiled as you turned to your computer and saw the time. There was only an hour left.

“Y/n, we’ll wait for you as close as we can. Scream if he tries to eat you.” Solmi said as she rested her hand on your shoulder.

You looked over at Taehyung, who seemed to grow more worried by the second.

“I’ll be fine. If anything, he should be more scared that I’ll eat him first.” You laughed a little too hard, but seeing the look on Solmi’s face made you realize that might not have been the best way to phrase it.

No matter the amount of smiles or jokes you shared with your friends, nothing could stop the anxiety from creeping in, it just made you even more terrified of what might happen later. You were worried if you’d even walk out of it still having a job (let’s just say you had a lot you wanted to say to him, but one wrong move would be enough for you to derail from your well-rehearsed script and finally spill that can of worms full of deep seeded anger).

When the time finally arrived, Secretary Yu told you Director Jeon was in a meeting and that you could have a seat in his office for the time being. You bowed at her words, but on your way in you couldn’t help but roll your eyes because of course he was late. You were so busy cursing him out in your head, it didn’t even register that you were in his office for the first time until the door closed behind you. 

You were shocked to find you weren’t greeted with a demon’s lair like what you had expected. His office was relatively modern, with lots of black furniture— it was sleek and expensive like everything he owned. There were a couple of plants sitting around that added a nice splice of greenery. His office also had a big window with a nice view to the right that overlooked the city. However, what you were most surprised to find were all the family photos sprinkled around the place.

There were some that sat on his desk but your eyes were immediately drawn to the three big pictures on the wall beside you as you came in. 

The one that sat right in the middle you were sure was a family photo of the Jeon family. You recognized the CEO sitting on a chair that almost looked like a throne. There was also a small, slightly older, beautiful woman who was dazzlingly dressed sitting on a stool next to him, holding his hand, and two boys stood behind them. One you instantly recognized as Jungkook, only a little younger— maybe college-aged, and standing right behind him was a man who looked like he could have been his twin. He stood maybe a few centimeters taller and shared the same face, except he had a few more of his mom’s features, his sharp eyes for example. You had to assume it was the brother you heard your coworkers talk about from time to time. On the other hand, Jungkook was nearly the spitting image of the CEO, only decades younger.  

What you paid the most attention to was their smiles. Everyone in the picture looked so happy, all big smiles that seemed to resemble the CEO’s. It felt almost strange seeing how happy Jungkook looked in the picture. You honestly thought he was incapable of smiling. 

It was like a whole different guy was in the picture.

When you looked at the photo that sat on the right, closest to where you stood, you were greeted by a very cinematic shot of Jungkook and who you could only assume was his wife on their wedding day. He had lifted her by her waist and they were lovingly staring into each other’s eyes, again with big smiles plastered on their faces. Jungkook didn’t look too much older than he did in the first picture, and his wife also couldn’t have been much younger than him. It made you wonder how long they had been together. As far as you knew, he was married even before you started working for Golden Tech. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-four, but just based on the picture, he definitely looked younger than that.

They must have really loved each other… You couldn’t imagine being married now, let alone years ago.

But everyone had been right, she really was pretty. How was he married? You couldn’t help but wonder how his wife was able to put up with his pretentious ass. You could barely deal with him and you hardly knew the man. 

You felt for her in that moment.

Furthest from you was a picture you could barely see, but it looked like another picture from their wedding day. Jungkook and his wife in her gorgeous dress were sitting down on a fancy ottoman and a bunch of other people stood around them. Some you could recognize from the Jeon family portrait, so you just assumed all the others must be his wife’s family.

Again, seeing how happy he was in the picture was a little uncanny. There was no way that was the same man who made your life at work so miserable.

Looking at the photos only became more unsettling when the door was bursting open and you were suddenly faced with the actual, present-day Jeon Jungkook. Your eyes immediately snapped onto his, your mind went blank as you tried to process the fact that he was standing there right in front of you. He was stuck in place, he seemed just as surprised to see you in the way his startled expression turned into shock and his wide eyes peered over you. You barely registered the fact that Jimin was standing behind him, too busy trying to calm yourself from a near heart attack. 

It was suddenly so obvious why Jungkook didn’t seem like the same person in the pictures you had just seen. He looked different. It wasn’t only the fact that he looked a little older, but his eyes…

He looked so tired, like he hadn’t slept well in months. The dark circles around his eyes deprived him of that same cheery persona he put on for the camera. And maybe this was just you reading into it too much, but you couldn’t help but think he also just seemed… dismal? It was strange, but if you weren’t trying to be on your best behavior, you would have advised him to take a nap before starting your meeting.

If that wasn’t enough, he was also visibly thinner. Like you could still see a bit of definition as he moved underneath his expensive suit jacket, but his slimmer frame didn’t seem to help and only made him look even more tired.

Your coworkers might have been right; maybe it really was the stress. How hadn’t you ever noticed this before? Had he always looked like this but you just never realized?

“Uh, sorry we’re late. We were stuck in a meeting that went on longer than expected.” Jimin suddenly said, finally breaking the silence and making you snap out of your daze. 

It was only then that you realized you had practically been staring down Jungkook. To be fair, you had never seen him this up close before, at least not close enough to actually look at him. 

You quickly bowed.

“I’m sorry! Secretary Yu told me to wait. I—” You panicked, realizing how strange this might look that you were just standing here right in front of the door.

Your eyes immediately locked onto Jungkook’s waiting for the annoyance to hit his features, any sign to point to the fact that you gave him another reason to hate you, but instead he just seemed dazed. Your eyes tried to follow his gaze wondering what he was staring at, and you were left a little stunned to see him looking over you.

Did he forget you were coming today? What was going on? You glanced down, worried something may have gotten on your dress earlier during lunch and he was about to criticize you for your unprofessionalism, but you were just left confused when you didn’t notice anything, and the silence continued for far too long.

“Ummm…” Jimin looked over at Jungkook when he still hadn’t said anything yet.

You shrugged, just as perplexed as he was.   

When Jungkook still didn’t say anything, Jimin, like the angel he was, eventually took it upon himself to reassure you it was fine and that you had just startled them.

You bowed and apologized once again, your cheeks burned under the weight of their gaze, but Jimin just smiled and told you yet again it was fine. His comforting words and smile eased your beating heart a little more as he ushered you over to Jungkook’s desk. Not wanting to make things any more awkward than they already were, you quickly made your way over to one of the cushiony chairs that sat across from the desk. The whole time you felt their eyes nearly burn a hole in your skull, your skin warmed with each step you took, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you messed this up already. 

You figured Jimin must have finally managed to get Jungkook to snap out of whatever held his attention so deeply, he eventually came back into view and sat in his own fancy office chair in front of you, and Jimin chose to stand right beside him. 

Jungkook awkwardly coughed once everyone got settled trying to fill the silence in the room, maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you, but you swear you saw his cheeks start dusting pink as he looked at you.

This could not be the same demon you’ve worked with for two years. Jungkook could hardly meet your eyes, seemingly trying to look everywhere else but you. He looked visibly flustered and… shy? Who was this man, and what did he do with the Jungkook you thought you knew?

“I’m so sorry, I—… um, sorry we were late. It’s nice to see you Y/n.” He commented softly with a smile. No, there was no way this was the same guy.

After Jimin took a moment to congratulate you on your promotion (he told you to visit his office later for a surprise), the meeting carried on rather uneventfully in regard to your conversation. Jungkook didn’t eat you, nor did you ever need to whip out any of your passive-aggressive responses that you’d practiced. To be honest, you were only halfway paying attention to everything that was being discussed. 

Your brain was far more interested in just observing him, picking apart all the little details you never had the chance to notice in the past: 

He had a mole that sat just underneath his lower lip, and anytime he’d be thinking about what to say next for longer than normal, he’d bite into the flesh and then you could see the little dot right there on full display. He also had a scar on his cheek— you barely noticed it, but when the light hit his face at just the right angle, you could see the indention. Or how come you never realized that he had a slight lisp when he talked? It was slight, only making an appearance if he started rambling for a little too long; you wondered how you’d never noticed it before.

It was quite obvious early on into the meeting that Jungkook was not this scary, evil monster who hid away in his spooky cave. Jungkook would speak, there were moments when Jimin would jump in to help, they easily bounced off of each other, and in between the business talk, they would sometimes joke around with one another. You hated to admit it, but you found them a little cute as you watched them interact.

However, you still noticed that when Jungkook laughed, his smile never looked like the one in any of the pictures that sat behind you. His eyes wouldn’t crinkle, his top lip wouldn’t almost disappear, and that dimple that was on his left cheek never came into view— yes, he had dimples— multiple sets apparently that you had also never noticed.

If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he was faking it, but the one other thing you knew about Jungkook was that he and Jimin had been friends for a long time. Jimin had mentioned to you briefly during the few occasions you’ve talked that he’s known Jungkook since the younger was in elementary school; and it was clear during the meeting that they were close.

The more you looked at him, the more you grew concerned. He definitely seemed… off. It was the same feeling that you’d gotten all those years ago about your friend in high school. His eyes, you just couldn’t get over the look in his eyes. They held the same emptiness that your friend Mi-Sun’s did all those years ago. His hair had grown to almost completely shield his gaze, but you still noticed. 

In the past, his hair would normally be shorter and slicked back with a fresh undercut always on display. It was a few months ago when he seemingly started to grow it out. When he walked in, it was obvious he had been running his hands through it in the way the dark strands were pushed back. Yet as the meeting continued, more and more strands would fall into his face, and he would go back to hiding his sad gaze behind his hair. It almost reminded you of the same look he had that day you spilled coffee all over his suit— even then he seemed tired and sad, but now it was so much more blatant.

It was almost immediately that your harbored hatred for Jeon Jungkook turned into genuine concern. You couldn’t believe this was the same guy who’d have everyone on the floor staying overtime almost every single day.

That didn’t necessarily excuse how petty he acted over the years, you didn’t forget, but it did make you feel bad about how you let your emotions get the best of you. 

The fact that Jungkook was the same age as you and managed everyone that worked on your floor— being associate director of your division’s financial team already seemed daunting— but you couldn’t even fathom the stress that came with his position. 

“Y/n? Did you get all that?” Jimin asked, breaking you out of your daze.

“Yes-yes! I’m sorry.” You stammered, trying your best to recollect yourself. 

“Just wanted to make sure you got everything. We covered a lot.” He laughed, but you were too focused on Jungkook shying away from your gaze— his face was definitely a little redder than before. You tried your best to ignore the way your heart ached at the sight. 

You had to get out of here.

“Thank you so much. I’ll be sure to email you if I have any questions.” You bowed your head slightly at them. 

If things couldn’t get any weirder, when you looked back up at him, you noticed Jungkook was staring at you— again with those same sad eyes. It was on the tip of your tongue to invite him out for dinner, or to tell him that maybe it would be best to take the day off or something— anything to possibly help get back the cheeriness he had in the pictures behind you. But you knew you would be overstepping a boundary, and since you were so new to your position, you felt it was best to not take a chance; so, after a few more awkward goodbyes, you left his office.

“I have to get this done, he has to see that I’m—“ The door shut behind you before you could hear the rest.

Instantly you looked around for your friends, and like they promised, you found them awkwardly standing not too far away from Secretary Yu’s desk trying not to make it obvious they were waiting for you. As soon as they saw you, you knew they wanted to ask how it went, but instead you grabbed Tae by the hand and quickly walked down the hall, ignoring Solmi’s confused remarks as you sped past her.

“Taehyung.” You said alarmingly as you both walked. 

“What happened? Did he start yelling at you or something?” Taehyung questioned very seriously, looking back the way you both had just come from. Apparently, you didn’t respond fast enough because he ended up stopping you both in your tracks. You looked over at him and could see the way his expression had shifted, his face was etched with concern now, and the underlying anger was not hard to pick up on. 

“Y/n, what happened?” He asked far more sternly, grabbing you by the shoulder so you’d look at him. You couldn’t help but glanced down, noticing the way his other hand tightened into a fist.

“What? No— Just… What do you know about Director Jeon?” You quickly followed up with.

You could see the gears turning in his head.

“Huh?” 

“You’ve been here longer than me. What do you know about him?” You asked again, your gaze turned to worry as you looked back toward where Jungkook’s office was.

Taehyung was noticeably confused. “Why, what happened?” 

You sighed. “Nothing, I mean, we just talked but… I don’t know, he just seemed so… sad. It was weird.” 

“Sad?”

“You should have seen him Tae… it was like… I don’t know, he looked so tired.” You were honestly a bit worried. One minute you hated his entire existence, the next you found yourself seriously concerned for his well-being. 

It would be easier to hate him if he didn’t look like a kicked puppy.

The tension quickly faded from Taehyung’s features, he let his hand rest back down at his side and he breathed a sigh of relief. 

“I was wondering if you knew anything.” You questioned again when he hadn’t said anything, but Taehyung eventually shook his head. 

“I don’t have much to say, he’s always been a pretty quiet guy. I know nothing outside of what he does at the company, and that he’s married to that supermodel. Jimin would probably know, they hang out all the time.” 

You nodded while his words processed in your head. Taehyung was probably right, Jimin was the best person to talk to. You wanted to think there was a chance at the explanation being simple, like maybe he was having a rough day or something, but that didn’t stop you from being worried.

You had a feeling it wasn’t that straightforward.

“Yah, you had me scared for a second.” Taehyung breathed out a shaky laugh. 

“Why? You didn’t think I could handle myself in there?” You chuckled lightly, recalling how serious he got. 

“No, you’re perfectly capable. It was me I was worried about. I thought I was going to have to put my job and freedom on the line.” The way he said it carried that same comical tone, but there was something very serious as well in its implications. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what he meant by that. 

You looked at him wide-eyed for a second, a bit at a loss knowing he’d be willing to go that far for you. Even in the worst-case scenario, you wouldn’t consider losing your job, and certainly not going to jail, over something like that. 

Taehyung returned your gaze and smiled at you, warm and reassuring as always, before you both finally started to hear the hurried clicking of Solmi’s heels making it around the corner. 

“Yah! Why did you guys just leave me?!” 

•────•──────────���────•

Jimin's role at the office made his life more complicated than it needed to be. Besides being Jungkook’s friend, his job also had him working a lot more closely with the younger in comparison to the other executives. He was the associate director to Jungkook’s position, and pretty much handled a lot of the grunt work. He would always step up to his friend’s role whenever Jungkook wasn’t in the building, and he was already in line to take over the next time Jungkook was promoted. Jimin was in great standing in contrast to others around his age, and he would always be eternally grateful to Jungkook and his family for giving him this opportunity. However, balancing the crazy workload Jungkook always asked of him— everyone in the department really, plus just trying his best to be there for his friend, was a task he sometimes questioned if he could manage.

Because of the way he bounced between being by Jungkook’s side and working with managers in the office, he was oftentimes caught in the middle of the drama and heard all the gossip and rumors that would go around. People in the department would complain, and there was some part of him that sympathized with their woes because his friend would really go off the deep end at times with his demands, but there was the other side who was still Jungkook’s friend. Jimin had to deal with Jungkook deteriorating right before his eyes, while simultaneously being subjected to hearing his colleagues badmouthing his friend, who to him, was clearly suffering. Jimin couldn’t even say anything. He was watching his best friend fall apart, and having people say the worst things about him, all without them knowing what he was going through, made it difficult to stand idly by and listen. 

It wasn’t even like he could tell them because even he didn’t truly know what was going on. 

Jimin had cherished the day Jungkook began opening up to him after he started to notice something was wrong. Just as Jungkook seemed to get more comfortable in sharing the issues he was dealing with in his marriage, at the beginning of the year was when those walls came back up thicker, higher, and practically impenetrable. 

Jimin had hoped that it meant things were getting better between him and Yuri, but it was painfully obvious Jungkook was just getting worse and worse as the days went on. You weren’t the only one noticing how much he changed. Jimin was by his side the entire time as he saw firsthand how life continued to drain out of him as the days went by. 

Jimin had seriously tried his best to be there for him, but no matter what, Jungkook continued pushing him away. He would brush off any of his concerns and drown himself— and everyone else around him—  with work.

It was hard to watch.

Jimin could never forget what happened a few weeks ago. He came to work early on Jungkook’s birthday to drop off a gift with the hope to surprise him later when he’d come in, but instead was nearly scared shitless once he opened the door and turned on the lights to find Jungkook passed out at his desk. There was a bottle of vodka and enough empty cans of beer covering the surface to almost shield him from view and encase him in completely.

Jimin had known Jungkook was going to stay overtime the day before, he’d even seen the beer he brought in, but he brushed it off thinking he was simply restocking the mini fridge in his office. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of them to share a drink together after hours, a good beer was always the perfect remedy to wash away their stress. However, it was obvious from the overturned box that he’d drunk the entire pack all by himself, plus the vodka he had no idea Jungkook even had in here. 

That was not it. As Jimin looked around his office, he found another box had been opened, and he wondered if it had fallen off his desk because of the way the cans were sprawled across the floor (definitely less than the twelve that came in the pack). As Jimin steadily got closer, he noticed one of the cans was tipped over beside him, the sticky liquid pooling on his desk, like he’d passed out with the drink still in his hand.

It was a concerning sight to say the least, and nearly gave him a heart attack as he hurriedly rushed over to make sure his friend was ok (alive). His mind raced with the worst thoughts possible as he tried to shake him awake.

Jimin had planned the whole day out to give his friend the best 26th birthday in the history of birthdays. What was supposed to be the start of a celebration turned into a nightmare when Jungkook didn’t immediately wake up. It was honestly a miracle he did. It took some time; it was like the universe itself had slowed down as he waited for something, anything. Tears had welled up in his eyes, Jimin had been so close to calling 119, when in a fit of desperation he slapped Jungkook’s back a little too hard. That was apparently enough to finally get him to stir awake.

“Owwwwww…” Jungkook moaned, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to reach back and rub the spot where it ached.

Jimin had a lot to say, most of which he figured went in one ear and out the other since Jungkook was clearly still drunk. He hated nagging, especially when his friend was out of it like that, but he really had scared him. Jimin pulled him into a hug as he went on and on about how stupid he was.

“Why you soooooo loud?” Jungkook whined, pulling out of Jimin’s arms and laying back down on his desk.

“Because— Jungkook, have you not been listening? Do you know how much you drank?!” Jimin nearly yelled pointing to all the cans and the vodka bottle that practically covered the desk.

“Shhhhh! I ne— have wake up for work later… I’m trying to sleep…” Jimin found it hard to understand him because of the way his words slurred together, like somehow he could understand that.

“Didn’t efen dink much.” Jungkook mumbled, as if it was any other Friday, and Jimin was being overdramatic.

As much as he could have kept the battle going, Jimin made the executive decision that there was no way in hell Jungkook would be able to work today, let alone ride along for his birthday surprise. He was better off trying to sleep this off.

Somehow Jimin was able to get him downstairs, but by the time Jimin was sitting him down in the passenger seat of his car, his arms ached, and his whole body screamed in fatigue. He was stuck carrying Jungkook’s entire weight all the way from his office to the elevators, where he needed to wait for the elevator to go up twenty stories, before going back down those same twenty stories, and then truck through the entire parking garage because his dumbass thought it was best to park in his usual spot, all the way at the far end.

Jimin wanted to be annoyed, he wanted this to just be a one-time thing that they both could laugh about in the future, but there was definitely something wrong. Something was wrong all the time, but there were too many signs for this situation to be passed off as just a “rough night.”

This wasn’t his first time carrying Jungkook. Jimin liked to occasionally pick him up to emphasize “just because you’re taller, doesn’t mean I can’t still swing you around,” mainly to show off his efforts in the gym— but Jimin could tell over the months, years even, that his friend had grown lighter. With the way he needed to carry him, his arm wrapped around his waist, he could really tell just how much thinner he’d gotten. 

And there still was the question of what made him drink so much…

Jimin’s head was swirling with worry as he got in his car, wondering what he should do from here. He’d considered taking Jungkook to the hospital, he had no idea how much he really drank, but the fact he was able to make it downstairs he figured meant he was ok enough to sleep this off, hopefully. 

He sighed and turned over to Jungkook who was already passed out beside him. Jimin reached over to open his suit jacket and fished out the phone in the pocket he’d placed it in. Somehow the facial recognition still worked with Jungkook’s passed-out face, and Jimin was able to pull up his contact list.

Yuri 💞

Jimin rolled his eyes seeing the hearts next to her name knowing how fake that emoji was.

“It’s like we’re a real couple now…” Jungkook had nervously chuckled that day he changed Yuri’s contact in his phone— merely hours before his engagement party.

How Jungkook hadn’t ended up changing it was beyond him. 

Yuri 🖕🏻was more appropriate in his opinion.

Jimin took a deep breath before he hit the call button. Now, Jimin loved using the word hate when it came to Yuri. While he wasn’t aware of all the details of their relationship, Jimin just knew deep down she was the reason for Jungkook’s rapid decline— maybe it’d been her fault he drank so much. 

It took a couple of rings, but Jimin was thoroughly surprised she actually picked up.  

“What—“

“Yuri, it's Jimin.” He was quick to interrupt her.

There was silence over the line for a while, like she was trying to remember who that was.

“Jungkook’s friend… coworker—“

“I know that— what— why do you have his phone?” For a split second, he believed she sounded a little concerned.

“I thought you would know— how did you not notice he didn’t come home last night?” Jimin was seething the more he thought about the possibility that this was somehow connected to Yuri, but he tried his best to keep himself calm for Jungkook’s sake.

“He told me he was working late.” She put it so plainly. 

“And you just let him? You do realize today’s his birthday, right?” Jimin just rolled his eyes as the silence continued on the other line. At the moment, the pieces seemed to click in his head. Was it the fact Yuri clearly forgot his birthday the reason Jungkook practically drowned himself in alcohol?

Maybe… maybe it wasn’t, but maybe it was, and that possibility was enough for him. Jimin had to take a couple of deep breaths to stop himself from screaming at her, but once again, he calmed himself down. Today was not the day for this.

“Anyway, Jungkook got really— really drunk last night, and I’m worried about leaving him alone. If you’re not already there, could you meet me at your apartment and watch over him? I would do it myself but I have work in an hour so—“

“Can’t you just put him on the bed or something? I don’t think he needs a babysitter—“

“Yuri, I don’t think you understand, he’s really—“ But before he could finish, Jimin suddenly turned to see Jungkook hurriedly pushing open the door. He couldn’t even question him before it became obvious that the nausea, which had made the whole journey downstairs that much harder, had finally taken its toll.

Jimin set the phone down and reached over to rub his back lightly. He tried his best to ignore the unpleasant sounds and the dry heaving that went on for a while; his heart ached seeing his friend’s pitiful condition. Things only got worse when it finally seemed to be the end of it, the sounds of soft whimpers started to fill the growing silence. 

“Hyung… I’m so sorry.” Jimin hardly caught it, Jungkook was so quiet and his voice was a little hoarse.

“Jungkook—“

Jungkook sat up and hesitantly faced him. His eyes were red and his cheeks were stained with tears that flowed harder the longer he looked at him.

“Hyung, I’m so sorry.” Jungkook just sobbed. 

“It’s fine, please don’t—“

“This is so fucking embarrassing, I’m so sorry, this is so pathetic, I—I—“ 

“Jungkook, you're not pathetic,” Jimin interjected, trying his best to keep strong.

“Fucking threw up in the parking lot— can’t get much worse.” Jungkook choked out.

“It could be, don’t say that because this could get so much worse.” Jimin had a few ideas, mainly in the fact that he could have been stuck riding in an ambulance worried for his friend’s life. “By the way, are you ok? I was going to take you home, but we can stop by the hospital to make sure you’re ok if you need it.”

Jungkook lazily shook his head. “Just take me back to my office, I have to work—“

It was then that Jimin started the car. “Don’t even think about it, I’m taking you home.” Jimin buckled the both of them in and started making his way out of the garage.

“Can— hyung, can you go slower?” Jungkook mumbled, leaning back in his seat.

“Do you still feel sick?” Jimin grimaced as he briefly worried about his car’s freshly cleaned interior.

“Yeah,” just the mention of the word seemed to make him nauseous all over again. “My head hurts too—“ They finally made it out of the garage, the morning sun quickly filled the car. Like a vampire in disguise, Jungkook groaned and tried to duck away from the rays floating in.

“I’ll be gentle— luckily it’s early enough so there isn’t too much traffic, we should make it to your place soon.”

There was silence for a little while. In the moment, Jimin remembered the fact he’d never hung up the phone with Yuri, but one quick glance down, and he saw she’d left. All he could do was hope she’d be there.

“Hyung, I feel like so much shit.” Jungkook slurred. He’d closed his eyes, hoping it might help ease the nausea or how much his head pounded with every bump or slight turn in the road, but it wasn’t helping at all.

“Mmm I bet, get ready for the worst hangover of your life.” Jimin tried to joke, but all he got was a choked sob in return.

“It’s what I fucking deserve.” Jungkook blubbered as he looked out the window, tears quickly filled his eyes before they started falling uncontrollably. “Can’t make her happy, just want to make her happy! Hyung she’s so miserable, and it’s all my fault!” The breakdown had come out of nowhere, but it had Jungkook in its grasp and had no plans of letting him go.

Jimin had no idea what to do. They’ve had so many talks about it at this point, but Jungkook never went into enough detail for him to ever be able to really help him. Even while drunk, Jungkook seemed to keep the details about what was going through his head locked away, never to see the light of day.

“Jungkook…” Jimin reached over and rested a hand on his thigh.

“Are you ok?” The question lingered in the air in between Jungkook’s sobs. The more Jimin’s question seemed to dawn on him, the more distraught he became.

“And I mean this seriously, like clearly you’re not fine, but are you… fine?” Jimin had hoped he’d answer. A simple ‘no’ would have been a step in the right direction, but he said nothing, letting the tears stream down his face suffice for an actual answer.

“Because if something is wrong, you know you can talk to me, right? Anything, it could be anything that’s on your mind.” Jimin looked over at his friend as they approached a red light, taking a moment to realize just how pitiful he looked. His suit jacket had been thrown in the backseat, his tie was barely hanging on, his face was red and covered with tears, and Jimin had to stop every two seconds to help try and ease the nausea.

“I can’t lie, I’m really worried about you. If something is bothering you, please know you can tell me anything.” Jimin was trying not to get emotional, but he’d never seen Jungkook like this in all the years he’d known him. Ever since she came into his life, everything had gone to shit. He knew all of this was her fault and Jungkook’s decline was too painful to watch. 

Jimin was worried, so fucking worried actually, that he feared every time he’d leave his friend’s side. While all of this could just be ruled as some random drunken breakdown, Jimin knew it was a small window into what was going on inside his friend’s tormented mind.

“Please say you’d tell me Jungkook…” Jimin gently shook his leg, desperately wanting the reassurance that if things were as bad as he feared, that he’d say something. 

When Jungkook’s sobs stopped, Jimin hoped he’d give him an answer, but instead, he watched as Jungkook leaned up, and grabbed onto the dashboard while attempting deep, steady breaths.

“Hyung…” His voice was quiet yet pained. 

“Yes?” All Jimin wanted to know was that he’d say something. 

“Pull—“ A couple more deep breaths “Please pull over…”

It took a second for the words to register. “Wha— why—“

“N-Now!” Jungkook tried to emphasize as he quickly had to put his hand over his mouth.

Luckily for the both of them, there was an opening on the street up ahead. Before Jimin could question it any further, Jungkook was already stumbling out of the car and toward the trash can that was on the street corner.

Jimin never got that reassurance he needed, not that day, or any other day afterward. He wondered if Jungkook had heard him at all.

When Jungkook got back, he was crying all over again about how pathetic he was, the cycle starting anew. But it only took about two minutes before Jungkook passed out once again, and he was asleep until Jimin was shaking him awake when they’d finally made it to his apartment. 

The journey upstairs was just as difficult as going downstairs at Golden Tech. Jungkook had sobered up a little, but Jimin, once again, was stuck carrying him to the elevator. His exhaustion, the nausea, his head, everything really, made it hard for Jungkook to stand. Slowly but surely, they finally made it up to his door.

Jimin had hoped when they arrived that Yuri would be there. He knew, despite his own feelings, how happy it would have made Jungkook at that moment, and it was the least she could do after everything. He wanted to think maybe, just maybe, she’d show up, especially after Jimin had to remind her that it was her husband’s birthday. He hated the fact that he had let a glimmer of hope spark. Deep down he wished that his conversation with her earlier was all just an act to not spoil Jungkook of a surprise waiting for him back at their apartment. Even if that wasn’t the case, he still hoped that she would at least be there. But after Jimin punched in the code and opened the door, the apartment was just as empty as it normally was.

He couldn’t even say that he wasn’t surprised.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Jungkook had somehow found the strength to wiggle out of Jimin’s grasp. Free from his hold, Jimin watched as Jungkook started clumsily wrangling out of his suit jacket Jimin had put back on him earlier. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight and went over to grab Jungkook’s phone out of the jacket pocket.

Yuri had texted since they came up.

‘Sorry, won’t be back ‘till late. Busy.’ It was short, blunt, and to the point.

Yuri wasn’t coming.

Jimin sighed. He didn’t know why he was expecting anything different; she couldn’t even be by his side when he had pneumonia. Maybe it was for the best, he didn’t trust Yuri alone with his friend anyway.

“Hyuuuunnggggg…” Jungkook whined. Jimin finally looked up and noticed he’d stripped all the way down to his boxers.

“Is Yuri coming?” He asked as he flopped onto the couch.

“You know, the bed would be better…” Jimin chuckled lightly before walking over to him. He grabbed the throw that was draped over the couch and fluffed it over him.

“Too far…” He grumbled into the leather.

Mmm, of course.

“Hyung— Yuri…?”

“She said she’s busy.” Jimin tried to maintain a soft smile as he saw the disappointment settle in Jungkook’s eyes.

“Of course she is…” Jimin hated the way he saw Jungkook’s lip quiver. 

“It’s ok, I’ll stay by your side.” Work was out of the picture, Jimin knew better than to leave him alone when he was like this. “You know, I had this whole plan today to celebrate your birthday.” Jimin suddenly remembered he’d left Jungkook’s present back in his office, he forgot to grab it on his way out. “We can bring the celebration here though. I could start it off by making you breakfast—“

Jimin turned around to see Jungkook already fast asleep.

Not much happened that day, Jungkook didn’t wake up until the sun was setting. In that time Jimin had made a quick trip back to the office, both to tell everyone Jungkook was sick and wouldn’t be at work today, and to grab that present he had left.

Jimin went the extra mile with it, hoping the right gift would help put that pep back in his friend’s step. He was honestly very worried about the present as he prepared it, he couldn’t help but wonder if Jungkook would like it as much as he hoped. What he didn’t expect was Jungkook’s teary reaction through his bleary eyes (despite the fact that he’d slept for the last 12 hours), as he peeled back the wrapping paper.

“You used to play all the time back when we were in high school and college, maybe getting back into it would be good for you.” Jimin smiled.

Sitting on Jungkook’s lap was the box of a new, sleek, black, custom-made electric guitar— the exact one Jungkook had told Jimin so many years ago that he wanted to buy when he started earning a good amount of money. 

“This… hyung what I would give to play this, but… Yuri hates it when I’m loud, I don’t think she’ll let me play it.” Despite his words, Jungkook continued to stare at the picture over the box, letting his hand lightly run over it.

Jimin couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the mention of that woman, tired of her always coming in the way of everything. “Well fuck her! Don’t let her stop you, she’s not even here right now. Please~ I wanted to see you play before I leave.” Jimin should have been a little more cautious with his words considering who he was talking to, but at the end of the day, he meant every word.

Fuck her!

Jungkook’s face dropped, looking less than pleased.

“Hyung, thank you so much for staying here with me today— and for the present, but maybe it’s best if you leave.” Jungkook suddenly sounded very serious as he spoke.

“Huh? What, why?” Jimin was confused at the sudden change in mood.

“I know how you feel about Yuri, but I don’t appreciate you speaking about my wife like that—“

“But Jungkook, you can’t possibly—“

“Leave hyung! Go— please just go!” Jungkook demanded, looking more pissed than ever.

In the silence that followed, this was when Jimin began getting angry. The longer he stared into Jungkook’s eyes, the more he couldn’t believe this was happening. How could Jungkook be choosing someone who hardly paid him any attention over the person he’s been able to count on and has known since he was in elementary school? 

“I can’t believe you’re fucking kicking me out and sticking up for the bitch who couldn’t even be here with you on your birthday.” Jimin angrily mumbled as he got up to put on his shoes. It was a low blow, Jimin could have phrased it a little differently since he knew he was hitting a sensitive topic. It wasn’t fair to Jungkook, but that was the only thing he regretted.

The silence that settled in the room was painful.

“I swear if you’re not out the door in five fucking seconds, I will end you!” Jungkook said slowly through gritted teeth, giving Jimin a glare that he was sure he would never forget in his life. He’d never seen Jungkook so mad, never thought it was possible to make him that mad, and it was over Yuri? 

Five seconds was too long before he heard Jungkook’s hurried footsteps behind him. It was probably only because of the haze of the hangover still weighing Jungkook down, that Jimin was able to grab his shoes, quickly slam the door behind him, and walk away unscathed.

Things just weren’t the same after that.

How could they be?

It’s like Jungkook was pushing him away, and as much as Jimin tried his fucking best to be there for him, he was only human and feelings got in the way sometimes. He regretted leaving that day, with how things played out, anything could’ve happened considering the way Jungkook had been acting lately.

Jimin seriously thought pushing Jungkook to seek professional help would be enough to bring his best friend back— he’d been ecstatic when Jungkook told him he was finally going to therapy, but it seemed that after the first session, he never went back… at least if he did, Jimin didn’t know about it.

Things were bad, probably worse if he knew the whole story. But that— that is exactly the reason why it pissed him off so much every time his coworkers would complain about Jungkook. How could they not see? It was plain as day that something wasn’t right.

That’s why when you came to his office later for your surprise (he gave you a celebratory bottle of expensive champagne) and asked him about Jungkook, it was like a breath of fresh air.

“Director Park, I hope this isn’t weird to ask, but—” 

“Did you have a question?” He interrupted, fully expecting this to be about your new position. 

“No— well, yes, but everything is clear from the meeting. It’s just—” You played with the bottle in your hands, trying to find the right words. 

“Director Jeon— is he… is he okay?” You seemed genuinely concerned, leaving Jimin too stunned to speak for a second.

See, Jimin didn’t hate you, but he knew— everyone who worked on this floor knew— that you didn’t like Jungkook, at all. Your reasons were a little understandable, considering the way his friend had treated you since you started working here.

Jungkook had no reason to target you because of a mistake you made years ago. Even Jimin had no idea why he was being so petty about it, considering he was normally an easygoing guy. He knew Jungkook didn’t hate you, but he could never pinpoint why he treats you like that. 

“Jimin?” You questioned when he continued to stare at you.

“Yeah, I’m fine… um, you’re asking about Jungkook?”

You nodded. “I don’t know during the meeting… sorry, I might be overstepping, but something just seemed off.”

Jimin continued to stare at you, a little unsure of what to say. He wanted so badly to tell you— honestly, he was just happy you noticed— but…

Even he didn’t know what was going on anymore.

•────•──────────•────•

Jimin never gave you a straight answer. He dodged it entirely actually, not at all calming your nerves about your strange meeting. 

You went home that day with Jungkook on your mind, but not like how he usually was— with you cursing his entire bloodline. No, instead you found yourself wondering what he was doing.

Did he eat today?

Was he sleeping alright? 

Anything to write off today as just a bad day, but as the days turned into weeks in your new position, your concern never lightened up. The more time you spent working closer to him, the more you began seeing all the signs you did back then in high school with Mi-Sun. 

It was like it was happening all over again. It took an attempt for you to fully realize what was happening the last time, but you saw the signs back then just like you did now. Something was wrong, very wrong actually, but every time you met one-on-one, you never found it in yourself to ask him directly how he was doing.

Do you still hate Jeon Jungkook? No, and you hate to say you ever did. Would you whine every time he gave you 15 billion tasks to do in one day? Yes, you did every time. But it was clear he must be dealing with a lot, so you just started keeping your complaints to yourself.

Now nearly a month into getting your new position, you had enough things on your plate to deal with other than whining 24/7 about your workload. 

Today you had to lead a meeting in Director Son’s absence. The drastic drop in temperature had been enough to due him in and he’s been out sick all week. It was at the worst time too, everything was ridiculously hectic because of the holiday season coming up.

Without Director Son here, you were basically the acting director. You’ve been scrambling with all the shit that was being piled into your lap, but you tried to keep a brave face.

This presentation nearly made you collapse. It was a big meeting, and Director Son only gave you a few days to prepare after he let you know he was probably going to be out for a while. But you smashed it, because that’s what you always do. You couldn’t help but smile when you earned a round of applause after you concluded the last slide, and breathed a sigh of relief as soon as everyone slowly started getting up and leaving the meeting room. 

It was finally over…

You went to go pack up your stuff when you suddenly felt someone tap your shoulder. Lo and behold it was him, Head Director Jeon.

“Y/n.” Jungkook seemed nervous as he nodded over at you.

You bowed. “Hope you enjoyed my presentation Director Jeon…” You quickly panicked, worried this conversation was going to be about that.

“Yes, you did great— you always do…” He smiled at you. You were a sucker for compliments, but in the moment, it completely went over your head.

“No, actually this is about tomorrow. Usually, I’d do this with Director Son, but since he’s not here, I was hoping you’d be able to fill in for him.” He seemed even more nervous.

“That’s my job.” You put it matter-of-factly.

“Right, yeah, you’re right.” He chuckled nervously. “Um, tomorrow, as you know, things are pretty crazy these days… I have all these documents to go over for the budget presentation we have coming up for next quarter. Would you be available to stay late with me and go through all the details?”

Oh?

“Of course.” You said not putting much thought into it. You stay late most days anyway.

For some reason, he seemed to tense up even more.

“Good… um… make sure to get a good night's rest; tomorrow might be a long day.” He pointed out.

“Hmm?” 

He already knew what you were going to ask. “This could be an all-night thing… sorry to put you in this position— Director Son and I—“ 

“It’s fine sir. I’ll be there.” You said through gritted teeth, trying your best to force a smile. You didn’t want to be here all night; you were already exhausted as it is and now there was no chance you could agree to any of Solmi’s Halloween plans.

The holiday was tomorrow, and she had wanted to whisk you and Taehyung away to Itaewon for a night full of bar hopping to all the places that were hosting parties in the area. She had pleaded for you to consider it even though you already told her how busy you were. You had honestly been thinking about it, it could have been a night out to de-stress from all that was on your plate, but there goes that opportunity. At least if you didn’t go, you could have been home catching up on sleep, relaxing, anything really but be here. And with Jeon Jungkook?

You regretted saying yes so fast.

“Ok— great… um, again, that was a great presentation. See you tomorrow.” It was an awkward goodbye, but that’s how most of your conversations went, so you didn’t dwell on it.

As the door closed behind him, you took a second to breathe, and enjoy the silence of the meeting room. In that peace, you realized a detail your brain completely skipped over.

You were working overtime with Jungkook. You were going to be alone… together.

Suddenly you felt yourself getting a little nervous. 

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[strawberryya]

The art of seduction - part one

pairing: jeong yunho x reader

synopsis: Since she left you, it feels like your life has been turned upside down, and you're struggling to find your footing. He sees that, and he wants to help. Or maybe it's not as pure as that. Perhaps he's just looking for a new plaything — an artist to inspire, or someone to slowly destroy.

word count: 4.5k

genre/cw: angst, smut, suggestive, fantasy, thriller and/or romance, yandere themes, supernatural au, faery au, leanan sídhe!yunho, human!reader, they/them pronounces for reader, I tried my best to keep all descriptions gn as well - I welcome all feedback on this area ofc, grief and death depicted/mentioned, specific smut warnings will be listed in each part.

rating: 18+

a/n: this has been a big project for so many people this year, and I would like to thank all of the inspiring people in this collab for all the fantastic ideas that has been contributed to make all of these fics possible. it has been a journey writing this, but this fic is only the beginning of the even longer journey that yunho and our mc will be going on ;)

this is part one of my first fic for the wonderful collaboration thrill of the hunt, hosted by @cultofdionysusnet - check out the other exciting and thrilling stories on the official master list here!

the second part to this story will be found here once it's posted. if you wish to be tagged in the continuation you can dm me, send an ask, or comment on this post <3

network tagging: @svthub @cultofdionysusnet @k-labels @kvanity-main

“Oh, he’s the most wonderful man I’ve ever met, y/n! He’s perfect… I didn’t think anyone could be so perfect until he came into my life. He makes me feel like I’ll never need anything ever again… like he and I are enough forever. I need you to meet him someday soon! I wanna introduce you to him, I promise you’ll love him too!”

You never got the chance to meet him. The more you think about it, the more you regret not making more of an effort to do so. Your best friend Anna had been in love with someone, and you hadn’t even had the chance to meet the man she spoke so fondly of. 

“I haven’t been feeling very good lately, y/n… I’ve been to the doctors and they say there’s nothing wrong. They said it’s all in my head, that I should go talk to someone… y/n, do you also think I’m making myself sick?” 

She only got weaker after that. 

And he had seemingly fallen off the face of the earth after she became bedridden. 

She said he came to visit, but she wasn’t in her right mind in those final weeks. Nobody had signed in at the reception. Nobody had seen a beautiful man with dark brown hair that gleamed blood-red when the sun shone. During all that time when she was admitted into the psychological ward at the city’s second-largest hospital you and Anna’s mom were the only visitors. 

They said she was mad…

You had wondered a lot about who he might’ve been during those times when she had talked about him as if she had just spoken to him, but nobody had seen anyone in her room. Had he been a fraction of her imagination the entire time? Or had her mind created a lie based on a man who had left her before her illness took over her mind and body? 

When she passed he was the one piece of the puzzle that you couldn’t let go of. If you had tried harder to meet him, would her illness have been caught earlier? Could it have been found and treated before it took her life…?

You’ve been staying late at the studio lately, trying to get through your feelings about losing her through your art. The shadows in the room seem to close in on you at every chance they get, and you don’t fight them. Hugged by the darkness is somehow better than being left so completely alone. 

The brush strokes soothe you like nothing else is able to. Fizzling seas crash along the shore, a looming tree stands barren and alone, and her face appears in the dark clouds. 

The only things you know to be true are that: she is gone, you are in pain, and you can only paint this one single picture. The lonesome tree at the cliff, watching the storms and waves trying to pull the ground away from beneath the large oak tree. You paint it over and over again, day after day, and you haven’t even paid any mind to when other artists have come and gone through the studio. People painted right next to you, people posed on the podium in front of you, and you didn’t care about any of it. All that matters to you is that you have been left all alone. 

Your best friend has died, and you can’t even do the one thing you have been able to do your entire life ー paint. You had pursued your passion fiercely, not budging even as your parents pleaded with you to be reasonable and try “having a career worth having”, and let painting stay as a hobby. It was how you had met Anna. She was a dancer, and she had gotten into the same art college as you. Back then you had both been carefree young adults, simply trying your best to survive on your own for the first time in your lives. Now, she has left you, with the bittersweet taste of the last conversations you had had with her on your tongue. 

“He inspires me you know, I’m just a dancer anymore when he looks at me, I become the air itself.” 

You had smiled and nodded at her nonsense, she seemed to be dreaming of it. Her limbs were too weak to be of use, but she had the same smile on her lips as when she performed. You had tried your best not to be mad at her for only speaking of this man even as she lay dying in a hospital, dreaming of her passion was at least better than dreaming of him. The tears had stung your eyes as you held her hand before leaving her to her rambling. 

It has been a while since her funeral, and you have practically been living at the studio. Home doesn’t make you feel any better, so you sleep on the small pullout couch in the corner instead. It isn’t meant to be slept on and your back is sore from the many nights in a row you have spent on it. But the art studio is at least comforting you more than home. You have too many memories of Anna in your apartment. Here you can focus on your art. At least, that’s the idea. You have had no inspiration since her death. It’s strange, she hadn’t exactly been the reason you painted, but everything that happened still affected even that part of you. 

You had begun questioning if you should give it all up, move home to your parents for a few months, and go back to your waitress job until you had processed all of this. But could you give up on your passion? After years of struggling to pass courses and hustling on the side of your studies just to make it all work? What would Anna say if she knew…?

You aren’t sure how it happened, it might've been a dream. It’s barely been three weeks since Anna’s funeral and you woke up with the clearest picture of a man you had never met in your mind. 

He’s handsome, just like she had told you. He has gentle features, and dark, captivating eyes that catch hold of your mind and refuse to let go. You can’t seem to escape the image of the stranger you know in your bones is the same man Anna had known. 

Sometime after the day you had first seen him in your mind, after hours in front of your easel and a blank canvas, you finally force yourself to pick up the brush. This couldn’t be the end of pursuing the only career you had ever wanted. You need to get over it and paint something, other than that stubborn tree and the punishing sea. His features burn your eyelids, and you see him as you blink and dream of him as you sleep. You can’t escape the visions, so you make him real, tangible. You create a portrait of the man in your head. Watching the finished portrait once you put down the brush. 

You look at it until it gets dark again, staring into his eyes until you fall asleep on the couch in the corner. 

You wake up with a headache. You groan quietly since you neither have the energy nor the will to get up and take something for the throbbing pain stemming from the sides of your head. Before you could even summon the will to get up despite this, you almost jumped off the couch in surprise. There is another person in the room. You’re still in the corner of the room, so the stranger might’ve missed that you were even there, you reason. It looks like a man from behind. His short dark hair lay in a rather messy way against the back of his head. He’s turned away from you, watching the painting you had fallen asleep staring at. He’s tall, his shoulders are broad. You panic, because what did this man want, and why was he here in the middle of the night?

“Who are you?” you ask breathlessly, jumping up from the couch, trying to see if he’s someone you know in the dim light. Could he be another artist here to paint at an odd hour? You don’t recognize him, but you aren’t the best at remembering people, so you’re not sure if you should be screaming or apologizing for your hostile greeting. 

The man didn’t even flinch at the sound of your voice. He didn’t seem like a threat, but then again, something about him creeped you out. You ignore the fact that he also intrigued you, and try to catch his attention again. “Hey, I asked you a question.” In response, he simply raises a hand as if to shush you. 

This man hadn’t just broken into the studio late at night – he was also incredibly rude. The air around him is so still, so calm that it’s giving you chills. You want to see his face. If he was going to murder you, you want to have looked the fucker in the eye so you can, at least, curse his existence. You take a step forward, grabbing a long paintbrush from the drying rack. Maybe you can get his eye if you’re fast enough.

“So aggressive, little dove,” the man finally says. His voice is smooth and deep. It’s an attractive voice, at least your murderer has a nice voice, not that that makes this situation salvageable. You’re still prepared to stab him with the wooden brush in your hand. 

“Wouldn’t you be aggressive if you woke up to a stranger in your bedroom as well?” 

You had tried putting on a brave face, hoping that he wouldn’t notice how scared you were. He seemed to see through this facade easily though, chuckling at your attempt instead of turning around to face you. “Not your bedroom. I’ve been to your bedroom and this isn’t it. Also, not really a stranger, am I?” 

Your breath won’t calm down, and your heart is beating mercilessly in your chest. This man had been in your apartment? And you know him? What the hell is he talking about? “Are you some kind of stalker you fucking creep?” you wheeze out, taking a step away from him. 

You desperately wish for this to be some kind of nightmare. 

When he turns around you’re sure it is because there’s no way the man you see in front of you isn’t just a fiction of your imagination. Dark hair, streaks of red when the light from the window hits it. Perfect lips, and captivating eyes. It’s him. The man in your painting, alive right in front of you. Your grip on the brush tightens, the bristles folding backward from the pressure of your palm. The world began to spin, he wasn’t real, he couldn’t be real. You see the edges of your vision blur and his smile widens at the visible panic you were displaying. 

He was right, he isn’t a stranger. 

“I think you might’ve heard about me, little dove. She used to talk about you ー the talented artist she had met in college.”

It couldn’t be, you hear the blood rushing in your ears like thunder. “Who?” 

He smiled innocently, “Don’t you remember your friend? Anna, I think her name was.” 

No. It couldn’t be true. The brush fell from your hand as you fell to the ground. Your already sleep-deprived mind couldn’t handle the thought that maybe the man Anna had spoken about was real, and right in front of you. Knocking yourself unconscious was the only thing your body could do to stop your heart from giving out. 

Have you gone mad as well? Maybe this was your way of grieving? Should you go to the hospital?

The questions spun in your mind. He was gone when you woke up. But the long brush in your hand and the bruises on your knees and shoulder felt like substantial proof that you had not lost your mind. He had been here, you know it, but who would believe you if you told them? Who would even care?

You decide to let it go, instead, you force yourself to go back to your apartment. A change of clothes was needed and you know that the lady down the hallway will be worried after not having seen you for days yet again. She had been at Anna’s funeral, wondering how and why your roommate had passed so quickly at such a young age. You hadn’t known what to answer. You still didn’t have your own answers as to “how” or “why”. At least, none that you could share…

You had managed to shower and get into some clothes when your neighbor knocked on the door. 

“Hi, Auntie,” you greet her as she had insisted you do ever since you and Anna had first moved in. She’s older than any of your real aunts, but remarking on that had felt incredibly inappropriate, so you had both simply accepted your fate and begun calling her “Auntie”. 

"Darling!" How are you? I haven't seen you here in days! I was beginning to worry. You know, this was just how it was with Anna, I didn’t see her for days and then she would show up saying she had been busy practicing and dating and whatnot!”

You don’t respond, forcing a smile. She meant well, but when she insisted on bringing you some food you wanted to refuse her. She didn’t mind your protests, “Oh, dear child, you don’t even know how sunken your face looks. You need some of my home-cooked food to get your spirits back up!” 

In the end, your refrigerator was filled with casseroles and little boxes of different dishes, and a bitter feeling, knowing you wouldn’t be here to eat it. You left your apartment as swiftly as you had arrived, not wanting to stick around long enough to see the traces of a life lived – a life you didn’t feel belonged to you anymore. You brought what you could carry in your bag back to the studio. 

You fall asleep again, after hours of trying to create something, only creating more pain in your back from sitting on the wooden stool all afternoon instead. It’s not like you hadn’t tried your best to think about anything else besides him, you had actually tried your very best! But in the end, your mind kept wandering back to the dip of his lips, and the grin on his face as you fainted. You painted the outline of his lips, over and over again. 

You hated him. 

Would he come back?

He had mocked you with his words.

Why had you felt such a rush when he spoke?

You never wanted to see his perfect face ever again.

Why couldn’t you stop wishing to see him just one more time? 

You woke from a cool hand on your hair. Slowly and gently he patted your head until you opened your eyes. It was still dark out, and he was back. Leaning over your sleeping body, a large hand caressing the side of your head. You scream, and he smirks. He shushes you, and you push him away angrily. 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” you shout. 

“You wanted to see me again, I thought it best to wake you so your wishes could be fulfilled.” His voice coursed through you, giving you goosebumps again. “Don’t be angry with me, little dove.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“Don’t lie. It’s not polite,” he retorts as soon as the words leave your mouth. 

“I don’t care, I hate you. Leave me alone!” You bark out the words, tears stinging your eyes. You don’t know why you’re reacting so strongly to him. 

His tongue darts out to lick at his lips in annoyance. “Little dove,” he chirps menacingly, “Lie one more time and I won’t help you anymore.”

He terrifies you. He’s beautiful, but nothing about him feels true. He’s like those beautiful flowers forever trapped inside glass orbs. You wanted to protect the frozen beauty from getting the slightest scratch and smash it to pieces, all at once. 

“Help me…?”

The gentle smile on his lips came back when you revealed that he had managed to pique your interest. “Mm, I help people. Artists, especially… it’s an interest of mine, the arts.” He winked at you, which caught you off guard. 

“And you came here to help me?” 

He nodded, but you weren’t convinced. 

“Why? I didn’t ask for any help from you.”

He looked around the room, gaze wandering over the canvasses you had painted in the last couple of weeks, all depicting the shore and the dead tree. All except two. The portrait of him, and the sketches of his lips. 

“You did that?” You ask incredulously. His gaze snaps back to you sharply. 

“Of course. Didn’t it feel different? It felt like you had been inspired by something again, did it not?” His voice is honey in your ears, but the sticky feeling is making you want to flee for your life. You don’t. 

“Want me to prove it?”

You frown, “What do you mean prove it? Are you going to inspire me to paint something on the spot in the middle of the night?”

“Tell me you want it and I’ll make sure you feel inspired for the rest of your miserable human life, little dove.” 

His wording is so unnatural, you think for just a moment. You don’t trust him one bit, but perhaps this is the way to convince yourself that he is indeed just some creep that you need to get away from. You take a deep breath before answering, “I’ll agree if you tell me your name.”

The man stepped back, you had made him flinch. You don’t know why you made that exact demand. Maybe you had just really wanted to call him something other than “the one Anna spoke of” in your mind. It hurt each time you remembered her name.

“A name can be more powerful than you think, little dove,” his tone warned you of something. He seems on edge for the first time since you met him. 

You don’t budge, his reaction only makes you more sure that you need to follow your gut. “Tell me, and you can help me.”

He hesitated before seemingly giving in to some innate need that you didn’t understand yet. “Yunho. That’s one of my names… Use it with care, little dove.”

You turned his name around in your mind, tasting the sweet taste on your tongue as you said it out loud. “Yunho… Sure, help me find inspiration to paint again.”

The same excited and menacing grin he had worn the last time you spoke now grace his lips again, and you feel you have committed a horrible mistake. 

You look around the room, the sun is rising and casting long shadows from the easels placed around the podium. How has the entire night already passed you by? You have no memory of sleeping. You look at your hands, they are covered in paint. Why had you been so messy? You couldn’t remember right away. You know that you have painted. Yunho had kissed your hand, you can still remember the heat of his breath on your skin. Then you had picked up your brush. You hadn’t been frightened by the fact that you weren’t in control of your actions. After the weeks of forcing yourself to do the most basic human functions to stay alive, having something else move your hand in your stead was somehow freeing. 

When you look at the canvas your breath stops. It’s him, you have painted him again. He’s not completely like himself, however, he is just as captivating in the picture as he is in reality. You had managed to capture his beautiful features, from the way his cupid’s bow dips graciously on his lips, to the way his hair gleams blood red when light shines through it. But behind him is something new, something you have never seen belonging to a human before. Wings, almost translucent wings, appearing on the canvas as a shimmer of light blue and white, adorned with shimmering ruby gemstones. He looked magnificent. 

“Pretty,” you hear his voice whisper on your neck before you feel his soft lips press against your skin. You shiver, it feels good but you’re still in shock, watching the man who’s behind you on the canvas in front of you. 

“How is this possible?” you mumble.

“You were inspired,” he responds calmly, brushing your hair away from your face from behind. “Did you enjoy it?”

You have a feeling that the answer to that is yes, but you also know you shouldn’t reveal that. “I don’t remember.”

“I think you did… I know you did.” 

The way he seems to know everything, even the things you don’t, scares you a bit. But you might be addicted to the feeling of his touch, you’re addicted to what he can do to you, addicted to what he makes you feel deep inside. He has given you your passion back, he has helped you paint again, and you had enjoyed it this time. This shouldn’t be possible. Why does this man have so much power over you that he could help you paint as you had used to, for the first time since Anna’s passing? 

There’s no way he’s human, no human looked like he did. In the morning light, he was even more dashing, even more unreal. You want to smash his perfect exterior to pieces and see the flower inside rot as the air hits its delicate petals. 

“Go away. I don’t want this,” you choke out, pushing down the sobs that threaten to escape your throat. He kisses your neck again, but you don’t move. “I think I’ll die if I don’t end this Yunho. Please, just leave me alone.”

“It’s possible, but maybe you’ll be the one who makes it out alive.” His honey voice rang in your ears as the day began and his touch against your back disappeared. You cried yourself to sleep. You knew everything was wrong, Yunho was wrong. But there was nothing you could do about it anymore. 

Two days passed without so much as a glimpse of Yunho. The hours of the night when he didn’t come to see you had almost been enough to convince you that you had truly gone mad. But then, suddenly, there he was, as dashing as ever. Pretty eyes watching you stare at an empty easel. 

A chilling chuckle escaped him, nothing more. He stands and gazes upon your hopeless state for a while in silence. You will never get rid of him, you realize. You’re not upset about it. You can’t be upset. Nothing feels real anymore. 

Yunho circles you, a predator watching his prey. You don’t flinch under his gaze this time. When he leans his lean body against the stool next to yours you feel disgusted. You weren’t upset that he would never leave you alone, but you deserved to know why, at least. 

“What do you want from me?”

“Want?” He sounds almost offended. 

“You’re not here just because it’s fun to sit around and watch me paint all day.”

He didn’t give you an answer, he just smiled at you with that perfectly enchanting smile of his. He’s dangerous, his beauty is dangerous. He leans forward on the stool, his face now scarily close to yours. Will he kiss you…? You can feel Yunho’s breath, hot against your lips, his gaze burning as he stares into your eyes and flickers down to your mouth. Do you want him to kiss you…? 

What do you want from him?

You almost forget that he hasn’t given you an answer when he bends forward, his lips inches away from yours. This time you do flinch. Can he read your mind too? No, your eyes stare right back into his, a flash of maroon tints his irises an unnatural color before it disappears just as fast as it showed up. 

His thumb drags across the side of your cheek, a small smirk plays on Yunho’s deceptive lips. “I’ll make you a promise,” he whispers, “I promise to make sure you’re motivated to do what you love the most, for the rest of your life.”

His breath burns hot against your wet lips. You want to kiss him. “A promise…?” you exhale, mind not quite able to focus on his words, but they sound good to you right now. You swallow, eyes flickering to his perfectly shaped cupid bow, his rosy lips, and the tongue that teases behind his plump lips. “What… what would I have to do…?” 

“A clever dove, I knew you would ask the right questions.”

You didn’t truly understand though, too distracted by Yunho’s eyes mirroring your flickering gaze, teasingly watching the way your hands fiddled with the brush in your hand. 

“All you have to do in return is say that you agree, and I will fulfill all of your wishes.” His soothing hand moves around to the nape of your neck, his grip gentle but secure. 

Will he fulfill them all? 

Does it even matter? Almost anything would be good enough to accept right now, at least you can’t think of something that would be worse than walking through life as the zombie you had been since… Since Anna’s death. If you accept his proposal, will you find out what happened to her? 

“I agree.” 

Your stomach flips when plush lips are pressed against yours. It seems he had already begun living up to his word. At least he wasn’t playing a trick on you when it came to that part. His hands travel over your body, he knows exactly how to touch you the way you like it. Has he been watching you for a long time? Or is it something magical, like those shimmery wings you had imagined he had? You’re not sure, but knowing could wait until later. Right now you have a couple of needs. Needs that Yunho had promised to fulfill. His leg firmly presses open your legs, strong muscle relieving some of the intense pressure that had built up in your lower abdomen since the thought of having him in this way had sprouted in your mind. You need more. You close your eyes even tighter as you let the brush fall from your grip. Hands moving across Yunho’s perfect form without hesitation. 

The sound of the brush hitting the floor didn’t reach your ears. You were already lost to the world of humans. 

“Do you believe in fairies? I do. I think there are things we don’t know in this world. Magical things. If I could go there I would, I think it’s a beautiful place, nothing like Earth. I’d want to dance for them…”

Reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated!! Hearing what you thought is what makes writing and being here overall so much fun! Ty and ily 💕

[briarberrythornedhart]

Courage is a Prerequisite

CW: Eddie being kinda a jerk to reader at first, Aged up Characters, reference to nude pictures, mostly fluff, no smut

Eddie Munson/You

Word count: 1615

⚔️ ⚔️ ⚔️

You found that cursed flyer in the Roane County Community College Library, tacked to the bulletin board.

You joined the group with some hesitation, but they were mostly cool.

Mostly dudes, quite a few graduates from Hawkin’s High, and a few current high school seniors. Including, your favorite - Dustin Henderson - the adorable little brother you always wished for.

Dustin was funny and welcoming and had a way of knowing (like magic) how to shut down arguments among the party. He was the social director for the group. Always throwing parties for everyone’s birthdays and organizing secret gift exchanges and creating sign up sheets for potlucks. He had a gift for getting people to be involved and do things.

Dustin could even influence the group’s Dungeon Master.

Eddie was 25 years old, a mechanic by day, a gifted lead guitarist every other Friday, an artist, whip-smart, and devastatingly hot but SOOOOO Annoying!!

Somehow Dustin had figured out how to make Eddie Munson (who absolutely still complained everytime) to come to these other events and on time and with his assigned snacks.

Eddie was respectful as a Dungeon Master but out of game, sometimes, he was just mean to you for no goddam reason. Sometimes he would be all teasy-flirty with you and then make fun of you if you flirted back.

The third session you attended maybe dressed up a bit (just to look cute) maybe a little to get his attention. Eddie looked you over and called you a ‘dirty slut’. He was ‘joking’ or whatever... when you got angry he said he meant the outfit looked hot (not you though - specifically your outfit) and he was “sorry for joking around” but ever since you had been holding this grudge...

Anyway - Dickish DM aside - the group was great.

⚔️ ⚔️ ⚔️

About two months into the current Campaign (and 2 dead characters - murdered by the dick DM in collusion with your bad die rolls), at the end of a long but admittedly exciting game night, everyone was packing up to go.

Jeff and Eddie were in a heated argument about who would win in a fight between Captain Kirk and Han Solo.

But you stopped listening to that silliness because Dustin approached you, “Can I ask for some advice?”

Aww - he came to you for advice. It warmed your heart that he wanted to open up to you about his worries. He was such a cutie-goober. Equal parts of both.

“Suzie’s mad at me,” he sighed.

“What’d you do?” You asked. Because little-dude was a Goober. And Suzie was pretty easy-going from what you could tell.

Dustin looked uncomfortable, and he near-whispered, “We were sending dot matrix converted pictures of each other - our school pictures - through web email and I asked if she would show me something... lower.”

“Dustin.” The rebuke in your voice was mild. As was the offense in your opinion. They’d been together (long distance) for years, you’d have asked for naughty pictures too in that situation.

You still clicked your tongue at him, though.

“I know, I know,” he took off his ball cap and ran his hands through his long curly hair, “... but I can’t help wondering... you know upstairs-outsidies is as far as we got at Camp Know Where and I said I want her to be my girl and she said ‘forever’ and so...”

“The ‘net is a wild place right now, man, that’s a crazy trust exercise for you to ask for! What if someone hacks in and takes the pictures?!” You shook your head at the audacity.

“Or my mom could find them printed out. I know, I know and I apologized and told her I'd keep my hormones in check - but I don’t think she’s forgiven me and she’s just so pretty and I love her - and I don’t want her to be mad at me anymore for being a stereotypical gross hornball dude.”

“I don’t think she’s mad at you for wanting to see her naked. I know she’s in that very religious *cough Cult* household but like Guys don’t have a monopoly on hormones and desire and shit.” You tapped your pencil with the troll eraser topper against your cheek pondering this... “Personally, I’d feel more comfortable mailing polaroids of my body than sending them in electronic mail. It feels safer...”

A familiar voice danced into your ears. “Oh, would you?? Is there a mailing list I should sign up for?” Of course DM Eddie was eavesdropping and interrupting players, his favorite pastimes.

“This is an A and B conversation, Munson, you can C your way out of it.” You snarked.

“I don’t think so, Sweetheart. Ya’ see - Dustin is asking for advice from You,” he narrowed his eyes and leaned in - it would be menacing if he wasn’t equal parts goofy and pretty - those freckles across his pretty face..., “ You - our newest member, and I’ve known Dustin longer - I’m gonna have a better understanding of his whole situation.” He cocked his head forward and his hair flew around - it was so stupid pretty.. .Annoying. It was so Annoying. “I’ve got seniority here, dollface.” he looked back and forth between you. “So what’s the situation?”

Dustin cleared his throat to start explaining but you forced a laugh and put up a finger in the air, “I wouldn’t ask Munson to advise me out of a wet paper bag.”

Eddie made a noise between a scoff and a hurt gasp but his eyes sparkled. “I would never give Dustin bad advice.” he looked at Dustin, “Didn’t I help you THIS session, to avoid pissing off that Djinni prince??”

“Of course you know the answers In Game when you are a Big Bad Serious DM.” You put your hands on your hips. “This is real life. Dustin doesn’t want to mess things up with Suzie.”

“Wait? Is Suzie a real person?” Eddie smirked. This was a common bit- the whole group (with yourself, Will, and Mike as the notable exceptions) teased Dustin about his long distance girlfriend not being real. Of course they hadn’t been in chat rooms with her like you had. She had a LOT of personality and no AI was that sophisticated...

yet.

Dustin didn’t even dignify the jab with a response. He just looked at you with pain in his eyes. “So, how do I make her forgive me?”

“You don’t.” You said. And both guys looked like you slapped their individual faces (!). “I mean, you can’t MAKE someone forgive you, Dustin! You need to be brave. You can only work to figure out what really happened, then apologize - a real apology that shows understanding of her feelings and concerns - and promise to do better. And I think she doesn’t want to hear you say you are ‘sorry for wanting to see her naked’ because that’s probably not what pissed her off and ... it’s not true, is it?”

Dustin nodded. “Yeah. Okay, okay, I can do that.” Clearly listening and processing this, “Hey - can I get a ride home?”

“I’d love to, Buddy, but my car is broken again.” You shrugged. “I biked.”

“What’d you do to her now??” Eddie groused.

“Nothing!! she’s just old.” You snapped.

“You need to do regular maintenance, I’ve told you this before - fer cryin’ out loud! Is the engine smoking again?” Eddie griped.

“Yes - Eddie! You Know I can’t afford regular oil changes. Not at the rate you recommend.”

Dustin cleared his throat. “Eddie, can you drive us both home?” He smiled with his little brother energy and Eddie replied,

“Of course, dude, grab your stuff.” And to you. “You coming?” All weird and stilted like he didn’t want to give you a ride and You’d Honestly Rather not impose and subject yourself to more of his BS, but It was Raining.

Eddie helped you heft your bike into the back of his van. He wouldn’t make eye contact with you though.

Dustin kept you both on safe-non-argument-inducing topics on the ride to his place. But then you were alone with Eddie. So it was inevitable that he would start some shit with you.

He licked his upper lip and turned towards you in the back. “Can you come up here, please, I’ll feel less like your chauffeur.”

“You’d make a terrible chauffeur.” You said conversationally as you got into the front and sank into the plush seat, crossing your arms over your chest.

Eddie looked like he was gonna start a fight with you again but then sighed, drooped, his hair falling in his face. “I’m... sorry.”

Did he just say that?? Really??

“I’m sorry I said you looked like a dirty slut.” His words were suddenly coming at you like a verbal deluge. Drowning you in sincerity?? He was capable of Sincerity?? “I’m sorry... that I said ... that I was joking. What I should have said is... I always think you look hot and it’s distracting sometimes when I’m trying to be a big bad serious DM, and you are in these tight jeans and shit and I don’t want... to fight with you anymore. I want us to be close. Like you and Dustin apparently are. Friends. If you can be friends with a guy who finds you attractive. Please. I’ll... I’ll do better.”

He turned toward you and his eyes were so big and pretty. His sexy lips were saying impossible things. Maybe you hit your head earlier and are currently passed out or this is a dream or...

“I promise. I can be a good friend. I can.” He sounded a tad unsure.

“Eddie, I can't just be friends with you. I’m into you. I’m totally bonkers crazy about you.”

“Oh.” For a moment he looked confused. Still sad. Contemplative.

And then the trademark smirk came back. “So, that means you want to be more than friends with me?”

[dix0nvix3n]

➳જ⁀➴ 𝕯𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖗'𝖘 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌 ⟡ [𝔏𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝔘𝔭𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡: 7/25/24]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩 ℑ𝔫𝔣𝔬:

𓆩⚝𓆪 I'd rather not reveal my real name here so please call me Dagger.

𓆩⚝𓆪 I'm genderfluid and my pronouns are they/he/she.

𓆩⚝𓆪 I'm 22.

𓆩⚝𓆪 Even though I'm genderfluid anything I write the reader will always use she/her pronouns but potentially I may be able to write for a gender-neutral reader.

𓆩⚝𓆪 I'm a big time rambler/yapper so please dm me any time you wanna talk! (Please know that I'll often forget to respond or go through periods of time I can't talk though.)

𓆩⚝𓆪 I'm autistic and have an ADHD riddled mess of a brain which is the core factor of why I write so slow along with me being new to writing and not grasping it easily so please be patient with me. Trust that I have several wips at all times that I can never finish.

𓆩⚝𓆪 Another part of being neurodivergent makes it so that I have a harder time interacting with people here. I often don't reblog and sometimes I won't even like a post because I feel like I'm bothering the person who made the post somehow. My brain isn't very nice to me. I'm trying to get past this but it's hard.

𓆩⚝𓆪 I currently only write for Daryl Dixon from The Walking Dead and Scud Frohmeyer from Blade 2 but I hope to write for other characters Norman has played some day.

𓆩⚝𓆪 My fics will always come with a warning description of some kind and if l ever miss something you think should be in the warning, please let me know!

𓆩⚝𓆪 I post edits @ daryldixonvixen on tiktok, if you're also an editor please tell me and I'll follow you!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝔉𝔲𝔫 𝔉𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔰:

𓆩⚝𓆪 My favorite TWDverse ship isn’t even from TWD, it’s actually John and June from Fear The Walking Dead and my favorite Non Canon TWD ship is RosiTara. I don’t ship Daryl with anyone probably cause of how attatched I am to him so don't expect to see any ship posts. (Your ship opinions are valid though so don't come bringing ship discourse to my page. I hate Bethyl though and if I see you supporting the ship it's an instant block from me.)

𓆩⚝𓆪 I have 10 piercings. Septum, right eyebrow, a daith, a conch, a bridge, four helixes, and a left nostril.

𓆩⚝𓆪 I first watched The Walking Dead at a themed birthday party for it when I was in 7th grade when I was 13, we watched the whole first season and I wanted to continue watching once I got home but I couldn't find any way to watch it so I didn't end up watching again until December of 2022 when I was 20. The only things I could remember from when I first started watching were Glenn and the horse dying lmao. The show forever changed me and has become a major source of comfort for me and became my special interest, I'm just so mad it took me so long to watch more of the show.

𓆩⚝𓆪 I don't understand zodiacs too much but I'm a Cancer Sun, Scorpio Moon, and a Capricorn Rising.

𓆩⚝𓆪 My current hair style was inspired by Scud since I loved his hair so much!

𓆩⚝𓆪 How Daryl would help you on your period

𓆩⚝𓆪 Trimming Daryl's hair blurb

𓆩⚝𓆪 Convincing Daryl to wear reading glasses to help with his squinting

𓆩⚝𓆪 Music Daryl Dixon would listen to but it's accurate spotify playlist

𓆩⚝𓆪 Daryl running from the cops from a house party blurb/ inspired by Killing In The Name by Rage Against The Machine

𓆩⚝𓆪 Murphy Macmanus speaking multiple languages when dirty talking to you

𓆩⚝𓆪 Piercings that Scud would look good with ramble

𓆩⚝𓆪 Daryl with a reader who has multiple piercings

𓆩⚝𓆪 My Travis chai bot

𓆩⚝𓆪 The Summer of 1992 and What Came Before and After (Will be putting a link to a new masterlist for the series here instead at some point.)

𓆩⚝𓆪 Daryl and Norman Lightroom edits 1

𓆩⚝𓆪 Daryl and Norman Lightroom edits 2

𓆩⚝𓆪 Daryl, Sandman edit

𓆩⚝𓆪 Daryl, Blue Monday edit

𓆩⚝𓆪 Murphy, Carnival edit

𓆩⚝𓆪 Scud, Can't Get You out of My Head edit

𓆩⚝𓆪 Multiple Norman characters, Hotel Motel edit

𓆩⚝𓆪 To see any of my various shitposts go into my search under the tag ;daggershitposts📣

𓆩⚝𓆪 And here's a Daryl and me face reveal moodboard. This is probably the only place here on my account where I'll show my face. This really shows why I wrote the reader from The Summer Of 1992 and What Came Before and After as alternative cause I myself am alternative!

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

Hi there! I don’t know if you write poly Sinclair or not but if you do could I get a poly Sinclair x reader (female or gender neutral is fine) where the reader gets really mad at someone for not understanding what they want despite how many times they explain and so the boys comfort her/them and calm them down?

I’m getting really frustrated with my counselor for basically ignoring what I’m saying to the point where I want to scream and cry and I just really need some x reader comfort right now lol, but no pressure of course! Sorry if this is over stepping anything! Have a lovely day/night!

pairing: poly!sinclair x gn!reader

summary: when you get back from a difficult counsellor appointment, the sinclairs try to offer you some comfort

warnings: minor injury detail, blood

a/n: this isn't overstepping at all, i'm happy to write this for you! thank you so much for requesting, sorry it took a while, and i hope you enjoy! <3

also, sorry to hear your counsellor's being so difficult, i know the feeling when people don't listen to you. if you ever need to talk, my dms are always open :)

word count: 905

You were so frustrated you felt like you were about to explode as you walked through the front door of the house, Bo lounging about on the couch, Vincent clearly elsewhere.

It didn't take Bo long to notice something was up, as he stood up from the couch, proceeding to follow you into the kitchen. "The hell's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." You muttered, getting a glass of water as Bo stood beside you, leaning against the counter.

You'd just come back from a counselling session, and they hadn't listened to a word you'd said. You might as well have been talking to a brick wall.

"Well I think we both know that's bullshit, sweetheart." Bo argued, watching you as you leaned over the sink. "So what's the matter with you?"

"It doesn't matter."

Before Bo could say anything else, the front door swung open, Lester walking in with Jonesy happily circling his feet.

He was covered in dirt and smelled like wet dog as he walked into the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge. He didn't even register you and Bo at first, as he sat down at the table with a bottle of orange juice, gulping it down like his life depended on it.

But once he finally acknowledged you both, he became mildly concerned by the agitated look on Bo's face. "You alright, (y/n)?"

"Fine." You answered, turning from the sink, only to crash into Vincent, the glass in your hand falling to the floor.

And that was the final straw, the thing to completely shatter the wall you had put up.

Tears burned your eyes as you bent down to start picking up the broken glass, and you wanted to scream, you wanted to yell at everyone in the room right now.

But all you could do was try desperately to hold back tears as you focused on picking up the glass.

Vincent was soon kneeling in front of you, attempting to help with the cleanup, but if you were being honest, you just wanted to be left alone right now.

All your frustration was bubbling up inside of you now, and you were worried you'd end up taking it out on the brothers, which would've been awful considering they'd done nothing wrong.

You picked up another piece of glass, adding it to the small pile you were creating in the palm of your hand, desperately trying to block everybody out as you did.

But the second Bo's hands came over yours, you were unable to keep yourself calm, turning and shoving him away from you, forgetting about the broken glass that was now enclosed in your fist.

You winced when you felt the glass pierce your skin, warm blood beginning to run across the palm of your hand.

Bo immediately spotted the blood seeping through your fingers, urging you to drop the glass as you opened your hand.

You practically stayed there in silence as Bo helped you up off the floor, instructing Vincent to go and get the first aid kit, telling Lester to clean up the mess.

"And make sure you keep the damn dog away from it. We don't want no more injuries around here." He'd added, as he guided you into the living room, sitting you down on the couch and kneeling in front of you, his hands still cradling your injured one.

"You gonna tell me what's wrong?" He finally asked you, concern in his eyes as he looked up at you.

Silent tears were staining your cheeks as you looked at him, all the pent up emotion finally spilling out of you.

You eventually offered him a brief explanation, to which he was surprisingly understanding.

"Alright, well let's take care of that hand and we can all relax, okay?" He told you.

You gave him a quiet nod, just as Vincent returned with the first aid kit.

He quickly looked you over, his rough hands carefully wrapped around your own as he inspected the injury. And he concluded that it wasn't serious, deciding to simply clean it up and wrap it.

Once he was finished, Bo joined you on the couch, Vincent coming to sit on the other side of you. And you were even more shocked when Bo handed you the remote, considering he never let anybody touch the remote.

A few moments passed and Lester finally arrived in the living room, carrying a slightly stained mug in his hands.

"Thought I'd make you some herbal tea." He smiled, handing you the cup. "Heard it's good for stress and stuff."

You offered him a small smile, before taking a sip of the tea. And it took everything in you not to visibly cringe from the taste. It was fucking digusting, but you still appreciated the gesture.

Lester then joined you all on the couch, his eyes never leaving you as he watched you sipping the tea.

To be completely honest, Bo and Vincent couldn't stop their gaze from wandering to you either. They all just wanted to make sure that you were okay. You meant so much to them, and despite their callous lifestyle, they couldn't bear to see you hurting.

But as you sat with them in front of the TV, a cheesy romance movie playing on the screen, you found that you were at peace. Being here, with your boys, you were home. And you wouldn't want it any other way.

[Main Masterlist]

[st4rgzer]

CAN YOU DO STILL THINK ABOUT YOU BY A BOOGIE WITH A HOODIE AND MAKE IT LIKE ANGSTY ND SHI ( chris pls🙏🏽🙏🏽 ) .

still think about you (chris sturniolo)

summary: when enough is enough, you act and confront chris

genre: just angst

cw!: swearing, cheating, kissing

a/n: i tried to do this the best i could since i didnt really know the song, i went with a different path (slightly) but i hope you like it<3

“i love you”

“…”

who knew a relationship of 6 months could be over over nothing, literally nothing. a silence. a silence that i anticipated, but nonetheless hurt just like the last time i tried saying it. from the look on chris’s face, he knew he fucked up, again.

“chris?” my voice was brittle, easily able to break any second now. my bottom lip trembled as he looked away, a guilty expression being hidden from me.

“baby you know how i feel-“ i cut him off. “do i?”

almost every ounce of respect i had for him shriveled away right then and there.

“do i know how you feel, if you can’t even fucking say ‘i love you’ to my face?” i tried to keep a firm voice despite the tears the pricked my eyes, desperate to come out.

i laughed, throwing my hands up in the air, in disbelief at the stupidity of the situation, and at chris’s inability to say a word.

“i don’t know what to say.”

“y’know what my mom told me, told me to watch who i fuck with and never trust a guy like you for shit.”

my words were petty and dripped with venom, tears falling over my cheeks. chris could only watch in pity.

“my friends warned me, fuck it, everyone warned me about you and about how much of a shit fucking person you are. but i didn’t believe them, and now i know. i feel fucking stupid, but i know i should’ve known better. instead of trusting any fucking bitch that slides into my dm’s. sure you might be rich ‘nd famous, but you’re no different than any rat i could find on the street.”

i spoke loudly, harshly. meaning every word that spewed from my mouth. my hand came up to my face to wipe the tears that had previously fallen. chris sniffed and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, keeping his head down, he knew i had a right to be this mad. making me wait and wait till he was ‘ready’ to step forward with the relationship.

seeing as he was going to do next to nothing to keep me from going, i grabbed my purse and stomped across his living room, opened the door, and slammed it shut.

it was bittersweet, sitting in my car in his driveway, secretly waiting for him to run after me. but nothing happened, no one ran after me. so i kept some of my self respect and drove off, leaving behind who i thought was going to be the ‘love of my life’.

but mundane moments don’t feel the same with his hands wrapped around my waist, head leaned on the crook of my neck. his scent had washed off from all my clothes after a few weeks. no messages from him came, and i don’t think he ever intended to send one anyway. the worst thing is i still check, i still care. so it made sense for me to grab the phone when a post notification of his instagram page went off. one that made my stomach drop, my throat dry, and my knuckles white as i gripped the device in my hands. was this how it felt to have a knife in your back? i thought. have it twisted around and stuck again and again ferociously? because that’s how it felt.

does he remember how he’d been so afraid of posting me to the world that he’d keep me secret until he knew that i was really comfortable? that he’d whisper “id rather keep you to myself just a little longer” as we talked about our future under the boston night sky. how he’d promise me that i was worth every penny and every minute. did he just forget everything?

i turned the phone off, and stared at a small spot on the wall, trying to think about anything else but the photo i had just seen. a girl, holding chris’s cheek. kissing it. chris was smiling, an ice cream cone in his hand. that was not his favorite flavor. surely he had done this out of spite, right? surely the caption that read “i love you, thanks for the ice cream” had been to hurt me, annoy me. was it the fact that is was me that he couldn’t say ‘i love you” to? cause it seems like that comes easy for him to say with everyone else.

my mind spiraled as the familiar feeling of tears brimming my eyes started to form. my throat burned and my hand formed into fists to try and stop them from shaking. any hope of returning to where i’d once called home, was lost. i still think about him, that’s the worst part.

“i have to tell you something”

GRACE TALKS: guys i dont even remember my taglist help remind me if u wanna be tagged🙏

[writingwisterias]

Could I request Piers nivans x European BSAA captain? Where they’re in some way romantic. I don’t know how but let just your creativity run.

As a fellow Brit...I've done this with a British Reader! In mind. Even though us fellow Brits aren't part of the EU anymore...let's not get political tho 👀 I hope you enjoy it! ~ Mads ❤️

You both met on a mission where he was sent to the UK to help clear up a new lab that was recently found. The two of you instantly click and find comfort as you face the living nightmares together.

However like all things your time together came to an end but you kept in contact mainly using Facebook to message (don't hate me there wasn't many options to Dm back in 2012😭)

Eventually he plans to surprise you, booking a spontaneous trip to the UK during winter. Where you proceeded to drag him to all of the winter events

Boy did he pack wrong though! Nothing could have prepared him for the British rain during the winter months. Ended up buying a large coat and other things to keep warm, using you as his stylist

Treat you to dinner at your favourite and expensive restaurants...falling in love with all the British takeaways as well

Lots of movie nights with snugging - this is where you finally admit your feelings for each other

A night full of the best sex you have ever had (I know he's secretly a kinky bastard)

Whilst he's on this trip you are both planning a trip to America, looking online at all the things you could both do whilst you are there

He spoils you rotten, buying to gifts or pretty much anything you touch

When you fly to America he's treating you like a princess, taking you to his favourite restaurants not even caring about the price

He would lay out a red carpet in front of you if he could

Find your accent alluring and hot af (yes even the northern accents 😉)

Once you had been together for a while he offers you to move in, understanding it's a big change and you might need to think it through first

Practically has a heart attack when you agree before you finish the sentence

Constant arguments over what things are called "honey have you washed all my pants?" "No there's some in your drawer with the socks" "no no that's underwear" "Ohhhh you mean trousers! Yes they were all dirty"

You cook for him all the time after being disgusted by the state of American cuisine

Teaching him how to make a proper tea after he absolutely fails the first one he's ever made you

Making him watch British Television with you constantly (Strictly Come Dancing is secretly his favorite)

Mimics your accent if you begin to irritate him

[brokentranstar]

bro finally another brokenstar fan he’s so underrated and people don’t appreciate him enough, has he always been your favorite?

Yeah! I talk so much about Brokenstar in my DMs it's unreal.

So tired of Tigerstar "the original villain" no he's not, Brokenstar is. Hmm. That is a difficult question, I've always liked Brokenstar as a character, ever since I first found out what a Warrior Cat is, but I wasn't a real fan of him until about two/three years ago when I started developing my Canon Compliant/semi-rewrite Warrior Cats story that revolved greatly around him, and when I started thinking... I really started to appreciate him then, he does bad things and obviously I don't support him killing kids, but I do relate to his struggles, his childhood, his over-the-top personality, I like all that, I think he's great for it, and I think I get him. Kinning a character usually means you feel you are the character, or you were the character in a past life, or so, as far as I'm aware. But for me, Brokenstar is what Could have been if my life was just slightly worse, maybe minus the murder, just the disrespect and hatred he has for other cats. Do I sound mad? Sorry not to Trans Brokenstar on main. /silly

Brokenstar is my little evil guy I love thinking about him, he matters so much to me, and the only reason I stopped Daily Brokenstar (for now) is because I don't have a concrete plan for why I'm drawing him for, my only goal was "until he gets mentioned in a book", and he got mentioned, so... But I might come back to it someday.

All that being said though, he is only my second favorite cat.

Thank you for letting me ramble about Brokenstar, I love when people do that. :)

[theearlgreymage]

Hello! I am back from the grave for a Six (Seven?) Sentence Sunday Post!!

Thank you to everyone that has been so kind as to include my in your tag lists despite my silence. @shrekgogurt @artsyunderstudy @ivelovedhimthroughworse @hushed-chorus @j-nipper-95 @martsonmars @ileadacharmedlife @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @palimpsessed @aristocratic-otter @cutestkilla @onepintobean @fatalfangirl @aroace-genderfluid-sheep and @ic3-que3n

It's been a chaotic few weeks - I won't get into the absolute soap opera levels of madness that is my life. But if you've been in my DM's recently, know that I appreciate you infinitely for putting up with me.

So, without further ado, have some sentences from six different projects I've been trying to make progress with :

COBB Project #1

Mordelia saw both her mother and sisters in the aftermath of everything. She has to live with that horror living inside her mind just like I do.  I still can’t sleep through the night. It’s impossible to close my eyes and not see their faces in those final moments. The light burned their eyes from the inside as their skin pulled tight from the heat drying them out. Nothing but a husk of a corpse was left behind.

COBB Project #2

As much as mother wishes it were, my heritage is no great secret to me. I know that Malcolm is my father. Which means I know the whole reason we live in the mortal realm is to keep him from controlling our lives.  If only my mother would understand that I don’t need her to control my life.  Growing up, I quickly realized that the nymphs who I thought were my friends were really nothing more than my guards. Playing with me to ensure that I didn’t leave the land that was under my mothers protection.

Infinity In Your Chest Pocket

(No, this project isn't dead. Just taken a seat on the back burner because I don't know how to not sign up for events with deadlines.)

He has absolutely no table manners – just shoveling the food in his mouth. I want to shove my tongue in his mouth. To lick the syrup from the back of his teeth and get lost in him.  The thought isn’t unusual for me. I spend a concerning amount of both my waking and sleeping hours thinking of Simon Snow. Fantasizing about all of the ways he’ll never touch me. It’s probably unhealthy - letting my thoughts run rampant all the time, but if it’s all I’m ever going to get I have to take it. 

Mystery Gift #1

The absolute tease. I can't believe that he actually had the audacity to walk across campus with my spunk splattered across his face like that. (I can actually believe it, he has no fucking shame, and it's not like anyone could really see him.) But he knows how I feral I get with him. I hate it. (I don't, I fucking love it, but that doesn't mean I understand it.) Which means he knows exactly what to expect when I get back to our room.

Not so Mystery Gift #2

(I love you, I swear I'll get this done soon for you <3)

"I do believe that I gave you very clear orders today," Erwin practically growls. Pressing impossibly closer and forcing my lower back into the edge of the table. It's impossible for me to not let a sly grin cross my face at his mock fury. "You did." My response only serves to rile him up further as he grabs my chin between calloused fingers and forces my eyes to meet his. "If you can't follow basic commands, maybe I need to put you on a tighter leash."

Gravy

(How did I get here? How did I become a food kink pioneer?)

I'm never going to be able to face Ruth again. Not after having spent all afternoon asking her to help me make a thick gravy worthy of the queen. The gravy is delicious. The queen isn't worthy of it. It's warm and peppery - a deep brown color that stands out against my skin as it drips down my collarbone and chest. Baz doesn't let it drip far though before he's licking it up hungrily. I like to imagine that it's my blood he's lapping up so eagerly.

Tags and Hello's Under the Cut

@bazzybelle @bookish-bogwitch @buffy @captain-aralias @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @confused-bi-queer @ebbpettier @erzbethluna @facewithoutheart @foolofabookwyrm-activated @gekkoinapeartree @henreyettah @ionlydrinkhotwater @johnwgrey @krisrix @larkral @letraspal @moodandmist @mostlymaudlin @prettylightsbigcity @raenestee @skeedelvee @stardustasincocaine @stitchyqueer @tea-brigade @theimpossibledemon @upuntil6am @wellbelesbian @whogaveyoupermission @yellobb

[suckitsurveys]

Are any of your friendships on a fine line? No. One just kind of ended though. I feel a little shitty about it but this girl did NOT respect my boundaries and I tried talking to her about it several times and she refused to listen so I just kind of stopped talking to her and she finally got the hint and deleted me off of all social media.

If I search your room will I find birth control? No.

Do you expect any of your ex’s to call or text you? Nope.

Have you ever witnessed a birth? Yes, my older niece’s. It was wild.

Where’s your favorite place to be when you feel depressed? With Mark and our kitties.

Are you currently looking forward to tomorrow? Nothing really. It’ll just be one day closer to the girls trip we’ve been planning for a year.

When was the last time you held someone’s hand? Yesterday.

Have you ever faked sick? Oh yeah.

Do you wear hoodies to bed? Not hoodies, I’d feel like I was being choked. But I’ve worn crew necks to bed before.

Are you currently wearing jeans? Yes.

Do you buy eggnog around the holidays? Why is this the second survey in like 4 days that’s asked me about eggnog?? Anyway, we usually get some.

Have you gone to a coffee shop within the past week? [i.e. Starbucks] I don’t think I have.

Would you like to be able to read thoughts? If I could control it sure.

Are you often the last one to understand a joke? Nah.

Your first black eye: Did you give it or get it? I’m not sure.

Do you think baseball is a dying professional sport in America? Definitely not in my family.

Does playing the guitar make a guy more attractive? Eh. Depends on the guy.

Have you ever slept in a tent, indoors or out? Yes.

What does your hair look like at the moment? I HATE the color SO much but I didn’t want to dye it and have it fade right away in the sun/chlorine.

Are you mad right now? No, just tired.

Who did you spend your summer with last year? Mostly my family and friends.

Did you eat a cookie today? No.

Have you heard of wreck this journal? Yes, I have one somewhere.

Do you know any one who lives in California? Yes.

Have you ever been told you were a good writer? Yes.

What do you put on your baked potatoes? Butter and sour cream for sure. Sometimes chives and cheese.

Have you ever been on a farm? Yes.

Who are the last three texts/dms you received from? Margo, Lolly, Mark.

What are you listening to? Nothing.

Are you one to take naps? Nope. They make me feel gross.

Did you ever have braces? Nope.

Have you kissed anyone in the last five days? Yes.

Are you afraid of flying? No. It makes me a little uneasy, sure, but overall I don’t mind it.

Do you have freckles? On my arms.

Do you have plans for today? Work and then I have to finish cleaning my dad’s to prepare for my friends staying there this week with me until we leave for the Dells on Friday.

Would you rather date someone five years older or five years younger than you? My husband is 5 years older than me.

Why aren’t you texting the last person you kissed? He’s sleeping or just getting up.

If you had to live off one type of fruit, which would you pick? Probably avocado.

What were you doing at 7:45AM this morning? It hasn’t hit that quite yet lol.

What was the last thing you drank? Iced Coffee.

Where did you get the shirt your wearing? Torrid.

Do you plan on sleeping in tomorrow? Nope, I have work at 6 am.

How often do you drink Monster? Never, I don’t like how energy drinks taste.

Are you easy to get along with? Yeah.

Are you short? 5'2".

Can you ever get enough of mac ‘n’ cheese? Nope, I love mac n cheese.

Are you allergic to nuts or dairy products? Nope.

Do you have trust issues? Yes, in that certain people have let me down time after time when I’ve asked them to take care of something or help me with something.

Is there someone you want to let go of? My fucking brother in law but unfortunately I’m stuck with him.

Do you have any regrets? Eh.

Has anyone ever called the cops on you? Yes.

How old are you? 34.

Did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night? I did actually. Margo and I were chatting on twitter until we fell sleep.

Do you go to church every Sunday? Nope, I never go.

Can you recall the last time you liked someone? Right now.

Do you like your height? I’m fine with it. It’s never negatively impacted my life.

Is the last person of the opposite sex you texted single? He is not. He’s married to me.

Could you go a week without brushing your teeth? I have before, depression is fun y’all.

What day is it? Monday.

Are you usually awake at midnight? Not usually. I tend to pass out between 10pm-11pm on work nights. On weekends I’ll usually be up until at least midnight.

Does it get really cold where you live? Yes.

When you get home from school / work do you change into your pjs right away? My pants and bra usually come right off lol.

Have you ever been peer pressured to smoke pot? I wasn’t pressured into it, no.

Have you ever played the game Sims 3? Nope.

What is the temperature currently in the town you live in? 64F.

Do you ever actually drink milk alone? Rarely. This was actually in another survey I did recently too. Who is making these? Lol. Anyway, I will drink it with a PB&J or Oreos or something every once in a while.

If you don’t have one already, would you consider getting an iPhone? Nope.

What year were you born in? 1989.

[silkendandelion]

Pomegranates, A Stardew Valley fanfiction

Pairing: Lance (SVE) x Farmer (male, character sheet here)

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Farmer Max didn't listen to the wizard's warning and encounters a spell that shows him a version of his life where he married Elliot, instead of Lance. Hurt/Comfort, happy ending.

AN: Spoilers for Lance's 10-heart event and several late game quest lines, references to the outcome of these quests or rewards. Player is an OC with established characteristics, story, mannerisms. It's fine, we have fun anyway.

Rated Teen and Up Audiences for sexually suggestive content, unsafe situations, characters worried about infidelity (No actual cheating). One-shot. Cross-posted to Ao3 here. Send me a DM: yell at me, send flowers. Cheers.

He always saved the best pomegranates for Elliot.

The shiniest fruits of the batch, so heavy with juice they nearly jumped off the branch and redder than wine-stained, kiss-swollen lips. They always got washed separately, scrubbed twice, and packed in a box that had become known as “Elliot’s box” because of the blocky, handwritten label that declared it.

“That time of the year again?” Lance smiled as he set his satchel on the kitchen floor, mindful of the farmhouse’s stone counter-tops ever since they discovered that life elixir is surprisingly acidic. Luckily, the microwave now hides his shame.

“Just in time for his birthday too, since the summer was so cool,” Max said, clicking the crate shut.

“Well, I’m off to the Highlands.” Lance glanced in the fridge while the farmer tugged on his boots. The sticky rice he made the night before was untouched, a cursive note that read ‘goodnight, my love’ still attached to the top.

Poor farmer, he works so hard, he thought. “Actually. There’s not much to do the first week of the season, besides observations. If I only do a half day, I could make it back by say… 8 o’clock? What do you think, love, want to quit early with me?”

His mushy thoughts of hiking up to the bath house and splitting a pot of cider on the couch were dispersed by Max reaching for his coat with a wince. “I’m sorry, honey, probably not. Leah wants to do a brunch thing tomorrow for Elliot’s birthday and I gotta turn in early if I’m gonna finish the chores before I go.”

Lance opened his mouth to point out the flaw in his plan, but settled for a frown as he slung his satchel over his shoulder. “No worries, love, just a thought.”

They parted ways with a kiss, soft and sweet: the farmer’s preferred choice of apology when he knew Lance wasn’t actually looking for one.

“Stay safe up there. And say hi to Marlon for me if you see him,” Max said.

“Of course. Safe travels, farmer,” Lance teased him with a smirk.

He watched Lance leave their homestead and down the road, the smell of freshly-tilled soil washing away the scent of his husband’s soap before he even turned the corner. By the fifth day of the season, the crops were all settled into their neat little rows, the promise of pumpkins already in curly little saplings, and colorful mushrooms peeking up from plush, sleepy grass. The trestles by the fence would have grapes on them soon enough—best to keep an eye out for Petunia then, lest his horse be tempted out of her stall and he find her foundered in her sin.

Elliot loved the fall.

And Max almost slapped himself as he started the rest of his chores.

The wizard had warned him, “you can peruse my library at your leisure, but don’t touch any of the books behind that altar. It’s for your own safety,” and gestured to a menacing golden creature atop a spell circle, the statue’s ruby eyes seeming to follow him around the candlelit room.

It was one book.

A simple spell, just a single, short paragraph among the hundreds of others, found by parting the book to a random number and beginning in the middle of the page. The spell explained itself to have no ingredients, casted only by reading, though Max couldn’t have guessed how literal the instructions were.

“Spirits alive, spirits alike, spirit made flesh. The mind is a shallow cup, cursed to overflow with too many memories, but the soul remembers. Never forget, dear spirit. Recall your journeys, dear spirit… allow us to enter your mind, spirit. And look with us.”

Even Max knew not to speak aloud from spell books, but just reading the words left him breathless, his wheeze condensing in front of his face. He slammed the book shut, quick and careful to replace it on the shelf exactly as it had been found before fleeing back to the warp hall, his fumbling hands yanking at his coat’s zipper.

“Too creepy… Never again,” he said, believing now that Magnus wasn’t exaggerating when he placed the shelf off limits.

But the spell was already cast, brought to life by being read, and Max found himself visited by the most vivid dream he’s ever had—and hasn’t had one like it since.

A farm, what must have been his farmhouse, and an autumn day like today. A striped cat rushed to the kitchen under his feet while the writer hummed at the stove, his ginger hair pulled back to the nape of his neck.

“Good morning! Come eat, darling, I made your favorite.”

He never cared for pancakes but his stomach growled regardless, heart squeezing unbidden when the writer fluttered over to greet him with a milk coffee kiss.

Lance drank his coffee black.

It wasn’t his farm, not his cat, not his husband, so why did it feel so warm?

Why did he wake up missing the rosy lens of that other place? With syrup on his tongue and a pain in his chest for a man he’s never looked at before with anything other than friendship? His heart sank, belly cold as he rolled over to seek the warm back of his sleeping husband, minding the pomegranate hair draped over his pillow.

“Mm—hello,” Lance rumbled with fondness, awoken by the way the farmer squeezed around his middle.

“Go back to sleep, Lance,” he said against his hair. The smell of magic never did manage to wash out, like lightning in a forest. A happy huff was his only reply, though Max would stay awake for the rest of that night, and for days after.

He never should have read from that damn book.

The dream wasn’t anything more than a glimpse. He didn’t know the farmer’s story, who raised him, but he knew why his belly twinged when the writer kissed him. And if this flash of a feeling could haunt his thoughts in broad daylight, he knew he would die if he ever knew the truth about their entire life together, killed gloriously by the knowledge of one single lifetime, out of the thousands this other valley might know.

And he would never recover if Lance knew.

How could he ever say that in another life, some other place just like their valley, he was married to Elliot? And that they were so happy?

He couldn’t, he would rather jump naked into a bath tub of lava slimes than hurt Lance.

Lance, who when he was contemplating giving up farming to be a full-time adventurer declared with that self-assured grin that Max was the only one who could help him with his research.

Lance of the First Slash Clan, seasoned adventurer, who becomes as red as his hair, suddenly shy when Max reminds him that on his first visit to the First Slash Guild Hall, he took off his clothes and suggested they squeeze into the single bed.

The same man who when Max came to him with the insane idea to turn their cellar into a guild hall, didn’t poke holes in his dream or complain about how much the construction would cost, instead swelling with pride to say “My farmer, always thinking of others.”

Lance, whom without the world would have no spring.

Max looked at the crate in his hands, having walked all the way to the beach after his chores, and knocked on Elliot’s door with his boot. What am I doing?

“Max, hello there!” He opened the door with a gasp. “Are those for me?”

“What—yes. Fresh from Haddenfield,” he said reflexively, pulled from his thoughts to follow Elliot inside and put the crate on the piano bench for unpacking.

“Oh, they’re beautiful,” he said, holding one up to the window to admire it’s ruby glitter. “Won’t you let me pay you this time?”

“No no, of course not,” Max waved his hands. “I brought it to you without asking, it’s a gift. Happy birthday.”

“Well, thank you.” Elliot bowed his head, but was struck by a thought. “Wait. This is heavy, too big for Petunia. Did you walk all the way here? Let me make you a cup of tea before you go.”

Max remembered the smell of green tea from his dream, knowing what he would offer even before Elliot opened the metal canister. “I’ve got green tea, do you mind a travel cup?”

This life is enough. No memory, intangible and false, will come between him and his valley.

“I’ve actually gotta get going. Somewhere to be. Thank you, Elliot, and happy birthday!”

“Thank you, Max, please be careful. Say hi to Lance for me!” He called as Max was already marching his way up the beach with a wave. ____ ___ __ _

Good, Marlon didn’t take the boat, he thought as he found the dinghy by the mountain dock, tied and ready. The trek to the Highlands always managed to be twice as long when you were in a hurry, and Max prayed the clouds gathering overhead would hold off on their rain until he made it to the outpost.

A distant crackle of thunder caught Lance’s attention, and he paused his note-taking where he was crouched beside a sleeping mushroom sprite.

“That’s enough for today, I guess,” he said, accidentally startling the creature awake and having to cast a recall spell to avoid its tiny rage.

On the river, Max struggled with the frantic sail of Marlon’s little boat, holding his own against the wind despite the way the waves slapped against its fragile sides.

“I can hear the conversation now—Sorry Marlon, I took your boat out into the storm without your permission but it was all for love! No no, it’s in pieces but I’ll buy you a new one, I promise.” Max yelled to no one as the little boat bobbed and thrashed around the last bend before the dock.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Inside the outpost, Lance closed the line on his emergency phone when no one answered.

“He must be on his way home… oh, I hope he’s all right,” he said, going to pilfer his satchel for supper.

“Oh no,” he groaned, realizing his packed dinner was still in the fridge at home, probably next to the forsaken sticky pudding.

“Crumbs,” he said with a huff. Rain on the stone roof meant it was too late to try to fish, too far to try to go home.

A loud thud came from the direction of the dock, heard clearly even through the heavy wooden door, and the hair on his arms stood up.

Debris from the storm? No, it sounded like a person. Marlon? But why? It could also be a monster.

“The warding should keep them away…” Unless the storm fractured my spell circle.

The lumbering came again, closer now, until both Lance and the mysterious noise stood on opposite sides of the door.

His fingertips sparked with a welling of magic. “Aureus lux—“

The door flew open to crash against the opposite wall. “DAMN it all—”

“Max!” Magic leapt from his hand to scorch across the stone wall, but at least the attack hadn’t landed on his soaked husband, frozen in the doorway.

“Did you just try to zap me?!”

“Of course I did! How am I meant to know you’re the one stomping around like a Golem in the middle of a storm? What are you doing here?” He helped the farmer inside, setting him down at his workbench to begin taking off his boots. His fingers shook on the dripping laces, but not with magic.

“You’re soaked—what were you thinking?! What if the boat crashed, how would I ever even know what happened to you? Drowned, or, or—” Max hushed him with the hand that wasn’t holding his bag.

He pulled him close, uncaring he was likely dampening Lance’s shirt, he needed to feel him before he floated away. “You forgot your dinner.”

Lance blinked at him, watching the farmer open his bag to take out two portions of curry and a bottle of wine. Blue Moon, his favorite. “No hard feelings that it’s not from Haddenfield,” Max said, like every time he gifts it to him with the same cheeky grin.

“Have dinner with me? Maybe?” He tries again when Lance is quiet.

“That was an incredibly foolish thing you did,” Lance finally says, flat, but his eyes are soft when he pulls him into a long kiss. They can hardly tell which one of them deepens the kiss first, lips sliding and tasting of petrichor by the time they part to breathe.

“… So you’re not mad?” Max says, dazed and a little warmer where his jacket collar bows away from his skin.

“Of course I’m angry. But I’m also helplessly in love with you, farmer.” He shakes his head and reaches for the bottle.

“I’ll open the wine if you’d like to change your clothes.”

“You have extra clothes here?”

“No,” he says, flat again, and punctuated by both the pop of the cork and his affectionate smirk.

Well, at least the bed is dry, he thinks as he sits in his underwear. Lance never stayed mad for long, and by the time they finish supper he’s coaxing the farmer under the duvet and into his arms. For body heat, he insists, not because the outpost bed, while bigger than the one at the guild hall, is still a squeeze for two grown men.

“It reminds me of that first night at the First Slash,” Max said, accepting the wine bottle when Lance passed it to him.

“Oh Yoba, hasn’t my heart been through enough tonight?” Lance rubbed his tired eyes, albeit smiling behind his hand.

“Don’t be embarrassed, you were very charming,” Max grinned and passed the last sip back to him.

“How long had we been dating? Not long at all, and I threw myself at you.”

Max grabbed his hand to invite his gaze. “I caught you, didn’t I?”

Lance waited a beat, eyes softening as he squeezed their hands. “Yes, you did. Handsome farmer, I couldn’t help but need to know how you felt.”

“I promise, the fact that you were pressed up against me with your abs out had no influence on my answer.” Lance’s chuckle made his stomach flip, a familiar feeling he wanted to happen over and over for him alone.

He drifted easily into a useless dream about keeping Petunia away from the grapes, deeper than he’s slept in weeks, and wondered if pomegranates would be important in his next life too.

[microwavedmetal]

Day 6: canon divergence rec list

a ghost never leaves a haunted house

bluebears

Mike looked at him unimpressed. “See you say that. You say that. But you never actually mean it.” He flung his hands out, gesturing at him. “You’re always making stupid promises that you can’t keep.”

Will gaped at him. This was ludicrous. “Name one promise that I haven’t kept!”

“You keep leaving!” Mike burst out. He practically shouted it. If the outburst took him by surprise, he didn’t show it. “Everytime I just get you back you end up leaving again. And it was fine at first, I guess. With the Upside Down and the MindFlayer. Like at least then we knew how to bring you back. But now there’s nothing taking you away but you still aren’t here. And I can’t figure out why. I’ve racked my brain trying to understand what’s going on with you but I just don’t get it! We’re supposed to be best friends but lately it’s only felt like that on my side of things.” ____

The Upside Down is gone. Or so everyone keeps telling him. But Will knows the truth. You can burn all the vines and close all the gates. But you can’t flush out a virus once it’s already been spread. After all, how do you kill something that’s intertwined with the very root of Hawkins without affecting the real world?

These feelings are not my own

Corvi_dae524

Will Byers has enough to deal with already. After returning to Hawkins, he has been getting flashes of what's happening in Vecna's mind too often for his liking. Not to mention everyone keeps their distance from him in case he goes all mind-flayer-super-spy again. Well, almost everyone. On second thought, maybe it would have been better if everyone did stay away.

Or, Will accidentally forges an emotional connection between Mike and himself, and he doesn't know how to deal with it

Don't bite your DM (unless he says yes)

Pennyplainknits

An argument arises over the damage potential of a human bite. Mike and Will settle it in a totally normal way

The Stars You Wrote Me

MrHalloween2

Mike Wheeler is a Star Trek fan.

He also happens to think that Kirk and Spock are soulmates, like many do, and secretly writes about his two favorite characters.

Will Byers, just looking for his coat in Mikes closet, is invested and also very in love.

Ready As I'll Ever Be

snow_bunn257

Turn the world upside down? Did he even have the power to do that? What could he really do? Make the world a better place? With the Upside Down? He had already remade the entire Upside Down in his hometown’s image. If the Upside Down actually leaked into Hawkins, could Will remake the whole town? Make it better? Could he finally make a world in which he could be happy? Those were delusions of a villain, weren’t they? Words injected into his brain by Henry. And yet…

That didn’t sound all too bad.

~~

My take on a Will Villain arc! I really think that the only way he'd switch sides is if convinced it was for the right reasons. Inspired by Ready As I'll Ever Be from Tangled The Series!

By His Side

careful_wish

“You guys saved me, Mike,” Will whispered. “You saved me. I’m okay.” He giggled – actually giggled – when Mike leaned over and kissed Will’s cheek, the smile on his face infectious. He then rested his forehead against Will’s, feeling Will shaking slightly, and thought his mouth would fall off his face from smiling so hard as Will whispered, “I like you too.” Mike hugged him fiercely now, Will letting out a louder laugh as he was knocked back to the floor. Mike moved so he wasn’t squishing Will, squeezing him tightly. “You’ll go to the Snow Ball with me?” he breathed in disbelief, burying his face in Will’s shoulder. He felt Will hugging him back just as tight, nodding. “Yes, Mike, I will,” Will mumbled. “I won’t leave your side all night.”

-

Mike doesn't think through asking Will to the Snow Ball, so when Will says yes...

broken hearts can always mend

sarol3

"The Road to Madness really wasn’t just a grayscale painting. It had colors scarcely hidden along the way - they were tiny patches in size, yet they felt bigger than life itself, the darkness making them even more vibrant as they called out to the eyes with their beauty. Their presence made the journey feel all the more sorrowful."

Or:

While growing up, Will is being visited by a tall, 15-year-old boy with dark hair and dark eyes, who looks just like his best friend, Mike if he were a little bit older. Will thinks he might be a ghost; he always disappears without a trace after all.

[ingravinoveritas]

Also wanted to jump on the ‘David is so adorable train.’ I struggle to get my head around how cute and so very pretty this actual 51 year old man is! He’s so lovely and no wonder Michael is mad about him. He also melted my heart like the other anon in those new year videos 😍. Also just wanted to say to pay no mind on what that vile person said to you. I think you’re a beautiful lady and your photo was gorgeous. That person has serious issues to send a message like that.

(Grouping the Adorable David anons together.)

Thank you for sharing your thoughts, Anons! I’ll put up another visual of David in the New Year’s video, so we have something lovely to look at:

I agree with you both, David is thoroughly lovely, and it’s very, very easy to see why Michael is head over heels for him. I can also see David as someone who loves to cuddle and be cuddled, and I feel like Michael would be more than happy to give him anything he wants. It’s like I said in my response to this Ask from yesterday: David gets that same soft look around Michael, who no doubt knows when David wants/needs physical contact.

Imagine him having that need during the filming of GO 2 in Scotland, aimlessly walking up and down the length of his trailer until Michael finally finishes shooting and comes to him. David practically leaps into Michael’s arms the moment the door opens, and Michael chuckles, guiding the two of them to the couch. He’s in a worn t-shirt--David’s favorite--and a pair of joggers, perfect for the occasion. Michael is the first to lie down, making himself comfortable, and David immediately follows, closing his eyes and curling up against Michael’s chest. Michael already has his arms around him when he feels David tilt his head up for a kiss, soft and unhurried. One more point of contact, and to know for certain Michael is there and won’t ever let him go.

Oh, yes...I could definitely see that happening. Not to mention goodness knows how many other occasions there have been for David and Michael to cuddle since then. (Michael going to see David’s play/the filming of Staged 3, perhaps?)

Speaking of the play, I so love that you got to see Good, Anon #2! I am delighted that so many of my followers/readers have gotten to see David in that, and have shared how sexy and gorgeous David is in person. I just wish I could’ve seen the play, too, but...hopefully someday I’ll have a chance to see him in something.

Also Anon #1, thank you very much for your kind words, re: the nasty Anon I received the other day. I reblogged a post this evening that was a screenshot of a response I got from Neil Gaiman on Twitter, because I suddenly remembered that Neil (apparently?) thinks I’m hot. I certainly don’t require that as any sort of validation, but it definitely was a nice morale booster, and another item to add to the list of reasons not to pay attention to that Anon. (The very nice messages I’ve gotten from you and many other people, both as Anons and in DMs, are also on that list!)

I’m just glad we’ve been getting so much delicious David content lately. Hopefully Georgia’s been texting those pictures to Michael, too, so he can enjoy them as much as the rest of us. Fingers also crossed for even more David content when the GO 2 press tour rolls around...

[myrrhmaidwrites]

Sunstruck Writing Wrap-Up

I think I’m going to start posting writing wrap ups here for my own benefit. Writing about writing is supposed to make you better at it, or something.

This fic was not only my longest ever, but it also ended up spanning 12 google docs, 6 Word files, 8 pages in Notion, and 100+ DMs. If you think my writing process could use some improved organization, well, you’re right.

Originally, Sunstruck was about Trevor writing the book. He had finished it, and the book was in some ways a love letter to Jamie, and a lot of their conversations revolved around what was in the book. (Have you read The Next Next One? Yeah.)

Anyway, that didn’t end up happening. Somewhere along the way I switched the story to Jamie’s POV and moved away from the book idea. I just couldn’t get it to fit. I don’t think I’ll write a sequel to this, but if I did, it would be Trevor POV and it would be about the book.

Now I’m going to talk a little about the writing process for this fic.

16k words isn’t that many for a lot of people. For me, it’s the longest thing I’ve ever written, and I think that deserves some note. Woo! May there be longer fics to come. Also I genuinely have no idea how people write novels, haha. Practice, I suppose.

Shortly before I started this fic, I did some reading about various approaches to the editing process. The method I ended up using, which worked well for me, was to basically just get some words down for the first draft (“shitty first draft), and then rewrite the whole draft based on that. This worked well for me because I was able to get the pure words down pretty well via writing sprints and typing on my phone in bed before I went to sleep.

Then came the rewriting. I took one scene, slapped it in a column on Notion, and used it as a guide to write a new version of that scene. No copy+paste allowed, but I could rewrite the original words if I did want to keep them. I almost never kept them exactly. The second version of scenes were almost always better than the first.

During this period is when the story feels most like a confusing mess that I have to muddle through. I have scenes missing that I don’t know I need, I have to rearrange things and delete things and realize that something I wrote won’t work anymore because I changed something earlier. I’m constantly re-outlining, adding notes to scenes, writing new bits and deleting them, etc.

To give you an idea of some of the things I changed in this stage, in an earlier version of the fic, Jamie said something really heartfelt for Trevor’s video and they cut most of it out for the public video. Trevor only sees it after the Ducks staff send him the full video, and their reunion/get together scene happens at home the day after the ceremony.

At another point, I really wanted to have that long distance/breakup/dark night of the soul moment that would require a big gesture from Jamie (flying across the country for Trevor or similar). In the end, I couldn’t get it to work, so we have the condensed crisis that starts during the sex scene. I’m not mad about that change, but I do sometimes wonder if I could have made that scene hit harder if the separation/downturn had been worse.

Anyway, after getting through this horrible muddled mess, there’s a third re-writing, where I have the scenes mostly in order and I go through and rewrite everything from beginning to end for a third time. This time around, there’s a lot more that stays the same. What’s nice about the earlier stages is that when I write something I don’t like so much, I don’t have to worry about it at the moment because there’s an incredibly low chance it’ll make it to the final fic.

After the third rewriting is when I like to loop in my beta reader. I usually try to have a couple of specific questions for them as they read. I think technically this is called alpha reading (and beta reading is just for spelling/grammar), but if I’m honest, I need this kind of help more.

Then I go about incorporating changes from my beta reader, which usually involves a major overhaul of 1-2 scenes, almost always the finale and another scene in the second half of the fic.

After that, I go through and re-read the fic in order and look for places where I need to make major additions. This typically includes descriptions of emotions or settings and additions to dialogue where characters get to the point of what they’re trying to say far more quickly than is realistic.

Finally, in the last couple of days before posting, I look at sentence structure and word choice. I tend to use the same sentence structures over and over in my writing as well as certain words. In this phase, I try to mix it up as much more and make the sentences and words sound interesting.

In the “adding” and “sentence structure” phases of this fic, I added about 5k words. Yep, the fic was only about 11.5k words before this. That means the fic my beta reader read, while kind of close to the finished version, is also hugely different from the fic up on ao3. It’s kind of crazy to think about.

Finally, I do one last read for typos, and the fic goes up.

There’s one thing about this fic experience (and others I’ve had) that I haven’t really gotten to talk about yet, though.

This fic was part of a big bang, and as a part of that, I worked with a hard deadline, and I also had an artist relying on me to be finished so we could post at the same time. Last year, I participated in an exchange that had a similar type of deadline.

Both times, I’ve had horrible insomnia for ~3 weeks leading up to the deadline. We’re talking 3+ weeks of not sleeping, sleeping extremely poorly, or not sleeping without pills. (And I’m talking sedatives here, not melatonin. God, I wish melatonin did something useful for me.)

It didn’t matter that I could have pushed the deadline back. It didn’t matter that I could have just dropped out. It didn’t matter that I was actually quite on top of this fic and not particularly concerned about finishing on time. My brain was not interested in sleeping.

Luckily, I got through it. Most of this week after posting the fic I slept just fine. But it does make me think about whether doing something like this is useful for me, or sustainable in the long run. I really love the community aspect of writing fic. I doubt that without doing a bigbang that my fics would have art made for them. I doubt I would have produced such a long fic so quickly without a deadline.

Maybe these are just things that I need to accept about myself. If I don’t want to cause myself weeks of insomnia (and I don’t because it fucking sucks), maybe I need to just accept that. Really what I need to do is probably talk to my therapist about this, but it’s hard.

Does this happen to anyone else? Just me? Okay.

To end this on a less depressing note, one final observation I want to mention is that after I choose one fic to concentrate on, my ideas for other fics tend to slow down, and then once that idea is close to wrapping, they tend to speed up again. Now I’m stuck in the middle of 4-5 fic ideas and I want to write all of them. Of course I don’t have the time, and I’m sure I’ll end up concentrating on just one or two eventually. But for now I have like five different gdocs that I want to keep open at all times. It makes me wish I didn’t have a job so I could just write. (Plus my two anons that I owe fics to…oops!)

If you read this far, thank you. Sometimes it’s nice to hear whispers in the void when you know you should expect silence.

[kierreras]

I know the triad was the planned endgame but what I want to know is how? We know Aki and Audrey would have realized they missed Max but what then? How is he ever supposed to trust them or anything they say again to get back with them? He already did that when they convinced him the first time around and he was screwed over so what would be different this time? I genuinely can’t imagine what they could do or say at this point. Any ideas? I’m coming up empty. I don’t think an ILY is enough either.

so sorry, i was away and missed this ask it's all messed up with this ending. i think that them dumping max like that is so cruel because it was his biggest concern prior entering this relationship. so them getting together and leaving him alone is the worst case scenario the writers could have pulled of. knowking that storylines are kind of inconsistent, i think that in third seasons towards the middle (episode 5-6) audrey's and aki's storyline would be winning max back. and as we were teased, max and luna team up was in store, so my guess that the whole school battle between lawolfe and juliet was supposed to be present for the first episodes the same way monet/julien battle was handled this season. so after this storyline for max comes to an end, i think triad storyline becomes his main focus again. how can he trust aki and audrey? i don't know. i also don't think that love confession would fix anything, but this is gg we are talking about. realisticly, i don't think that him trusting them again is something healthy. however, the writers maybe were planning to add much complexity, base to their relationship. like bonding them over something, them getting together for one of them (maybe aki this time, as audrey was in the place in first season). this is why i am so mad about this cancellation because as an audience i am not able to picture them getting together for at least one season. better yet, i think that aki and audrey need to break up as well to find themselves outside of relationship. i am sorry that this does not answer your question. still, if you want to discuss any possibilities for them or share your opinion, i am glad to meet you in dms. i am all in discussing the ending and possible future storylines that were taken from us