#and I wouldn’t be having this dilemma lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jeonqkooks · 2 years ago

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our beloved summer | jjk (06)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader

genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, swearing, kissing (omg k1ss1ng omg WHO IS IT ??? 😦), tbh this is the only warning i wanted u guys to read cuz 6 chapters in and we finally get sum action i feel like that's a win lmaooooo, jimin being Real as fook, unbeta'd cuz uhm i'm a godless menace who should be conked on the head, once again we are severely lacking jk in his own fic lol i'm owning up to this 🤗 BUT! this is probably the last chapter where jk feels like a side character lol apologies my dudes

rating: PG-13

word count: 8.1k (honestly i wrote obs6 just so i could get to obs7 lmao that's why it's a lil bit shorter)

note: my apologies if this sucks. you are legally allowed to stone me if you hate it. but i hope you don't hate it. but if you do hate it don't tell me just stone me lol 🤐 why am i so unhinged with this update

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

I can see you starin', honey Like he's just your understudy Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me

Exile - Taylor Swift (ft. Bon Iver)

The picture is fucking terrible.

“Jimin, what the fuck,” you grumble, staring at the huge framed photo on the wall, taken on the day of the opening party. You, Taehyung and Jimin are gathered on the floor of the dance studio, with boxes of takeout neatly sitting between the three of you. “I look like ass.”

Jimin barely glances at the wall, just continues to stuff his face with the dumplings that you ordered. “You look fine,” he says absentmindedly, mouth full, continuing to munch on the food despite your little dilemma.

“Bitch, I have my eyes closed.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“I look like I’m in the middle of a sneeze.” You cross your arms in front of your chest, squinting at your photographed self again. The more you look at it, the more irritated you become.

Realistically, you know nobody would pay enough attention to notice the immortalized visual of your fluttering eyes, and you yourself wouldn’t care about it that much. Maybe you would even laugh in good spirits and poke fun at yourself as you often do. Make a meme of it for the group chat.

“What’s the big deal?” Jimin asks.

You shrug petulantly. “I told you. I look like ass.”

Yeah, true, but it’s also more than that.

It’s the fact that the person standing next to you looks so good that you must voice your grievances. It’s the fact that he looks so much more than just good.

The guys stop eating to look at you. You wonder just how much of what you’re feeling is written all over your face. Regardless, they don’t comment on it.

One of them clears his throat, shaking the whole thing off.

“Did you tell Yoongi anything yet?” Jimin asks.

You poke at a lone dumpling with your chopsticks, popping the ‘p’ when you say, “Nope.”

“Damn, Y/N,” Jimin scolds you. “It’s been three weeks. He doesn’t want to push you for an answer but the man has got to be suffering.”

You flick a piece of spring onion garnish at him. It lands on his hair, a single bit of green sitting among golden locks. “I don’t know what to tell him!”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Jimin shakes the onion piece from his head and chucks it back at you. “Obviously you say yes!”

You exhale through your nose, then take a bite of your dumpling. You nibble on the fried dough, stretching out the silence, delaying your response.

It hasn’t even started, and it might not even start. But you’re already thinking about all the things that could go wrong. Yoong is your friend, first and foremost. He’s a good friend, and you would be crushed if you lose that relationship.

What if he hurts you, or you hurt him?

Sometimes, people are meant to hurt each other even if they don’t mean to.

Yoongi hasn’t seen your pieces in all of their jagged glory, how they’re only meant to reflect the light but never be healed by it. He’s still blissfully unaware of the ugly thoughts that have a home inside your head, and you’re afraid if you let him in, he’d realize it’s a place he doesn’t want to be. It’s hard to love a broken thing. You wouldn’t want to love you either.

Maybe this is the real reason that’s been holding you back all this time. Maybe it isn’t Jungkook - though he certainly isn’t absolved - but it’s you, and how you just don’t know if you’re someone who deserves to love and be loved. You’ve felt inadequate more times than you can count. You’ve been left before. Who’s to say it isn’t going to happen again?

You’re well aware that this is a bad way to look at things, but can anyone really blame you? You still have a heart, and despite how fragmented it is, you still want to protect it.

“I know that look,” Taehyung says, parting your fog and pulling you back to him. “You’re overthinking again.”

You roll your eyes. He knows you so well, but does he have to call you out every time?

“I’m not overthinking. I’m regular thinking.”

“Right. And to normal people, that’s overthinking.”

“It’s just…” you wonder out loud, gaze on the floor. “What if I go all in, and Yoongi sees me for who I am and thinks that I’m just an utterly sad person who can’t be loved? That I’m too much work when he’s got literally thousands of people throwing themselves at him left and right?”

Taehyung stares at the side of your face as he bites the inside of his cheek. His tongue soothes the spot, his jaw clenching once. “He’s not going to think that.”

“You don’t know that,” you say, the corners of your mouth tugging down.

“You’re not unlovable just because one person didn’t love you right. So stop it with that bullshit, because I love you,” he says, voice serious. Even Jimin stays silent as he listens to his friend, his eyes flickering between you and Taehyung. “And Jimin loves you. Hobi loves you.”

You merely blink, because you hate it when he’s right. In all fairness, you understand. This is the same thing you would tell him if the situation were reversed.

You deflect anyway. That’s what you do best.

“You don’t count,” you tell him with an unserious scoff, your tone starkly contrasting his. “You’re my family.”

You taste something bitter as soon as the words leave your mouth. You should know better than anyone, that just because someone’s your family, doesn’t mean they have to love you.

Taehyung reenacts the blinking guy meme before chuckling, holding a hand over his chest like you’ve just wounded him. “Ouch.”

“You two are getting nowhere,” Jimin interjects. “Just call Yoongi.”

“And say what?” you ask.

“I told you. Say yes. God, you’re so dense sometimes.”

You reach over to jab a finger into his side, making him hiss and shuffle away from you.

“That wasn’t nice,” you grumble.

“Well, somebody’s gotta say it.” He gives you a look, eyebrows raised for a few seconds before he lowers them and grows more stern. “Come on, Y/N. You know you don’t want to say no, or else you would’ve turned him down already. You said you wanted to start dating again. Yoongi is practically on his knees offering himself to you. What are you waiting for?”

There’s a voice in the back of your head - tiny, barely audible - that whispers, Who are you waiting for?

“Fuck it, I’ll say it,” Jimin continues. “It sucks balls that Jungkook hurt you, but you can’t let that affect you for the rest of your life. Not everyone is going to hurt you. You’re not even giving Yoongi a chance just because someone else did you dirty. If you keep always thinking about the worst possible outcome and banking on it to happen, then you’re never going to get anywhere. I love you, dude, but y’know.”

You stare at Jimin with your mouth slightly open, stunned into silence. When you glance at Taehyung, he’s surprised too, though probably not as much as you.

After a couple of minutes, you say, “Wow.”

“Tough love. I have my moments.” Jimin shrugs casually, like he didn’t just drop a truth bomb on your head. “But also…” He picks his phone up and types something in. Your phone instantly buzzes with a notification.

“Open the link I just sent you,” he says.

“You are literally sitting across from me.”

“Just open it! I made you a playlist.”

“Aw, Jimin, that’s so cute,” you coo softly, reaching over to pinch his cheek before he swats your hand away. You unlock your phone to see what Jimin made you, because that is some friendship hall of fame stuff right there. However, when the link redirects you to your music app, your smile immediately drops.

Aaand he’s back.

You stare at the screen for a good ten seconds to try and find your bearings, flabbergasted at something that is quite honestly very on-brand for Jimin if you think about it. “You made me a playlist called Dick Appointment with an eggplant emoji and the tongue out emoji and it’s mostly just Yoongi’s songs. Even the playlist cover is from his Valentino shoot.”

“So you can get it on while Agust D plays in the background!” Jimin grins, and you could just smack it right off his face.

“Park Jimin, who raised you? You are vile.”

“Validate me,” he demands. Oh, you would smack him. You really would. “I spent hours making that playlist.”

“It’s literally just Yoongi’s songs.”

“Yeah, but I had to curate an experience. I can’t just dump every song into a playlist and call it a day. I gotta make sure they fit the vibe.”

“I literally just heard the most profound shit from you not even two minutes ago.” Then, you turn to Taehyung with an exasperated look on your face. “Why would you let him do this?”

He just waves a dismissive hand in the air, like Jimin isn’t even there. “I’m not responsible for the stupid shit he does.”

Jimin crosses his arms in front of his chest, both eyebrows raised dramatically as he gapes at you. “You both suck. From now on, you can make your own sexytime playlists.”

“Nobody even asked you to do that!” you cry.

“Yeah! Which makes me an even more considerate friend,” he says. “Ugh. Whatever. Go call Yoongi.”

“You want me to do it now?”

“Yes. Because I know you’ll wuss out when you’re alone. You can stay and put him on speakers for us to hear or you can go out into the hallway. Come on, chop chop.”

“No, I have to text him first,” you protest. “What if he’s busy?”

Jimin narrows his eyes at you suspiciously, but allows you this after a moment. “Fine.”

You take out your phone from your bag that’s lying carelessly on the floor to draft a quick message to Yoongi.

[12:59] You: got a minute?

The three of you go back to the food, abandoning the previous topic of conversation in favor of something lighter and meaningless or else you would go crazy waiting for Yoongi’s reply. After you’re finished, you and Taehyung are in the middle of putting away all the empty containers and soda cans when your phone buzzes again.

You go to grab it to look at the notification, hands already starting to sweat.

[13:17] Yoongi: for you? always :)

You turn back to the guys to find them already looking at you. Jimin wiggles his eyebrows suggestively while Taehyung just stares at you.

“Time to get your whore on,” Jimin says in an exaggeratedly sultry voice.

You turn to Taehyung for help. “He’s bullying me.”

“Ignore him,” your best friend tells you gently. “Go call Yoongi.”

When you take your phone out into the hallway, you make sure to go to the far end of it, near the main entrance so the two dorks can’t eavesdrop. You’ll tell them everything once you come back anyway, but you don’t want them within earshot while you’re in the middle of it.

Yoongi picks up your call on the third ring. In the background, your ear picks up on some chatter.

“Hey, princess,” he greets you. Then he holds the phone away from his ear to tell someone that he’d be back in a bit.

“Hey,” you say. “Where are you?”

“Just at a fitting. I have an ad campaign to film next week,” he answers. “Did you call just to get my whereabouts?”

“No, I… If you’re busy, we can talk later.”

“We’re still in the middle of lunch break anyway. What did you want to talk about?”

You briefly regret not taking a minute to psych yourself up before. You suck in a deep breath, which eases your nerves for just a second, long enough for you to say, “Yes.”

You’re met with brief silence from the other end of the line, which only makes your palms more clammy than they already are.

“Yes?” he echoes confusedly. “Yes what?”

“Yes,” you say again. “To…”

The silence commences once more, and lasts longer than you think you can handle. Then, you hear him stop in the middle of a breath.

“Oh.” A subsequent chuckle in response to the lightbulb that must’ve been switched on. “To that?”

“...Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

It feels like you two have invented a secret language that nobody else could understand. A single syllable, bouncing off the metaphorical walls of your conversation. Two idiots sharing the same brain cell.

“Yes?” he continues to prod, but at this point, you know he’s just teasing you.

“Yes! God, stop making me say it again. We sound so stupid.”

He graces you with a hearty laugh that makes you fight back a sheepish smile, even though there isn’t a single soul in sight to witness it. Yoongi makes you so fucking shy for some reason. Your nerves dissolve momentarily as you lean against the wall, your index finger running along a crack in the paint.

“Hmm, I wish you would’ve told me this in person,” he says, his voice soft.

“I can’t handle you in person. You’d tease me so much.”

“Because you’re adorable when you’re flustered, that’s why.” He waits a second before adding, “You’re blushing right now, aren’t you?”

“You’re being overly confident, Min.”

“Maybe,” he responds easily. “But am I right, though?”

“Shut up.”

When Yoongi said he would cook for you, you almost gasped.

“You can cook?” you had asked. It wasn’t an earth-shattering revelation or anything, but you suppose you’d never given much thought to the hidden sides of him.

“Y/N,” he laughed then. “I’m a great cook. I could probably make a pretty decent career out of being a chef.”

“I didn’t know that,” you told him sheepishly.

“There’s a lot of things you still need to know about me.” It sounded like a promise. Like I’m willing to show you me. Like I’m willing to take the first step if you’d be in this with me too. “Does that sound like a good idea? You, me, dinner at your place?”

“My place?”

“Yeah, so you’ll be more comfortable. I’ll come over.”

This one simple gesture shouldn’t affect you that much, but it does. You appreciate that he’s considerate even when it comes to the littlest things. You swell with gratitude for the thought he puts into this, into putting your comfort first. It made you feel a bit better about yourself, calmed your stormy sea of thoughts enough to rationally accept the fact that he genuinely cares.

Regardless, it doesn’t stop you from spending most of the day obsessively cleaning your apartment. Even - and especially - your bedroom, although you’re sure that is not where the night will end. Every surface is spotless, not a single speck of dust to be found. It’s like the goddamn Pope is coming over for a house inspection.

You haven’t had a first date in… fuck, how long has it been now? Nine years? It’s almost been a fucking decade already? You honestly can’t tell if that’s embarrassing or not.

But you remember the last time.

College, freshman year, with Jungkook. His yellow piece of sticky note that he slipped inside your favorite book. His adorably flustered expression when he timidly stood in front of you in the campus library. The way he was trying so hard to be confident and charming throughout your first dinner together. How he ran back to you after saying goodnight.

No.

You shut your eyes and shake your head, warding off any Jungkook-related thoughts before they could send you spiraling. You can’t reminisce about your ex while waiting for someone else to show. Yoongi deserves better, and that’s what you’re trying to be.

You’re not exactly sure how nice you should dress tonight. Yoongi told you that you could be clad in sweats for all he cares. If the dinner didn’t hold any connotation other than platonic, maybe you would’ve really donned your loungewear like you were merely having Taehyung and Jimin over for pizza.

You’d completely forgotten all the things people worry about in the early stages of dating, when you want to impress the other person but don’t want them to think that you’re trying too hard.

Calm down. It’s just Yoongi. He’s seen you ugly crying with mascara running down your face, for fuck’s sake.

In the end, you opt for a sweater and a comfortable skirt. Casual.

Yoongi rings your doorbell about ten minutes later than when he said he’d be there, holding a bag full of groceries. The visual alone makes you bite back a giggle and subsequently fail. You believe this is what people would call husband material.

You take his coat and guide him into your home. “Welcome to my humble abode,” you say shyly, gesturing around as you lead him into the kitchen to show him where everything is. Why are you acting like this? This isn’t you. If Taehyung or Jimin could see you right now, they would probably laugh. Hoseok would straight up be rolling on the floor.

You barely breathe as you watch Yoongi take in his surroundings. It’s intimidating, even though you know it’s just Yoongi.

“I actually don’t know what I expected, but I like it. It’s very you,” he comments, smiling.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that it’s cute,” he says, throwing you a wink as he leans against your kitchen counter.

You avert your gaze immediately. “Oh… Thanks,” you reply, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “So, uhm, what are you making? How can I help?”

“Just sit down. I got this.”

“Yoongi,” you say his name in protest. “I want to h-”

“I’m trying to romance you here. Let me do that,” Yoongi says, his smile turning lopsided as he starts emptying the contents of his grocery bags. Even though his tone is light, the gentle reminder of tonight being a date shuts you right up.

You take a seat at your dining table, though you can’t really sit still. As Yoongi starts working, you absentmindedly talk to each other about your day, about his campaign, about Seokjin’s album. At one point, you get up to creep over to his side when the smell of whatever he’s making becomes more prominent. You try to peek at the pot, curious, but he just shoos you away by bumping his hip against yours.

When you give him a small pout, you pretend not to notice the way his eyes dart to your mouth. You retract yourself from his personal space, choosing a spot on the other side of your kitchen island, staring at his back as he works.

You watch him expertly navigate your kitchen like he’s been here before. When he’s finished, he makes you sit down, not even letting you help bring the food to the table.

“What is it?” you ask once he’s settled in his seat, everything plated in front of you.

“Kimchi jjigae,” he says, a proud look on his face. “My mom’s recipe.”

It’s endearing, and it makes you smile.

For the most part, Yoongi lets you eat in peace, though there’s still a couple of flirtatious comments here and there. Every time it comes, you bite down on your bottom lip to try and snap out of that daze before you cough, as if that would help tone down the colors adorning your face. There’s no verbal response from you, and it seems like Yoongi doesn’t expect one either, because he just chuckles. You think he must notice the palpable nervousness that radiates off of you, but it’s not like you’re doing a very good job at hiding it.

You’re taking baby steps and he knows it. The fact that you even agreed to this at all is already major progress.

When you’re done eating, he clears the table while he asks you to open the expensive bottle of wine that he brought over. It does wonders for your nerves.

Three glasses in and you’re visibly more relaxed as you both sit on the couch in the living room, facing each other. There’s a small smile on your face that you can’t help, maybe it’s some of your inhibitions wearing off as a side effect of the alcohol.

You glance around the room, and you take in the sight of Yoongi sitting here, this close to you. He feels bigger than your small world can handle.

“You know,” you start. If the wine didn’t make you more mellow, you probably wouldn’t be saying this. “There are thousands of people thirsting over you every day.”

Yoongi tilts his head, swirling the wine in his glass. “Really?”

“Don’t you look at the internet? I personally know two girls from college who are on the Yoongi Marry Me train,” you say matter-of-factly, like you aren’t borderline tipsy in front of him.

You aren’t an avid Twitter user, but every time you check the damn bird app, Yoongi is almost always trending. In every single one of his posts on social media, there is always an influx of comments asking him to marry them. Not only that, when word first got out about you collaborating with Agust D back then, people you knew - both old friends and acquaintances - practically bombarded your messages to see if it was true, and to ask if you could get them an autograph.

Yoongi stretches out his legs until they brush against yours. Your stomach flips even though it’s only your legs that are barely touching.

“The what train?”

“You seriously don’t know about the Yoongi Marry Me movement? Look it up. It’s a whole thing. People would do anything to, I don’t know, hold your hand or something.”

With an amused look on his face, he holds your gaze. “Would you?”

“What?”

“Would you do all of that just to hold my hand? Because you don’t have to, y’know.” He brings the wine glass to his lips, partially hiding his face from you, and you don’t know whether he’s doing it for your sake or his in preparation for the words he speaks next. “But I would do it to hold yours.”

You’re sure that your cheeks are burning bright, your stomach twisted in knots. It’s the wine, but it’s definitely the effect of his words too. You stare at Yoongi in surprise; no matter how many times he openly flirts with you, he’d still elicit the same reaction from you. It’ll be hard to get used to it. He just always seems to know what to say to make you blush like a schoolgirl, which you resent but you can’t deny the sparks of excitement that make your fingertips tingle.

Yoongi is smooth, and it’s even worse - or is it better? You haven’t decided yet - that you know he means every word he says. It makes you feel… wanted. It’s good to know that he’s being genuine, and to know that Yoongi isn’t the type of person who would ever pull the rug out from under you.

Yoongi is… stable.

You suppose, after everything you’ve been through, that stability is what you need. It’s good for you.

You try to swerve around the thoughts, to avoid them at all costs, but deep down you know now that they’re glaringly true.

That love is stored in two bags of groceries, so filled to the brim that some onions almost fall out. Love is stored in every flick of his wrist holding a knife, slicing the sharp blade across your cutboard. Clean cuts, yet he’s never this way when it comes to you.

Love is stored in a fond smile and adoring eyes when he sees how you cradle your expensive dishware like it’s a newborn baby before you set it carefully on the table.

Love is stored in a Yoongi-shaped silhouette, dancing over your countertops with practiced precision in every movement, filling in the cracks of your home. The love in him is reserved because you, like the moon when it crescents, still have a ways to go.

When he stands at your door an hour later with his coat in hand, you wait for him to speak first.

“Performance review?” he asks. “How did I do?”

“I… liked it. It was nice,” you say honestly. But you still feel the wine in your system, and it makes you bold enough to tease him for a change. “But it was my first date in a while, so it’s hard to tell if that opinion is objective.”

He rolls his eyes fondly. “Do I qualify for a second date then?”

You hum in thought, making him wait on purpose. “Yeah, I guess,” you say, feigning nonchalance, which earns you a hearty laugh.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” he asks, hopeful.

“Don’t know yet,” you answer, though you’ll probably end up going home and catching up on a kdrama. “Are you coming in tomorrow?”

“Just in the morning. I have a shoot in the afternoon.” He shifts to lean his weight on his other leg, tipping his body closer to you. “But I can pick you up after.”

“Yeah? And where would we go?”

Yoongi shrugs in earnest. “Just drive around? Grab a bite?” he thinks out loud, tilting his head slightly to one side for emphasis. “I could take you to that popup store you mentioned.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “You would stand in line with me to buy a novelty mug?”

“Pretty sure we wouldn’t have to stand in line if I gave them a call,” he says, grinning. “One of the perks of the job, y’know.”

“Must be nice,” you laugh, then shift to lean just a tad closer to him. You look at him for a brief moment before you agree, “Yeah, okay.”

You and Yoongi stand there at the door, each of you on either side of the threshold. This would be an appropriate moment for a kiss, you think. That explosive first kiss, if this were a movie. Exhilaration courses through your veins. You feel it from your head to the tips of your fingers to your toes. The feeling is rendering you a mere teenager again.

It’s exciting because it’s new. You have the entire book ahead of you, waiting to be written. At this point, anything could happen. You’re a blank canvas waiting to be drawn, a blank page hoping to be written.

Wait.

Back up.

A kiss?

A kiss?!

With Yoongi?

You’re thinking about kissing Yoongi?!

Fuck.

Fuck?!

It’s the wine.

Your thoughts knock against each other like bumper cars, echoing loudly in your brain that it almost gives you a headache.

You stay still as Yoongi leans down, your heart racing while your brain just keyboard-smashes. You can’t tell if you want him to kiss you or not, but when he only presses his lips against your cheek, you feel two emotions at once.

The first is disappointment, the second is relief. They press down on you with almost equal force, and you’re not really sure which one weighs heavier.

Baby steps.

You blink when he pulls away, and he just smiles fondly at you as if he can read your mind.

“Goodnight, princess.”

You watch him until he’s in the elevator, until the doors close and the lift descends. Even when you know that he must be on his way to his car and that someone else is making their way up, you stand there, with your hand loosely wrapped around the door handle, your breathing slightly erratic as you process what just happened.

Déjà vu?

It’s oddly reminiscent.

You’ve been here before.

Part of you thinks he’ll burst through the elevator doors, or rush up the stairs if the lift is occupied, and come back to grab your face and kiss you senseless.

He doesn’t.

Jungkook knows you’re probably waiting for Yoongi.

He’s seen Yoongi pick you up after work almost daily over the past couple of weeks, and it’s driving him insane. Even on the days that Yoongi comes to the studio during the day, the guy is all over you, so much so that he doesn’t even bother being a nuisance to Jungkook anymore, which just makes him a thousand times more insufferable.

Something is happening.

He can’t weasel shit out of Jimin anymore because Jimin has been especially tight-lipped after accidentally spilling Yoongi’s confession to you.

Because that should be him in Yoongi’s place. Or should he say his place, and Yoongi is just a placeholder. An imposter.

Because it used to be him that you smiled shyly at.

Jimin’s words have been plaguing his every waking hour since he was forced to hear them. If she wants to choose Yoongi, let her do that too. It feels like he’s rewinding all of your memories, retracing them with cautious fingers only to find that his every footstep is being erased to make room for someone else.

An abandoned dirt road, while you walk down a flower-filled path holding someone else’s hand.

Like you’re stamping him out.

Like he was never there at all.

Not only are you denying him a chance, you’re giving it to someone else. When he tries to move at someone else’s pace, all he gets is left behind.

It’s not about Yoongi; or at least, it’s not just about him. Yoongi doesn’t even really matter to Jungkook in this equation. It’s about what Yoongi represents. An idea of a person that Jungkook can never be.

A bigger life. A stable present and an even brighter future. Yoongi is everything better than him.

And that’s his own problem to deal with, not anyone else’s. At the end of the day, no one has to live with his insecurities but himself.

But still, he can’t help it. Whenever he sees you with Yoongi, his eyes burn. Please don’t let him take my place, he wishes every time, you’re the only good thing about me.

It’s jealousy, sure, of course it’s there.

But what if you realize what everyone else already knows? That Yoongi is better in every single way. That Yoongi is the person who really deserves you.

What if you start to see Jungkook the way he sees himself?

You hating him - despising him with every cell in your body - is a thousand times better than you deeming him unworthy.

“I talked to Jihyo,” he speaks up suddenly, when it’s only the two of you.

“Okay,” you answer, never taking your eyes off the page in front of you. You must have circled the words daisy a thousand times already, wracking your brain for anything that rhymes. “I don’t know why you’re telling me this, but good for you.”

At this point, you wonder if you should just avoid the studio for the time being. It’s empty here again. You resent Seokjin for drowning in concept photos. You resent Namjoon for leaving Jungkook here to fend for himself, but it’s only fair, because Namjoon was only supposed to give him a helping hand, not take over the whole thing. You even resent Yoongi a bit, for not being here right this second.

“I talked to her,” Jungkook says again, ignoring your sass. “She won’t give you a hard time anymore.”

This makes you look at him. You never asked him to do this. You never asked him to do anything. In fact, you have only ever implored him to sit still and leave things alone.

“She never gave me a hard time,” you say. Sure, you don’t appreciate being given the death glare first thing in the morning, but it’s not something that you can’t ignore. It doesn’t actively affect you, and the only reason Jihyo does it is because of Jungkook.

Because he broke things off with her?

Because he gives you more attention?

Ugh. Attention?

This is the stupidest and most childish thing you have had to think about in ages.

“You said she acts differently toward you.”

“And aren’t you the reason why?” you counter. “Because you two were fucking?”

Jungkook visibly winces at your words, like he did when you mentioned it the first time in the break room. You don’t mean to be snarky; you’re just stating the facts. They were hooking up.

You don’t harbor any ill will toward any of his past lovers, and that includes Jihyo. You know she doesn’t have anything against you either, at least not on a personal level because you don’t know each other well enough to do so. She’s just someone you pass by every day on your way to the elevator.

“So why did things end?” you ask just for the sake of it, since he was the one who brought it up. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious.

He hesitates for a moment. “She wanted something more and it wasn’t the same for me.”

It’s stupid that the tiny voice in the back of your head resurfaces, hoping that you were the reason why he couldn’t pursue things with another woman.

Jihyo isn’t you, that much is clear. You never asked for anything more from him, not once from start to finish. He was always the first one to pour love into you. It’s arguable which one of you loved the other more - maybe you loved each other equally, just in different ways - but it was a fact that Jungkook always took the initiative. He made the first move so you wouldn’t have to. He gave you the option to match his affection, and never have to worry about being left out to dry.

He took initiative, right until the very end.

You bite your bottom lip, then give him a curt response, “Okay.”

Your phone vibrates with a text from Yoongi but you don’t open it just yet. You look at Jungkook, who only looks back at you. His lips part slightly as he searches for the right words, or any word at all. It’s like you’re asking him to navigate a minefield when all he has to do is be honest. Even if he told you that he fell out of love with you, it wouldn’t be that bad. You would be hurt, yes, but you wouldn’t blame him. You would understand. It would be a reason.

Silence fills the room, save for the continuous tapping of your pen on paper.

He says your name, pleading. “I’m trying here.”

At Jimin’s party, Jungkook said you were someone important to him. You don’t doubt that he meant it, and that’s what infuriates you the most. You’re important, but he keeps running circles around you and making your head spin. You’re important, but everything he’s done makes you think that you’re the opposite. You’re important, just not important enough to get an explanation.

You know he’s genuine about everything he says, but that’s not enough. You can’t sustain yourself on just his words alone.

It’s another cycle of the same conversation, running over and over and over again. He’s reaching out but he’s holding back. You’re still getting nowhere. You don’t know how many times he has to make you ask this, only to not give you any clarity at all.

If there is a trait of Jungkook’s that you both love and hate at the same time, it is that he doesn’t know when to quit.

He texts you every day even when you don’t reply - one for good morning, and one for goodnight. He gets you a chai latte every day, which doesn’t do shit for your concentration because there’s not enough caffeine in it. He gets the door for you whenever you go into the same room together. He hounds your every waking moment. He makes sure that he’s the first thing you see when you wake up, and the last thought that crosses your mind before you go to sleep.

I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.

You suppose this is him, showing up again. In a lot of ways, it’s selfish. But it’s an effort too. Now your phone is full of meaningless messages that remain unread.

You barely glance at him. It’s routine at this point. He tries in ways that you don’t bother acknowledging anymore, because you figured that the best course of action is to let him wear himself out. When he has had enough of it, when he deems his efforts to be enough to absolve his guilt, he’ll stop. He has to.

But at what point does it stop?

At what point will you stop wanting to give in to him? Your mind rages wars with itself every time you feel his eyes on you, and you have to kill the urge to not turn your head and look at him too. At what point will you stop wanting to go to him and let him in again? At what point will you stop unconsciously making him a priority?

All of this, you supposed, is to say: Do you still love him?

You know that if you sit down and get to the root of it, you’ll find an answer you don’t like. Even in this moment, you want him to tell you just a fraction of the truth, because that would probably be enough to reel you back in.

Your own heart claws at your chest but this is how it has to be for a while. All you can do is take it one day at a time, gently nudge your heart in one direction like a child that needs to be goaded, until he doesn’t live on the forefront of your mind anymore.

Until someone else does.

“No, you’re not.” You stand up then, closing your notebook with more force than necessary. “If you’re really trying, then I wouldn’t still be wondering why I wasn’t enough to make you stay.”

Even then, you’re still hoping that he’d say something else. But when you’re only met with silence, the anticipated disappointment in you bubbles, boiling. His reluctance to clue you in makes it easier for you to decide.

There's someone else who's willing to give you things that you don't even need to ask for.

In your mind, it's clear who you should choose.

Jungkook clenches his teeth, holding his breath as he watches you shove your things into your bag. “Are you going home?” he asks after a minute.

You could say yes and let the conversation die a swift and simple death. But for some reason, you choose to kill it violently. You bite the inside of your cheek before you tell him, “I don’t know. Yoongi’s picking me up.”

The chagrinned look that takes over his features for a split second is one that you immediately catch. Maybe it’s because he wants to make sure you know how he feels about this, or maybe you still have a way of reading him somehow. Regardless of what his face tells you, he doesn’t prod any further.

Your phone vibrates on the table, the sound ten times more thunderous amidst the silence that’s befallen the both of you. You don’t need to check the screen to know who’s calling, and neither does he. When you leave, the sound of your fading footsteps ricochets off the walls. It shoots right through him.

He hears every word of that conversation ringing in his ears then. He recalls that afternoon’s sunset; it was the most beautiful sunset he saw that year, despite the sun overhead mocking him with every magnificent glint of light. He sees the look on your face when his words finally register in your mind, the Oh moment when you understood what he was saying, when the smile you wore sunk helplessly to the floor because even though you knew that love had an expiration date, you hoped your love would be the exception.

That memory fades, only to be replaced by something much worse. He sits there with Jimin’s words, echoing in his mind, reverberating around the room.

Technically, you and Yoongi haven’t been on a second date. You think.

You’ve seen him almost every night since the dinner, when he picks you up at the studio. Sometimes, you two just drive around. Sometimes, you sit by the river in the cold, eating hot ramen cups and giggling over nothing. Sometimes, he just takes you straight to your home if he has a packed schedule the next day.

These days, you see Yoongi even more than you see Taehyung. Even though he hasn’t explicitly implied that any of these outings is a date, you know you aren’t hanging out as just friends anymore.

It feels good to be wanted. The feeling is reinforced tenfold because it’s been so long that it’s like you’re experiencing it for the first time in a new body, as a different person.

But even after all of that, you two can still go back to being friends like nothing ever happened. Because in a way, maybe nothing did happen. Maybe things have always been like this between you, the only difference is now you’re noticing the meaning behind his words and glances.

You two can still go back, because technically, no line has been crossed.

But tonight, something feels different. It’s colder, but Yoongi keeps you warm with all the looks he’s been giving you all night.

It feels like you’re both toeing that line right now.

You know that once you cross it, things can’t revert back to the way they were anymore.

You know that it will happen eventually, because Yoongi isn’t doing this just to half-ass it. He won’t back out, and he has made it crystal clear from the start.

Usually, this is the part where he tells you goodnight and you have to pretend not to freak out when he kisses you on the cheek in goodbye.

He takes a step closer, you take no step back.

“You know what I’m about to do, right?”

You do. You could say you’re even hopeful.

“I might have an idea…”

“Okay,” he says easily. He takes your waist in his hands and brings you closer. The way the corner of his mouth tugs upward tells you that he’s pleased, that you know what’s about to come and you’re letting it happen. Still, he asks, “Can I?”

You nod. That glowing sensation washes over you in waves.

“Words, princess,” he reminds you.

Your hands land on the lapel of his coat. “Yes, you can.”

He chuckles, and squeezes you a little tighter.

Then it happens.

The line you clumsily drew in the sand has been erased.

Yoongi is kissing you.

You’re kissing him back.

He’s soft and warm and he holds you like you’re delicate. His sincerity, you can feel it in his kiss, and it’s only a fraction of it. Regardless, there is still life that blooms this winter. Inside of you, small and fragile, but it’s there.

You sigh into his mouth, feeling completely limbless if not for him holding your body upright. One of his arms wounds itself tighter around your middle while his other hand tucks your hair behind your ear so he could cup your cheek more easily. Yoongi tilts his head further to one side to deepen the kiss. You feel something in his kiss that you have never heard in his words, something soft and pleading. Wanting but still contained. Out of fear that you might run away, perhaps? You can’t blame him though. You are a bit of a flight risk.

The wind dances past like a nosy bystander, pressing you further into him like it wants you to be more sure in the way you move, in how much of yourself you’re willing to give to him. Instead, the cold just makes you shiver.

When you break away, his hand on your face moves to hold the back of your head. Yoongi doesn’t look half as flushed as you think you do, though his cheeks are slightly rosy.

Through a thin veil of clouds, the moon still shines down on his profile.

The chill in the air, the mesmerizing view of moonlight dancing across his features, and most of all, the way you’re still lost in the kiss, in the feeling of being wanted.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you up,” he says, after you stay silent for a beat too long, hooded eyes basking in the warmth of a heart chasing your own. You want to want him. You do want him, but there’s still something missing. It doesn’t feel entirely right, but for now, you try not to dwell on it too much. Just let it be. Maybe in time, that void will inevitably fill.

Yoongi holds your hand through the lobby and on the whole way up even if neither of you says anything, just shy glances in the elevator and bashful half-hidden smiles. You don’t invite him in once you get to your door - because an invite now insinuates something that you just aren’t ready for - but he does kiss you again. If the kiss you shared downstairs is a proper goodnight kiss, then this one means see you later and doesn’t last half as long, but it makes you tingle just the same.

He pulls back, only to dive in again, and again, and again, until one chaste kiss turns into five and you have to push him away with a giggle so you can breathe.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, eyes still set on your mouth. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Yoongi,” you say, a little breathily, like oxygen hasn’t sufficiently made its way into your lungs since downstairs.

He rests his forehead against yours. “You’ve never said my name like that before,” he sighs.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to kiss you again.”

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth and pretend to consider this even though you know you would like to be kissed again. “Maybe I do,” you say after a beat, bravely. “Just one more.”

He gives you your final kiss of the night then, one that lasts a second longer than the others, like he’s trying to memorize how you taste.

You head in once Yoongi is out of sight. You lean your body against the door the second you snap the lock shut. You touch your lips lightly, reliving those moments again even though they happened mere seconds ago. You’re buzzing with excitement like a schoolgirl, every feeling coursing through your body all at once.

You’re familiar with this. It’s the stage right before every love song you listen to suddenly reminds you of that one person.

You go through your regular evening routine with a pep in your step, thanks to a certain person tonight. You take off your carefully applied makeup and take a nice, hot shower. You think the heat would help melt away the high that you’re riding - like you’ve had too much coffee to drink and now your senses are beyond heightened - but it doesn’t. Once you’re fresh and comfortable in your PJs, you still feel that jittery feeling seeping through your pores, keeping you awake. There’s a message from Yoongi that tells you he has made it home safely.

It’s still early, and you’re far too restless to go to bed. You decided to brew yourself a mug of chamomile tea, even though you don’t even like chamomile and you can’t remember why you even have it, but they say that apparently chamomile is good for sleep. You decide to take the mug into the living room to sort through your mini mountain of mail that should’ve been dealt with days ago.

Sitting underneath that pile of junk mail and letters addressed to the previous tenant even though you’ve lived here for nearly two years, is a cream-colored card addressed to you. The material feels smooth under your fingertips, like velvet if that’s even possible. Inside, there are two names - one you recognize and another you don’t - typed out in a fancy calligraphy font and encircled by pretty flowers, all pinks and whites and romantic.

The saccharine sensation associated with the thought of Yoongi dissipates instantly. Instead, your mind blanks, only to buzz to life again momentarily with a newfound sinking feeling dragging you down.

You suddenly realize that Jungkook hasn’t crossed your mind once tonight. Not until now. That crestfallen look in his eyes from the other night appears in your mind again, clear as day.

You are, quite literally, holding someone’s declaration of love and yet, it’s not joy that you feel, having been asked to join them on their special day.

You never thought you would see Jungkook’s family again - even though you always adored his parents and you felt that they loved you too - let alone receive an invitation to his brother’s wedding.

remember when y'all said u wanted a wedding?? well u didn't say whose wedding 😌

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freeuselandonorris · 11 months ago

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omfg your vore fic is life changing. hell yeah to stigmatized weird af kinks ❤️ since you’re so good at character kink psychology, i’ll throw another one in the ring for fun - thoughts on inflation? i’ve never seen it in f1 except one fic that had it i’m pretty sure unintentionally lmao

also congrats on accidentally solving an f1 dilemma: if the drivers vore each other, there are more seats left open for young drivers to join 😅

oh anon!! first, THANK YOU and i’m so glad you liked the vore fic — i was honestly shocked at what a great reception got, but i’m really fucking delighted that people like it. hell yeah INDEED to the stigmatised kink rep! and lmaoooo maybe oscar should let the FIA know about that one too, it would sure solve a lot of problems 🤔

now, inflation! this one was WAY out of my comfort zone and i have done a lot of interesting reading today instead of doing my job! there are so many facets to it and you didn’t specify a preference, so i went with liquid inflation as this scenario came to me pretty naturally — i honestly have no idea if i’ve hit the sweet spot (ahem) with this as i was so unfamiliar with it, but i definitely awoke something in myself writing it lmao. i hope you enjoy :)

sort of one-sided landoscar, but in the context of an established relationship. cw for liquid inflation (eta because i wrote this in a rush: to clarify, it’s fantasy-based, not actual inflation), curve worship, fantasised helplessness (although all fully consensual).

Oscar’s not built like any other driver Lando’s seen.

He’s strong, obviously. Stronger than Lando is, that’s for sure. But he’s also — shaped. He’s got an arse some of the underwear models of Lando’s acquaintance (or, well, former acquaintance) would be jealous of. Little waist, but his belly pushes out against the fabric of his fireproofs. The soft mounds of his tits, firm muscle covered in a light layer of flesh that Lando likes to squeeze.

Oscar’s shy about his body too, in a way Lando finds slightly odd given how they’re all used to being manhandled and grabbed by their physios, engineers, sometimes the fans when the security in the paddock is lacking. Keeps himself covered up in shorts and T-shirts until the very last minute, even when they’re fucking. Averts his eyes from his own body, preferring instead to focus on Lando’s.

It’s not that Oscar hates his body or anything, as far as Lando can tell; he’s just used to seeing it only as an object of function, not something to be desired. Even though Lando thinks he’s gorgeous, could spend hours worshipping every soft and furred camber of his strong thighs and broad chest.

Lando doesn’t know how to tell him that, express how much he loves Oscar’s curves. He tries to show it instead, spends snatched hours between free practice sessions mapping out Oscar’s body with his hands and tongue.

He daydreams about it sometimes, the words he’d use to explain it. That there isn’t enough of Oscar to contain all of the desire Lando wants to stuff him with. That he wants more of Oscar to worship.

It’s something he’s always known about himself, ever since he was a kid. But it’s never been as intense as it is around Oscar. Pale, soft Oscar, all hair and solid heft, his blurred edges and the sweet flush of his skin.

Probably Oscar wouldn’t mind it if Lando admitted it to him. He’s never minded anything else. But this one feels risky, somehow — a raw and vulnerable thing to express.

Still, he wants Oscar to know, somewhere underneath it all; he must do, because he slips up, sometimes. Just in small ways.

It had been bad in Qatar. Lando had been half-delirious anyway, staggered back into the garage after media to see Oscar propped up against the central island in the garage, hungrily sucking water from the long straw of his drinks bottle. Eyes closed in bliss, throat working as he swallowed, swallowed, swallowed.

His racesuit hung limp from his hips. Above it, Oscar’s swollen belly curved from the fabric, full and distended. Feverish, Lando told himself he could see the stretch of it, the skin taut and bouncy as a drumskin beneath his sweat-soaked fireproofs. His hands had twitched with the effort of not reaching out to check.

“Thirsty?” he’d said, smiling, trying to make a joke of it. Trying to keep his eyes on Oscar’s face and failing, drawn to the curve of his stomach like it was exerting its own gravitational pull. “Careful, you can fuck yourself up if you drink too much water.”

Oscar had slow-blinked at him, like a cat trying to make friends, left the mouthpiece of the straw resting on his bottom lip when he answered. “Kim put electrolytes in it.”

Lando had nodded, swallowed. His own mouth watered in sympathy.

“Keep going, then,” he’d said, and Oscar had smiled, sucked the straw back into his plush mouth and continued to drink.

The memory still does it for Lando, even now, months later.

He could have taken Oscar back to his room, their bodies still salty and aching. Let him curl up on his side on top of the cool sheets of Lando’s bed, let Lando fill his bottle to the brim with cool water and stir in electrolyte powder. Kneel at the side of the bed and feed the nozzle back into his mouth, stroke the damp hair back from his temples, let it curl around his fingers as Oscar sucks and sucks.

His stomach would stretch, round and tight as a ball, one smooth convex curve from ribs to hips. The inward dip of his waist hidden, overwritten by the surge of flesh.

He’d let Lando crawl onto the bed behind him, spoon Oscar’s growing body, one arm tucked beneath his armpit to hold the straw in place. Lando would slip a hand beneath his T-shirt, peeling the fabric back so he could rub soothing circles over the bulging skin. Undo his straining jeans, the zipper sliding down of its own accord from the pressure. Say something like that’s it, Osc, you’re doing so so well. Oscar would press back against him, shuddering, body lax and lush. Moaning when Lando’s hand skims his swollen nipples, cock slipping between the fat globes of his arse. Oscar’s got a nice fat cock too, a plump handful. He’d press it up against Oscar’s belly, tend to him as he lay helpless and swollen, suckling trance-like at the straw still held between his lips.

Here, let me help you with this, Lando would say to the shell of Oscar’s ear, squeezing his cock. It’ll take the pressure off. His big belly pressing Lando’s hand into the bed, barely able to rock his hips into the answering push of Lando’s hand.

He’d come like that, spilling over himself, letting Lando push his soaked fingers into his mouth and swallowing that down too. Part his lips and say more, please, eyes blank and lidded with pleasure. Lie patient and limpid while Lando scrambled off the bed and round, taking out his own cock and pushing it against Oscar’s hungry, suckling tongue, filling him impossibly more.

That’s what tips him over, spilling into the clutch of his own palm: the thought of Oscar swallowing down everything he has to give. His come the final straw, stretching the skin almost to breaking point. Oscar’s eyes closing in bliss, sleepy and sated, unable to move.

Lando keeps his eyes closed for a long time once the aftershocks have subsided, unwilling to let go of the fantasy. Finally opens his eyes, staring at the unfamiliar hotel ceiling. Outside, the dull thump of bass from the party yachts berthed along Yas Marina filters through.

He sighs, struggles to sit up, goes to wash his hands. The room is all meagre angles, cold metal and sharp, mean corners. He curls his hands into fists, feeling the emptiness inside them.

Back in the bedroom, he sits down on the edge of the bed with his phone, tabbing to his message history with Oscar.

How would u feel if i told u about something u might find gross, he sends before he can chicken out.

Oscar replies almost immediately, like he knows Lando’s waiting, nervous. About yourself? Literally nothing could surprise me anymore.

Promise u won’t get mad or tell me im a freak? Lando sends back.

Try me, Oscar replies. Then, immediately after: Well, not unless you want me to, anyway.

Lando smiles, chewing his bottom lip. Come to my room after debrief and i’ll tell u in person.

Oscar heart-reacts the message. He definitely knows Lando needs reassurance; usually he uses the thumbs-up. Lando pockets his phone, stretches the kinks from his back and goes out to the balcony, letting the last vestiges of sun warm his skin. That’s the funny thing about Oscar. Whatever love Lando has to give him, however strange its shape, he’ll always find a way to make it fit.

---

ps even though this ends on a slightly ambiguous note due to its one-sidedness, it does of course take place in my landoscar kink shared universe and so, in case anyone is worried, oscar did indeed react with a shrug and "okay, cool" and fire up "i have an inflation kink, AMA" on reddit :)

#lando norris/oscar piastri #landoscar #mctwinks #answered #prompt fill #ln4 #op81

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thrashkink-coven · 7 months ago

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Lucifer has been such an incredible presence in my life when it comes to addiction.

I am disabled and suffer from chronic nerve pain and debilitating migraines that cause paralysis and other not so fun things. Most days weed is the only thing that can bring me relief. The painkilling drugs have helped a bit, but weed is the only substance I’ve found that can actually ease the pain almost instantly. Because of that I have become heavily addicted to weed. There’s really no way for me to function without it. Or maybe there is, I wouldn’t know because I have an active addition. I don’t want to stop smoking weed, and unless it’s posing an immediate threat to my health, I probably never will.

I can be completely aware of how heavily I rely on my addiction whilst still being addicted. Weed is medicine for me, but I also know that sometimes I smoke just because, not because I’m in pain or anything, but because I’m just bored. I know that I don’t need to constantly be using weed as medicine to be allowed to just enjoy it, and others in my same situation may not consider it an addiction, but I do and I’m at peace with that. I can confidently say I am addicted to weed.

Lucifer helped me come to terms with the reality of my situation. Everyone is addicted to something, using some kind of substance or drug to cope with this sick fuck of a world we live in. Being addicted is not a moral dilemma, it doesn’t make you a bad person, and being sober doesn’t make you a good person. The problem is not with the reality of needing something, the problem is with letting that indulgence get to the point of causing me real harm.

There have been times when I’ve been being so hard on myself, actively trying to cut back or quit, putting myself through unnecessary nerve pain, and migraines because I feel “bad” about giving into that urge. It makes me feel weak, like I’m not in control of myself, and Lucifer has come to me and been like

“Bro… lmao you’re fine. Smoke a joint and chill out, you deserve it today. This isn’t causing you harm right now, it’s okay. You’re not doing anything bad. Im here to tell you that this is okay.”

And, at the very same time, there have been days when I’ve smoked 5 or 7 a day, scraping the last scraps of weed together to smoke a pathetic bowl from a dirty ass pipe, and Lucifer has come to me and been like

“Bro, it’s time to take a break. Your tongue is caked white from the constant cotton mouth. Your throat is sore and inflamed. You’re dizzy, your eyes are glazed over. You feel dumb. You can’t think. Your smoking is actively giving you an even worse headache. You’re not even getting high any more. It’s time to stop.”

and … I’m so fucking grateful for that. There’s a very human tendency to either be super strict with myself to the point of borderline self harm or not give a fuck and let myself indulge to the point of hurting myself. Lucifer has always been the one to keep me in line respectfully, to say “you can do this thing if it makes you feel good, but I will not let you do it to the point of making you feel bad.”

I love how understanding he is of the human condition. He doesn’t pressure me to be perfect or scold me when I’m doing bad. He just presents the facts the way it is, without judgement or disappointment. Hey, you’re slipping, we need to get it back together. Hey, you’re doing fine, allow yourself to relax for a bit. Life is a balancing act. If we keep in check with ourselves and we’ll be just fine.

Thank you infinitely, Lucifer. I know Im in good hands when Im with you.

#witchcraft #magick #occultism #pagan #paganism #demonology #witch community #witch aesthetic #witchblr #grimoire #lucifer devotee #lucifer deity #luciferian witch #luciferism #luciferian #lord lucifer

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blessed-velleity · 5 months ago

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WHAT'S GOOD CHAT did you miss overblot!yu? no? too bad lmao

i wrote his post-ob flashback monologue 😊🥰 enjoyyyy

(cw: implied s//icide, s//icidal ideation)

I’ve spent my whole life trying to please people.

I did everything my sister liked to do. I did everything my parents wanted me to do. I behaved as they wanted me to.

I tried my best to go along with what my friends wanted. I tried to excel in school so that teachers would like me.

Even when I slipped up, I worked twice as hard to become a “good girl” again.

Everyone was happy with that, so I was happy too.

I… was definitely happy, too.

…

Why, then, did I start to hate myself like this?

Maybe it was because I knew that deep inside, that “good girl” was a selfish little boy.

A black hole of personalities that just wanted to feel good about himself, using other people as a means to an end.

A fraud who didn’t really have any sense of “self,” relying on the perceptions of others.

But what was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to tell anyone about this? Who could I even turn to for this? Who would understand me? Who wouldn’t laugh at me and brush it off as a joke?

Who would… even care?

…Whatever. It didn’t matter. My “problems” didn’t matter. I didn’t matter. After all, everyone only cared for the “Yuhua” they want to see.

I was too much of a coward to reveal the “true,” twisted, horrible version of me. The ugliness that I couldn’t even face in the mirror.

And because of that, I was so,

so tired.

…

When I took the easy way out, I thought that would be it. I thought that it would be a grand exit for me. The same way a firework is fleeting, burning in a blaze before vanishing into the night sky.

But it wasn’t over—far from it. I woke up in the coffin, and my journey began anew.

…

It isn’t as if I hate the time I spent here. Even though I was terrified at first, even though I fell back into old habits, I grew to care for this world and the people I met.

And I came to the horrifying realization that

I want to stay here.

I want to stay with that person. I want to stay with my friends.

I want to stay so bad that it hurts.

But… How could I do that to all of you? When I don’t provide anything of substance—when someone else could take my place and nothing would change—when, even in a twisted world, I continue to drag everyone down?

Even in this second life, I’ve found myself in the same dilemma.

Like a dancer at a masquerade ball, I’m sure that everyone only “cares” for the version of me I present to them. If I took off this mask, they’d be disgusted by what lies underneath.

I can’t blame them. I didn’t give them much of a choice in what “me”s they got to see. I was still greedy, and thrived on their misguided acceptance until that shallow greed came back to bite me.

…Not for the first time, I…

I wish that I wasn’t the way I am.

I wish that I could have changed at all.

I wish that I had never been born.

But who would grant my wishes? In the end, I’m just another escapist trying to run away from reality. I’m nothing but a pathetic, miserable phony—

a liar—

and a coward.

So I hope you don’t mind that I’ll take the coward’s way out again, that I’ll be a nuisance

just one last time.

#;writing #;oc #;wei yuhua #;tgtwst #cw sui thoughts

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vintagepresley · 1 year ago

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Hello!!

Ok, so I have a little uh...dilemma and I was hoping for your impute.

So basically, I love Elvis...(As most people do) but it's like love/crush and whatever, thing is I'm totally fine with it, it helps me get through the day and everything whatever. Only problem is, my friends/family think I've taken it too far, knowing most facts about him, getting frustrated with the new Priscilla movie, he's basically all I listen too I have pictures of him on my wall not too many but enough, and I basically love him to death. It sounds obsessive I know, but some people think it's unhealthy and I don't really know what to do.

Do I like stop loving him? Let him go (It hurts to say this) Do I like give everything about him up? I don't know what to do, because I do love him but it's so hard when everyone thinks it's weird or in the words of one of my ex best friends "You should go to a mental hospital" all these things it's so hard.

So I'm sorry for ranting but I just need a bit of help from someone who feels similarly to me, you know?

Thankyou!!

💗

OKAY ONE.. Do NOT stop loving him because people think it’s weird or that you’re “too obsessed”. Don’t ever let people stop you from liking the things you like. I’m in the same boat as you. Elvis has completely consumed my entire life that he’s sometimes all I talk about, listen to or watch. That’s okay, you know why? Because he makes me happy and he makes my days better. If he does that for you that’s all that matters. If people in your life have an issue with that then that’s their problem. Not yours. I’m sure they all have something or someone they love just as much. Is it unhealthy for us to maybe be this obsessed? Lmao, probably. But I don’t care because without Elvis I don’t know what I’d do.

Let people think it’s weird. Let them say what they want. He makes you happy and no one else has to understand that. But they certainly don’t get to dictate your love for him either.

WE CAN’T QUIT ELVIS AND HE CERTAINLY WOULDN’T WANT US TO. ☺️🩵

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jiminrings · 4 months ago

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im still on jungkooks side sorry not sorry. i mean yes he’s the same person who celebrated his old relationship anniversary with his ex and all that yadayada (i wouldn’t even forgive him but that’s something she choose to do and now has to deal with) but what i kind of find hypocritical is how come yoongi has the chance to stay in their life even though she didn’t date him but that’s a person who still had romantic feelings for her and was ready to ask her out and im sorry but i do not believe her when she said she would choose jungkook everytime because she can‘t know that. i mean if someone tries to say yea but he’s nice and helps both of them well so was jungkooks ex? she wasn’t rude or anything so why does he get to be in their life and say these things/do these things that shouldn’t be his job as a FRIEND because that’s the job of the husband/father. i also totally understand that jungkook was afraid the second time telling her what was going on and what not but this just means to me that he truly has no one other than his wife to speak out freely without getting judged by anyone. i mean she has jimin, seokjin and yoongi so why is it that she gets to talk to them about their business and nobody bats an eyelash to that childish of act instead of just ranting to someone that’s NOT someone who had romantic feelings for you and always makes your husband insecure and no not everyone has to work on themselves to get away from those feelings etc bc simply why? yoongi isn’t someone important that’s a coworker of her so why not stop taking to him? i totally understand his insecurities because hello? why do you speak to yoongi about your marriage? what makes you different from his ex who spoke to jungkook in the past? there should be boundaries or he should gtfo. don’t get me wrong im not saying i don’t see jungkooks mistakes but nobody can tell me that she’s selfish simply because she works 24/7 and that with her friends but jungkook takes care of the baby and watches the wall ALONE? wtf lol nah and also what does her enemy have anything to with her? that’s work what if he never becomes this chance again all because he choose to STAY AT HOME ALONE AND WATCH HIS KID instead of doing work for a bit and coming back while feeling accomplished to have done such an amazing body of work? i simply do not care if he works with her enemy because there’s always going to someone you don’t like and you can’t always turn everything down just because that person hurt you. why does she always question his loyalty as if she was any better? plaid into that situation ship with yoongi and jungkook didn’t say shit and now SHE wants to talk about boundaries/loyalty lmao?

sorry went off (im on my period 😂) if you couldn’t tell it’s not me hating on her it’s just me saying that she’s a hypocrite but still loved it you writing is amazing!!! 💚🫶🏻

HEE-HEE DON'T BE SORRY AT ALL BAE!!! phase 3's rlly meant to be a moral dilemma fic jus like how phase 1 went :D YOU'RE RIGHT THOUGH!!!! also exactly :( the very existence of 478yoongi is a double-edged sword (that hurts jk the more that it benefits oc) n he represents the very flawed n maybe complex (?) idea that oc would have a fail-safe if in case it doesn't work out 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ i don't day this to imply that it's NOTTT gonna work out or that oc would cheat or anything, but what i mean is that i agree w u that almost every time, if not always, jk n oc's relationship isn't equal!!! anyway i love ur take n i don't have all the words rn bc my brain is fried from driving all day so i'll elaborate soon !!! mwah do not apologize at all love yew

#answered #mass answered #478 feed

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gendervapor14 · 2 years ago

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~ temptation, torment, and tangerines ~

♥ story sample and details below the cut ♥

Sora kept her jaw shut because she was positive no matter what she said, Bell-mère would find a way to use it against her. Instead, she reached into her pockets for her keys. Groped at a half-empty box of cigarettes and a lighter in the right pocket. A folded-up page of one of Rosinante’s stupid boardroom doodles in the other.

But no keys. Because she wasn’t expecting to go to her office at midnight, and she probably left them on the fucking dresser.

“Don’t tell me.”

Sora lowered her head. Pinched her cigarette between her thumb and index finger. Ran her tongue over her molars. There were boardroom halls around, but she was positive they were all locked by now. Custodians had already swept by and cleaned them for the morning meetings. Tsuru’s office was up another floor, probably open. But that meant having this conversation in front of Tsuru. It’d be a power move if Bell-mère wouldn’t prattle off a list of Sora’s less-than-typical authority measures, and sink her career for good.

“We have two options.” She decided, straightening her shoulders and meeting Bell-mère’s dubious eye. “We could call this off until tomorrow morning.”

“Or…?”

The cigarette rested between her teeth again. She needed a support system. A feeble attempt. “I think we should call it off until tomorrow morning.”

Bell-mère leaned in. “I’ve got drills tomorrow morning. Unless you’re telling me it’s okay to skip them…?”

Sora didn’t have the mental fortitude to recall Bell-mère’s schedule. Chances were, she was bluffing. She wanted that other option. Just talk. Just talk. Just talk. “Well, then my only other suggestion is taking this to my room, because this isn’t an appropriate conversation to hold in a hallway.”

Bell-mère lit up like a goddamn bonfire. “That so, Commodore? Gonna teach me another lesson…?” She cut the distance between them, tracing a finger under Sora’s jaw. Sora did her best to remain stone-cold and professional. “Filed my nails for ya.”

“You are, unbelievable.”

“Yeah, funny enough, you’re not the only one who’s said that.”

it's everyone's favorite former marine! uh. yeah, rosinante's in this story too, yes, fine. but bell-mere doesn't get nearly enough love!!

in my journey to bring her justice, i've started writing a myriad of stories about her. so first, i bring you this E-rated, bell-mere x fem OC, 4 chaptered little thing. focuses on bell-mere and her time in the navy, and takes place in the 01746 universe, but i think it can be read and enjoyed standalone! i've got some corabelle in the works as well, so keep your eyes peeled!

before i continue, i will reiterate: this piece is rated E, so minors, please do not interact.

title: temptation, torment, and tangerines rating: E category: F/F, F/M content warnings: none! status: complete!, 4 chapters, 23,522 words relationships: bell-mere/original character, rosinante/original character (only at the very tail end of chapter 4) rosinante & oc, bell-mere & rosinante characters: original character (sora), bell-mere, donquixote rosinante, tsuru additional tags: canon plausible, enemies to lovers, but uh it's more enemies to lovers to friends, sexual tension, angst and hurt/comfort, feminist themes, misandry, sora needs therapy, bell-mere does her best, okay here come the porn tags lmao, smut, shower sex, masturbation in shower, wow there's a tag for that, vaginal fingering, inappropriate use of devil fruit powers, rough sex, oral sex, vaginal fisting, gags, wow these two have fun huh, undertones of sorazon throughout the fic, but main pairing is bell-mere and sora, no infidelity this is pre-sorazon, exhibitionism, light masochism, some humor, conflict of interests, moral dilemmas, hate sex, arguing, size difference, referenced domestic abuse, referenced human trafficking summary: “I’m not, we’re not doing anything. I’ll let you go, for now, but you need to get serious. If I hear of any other misdemeanors after this conversation, I will report you.” Bell-mère sauntered towards the door with her hands out in an exaggerated shrug. “You owe me a tangerine, by the way.” Sora scoffed and folded her arms. “You’re supposed to salute your superiors upon entry and exiting.” “I’ll salute ya as soon as I respect ya, toots.”

~ takes place in the 01746 universe, but can be read standalone ~

special thanks to @gali-la for beta reading this demon!! <3

until next time o7

#it's here!!!#so excited (and nervous) to share this one!!#it's. different #i say that about every story tho don't i #that's the GOAL alright #well anyway #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanart #genwrites #gensart #one piece original character #one piece oc #bell mère #bellemere #donquixote rosinante #corazon one piece

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fishgirl514 · 10 months ago

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ok. just finished season 3 now im going to ramble:

i was not a huge fan of the fact that the entire season was one really long fight scene in the same location? it got a little boring lol

also a lot of the things that happened just kind of …happened. not a lot of explanation or justification or setting up for logical conclusions.

also i know this iteration of sonic is definitely not the same as other versions of his personality but his unyielding determination to redeem nine when he was literally tearing the universe apart was very odd. like.. sonic wouldn’t do that. he’s never been a guy who’s determined to redeem villains and make friends.

the threat posed by the robots was really inconsistent, esp the big one? ALSO WHEN THE 2 TAILS FUCKING DIED AND EVERYONE JUST MOVED ON ??????? WHAT LMAO.. i know they were alive in the end but still😭

sonic’s whole “my friends!!!!!!!!!!!” thing was so undefined and all over the place. like does he want to save his friends or just nine? because he was being such a pushover with him.

honestly a lot of things were all over the place. dread was moping and refusing to fight and then next scene he’s normal? what does tails even want..? him becoming a power hungry supervillain wasn’t really narratively justified.

for the first 2 seasons there was a bunch of character arcs set up. shadow learns to trust sonic, sonic learns to cooperate with his friends, and he grapples with the concept of having to destroy the new worlds he created to bring back an old one. yeah it’s a complex topic… but if ur going to set up a crazy moral dilemma you have to solve it! instead we got some stupid voltron steven universe bullshit LOL

what happened to the void? and the chaos emerald? WHERE WAS SHADOW IN THE END??? i wanted to know if he lost his memory of everything or not!!!

ghhhhhhhhhh…….. in the end, i still really enjoyed this show. the animation was FANTASTIC and i loved the voice acting and designs and the *concept* the started with. im happy to see that it wasn’t abandoned and im happy that sonic got a netflix series. hopefully this will mean good things for the franchise moving forward but dear GOD they have got to get more subtle with sonic’s character. he’s such a mope it’s making me want to go rewatch sonic x to see him being normal again. this seems really negative and complainy because there was a LOT to discuss but honestly this show still means a lot to me and it helped me through a really dark moment and overall i still think it’s pretty good.

im absolutely going to talk about what i would have done to wrap up all the character arcs in a sort of rewrite thing in another post as soon as i finish thinking it through bc my mind is buzzing.

FUCK ALSO I FORGOT TO SAY THE SONADOW WAS PEAK IM SAD THEY DIDNT GET A CLOSING MOMENT BUT SHADOW CARRYING SONIC BACK WAS MY EVERYTHING AND THE HUG MOMENT WHERE SHADOW DIDNT PUSH OFF LIKE HE DID BEFORE WAS ADORABLE

#sonic #sonic prime #sonic prime season 3 #sonic prime s3

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the-cult-of-russo · 2 years ago

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Poetic Tragedy (Part 2)

Pairing: Reader X Billy Russo

Warnings: Cursing, angst, sadness, substance abuse, mental health issues. This one’s a little dark and not really in a violent way (okay some of it is lmao). Just more the themes explored, I guess?

A/N: Let me know what guys are thinking of this so far. I’m currently up to chapter four with writing it. There’s gonna be a lot more Billy in the next chapters.

—------------------------

It had been five days since your shameful experience with Josh and you had two days left before you’d have to see him again. Luckily though, this time you’d managed to get enough money to pay him. It had taken some time for you to grow a pair and start stealing again, worried the vigilante assholes would turn up again and steal it right off you. They hadn't, and as the days wore on, you got back into your old routine. You weren't quite sure of the happenings in the city, had no idea what events were happening. It wasn't like you were in the loop. But the nightlife recently had been pretty big, and while it made stealing a little riskier, drunk people generally didn't really notice until it was too late and you’d managed to make a decent amount. Enough to cover what you needed with a little extra since you didn't trust the slimy asshole not to pull a fast one on you again. You hadn't needed to buy food since the church had held a soup kitchen thing. It had only been for this week though. They didn't have enough to do it full time and they always hoped donations would come rolling in so they could do it more often. The donations never came though. People didn't give a shit about feeding homeless people. There used to be a soup kitchen here a few years back but it had been burnt down and they didn't have the money to reopen it. You missed those days. The days where you didn't have to worry about food, where your money could all go on your fix and you wouldn't be faced with the dilemma of a choice that you knew the answer to every time. And so, with a warm meal in your belly every day and no need to worry about your next fix for a few days, you’d gone back to what you normally did, which was a whole heap of nothing. It was boring but it wasn't like you knew much different. It had been a while since you had a normal life and even then it wasn't exactly normal. On the street, you didn't have the luxury of hobbies to keep you entertained or having the internet to watch stupid videos or friends. It wasn't like you had those either before though if you were honest with yourself. You’d run away from home at 14 years old. Even then you’d known the streets wouldn't be kind to you, especially at your age, but it was way better than the hell that waited for you back home. You’d luckily evaded the cops until you were no longer a minor. When you did run in with them, you hadn't been listed as a missing person, not that you were surprised your parents wouldn't report you missing. You were nothing but a burden to them, the day you left was probably the best of their lives.

You’d been laying on your makeshift bed, huddled in your thin blanket to try and fight off the chilly bite to the air as you dozed off when you heard shouting. You sat up with bleary eyes, looking around but seeing no one. It sounded like it was coming from the back of the alley, where another alley connected to yours. The voices were raised and angry and it sounded like someone else was crying. You felt an uncomfortable dread settle over you as you stood, creeping to the corner of the other alley. At first, you couldn't make out their words but the men shouting had very distinct Irish accents. But as you got to the corner and peeped around, you saw a man on his knees as another was holding a gun to his head, some other guys behind him. You felt your heart hammering away in your chest but couldn't tear your eyes away.

“Please, please, it wasn’t me, I swear it!” the man on the floor pleaded through harsh tears.

“Stop lyin’ to me! We know it was you! Ye should know better than t’ cross the Irish mob!” the big guy with the gun yelled angrily. Oh shit… The gun fired and you jumped with a gasp as the man fell into a lifeless heap on the floor. Then suddenly, all eyes were on you.

“Go and get her!” the guy with the gun ordered harshly as he pointed to a stocky man behind him. Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You took off running like a bat out of hell back down your alley as you realized you’d just witnessed a murder. A murder by the Irish mob. You were fucked. Out of all possible scenarios, this was not the way you figured you’d end up dead. Your chest burned before you even got to the end of the alley. In your malnourished state, you were weak and the drugs surely hadn't helped that or the state of your heart. Your breaths were coming in sharp as you turned to see if the guy was following you. He was and he was rapidly catching up. Your eyes darted to a piece of wood near the dumpster and you grabbed it, swinging it just as the guy caught up to you. It hit his head with a sickening crack and he fell to the floor.

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” you muttered, your whole body trembling as you looked at him. He was unmoving and your eyes were suddenly drawn to a very large pool of blood that was rapidly coming from his head. You could still hear the other men shouting and you took off once more, tossing the bloody piece of wood to the side. Your chest was heaving and you felt sick but your body was screaming at you to run. If you knew you’d wind up in this situation at some point, you might never have taken drugs to begin with.

You kept running until you were a block away and spied a payphone, making a beeline for it. You hadn't thought much about Frank's little piece of paper, other than using it to snort your shit. But you hardly expected the Irish mob to want you dead. Your hands were shaking like crazy as you fished the paper out, along with the 50 cents he’d given you. You shoved it in the phone, rapidly pushing numbers and hoping to a god you didn't believe in that you’d pressed the right ones with how badly your hands trembled.

“Hello?” he answered roughly. Relief shot through you but it didn't last long with the tight grip of fear seizing you.

“Frank, it's Y/N,” you muttered shakily.

“Y/N who?” he asked, sounding confused and defensive. You shook your head realizing you’d never told him your name.

“The homeless bitch. Look, I’m in trouble. Like deep deep shit,” you hissed, clenching the phone tighter as you quickly looked behind you.

“Hey, calm down. What happened?” he asked warily down the phone. You almost snapped at him about his comment to calm down but you were far too worried.

“I just… fuck… I just saw a murder. It was the fucking Irish mob. And they- they fucking saw me. They sent a guy after me and I think I might have killed him,” you rambled frantically, shifting on your feet, unable to keep still. There was a tense silence on the other line for a moment before he spoke again.

“And you're sure it was the Irish mob?” he asked slowly. You growled down the phone, gripping the receiver so tightly that you heard the plastic groan.

“Yes, I’m fucking sure! He was going on about not crossing the Irish mob before the guy got a bullet between his eyes,” you muttered tensely.

“Shit… Uh… Alright, where are you now?” he asked, it sounded like he was moving about. Your eyes darted around quickly, scanning the area.

“I’m a block away from my alley. Outside that weird fancy French store that sells ball gowns,” you murmured, still looking around nervously.

“Fancy French ball gowns?” he questioned. You heard another voice in the background, not able to hear the words but the tone sounded a lot like Jigsaw.

“Alright, we know where it is. Stay put, we’ll come get you,” Frank muttered and you heard a vehicle door slam.

“What if they turn up here? They’re gonna find that guy and know I killed him. They're gonna kill me, oh god, I’m gonna throw up,” your legs suddenly felt like jello as you tried to breathe.

“You’re gonna be fine. If they turn up then just get outta there. Do whatever you have to, alright?” he soothed down the phone. It didn't soothe you at all though.

“Okay,” you nodded, trying to take deep breaths. Your chest still burned. With that, he hung up and you hoped to fuck they wouldn't be too long.

The gravity of the situation seemed to hit you like a mack truck, even heavier than before. You might have been just some homeless girl to most people, but the mob didn't leave any witnesses. You’d seen what happened, seen their faces. The only option was for them to kill you. Why didn't you just stay on your shitty little bed? You paced around for a long while, eyes darting everywhere any time you heard a sound. But after waiting, your fear seemed to get higher with each passing moment. You quickly turned back to the payphone, deciding on calling Frank back and asking where the fuck he was. You rummaged in your pocket for more change. You’d spent what he’d given you but you had a little change from stealing. But as you brought out the money, someone gripped your arm in a vice-like grip and whirled you around. You came face to face with the guy who had the gun before, his men a little aways behind him.

“Well what do we have here?” he sneered down at you. You blinked at him with wide eyes feeling like the air in your lungs had vanished completely.

“Please let me go, I didn't see anything, I swear!” you pleaded, feeling panic grip you tight. You might not have the best life but you weren't ready to die. Definitely not like this.

“Do ye know the punishment for people that kill our members?” he asked with a dark smirk. You trembled, a whimper leaving your lips as his hand tightened around your arm. Maybe they wouldn't be so merciful now you’d killed one of their own. The sound of screeching tires had you both looking to the road as a black van barreled towards you. It drifted, the tires screaming and then a loud bang happened. You felt warm blood splatter on your face before the man fell into a heap on the floor at your feet. You couldn't breathe, standing there completely still as your chest heaved. Your eyes were glued to the man whose head was lay on your feet, his blood all over your boots. You barely registered the sound of a gunfight, the sound of shouting. Someone grabbed your arms and you yelped, looking quickly to your right. It was a man you didn't recognise with a darker complexion and a kind smile.

“Come on,” he murmured. Your brain wouldn't work, too in shock by everything and your body allowed you to be pulled by him. Then you were put into the back of the black van. You sat in the back shakily hugging your knees. Your mind was replaying the man being shot right in front of you on a loop, the sound of the gunshot painful to your ears.

The driver's door opened and Frank hopped in quickly at the same time the back doors opened. Jigsaw got in, hurriedly slamming the door.

“I fuckin’ love that shit,” he laughed as he sat down opposite you, seeming almost giddy from the situation. Frank wasted no time in tearing out of there, the van squealing down the road as he took off.

“You okay?” he asked, glancing back over his seat to where you were huddled in the back. You didn't answer him, your eyes glued to a splatter of blood on your jeans. They’d never felt so gross to you before.

“Think we mighta broke her, Frankie,” Jigsaw murmured wryly. You paid them no mind, unable to in your current shocked state. Your mind was a whirl with everything you just went through and it couldn't seem to process so much information. Suddenly, someone was clicking their fingers right by your face and you jumped, snapping out of your trance. Your slightly unfocused eyes snapped to Jigsaw then, only he wasn’t wearing his mask anymore. It was pulled on top of his head as his dark eyes bore into you. You didn't have the brain power to think about the many scars all over his face.

“You alright?” he asked in a calm voice. You blinked dumbly at him for a long moment as he just watched you.

“Is he dead?” you asked quietly, your voice holding no emotion.

“Who?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“The-The man I uh… I hit with the… with the wood,” you muttered, feeling your stomach churning as you remembered. Jigsaw laughed then, sounding like he was amused.

“Damn right he is. You did a real number on him with that two-by-four. I gotta say, surprised you had it in you,” he smirked. You looked away from him quickly with a frown. Wasn’t it just five days ago you told Frank you weren’t a murderer? That you weren’t a hardened criminal? Now you’d gone and killed someone. It made you feel ill. Jigsaw swiped a bag from next to him, looking through it for a moment and drawing your eyes to it. It looked like some medical supplies. He grabbed out a bunch of gauze and then a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap.

“Shouldn't feel bad over a piece of shit like that. You have any idea what they woulda done to you if they caught you?” he asked darkly, moving his almost black eyes to your face. You looked at him for a moment, swallowing thickly before you averted your eyes. You couldn't take the weight of his gaze. You had some ideas what they would have done, none of them kind or merciful. But it still didn't ease the uncomfortable feeling in your chest at knowing you’d killed someone.

He scooted close to you once more and you tensed but didn't move away. His face was far too close for comfort and you didn't want to just look at him this close. So instead, you looked at your blood-stained jeans as you wondered what the hell he was doing. But then he brought the gauze to your face and started wiping the blood spatter off it. The gauze was wet so you figured he’d used the water on it. You weren't quite sure what to say. You hadn't had any real physical contact in years other than the times with Josh but that just made you sick. And despite the asshole routine, he knew the rules. He wasn't allowed to kiss or touch you. His dick was the only thing allowed and even that was enough to make you want to heave. But he did as he was told because he knew you wouldn't let him otherwise. And now Jigsaw was wiping blood off your face with such a gentle touch for someone so capable of harm and it made your heart beat funny. It was oddly intimate. You stayed still until he was done. He shot you a strange look before he scooted back to the other side of the van, tossing the bloody gauze on the floor.

“Thanks,” you bit out, unsure of how to deal with the situation. You looked at him as he gave you a nod. You couldn't gauge his mood now. It wasn't the amused and easy one he’d had earlier. You wondered how he did it. How he seemed so at ease with all the violence. He seemed like he enjoyed it. It wasn't too long after that the van screeched to a halt, making your body jerk.

“We’re here,” Frank piped up before getting out of the van with the other man in the front. Jigsaw got up, crouching as he opened the door and hopped out. You heaved a sigh before you followed him. Jigsaw hovered a little as you jumped down, body wobbling a little as your head spun. You knew the adrenaline was wearing off now and you were about to crash pretty hard. All you could think about was the bag burning a hole through your pocket. You followed the guys, your eyes looking up to the large building. It was indeed where the warehouse was, except it looked a lot different to the last time you saw it. And when you followed behind them as they walked inside, it was nothing like the dilapidated place you once knew.

It looked like it had been totally refurbished. You could have easily mistaken it for a hotel of some kind. There was a large area to the left where some guys were sparring with each other and on the right it looked like some kind of cafeteria area, some people sitting at the tables as they chatted. There were far more people here than you’d anticipated.

“Oh my god, Frank!” someone called out. A blonde rushed over, wrapping her arms around the man and he smiled down at her.

“I’m alright,” he murmured softly, kissing her lips briefly. The blonde turned to you then, surprise coloring her face.

“Is this her?” she asked quietly, looking quickly at Frank as he nodded. So he’d been talking about you. You wondered what he’d been saying.

“I’m Karen,” she said with a kind smile as she looked at you. You gave her a weak one in return, wrapping your arms around yourself. You were shaking a little and your energy was starting to seep out of you. Karen whispered something to Frank again before moving closer to you.

“Come on, I’ll show you your room,” she gestured with her head and you followed her. You wouldn't mind staying here for a night, getting off the streets. It wasn't like you could go back to your alley right now anyway. Karen was quiet as she led you up the stairs at the back of the large lower floor area and you followed her up the stairs. She bypassed the door on the second floor and went up to the third, opening the door. Again, it looked just like a hallway in a hotel, doors on either side.

“What's on the second floor?” you asked, trying to distract yourself from everything you were feeling. Karen shot you a smile as she stopped and you stood next to her.

“That's where the recruits stay. The rooms are smaller so there’s more of them and they have a couple of shared bathrooms. Up here, the rooms are bigger because there's less of us. Those that started this thing. It's me, Frank, Billy and Curtis up here. Micro used to live here too but he went back to live with his family now it's safe. He still comes here but he doesn't stay over. That's why we have the spare room,” she gestured to the door next to you and you glanced at it. You had no idea who all the names were she just spouted off but you were too tired to care.

“The rooms up here all have their own bathroom with a bath and shower. Feel free to use it. I have some clothes that should fit you. Might be a little… big. But it's better than nothing, right?” she asked wryly.

“I appreciate it, thanks,” you smiled tiredly. You meant it though. The idea of a shower and bath made your chest ache. You couldn't remember the last time you’d had those luxuries. Maybe it was obvious which is why she was telling you that you could use them.

“No problem. Just go on in, I’ll be back in a second,” she smiled brightly before rushing off.

You opened the door and looked around curiously. It was a fairly simple room, cream walls and a black carpet. There was a decently sized double bed against the wall and the sight of a duvet made a spark of excitement hit you. You knew it was stupid. You weren't exactly staying long. But one night with a duvet would be more than you thought you’d ever get again. There was a bedside table, wardrobe and dresser with a mirror over it, a small desk and a chair in the corner. You opened the other door in the room to see a nicely sized bathroom. The bathtub wasn't huge but it was bigger than the one you remembered having as a child. The toilet was on the other side along with the sink. Some white fluffy towels were hung on a railing near the bath, but other than that, there wasn't anything else in there. You heard the room door open and walked back out to the bedroom, seeing Karen carrying some things. She dumped them on the bed.

“I got you a few outfits, I didn't know what you like so…” she murmured sheepishly and you looked at the pile of clothes on the bed. They were all so nice and clean. It was weird.

“I also got you this. The new recruits always get a welcome pack like this and I figured giving you one wouldn't hurt. Besides, we have barely any female recruits,” she snorted, passing you a big clear bag. You glanced through it and saw shampoo, conditioner, body wash, razors, a hairbrush and scissors. There was also a new toothbrush and toothpaste. You also saw a box of tampons but you knew you wouldn't be needing them. You hadn't had a period since you were 18. Malnourishment really fucks with your body.

“Wow… This is… Thank you,” you murmured, feeling a weird ache hit your chest. All these things most people took for granted, yet you hadn't owned in forever. Momentarily, the need to use was quelled by the idea of finally being clean.

“It's fine, honestly. I’ll leave you to it and come check on you later, okay?” she smiled. You nodded with a smile of your own, feeling grateful to be here. Once she left, you didn't hesitate to strip out of your dirty and blood-stained clothes. You were unsure what to do with them so you stuffed them into the trashcan in the bathroom, knowing there was no saving them. You rifled through the clothes Karen had brought you, trying to figure out which would be your new outfit. She obviously expected you to keep it but you wouldn't be rude and take them all when you left. You didn't like lugging a big bag around anyway. So after careful consideration, you picked some dark gray skinny jeans, although you knew they wouldn't be too skinny fitting on your small frame, a black long sleeve tee and a nice plush dark gray cardigan to match. It was actually thick and cozy feeling and it was long enough that it would fall almost to your knees. It would be a good outfit for the winter. There were also pajamas and some new panties so you took them, placing them on the bed for after your shower. You put the rest of the outfits in the drawers and put the one you’d picked in the wardrobe before grabbing the clear bag and taking it to the bathroom. First up was a shower. The water was brown and red as it swirled down the drain as you scrubbed your skin until it hurt. You felt glorious after you’d washed and shaved everywhere. You’d never been able to do that and the hair annoyed you, made you feel dirtier. You felt so fresh, it was a strange sensation. Then you worked on your hair. Your hair had grown out quite a bit without a hairdresser to tame it. You’d cut it once a few years back, right up to your chin as it annoyed you. But the scissors you’d found in the dumpster had been blunt and it was slightly choppy so you hadn't bothered again. You hated the way it would always fall into your face so you’d let it grow out. You’d managed to acquire a hair tie after stealing a purse once so your hair had been living in a messy bun. It hadn't been touched or brushed in so long, you knew this would be a task.

You tried to get the hair tie out but it was like hair had grown over it and you ended up having to use the scissors to cut it out. Your hair still stayed up in the bun though and you sighed. You tried to untangle the worst of the matts, pulling them apart with your fingers. Then you washed your hair multiple times, seeing all the dirt coming off it with water. You did it until the water ran clean before you smothered your head with conditioner. With the conditioner still on, you tried to brush your hair some more. Some of the worse knots wouldn't budge and you got frustrated. You washed out the conditioner, deciding to get out and dressed before you continued trying to fix your hair. It would take quite a while. You dried yourself with the fluffy towel, smiling to yourself for a moment as you did. You felt like a new person. You knew it wouldn't last forever but for now, it was all that mattered. You’d switch your mind off from the horrors you'd been through that night and try to focus on the good right now. That's how you always lived. Day by day. You never got to think about the future when you didn't know if you’d have one.

Once dressed in the pajamas and your teeth now brushed, you sat on the bed with the hairbrush and scissors. You didn't trust yourself to cut your hair again but you knew you would if you had to. After what felt like an hour, you were getting frustrated and tears pricked your eyes. The adrenaline had fully worn off and the wonders of being clean did little to ease your shot nerves. You wouldn't normally get tearful over something stupid like your hair but you figured your brain was using it as an excuse to let some of your trauma out. You sniffled, tossing the brush on the bed with a groan. You felt so weak and you hated it. You’d never felt more fragile in your life. All you could think about was your drugs you’d put under your pillow but Karen had said she’d be coming back so you didn't use them. There was a knock at the door and you wiped your eyes angrily before it opened and Karen popped her head inside.

“It's just me… What's wrong?” she asked with a frown when she saw your face. She moved into the room, closing the door behind her.

“I’m having a fight with my hair and losing,” you huffed, feeling your cheeks burn. You felt stupid. She gave you a sympathetic smile as she moved over to the bed, sitting behind you.

“I can see if I can help,” she murmured, grabbing the brush. She was far more delicate with your locks than you had been and you sighed.

“Maybe we should just cut some of it off,” you relented. You didn't want it short enough that you couldn't put it back like last time but maybe Karen was a lot better with scissors than you were.

“I could take just a little off. The ends are pretty bad, I think if we cut a few inches off I could get the rest out,” she agreed. You handed her the scissors and she set to work. It was just past your shoulders when she was done and then she started with the brush again. Before long, the brush was going through your hair with no snags.

“There we go!” she grinned, setting the brush down. You moved to sit so you could see her, feeling a lot better now it was done. You were still exhausted though.

“Thanks. I think you're some kind of hair witch or something,” you muttered wryly, making her snort.

“Maybe I should have gone into hairdressing. I always get roped in to fix people's hair here,” she grinned. You stifled a yawn with your hand and she stood up, giving you a smile.

“You should get some rest. Frank will wanna speak to you tomorrow and you’ve had a… rough night,” she said softly. You nodded, knowing your body needed sleep. But it needed something else first.

“If you need anything, me and Frank are just down the hall. Billy’s just next door too,” she added.

“Who’s Billy?” you asked curiously as you set the scissors and brush on the bedside table, scooping up the hair.

“Oh! Right… You know him as Jigsaw,” she smiled ruefully. Billy. Seemed such a simple name for a complicated looking guy.

“Thank you again,” you said sincerely. She nodded, flashing you one more smile before she slipped out of the door.

You waited for a moment before letting out a shaky breath. You felt drained. You reached under your pillow where the bag and paper were before you repeated your nightly ritual. Once you were done, you stuffed them back under your pillow before you lay down. It felt like the bed swallowed you whole, like laying on a cloud. You felt like you were floating. As the high kicked in, you allowed yourself to forget the bullshit you’d been through as you lost yourself in the feeling of being warm and comfortable. You knew it wasn't going to last long so you wanted to enjoy it while you had it.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic

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star-sim · 7 months ago

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oh wise vanya please help me apparently my year of dignity and male-lessness decided to spice things up and now i’m in a Dilemma!

a bit (a lot) of context: so around two and a half years ago there was this guy who liked me and then confessed to me, at the time i liked him a little too but i think it was mainly because i liked the idea of liking someone and someone liking me?? if that makes sense.

so he confessed to me one day and i was like “oh i like you too lol” because i literally did Not know what to do in that situation and then it was lowkey awk because we mutually avoided each other at school 💀 we were really young tho BUT THEN like a month and a half later he was said he didn’t like me anymore (HE SENT THAT OVER TEXT LMFAO…) and i responded with “okay” (i realized that i didn’t really like him at that point too so i was kind of relieved tbh) it wasn’t even a relationship because bffr we didn’t even hold hands so why was bro being all like “let’s break up 😐” like… were we ever even together be honest

it was VERY awkward after that like lmao we wouldn’t even make eye contact but then a few months later we became close friends because we were friends before (idek how atp); then he moved away during the summer because he was going to some boarding school & we still kept in contact up until last summer

he got a girlfriend in may of last year?? and ever since then i’d been VERY distant like i didn’t talk to him at ALL because i have to uphold the girl code… apparently he told his girlfriend about me though and i’ve heard from a mutual friend that she doesn’t like me that much and disliked me even more after she found out that he had a saved folder of me in his photos (that’s on him tho bc wtf 💀 that’s kind of a Red Flag of him)

anyways back to today… i opened my snapchat after 8263872 days of being dormant and apparently he texted me for the first time since JUNE three weeks ago and i unknowingly left him on sent 💀💀

now i could either: a) open his message because honestly i am morbidly curious or b) leave his message to marinate forever and leave him on sent indefinitely

which would be more girlboss because i am done w men irl 😐 send help pls

ASH!!!!

liking someone purely bc you like the idea of liking someone and them liking you back is SO REAL

UGHH he is so middle school boy love.... the "let's break up" over text when the most ygs did was probably look at each other.... pukes

youre such a girl's girl, youre SO realness for not talking to him for the sake of girl code... ugh im sorry controversial opinion it irks me when ppl are angry at their s/o's ex... like u didnt even do anything to her, is it a crime to exist. if anything, she should be mad at HIM??? like who is the one keeping pictures of their ex? not you, so why are you literally the subject of her anger. ever since new years i've been trying to tone down my d1 hater tendencies but ouuuu that makes me to annoyed on your behalf like LEAVE HER ALONE 😡

i say... open the message. see what this bitchass has to say. i'm also kinda curious too. whether or not you respond is up to you, but if youre worried about girl code, i don't see an issue? he's the one doing shady stuff, your entire existence is not tied to him and your actions are independent of him, if that's hard for him or his gf to see then they clearly aren't mature does it kill them to use critical thinking

but if you DO leave him on sent... it would be pretty funny

everyone ditch his ass he deserves no one!!!!!

#star-sim #vanya-talks #★: ash !!

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whalesforhands · 9 months ago

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hii nyv!! But i just wanted to share this small thought i got in the middle of the night while rereading ur small “arguments?” post for dyf au!!

(kinda suggestive at the end and small indirect spoilers for dyf’s main story!!)

but like…for more sillier arguments, i have a small, teeny, tiny feeling satoru turns on his infinity just to piss (name) and suguru. A small “argument” about satoru’s sweet-tooth habits? Infinity is turned on!!

Once MC comes back and they have their first silly argument, i feel like, Once it’s turned on, suguru knows almost immediately. MC however, takes some time to realize it.

(mainly because i’m pretty sure satoru only discovers his infinity after star plasma, so, MC wouldn’t know, yet. It just slipped their mind to tell her.)

So whenever it first happens; Suguru shrugs it off, knowing Satoru is just pouty and being a brat, But MC has sympathy and tries to cuddle up to satoru, but is stopped by a few inches. And she’s just so confused, poor girl lmao. She starts wondering and overthinking it has to do with her whole dilemma of her coming back to life, but it really isn’t. Satoru notices it instantly and turns infinity off immediately, just to mess with her.(totally not because he wants to hug her and kiss her face all over, totally not.)

and this can go 1 of 3 ways.

Satoru gets suguru onto it, and they keep messing with her until she A. figures it out by shoko or someone else, or, B. Her overthinking gets to the best of her and they tell her straightforward.

Satoru tells her about it while pampering her in affection, between small, loving kisses around her face, and now she’s also in on it. He probably even uses it when it comes to more…intimate moments, just to see her beg for him to turn it off so she can touch him(or vise versa)

Suguru walks in on the moment, pressing his chest to MCs back and pressing a kiss to her forehead, telling her not to mind their goof of a husband, while holding a bag of candy that satoru has a liking for, and a certain milk that brings all of them back to their school days. Suguru teases satoru by being touchy with MC, until satoru quits being so stubborn and turns off his infinity, whining about how “mean” his two lovers are. (MC still didn’t even know what was going on LMAOO. But they(suguru) tells her later as they’re cuddling in bed.)

this turned out longer than expected…But i hope your break goes well nyv, you deserve it<3 also happy birthday!!! :3c

also, a little correction; the base of the technique ‘Limitless’ is ‘Infinity’, and gojo was shown to already be able to wield this state very early on in hidden inventory arc, lol. so yes mc definitely knows about it, despite your ask lmao

but since you’ve written so much it’s a shame to not show this to others!!!!

#dyf au #nvytalks

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shapeshiftinterest · 2 years ago

Text

Polyamory Click: sun x moon x monty, fazcule

based on THIS post and a little on THIS post

hybrid!au: sun and moon are humans, the glamrocks are animal hybrids

sun, moon, and monty are the newest employees and have worked at the plex for at least a few months

monty gets on board with polyamory and dating sun and moon so he tells his bandmates

he’s a lil confused but he’s got the spirit

story under the read more

Polyamory Click (also on ao3)

“I UNDERSTAND EVERYTHING!!!” Monty yelled, slamming the breakroom door open.

His outburst made Chica squawk, dropping her lunch. “MY FRIES!!” She wailed, dropping to the floor and trying to gather them all up. Roxy’s arm jerked at the commotion, ruining her latest attempt to paint Freddy’s claws.

“Damn it, Monty, look what you made me do,” Roxy said, cleaning Freddy’s claws with a wet wipe. “Chica don’t eat those.”

Chica spat out the floor fries and reached for-

“And don’t you dare put any in your purse.”

“But Roxy-!”

“No, get Monty to buy you replacement fries.”

Chica pouted, tossing the fries into the trash and sitting by her girlfriend.

"Guys! Focus on me!”

“What did you understand, Monty?” Freddy asked, in an awkward attempt to smooth things over.

“The polyarmory!”

His bandmates blinked. “You mean polyamory?” Chica said, looking up as Monty paced the room. It’s a good thing they were sitting in a more open section or his tail would have knocked everything over from how hard it was wagging.

He snapped his fingers, the polish already chipping on his own claws. Roxy would probably corner him once she was done with Freddy’s. “Yea, that!”

“Didn’t really get why y’all were into it but I totally get it now! Like,” Monty started waving his arms around and gesturing. “That polymammory-”

“Polyamory.”

“-Polyamory shit really clicked into place when I was on my movie date with Sun 'n Moon yesterday, and they let me eat from both a’ their popcorns buckets with impurity.”

“Impunity, Monty.” Freddy said, blowing on on the nail polish while Roxy capped the bottles.

“At least he’s trying the word a day calendar?” Chica shrugged, happy Monty was using her birthday present. The words were a little jumbled but he was getting closer to using the right ones more often.

“‘Course Imma use it, girl. You got it for me.”

“Aaaawwww.”

“That is... not exactly, what polyamory is about. But we’re all very happy for you, Monty,” Freddy said, realizing that he probably should have eaten his burger before Roxy painted his nails. His ears drooped a little when his stomach growled.

Seeing his dilemma, Roxy unwrapped the top of the Double Deluxe Fazburger’s paper and held it up for him so he could take a bite. “Ah, thank you, Roxy.”

“No prob. ‘N yeah,” She turned to face Monty, one hand holding the burger, the other hovering under it so the crumbs and sauce wouldn’t get on their outfits. “Glad t’see you finally on board the Fazcule train lmao.”

“I wasn’t not on it,” Monty grumbled, snagging a chip from Freddy’s tray seeing as how Roxy’s was finished and he still owed Chica some fries. “Just didn’t know it was a thing I could do is all.”

“Sooooo, did you do anything else besides eat from both of their popcorn buckets?” Chica sing songed, leaning into the bassist’s space.

“What? No!”

“C’mooooon, you can tell us~ You held hands didn’t you. Didja get twice the goodnight kisses?” Chica smirked, chasing after Monty as he leapt out of his seat and tried to run from her interrogation. “Montyyyy, tell meeeee!”

“No!”

Roxy and Freddy laughed as the other Glams raced around the table and Freddy choked on his sandwhich a little from laughing too hard.

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catboyfever · 2 years ago

Text

A Gift From The Heart - Rabbit/Tigger Fluff

Hiiii I'm back with another fluffy fic. If you've been reading these up til now I really appreciate it! This is kind of a series now, since I spontaneously decided that earlier this week lmao. I have another story for this planned for Valentines Day :3c. I hope you enjoy! Oh, and this is a bit of a long one ehe.

The morning sun crept its way up the horizon casting its gentle orange and yellow rays over the sleeping inhabitants of the woods. All except Tigger who blinked and glanced at his window as his house began to brighten up. He’d not slept a wink. All night try as he may, he just couldn’t get himself to calm down. All over one single, solitary, yellow rabbit. Ever since the few days he’d spent with him when he was ill, then taking over the role of caretaker for Rabbit he’d been on his mind more than ever before. At first Tigger didn’t know what to make of things. After he’d gotten better he dismissed his “love bug” notion but… as the days passed and Rabbit was occupying so many of his thoughts… he had little else to pin it on. Things wouldn’t have been quite so complicated if it wasn’t Rabbit. Bunny Boy was always so smart and thoughtful… Tigger knew he couldn’t just waltz up to his door and proclaim his love for him. No, it had to be thoughtful and heartfelt with that signature Rabbit tact. The dilemma that kept him awake all night then became… How did he confess?

Tigger thought through the things that he would enjoy but ultimately every last one came up short. Fireworks was a tempting idea but he didn’t exactly trust himself not to light Rabbit’s garden on fire. Eventually, the one idea that he agreed with himself on was getting him a gift; but this posed a whole new problem. What could he get him? Tigger rolled out of his bed and began to pace around the room. None of the stuff he kept in his house would be any good, Rabbit had practically every gardening tool he could or couldn’t think of… what in the world could he give to him?

Instead of staying inside and driving himself stir crazy, he decided a bounce would clear his head. Tigger leapt out of his house and landed perfectly on his tail, leaping right back into the air once more until he settled into a quick, bouncy, flouncy rhythm. He headed towards Pooh’s house, admiring the slowly rising sun as birds began to wake and chirp overhead. Tigger meant to stop and knock at the door, but as he approached the door and tried to land on his feet, he tripped and sent himself barreling right into Pooh’s house door. He tumbled forward in a blur of orange and black and smacked right into the bear’s bed, sending the portly Pooh bear right out of his sheets and onto the floor. Pooh cried out in surprise before hitting the floor with a thud, upon which he’d stand up and look down at Tigger who was covered by his blanket.

“Oh, hello, Tigger.” Pooh said as he studied Tigger’s tail peeking out from his blanket. “I didn’t realize you’d come over for a sleepover! But… it’s a little late for that, don’t you think? Or… a bit early.”

Tigger kicked the blanket up into the air and tossed it back onto Pooh’s bed. “Nah you got it all wrong, Buddy Bear! I just came to visit and uh… ask a question.”

Pooh smoothed the blanket back onto his bed, neatly tucking it back into place. “Oh? What do you need to ask me?”

Tigger’s typically boisterous voice suddenly sounded a lot shakier than usual. “It’s… about Ra-Ra. I’ve been feeling these… lovey dovey fluffy things about him. I wanna tell him how I’ve been feeling but it’s gotta be real special, ya know?” Pooh smiled at him warmly and clapped his hands together. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Well then you should perhaps… get him a present?”

Tigger nodded. “That’s the plan, Buddy Bear. But I don’t know what to bring ‘im. What do you get someone like ol’ Long Ears?” Pooh tapped his forehead in thought, muttering to himself. “Think, think, think…” Tigger looked at him hopefully before Pooh exclaimed.

“I know! Why not bring him some honey? I know he’s often running out.” Pooh said.

Tigger shook his head but smiled appreciatively. “Nahh he’s perfectly capable of getting honey on his own. I wanna get him something he’s never got before!”

Pooh thought again, but ultimately, he wasn’t able to come up with anything. “Mm�� Perhaps it will be easier to think after I’ve had breakfast.”

Tigger nodded and turned to leave. “Well, thanks anyway, Buddy Bear! I’ll see you later!” Pooh waved to Tigger as he bounced out of his house. He didn’t even close the door before retrieving one of his honeypots from his table. Tigger bounced along the path from Pooh’s house as he thought of who to ask for help next. Eeyore wouldn’t be much help… Owl would put him right to sleep with another long winded story about his relatives… Gopher would probably suggest something explosive which Tigger had already ruled out with the fireworks idea… That left Kanga or Piglet as the last few friends to ask for help. Piglet’s house was closer so Tigger bounced his way towards it.

Tigger was much more careful this time. He walked the last few steps to Piglet’s house and knocked at the door. Piglet opened the door shortly after and looked up to Tigger.

“Good morning, Tigger!” Piglet greeted him.

“Morning there, pig-uh-let! Are you busy?” Tigger asked.

Piglet shook his head. “N-Not at all! Uh, what do you need?”

Piglet seemed a bit apprehensive about letting Tigger into his home but Tigger was too preoccupied with his thoughts to notice. Tigger took a seat at his table as Piglet closed the door. Immediately Piglet was curious as Tigger was hardly the bolt of energy he usually was.

“What’s the matter, Tigger?” Piglet asked.

“Well… I’ve been having these feelings lately. These lovey dovey fluffy stuffy feelings and it’s all about Rabbit. I want to give him a gift to show him how I feel, but not any old gift will do the trick.” Tigger explained.

Piglet nodded in understanding and thought to himself.

“W-w-well, how about something personal?” Piglet asked.

“Personal? Whatcha mean?” Tigger raised his eyebrows.

“You know, something from y-your heart that’s feeling all these uh- fluffy lovey feelings. Something that reflects you.” Piglet said.

Tigger took it literally. “But I’m pretty sure he already has a mirror, pig-uh-let.”

Piglet stood suddenly and zipped across the room to his closet. He began to rummage around, tossing things every which way until he returned to the table with a strange looking box. It was shiny and green with a hole in the center and some shiny brick set horizontally next to it. There was a thin slot at the bottom of it as well. Tigger studied the unfamiliar contraption, his mind working to guesstimate what each part of it could be used for.

“So uh… what is this thingymabob anyway?” Tigger asked.

“It’s a-a camera! Christopher Robin let me have it. You press this button on top…” Piglet said, pressing the shutter on the camera. A bright flash of light filled Tigger’s vision for a moment before a loud whirring sound filled the room. Once Tigger finished rubbing his eyes, a still picture of him slid from the camera. “...and it draws a picture of you right away!”

Tigger gasped and took the picture from the camera, bringing it closer to his face as he studied the stripes of his fur in the picture. “Why, that’s me! That’s amazing!” Piglet nodded. “If you get a picture of Rabbit and a picture of yourself, maybe you could put it in that locket you have? Th-th-the heart shaped one.”

Tigger’s tail stood straight up with excitement as he thought about Rabbit’s face when he opened such a gift.

“That’s a fantastic idea! Can I borrow this… this uh… cammyrah?” Tigger asked.

Piglet gently set the camera into Tigger’s hands. “Of course! Let me know how it goes.”

Tigger swept the little piglet up into a tight hug before winding up and leaping out the front door.

Every last muscle of Tigger’s body was full of energy. Rabbit would love this gift! But as he bounded towards his house he realized that to complete the gift he needed a picture of Rabbit as well. He couldn’t just tell him what he was doing… Tigger stood and turned towards his house, bouncing along the path while hoping that he was out gardening. He always smiled when he tended to his garden and he’d be so focused on working that it would be a perfect time to snap a picture. Just as Tigger hoped, Rabbit was busy tending to his garden. He had his work gloves on, firmly pulling weeds up by the root. As troublesome as weeds were, the act of removing them was quite therapeutic. Something so repetitive with a clear, visual indicator of the progress you’re making tickled Rabbit’s fancy perfectly. He spotted a particularly overgrown weed near one of his carrot patches and gasped. He stormed right up to the dastardly weed. The leafy weed had a thick stem and had a mess of roots even on the surface near the base of its stalk. Rabbit gripped the stem with both hands, tugging as hard as he could before the weed finally relinquished its grip on the soil and the whole network of roots came up with it.

Rabbit smiled in satisfaction, satisfied with his efforts before a blur of movement passed him by and a flash of white light filled his vision. Rabbit dropped the weed and cried out as he rubbed his eyes with his arms. When his vision returned to him he looked towards the road and saw Tigger’s back slowly disappearing over the horizon. “That Tigger… what is he up to…” Rabbit grumbled while tossing the extra large weed onto the pile.

Tigger retrieved the picture from the slot, examining it as it developed. Captured perfectly was Rabbit’s sweet sweet smile. One that Tigger saw in his daydreams often. Tigger bounced twice as fast home, excited to get to work preparing his gift.

Tigger leapt up from the ground up to his front door in one massive bounce and ran inside. He practically tore his house apart looking for his locket. Once he finally found it, he set it on the floor and turned the camera towards himself. He smiled as wide as he could and pressed the shutter, shaking his head after the flash went off. The picture came out perfectly. It was a crystal clear photo of his smile. Tigger rummaged around for a pair of scissors and gingerly cut around his face and Rabbit’s face in the photos into heart shapes to fit into the locket. The pictures were small enough that they fit perfectly.

Tigger lifted the locket up and studied it. On the left side of the heart was his picture and on the right, the picture of Rabbit. His heart began to pound in his chest. It was a great gift, but now came the hard part’ giving the gift to Rabbit. Tigger closed the locket and clutched it in his hands as he leapt from his front door. He bounced faster than he’d ever felt before, even faster than the time he whipped the whippy cream for Rabbit’s cakes. In no time at all he was back at Rabbit’s house.

Rabbit had retired to his house after all the weeding. Tigger knocked at his door and waited while his heart pounded into his throat. The door opened and out stepped Rabbit.

“Yes?” Rabbit asked before his eyes fell on Tigger. “Oh, it’s you. What were you up to bouncing past here earlier? I hope you’re not up to anything screwy.” Rabbit said while studying Tigger’s face.

Only, instead of finding the mischievous grin he expected to find, Tigger looked downright panicked.

“Tigger? Are you alright? Did something happen?” Rabbit asked, his growing concern evident in his voice.

Tigger shook his head. “N-No, nothing like that, Bunny Boy.”

Rabbit sighed in relief. “Then, what’re you making that face for?” He asked as he leaned against the doorway.

Suddenly, everything that Tigger had thought to rehearse to say in the moment left him. He was just standing there under Rabbit’s gaze, petrified as a stone. Tigger opened his mouth to speak a few times but nothing came out. Instead he simply thrust the hand that held the locket forward towards Rabbit.

Rabbit’s eyes widened in curiosity as he gingerly slipped the locket from Tigger’s grip.

“Is this… for me?” Rabbit asked.

Tigger nodded quickly. “I… I haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about ya. Ya know since… well the past few weeks we spent lotsa time together and…” Tigger took a deep breath. “You’re all I can think about. I daydream about ya all the time and I couldn’t sleep a wink last night because I was trying to find a way to tell you all this… this fluffy stuffs.”

Rabbit opened the locket and gasped. A picture of Tigger and a picture of himself set in an adorable heart shaped golden locket. Rabbit knew the locket well. He looked back up to Tigger in disbelief.

“You’re… giving me this? Your locket. And these pictures how did you-” Rabbit began to say.

“Christoper Robin gave Piglet a… whatchamacallit. A cammyrah. It takes these pictures in no time at all!” Tigger said.

Rabbit closed the locket and looked back towards Tigger. This wonderfully thoughtful gift, Tigger’s strangely heartfelt confession… Rabbit’s head was spinning. He recalled the way Tigger was talking and looking at him when he was sick. He thought about how he spent the whole night after that silly whipped cream incident thinking about the moment Tigger licked his nose.

“I… I…” Rabbit stammered.

Tigger met his gaze for the first time since he arrived.

“I… feel the same way about you.” Rabbit finally said.

Tigger’s eyes teared up and he swept Rabbit off his feet in a tight embrace. He was swept right off his feet, pinned against Tigger’s chest as he squeezed him with all his might. Tigger only let go once Rabbit wheezed and he realized just how firmly he’d hugged him.

“Oh- jeez, sorry Ra-Ra!!” Tigger exclaimed.

Once Rabbit caught his breath he brought Tigger inside and closed the door behind him. The pair exchanged nervous glances while the realization of what they’d both said and done dawned on them.

“So… we’re uhm… ya know.” Tigger said.

“Yes, I guess we’re… together.” Rabbit said.

“So, what do we do?” Tigger asked.

“I’m not sure, I’ve never really had anything like this happen to me before.” Rabbit sighed. “I uhm… I guess we can kiss?”

“Kiss? How do you do that?” Tigger asked.

Rabbit drew closer to him, lifting himself up on his toes. His face grew bright red as his lips neared Tigger’s and his eyes fluttered shut as he felt the tiger’s lips press against his own. The two awkwardly pressed their lips together until eventually, after a few awkward kisses they found their places. Rabbit melted into the first proper kiss they had, resting his hands on Tigger’s chest.

Once Rabbit drew his head back, Tigger immediately laughed.

“Wh-What’s so funny?!” Rabbit shouted.

“Your cheeks are red as a strawbbie, Long Ears.” Tigger chuckled.

“W-Well it’s warm out and your fur is making me overheat!” Rabbit said before promptly stepping away from Tigger.

“Aw it’s alright, Ra-Ra! You’re adorabibble like that!” Tigger reassured him as he hopped closer and wrapped his arms around his waist.

Rabbit turned to face him, ready to launch another rebuttal but for the first time he actually studied Tigger’s eyes. Tigger looked terribly exhausted, his eyes had dark bags under them.

“Tigger, when you said you didn’t sleep a wink last night. You meant that?” Rabbit asked.

As if only just now realizing how tired he was, Tigger let out a long yawn. “Oh, yeah… I saw the sun come up and everything today!””

“Really Tigger staying up ALL night!? C’mon you’re going to take a nap.” Rabbit said while tugging Tigger along to his bed.

Tigger was familiar with Rabbit’s bed, but it felt different as he settled into it with Rabbit laying beside him. Tigger lay on his back while Rabbit rested his head on his chest. Rabbit’s body heat radiated onto him, making his eyes grow heavy as Rabbit listened to the deep, satisfied purring rumbling from his chest.

“Say, Tigger?” Rabbit asked suddenly.

Tigger snapped awake. “Yeah, Ra-Ra?”

Rabbit combed his fingers through Tigger’s fur thoughtfully. “Why would you want to… ya know… be together with someone like me?” “Whatcha mean?”

Rabbit sighed. “You know, I’m not exactly the most fun member of the woods. I’ve been downright nasty to you at times, so it just makes me wonder. Why would someone so fun want to be with boring, old me?”

Tigger laughed, his chest raising Rabbit’s head as he got his chuckles out. “Ah, Ra-Ra I don’t think of all that. I love you because you’re the most smartest, organized, thoughtful animal in the entire wood! If I had to say anything… I guess you could hop more like bunny rabbits are supposed to.” Tigger said while looking down at Rabbit’s flushed face.

“Besides, if I wasn’t in love with you before I would be now. I’ve never seen you make this face before.” Tigger said. “I’ve seen ya mad, angry, proud, happy, determined, panicked, thoughtful. I’ve seen ya cry and laugh and shout at the top of your lungs. But, I’ve never seen ya all flustered like this. You look adorable like this.” Tigger finished.

Rabbit hid his darkening face in Tigger’s chest as the tiger wrapped an arm around Rabbit’s back.

“I’m gettin’ real tired, Ra-Ra.” Tigger said with a yawn.

“I am too… This whole situation took a lot out of me.” Rabbit said.

“Hey, Ra-Ra?” Tigger said.

“Yes?” “I love you.” “I love you too, Tigger.” The room fell silent as the two drifted to sleep. What had been a bundle of nervous energy was now a tranquil silence only broken by their slow breathing and Tigger’s deep purrs.

#rabger #rabbit (wtp)#rabbit wtp #wtp rabbit #tigger #winnie the pooh #fanfic #fluff #fanfiction

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