#anyone else just that either he's not friends with anyone else or he's really really bad at showing it

[sayangrafayel]

LADS react to you asking them to set you up with someone else

This was a fun request. I might slip some dynamic duo rivalry here.. hmm.. maybe this is the same universe as loft talk. This is pre relationship prank!

Sylus, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Caleb.

Sylus (Rafayel)

"Hey, Sy. Can you set me up with one of your roommates?" "I don't have roommates." "? What do you mean. You have four roommates. I want the artist!" "No I absolutely do not. What artist?"

Would NEVER let you meet Rafayel, no matter what it takes. Rarely ever bring you back to the loft anymore.

Considered moving out of the loft and everything but stopped once you tell him it's a prank.

Xavier (Jeremiah)

"Xavie, is Jeremiah seeing anyone?" "I don't know a Jerry." "Jeremiah." "I don't know who that is either."

He gets SOOOO jealous (that's why we like him)

Why would you ask him to set you up with someone else. He's right there. He's perfect for you in every way. 🥺🥺🥺 - Xavier, probably

Rafayel (Sylus)

"Can you set me up with one of your friends?" "I don't have friends." "Yes you do! That Fruit guy breathtaking!" "You know what else is breathtaking? If I were to hold his head underwater." "Sorry?" "I said I am also breathtaking!"

He fish. Fish forgor stuff. Roommate? Who? Sylus? Thomas? Who???? What are you talking about?

Becomes extra mean to Sylus the next day and Sylus was so confused as to why is his bestfriend who is not his bestfriend seems to hate him more than usual!?

Zayne (Greyson)

"Dr. Zayne, can you set me up with Greyson?" "Why?" "Because.. I want to?" "His name is Doctor Greyson, and do you really want to..?" "Yes please! Set me up with Dr. Greyson!" "...." "Zayne?" "If that's what you want."

I don't think he's gonna try to stop you nor does he realize you're testing the waters to see how he feels about you, defeatedly gives Greyson your number, but Greyson was so confused because why would he hit up Zayne's girlfriend???

"She's your girl, Zayne." "She is not." "Yes she is, she's just testing to see how you'd react, dummy. Now go and actually ask her out."

Caleb (Gideon)

Before you start pranking him, you prayed for Gideon's safety.

"Caleb, can you set me up with-" "He's gay." "I haven't even said a name!" "Yeah, everybody around me is gay. I'm their ally." "Caleb!!!"

He'd frown and keep telling you why would you need anybody else when you can have HIM. He's the one who knows you the best! He knows how to make you smile! He's 100% your boyfriend material! 😤

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two

It’s dark. The window is still open, but the chillier air is kind of nice on Eddie’s flushed skin.

The clean bedding is nice too; Eddie tries to remember the last time he appreciated something as nice as clean sheets and draws a blank.

Probably when he still lived with Wayne. Probably before they made it big. Probably before the partying started.

Eddie picks up his phone, his thumb hovering over the call button. He presses it.

Wayne doesn’t pick up. Eddie’s not surprised, not really.

He tries Chris; she doesn’t answer either.

Likewise Gareth.

He doesn't bother calling Jeff.

There’s no one else in his phone; Chrissy took it all away when Eddie couldn’t differentiate between a friend a dealer or a booty call.

Like the worst Marie Kondo ever, Chrissy had held up the hundreds of friends Eddie had in his phone, one by one, ‘does this spark joy?’

No. Sometimes sucked his dick, though.

Eddie has money though. He twirls his phone on his chest, flipping it from long edge to short. There’s always somewhere open. Flip. Flip. Flip.

Not like anyone's answering him right now anyway. They’ve just left him here. With fucking Steve. It’s just one time anyway, he wouldn’t get away with it more than once. Chrissy would put him on proper lock down if she found out. Probably shove him back in the clinic.

So...just once.

One last go. And then he’d quit for sure. He hasn’t touched it for months, so he’s pretty much proved he can do it, anyway.

Eddie gets dressed. Finds cash balled up in random places.

Eddie stands in the doorway. Look up at the stars and then across the lawn at the security gates. He hasn’t had so much as a cigarette in nearly half a year. This is fine.

“Where you going, Eddie?”

Eddie sighs. Fucking busted. Still, “no where you need to worry about.”

“Uh hu.”

“Look, I’m not on house arrest okay? I can go out, I’m a grown fucking man.”

“You totally are. You want to go out, you go for it. No skin off my nose.”

Eddie whirls, shocked, “what the fuck? Aren’t you supposed to try and stop me from doing dumb shit?”

Steve raises the eyebrow, “so you admit it’s dumb?” He looks sleep rumpled, wearing sweats and a white tee shirt.

Walked right into that one. “You’re dumb.”

The face again. The totally schooled features that are utterly professional and give absolutely nothing away and yet...somehow...he’s laughing at Eddie. Eddie can feel it.

“So you go out,” Steve saunters over, stands next to Eddie, bare toes curling over the doorstep, “you score or drink or do whatever it is you’re aiming to do. Then what?”

“Then what,” Eddie mimics, all bitchy, “I’ll come home, and I’ll sober up, and it won’t change a fucking thing,” Eddie bites out.

“You think? You’ve had sober spells before, is that how it’s gone in the past?”

Eddie takes a deep breathe, because no, no that is not how it’s fucking gone in the past, “this time is different.”

“Is it?” Steve asks, completely fucking nonchalant, “how so?”

Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to punch someone so bad in all his life. Imagines it viscerally, Steve's fucking head cracking on the door frame while he slumps to the floor in a bloody heap.

Eddie does not do that, obviously.

“Look, I’ll come home, we don’t do anything about it, you still get paid, sound good?”

“I get paid either way,” Steve shrugs one shoulder, because he’s a cunt. “This is how a lot of addicts die, did you know that?”

“What?” Eddie asks, startled by the left turn.

“Yeah, get out of rehab, think their tolerance is still the same, get back on it…” he doesn’t bother to finish.

“That won’t happen to me.”

“Oh yeah, right. Of course. Because you’re Eddie Munson, sorry, sorry, forgot a second there.”

Eddie takes two thumping angry steps into the yard and just...just fucking screams at the sky. Just...roars at nothing. This is shit. It’s so shit. Everything is shit. And Eddie nearly fucking died last time and there’s no escaping that fact. There’s no help. There’s no point to any of this. There’s just pain and fucking misery and something clawing at Eddie’s insides trying to get out.

He roars until he’s hoarse. Until he can’t any more. Until his chin is wet with spit and he feels week and rung out.

He sits on his ass on the cold, dewy lawn.

Steve is still standing in the doorway, he doesn’t look like he’s moved at all. If he’s at all bothered by Eddie’s little meltdown, he isn’t showing it.

“Why did you want to go?” Steve asks finally, "did something change?"

Eddie shrugs, he’s got nothing, not really. No real reason past just wanting to get fucked up. Because it feels good. Because he likes it.

“Okay, what’s worth staying for?”

Eddie makes a dismissive ‘pfffft���, made croaky by his fucked out voice.

“They always say you need to do these things for yourself,” Eddie glares at Steve, because that's some dumb shit right there. Always had it in therapy though. Self worth. Mindfulness. Living in the moment and being proud of what you’ve already achieved and every journey starts with a single step and all that other bull shit they try and feed you. “I know. I agree. When you...feel like you’re nothing, you’re not worth any effort. It’s the hardest time. So pick someone else. Who can you do it for?”

“They don’t care,” Eddie croaks, “they didn’t answer,” he pulls his phone out, flips it onto the grass.

“Who?”

“Chris. Wayne.”

“Okay, give me a good reason why Wayne didn’t answer? That’s your uncle, right?”

“Yeah he...he could be at work,” Eddie admits quietly. Eddie’s given Wayne money. Well, practically forced it on him. Set him up with a nice place; or at least as nice as he could talk Wayne into. Wayne doesn’t believe in free loading though. Eddie’s convinced him to do less hours, but he still works nights two or three times a week. Claims it’s ninety percent of his social life, or some shit like that.

“Okay, and Chris?”

Eddie shrugs, embarrassment over his outburst making him petulant now.

“Eddie, what time is it where Chris is, right now?”

Eddie sighs up at the stars. It’s the middle of the fucking night, “late. Early. I guess.”

“Okay. So they’re not ignoring you, they’re just living their lives like normal human beings. Come on, get up, your ass is gonna be wet.”

“And do what?” Eddie snaps, “what’s the fucking point.” It’s not a question.

“Come on, I want to show you something.”

“It was a tough time, you know? Like, life sucks hard sometimes. Music helps. My favorite is The Wilds, you know? You heard that one?” The interviewer mumbles something indistinguishable, “it’s kind of...like the bit about the shining sea, you know? How like, it’s so beautiful, but it’s fucking hard to sail on. Or like how the mountains are so beautiful, but if you go up there alone, you’re gonna’ die, right? So I think...like how insignificant, and meaningless my life is, in like, the grand scheme of things, but like...that makes what you do even more important, right? Like, it means more, when you choose to be...I dunno,” the kid with a million piercings shrugs, “like just be good to each other, you know?”

“That’s not even remotely what that song is about,” Eddie mumbles at the laptop monitor.

Behind him, Steve snorts a laugh, “well that kid thinks it is.”

Another kid, more makeup than the whole of Kiss slathered on her face, “I just think it has meaning, you know?” The interviewer mumbles something again, “oh my favorite?” A lip bitten in thought, she looks at the sky for inspiration, it’s sunset, Eddie figures. Lots of similarly dressed kids in the background. Takes him a second to realize this was filmed outside of a gig, or something like that. “It’s hard to pick, but if I gotta’, it’s definitely Double Down. Those lyrics are just...Eddie Munson is just...he’s a fucking genius, you know?” She frowns, “but also really fucking dumb soemtimes, I hope he’s okay.”

“I didn’t even write that one. Jeff wrote most of that. On napkins, I think. I just...worked it together.”

Another kid, saying how important Corroded Coffin are; how they helped this kid through hard times. Honestly it’s a difficult watch, Eddie has no fucking clue where Steve even found this, and when Eddie’s phone rings he jumps on it, glad of an excuse to slap the screen of the laptop closed.

“Hi, Eddie! You called, sorry it’s early I got up to go for a run-”

“No. No, it’s fine, I...I shouldn’t have called you so late. Early. You were probably sleeping.”

“That’s okay, of course it’s okay, it’s nice you called me,” she snickers, “you never call me.”

That’s true, and Eddie feels bad. It’s always Chrissy chasing after Eddie. Trying to keep a lid on him...trying to keep him safe. He was always the one dodging her. “Yeah, sorry…” Eddie gets up so he can walk away from Steve, tail between his legs he slinks into the hall, he vows, “I’ll try and do better.”

“Good, how are you feeling? Hows your rut?”

Eddie is not fucking admitting that he just had a breakdown and nearly fucked it all up in the middle of the night. No fucking way is he admitting that, “yeah...yeah, just...couldn’t sleep, you know? I guess the rut...still going. Feels weird.”

Eddie can hear Chris moving around, figures she has him on speaker or something, “uh hu, that’s because you haven’t cycled a proper rut in like, four years honey, these things take time to settle. Is Steve doing okay? You’re not being a cunt to him are you?”

“Well I’ve only thought about punching him,” something jogs in Eddie’s mind, “Chrissy, what happened to the cleaning lady?”

“Oh...we did talk about it honey but you weren't really...taking it in, I don’t think-”

“I was fucked up.”

“Yeah...but she…”

“Just say it.”

“The...you know, the vomit. You were constantly trashing the place. She was worried she was...well she was mostly scared she was going to walk in one day and find your body.”

“Oh.” Eddie slumps down on the bottom step, “that sucks. I liked her.”

“Don’t worry, her final pay was incredible. She got a really impressive bunch of flowers.”

“Oh...well. Thank you. For sorting that.” Eddie’s eyes feel wet. His lip wobbles a little, but he holds it in. He’s got no right to guilt about that, not now. “The place looks okay though, I think Steve’s been cleaning some.”

“Yeah, probably, he seems like a good guy.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, but the first tear breaks free and he knows he can’t hide it much longer, “go on your run.”

“Okay, speak later?”

“Yeah, course.”

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s so great to hear you sounding more like yourself, I missed you so much.”

Eddie hangs up, draws his knees up to his chest, the material of his sweats already darkened with tears.

[no-144444]

confronting- o.piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! Skyf1interviewer! reader

summary: a confrontation in a hotel room doesn't go so well thanks to Franco's loud mouth...

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

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Entertaining the idea of dating Oscar when you knew you’d be gone at the end of the season wasn’t fair. He deserved someone who’d be there for every race, be there for him. You weren’t that person. You weren’t the person anyone should want, you just weren’t like that. 

Qatar rolled around and Oscar won the Sprint, and he was P3 in the race. You were meant to do the interviews. He knew that. That’s why he frowned when he was met with Jenson’s face at the end of the race. 

“Where’s Y/n?” he asked, not holding the microphone up to his mouth. 

Jenson smirked. “Missing her?”

Oscar nodded. 

“She’s with Franco, he was pretty upset after the crash.”

“Oh,” he nodded, and the interview began. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

It’s not like you were trying to avoid him, it was just… easier that way. And Franco really was quite shaken after the crash, so that part wasn’t a lie either. You just didn’t want to deal with all of the shit the media and people online would give the two of you. You just wanted a nice, clean break from the world of F1, and the people online who shipped you and Oscar would never let that happen. It was upsetting, because he really was a good friend to you, and you thought you were a good friend to him. Maybe it could’ve been something else, if things were different. You sat with Franco, calming him down since he was pretty upset that his second last race of the season was fucked by a silly turn-one incident. 

“What’s going on with you and that model?” you asked. He chuckled. 

“Oh my, you saw it too? It’s so embarrassing,” he sighed. “Even my mother has been asking me about it.”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” you laughed at his reaction. “We can talk about anything you want.”

“What’s going on with you and Oscar?” he smirked and your face fell slightly. 

“Nothing,” you shook your head. “We’re friends.”

“Friends?” he pried. “You two seem like more than ‘friends’ to me.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’re not. We’re just friends,” you assured him. 

Franco sat up, leaning closer to you. He was so close his breath was on your cheek, his eyes staring longingly into yours. You knew what he was doing.  “So he wouldn’t mind it if someone kissed you, no?”

You laughed, pushing him back down to his previous position of lying down. “Stop being weird. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. He shouldn’t care anyway.”

“Let’s test that,” Franco challenged. “Kiss me in front of him, and then we’ll know. I’ll ask Lando to tell me about it, they’re close, right?”

You sighed, something about it felt a little bit… manipulative. And it’s not like you were looking for Oscar to like you back, he didn’t. That’s what he’d said the last time, it was only a joke, a prank, a mistake. Which was fine with you, of course. It made sense. You couldn’t be there for him while you were supposed to be there for someone else. Someone else on his team. 

Ok, so maybe the move to Indycar isn’t just about Sky starting to cover it. Maybe, they need more European fans, and you have to go over there and sell it to them with a relationship with Pato O’Ward. Maybe McLaren is paying you a lot of money to do that. 

Just maybe though. 

“I can’t do that Franco,” you explained. “It’s not fair. And anyways, I’m kind of… seeing someone.”

“Is it Oscar?!” he questioned. You shook your head. “Lando? Lance? Zhou? Yuki? Who?” “He’s not in F1!” you giggled, watching as Franco freaked out. 

“Who is he?! You have to tell me right now!” he begged, taking your hands. 

“He’s in Indycar, that’s all I’ll tell you,” you smirked and his jaw dropped. 

“Is that why you’re leaving?!” he almost shouted. 

“No! Sky really is just branching out, but yes, it is nice that I’ll actually be able to watch his races,” you chuckled. 

“I’ll miss you,” he frowned. 

“I’ll miss you too,” you chuckled, pulling him in for a hug. “Now, I have to go do my post-race duties, so I’ll see you in Abu Dhabi, alright?”

He frowned even deeper. “Alright,” he mumbled. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me!”

You left the Williams garage with a smile on your face, very much amused by your conversation with Franco. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

You pulled up to the media pen, really to meet with Jenson and Nico, your co-hosts this weekend, but they were nowhere to be seen. Regardless, you prepared yourself with the running order. 

Lance, Lando, Max, Checo, Zhou, and Fernando. That’s all you had to get through before you got on a flight to Abu Dhabi the next morning. After another few minutes of waiting, Nico and Jenson showed up, acting slightly strange. They weren't really speaking to you, only with each other. It’s not like they were excluding you, just… not asking for your input. They seemed guilty too. 

Lance, Lando, Max, and Checo were all fine, polite and out of there quickly. Oscar didn’t show up. Unsurprising, as you had been avoiding him. Zhou and Fernando went by in a flash, and you were back to your hotel by 2am. 

When you walked into your hotel, you were not expecting to see Oscar Piastri standing outside your door. 

Holy shit. You were so astronomically fucked. 

“What are you doing here?” you questioned. He turned to you. 

He cleared his throat. He’d been thinking of a response to that question since the second he’d started waiting outside for you. What was he doing? This was insane. His plan was to make you stay, but he was much too upset to talk rationally when he got the text from Franco about you seeing an Indycar driver. Honestly, it crushed him. He genuinely thought you’d liked him. “I wanted to… talk? Or something, just to gauge what the fuck is going on here,” he was getting heated, and you understood he was probably angry with you, and it’s not like he didn’t have a reason. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, opening your hotel room door and letting him inside. 

“You’re going to Indycar?” he questioned. “What the fuck?”  

You gulped, hard. “Yeah?” 

“Why?” he demanded. “What does Indycar have that F1 doesn’t? F1 is faster cars, faster drivers, more money, more races, more countries, more-”

“Oscar! Did it ever occur to you that this wasn’t my fucking choice?!” you shouted over him. Silence. “Indycar doesn’t have Sky coverage, but Europeans are interested in the sport and they need a known interviewer to go there and make it easier to sell it to people, and I got picked. That’s it.” 

“So it has nothing to do with whatever Indycar driver you’re fucking?” he scoffed. Your face fell. Your eyes fell to the hardwood floor beneath your feet. “Yeah, I know.”

Your face soured and you looked up again, offended. Who did he think he was? He had no say in your life at all. You’d hated him for 2 years, and you had no real reason to, now you had one. “I owe you nothing Oscar. I’m an adult in a consenting relationship, and yes he’s in Indycar, is that a crime?” 

“Is that why you’re going over there?” he asked, stepping closer to you. You could cut the atmosphere in the room with a knife. “Or are you running away from something here?” 

“Fuck you,” you pushed him back. This wasn't the Oscar you knew. He was different, angry, mean, and rude. You owed him nothing. “Get out.” 

He nodded, and left without another word. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

mclaren masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

taglist:

@anotherapollokid @chelseyyouraverageluigi @suns3treading @patis643 @trees-are-books @stressed-cherry @revrse @awenthealchemist @imdyinghelpplease @successfulgarlic81

[leafbowl]

You know that thing bikers do when they see a police car? The tap on their helmets? Yeah so Arsenal, Red Hood, Red Robin and Spoiler (who I think are the only ones who ride motorbikes outside of their vigilante personalities) do it whenever they see Nightwing. And you better believe it makes others so fucking confused.

Nightwing: *Drops down into the fight.*

Red Hood: *Stops everything he's doing to tap the top of his helmet.*

Spoiler: *Sees it and then stops to do it too.*

Red Robin: *Gets a giddy little grin and starts tapping the top of his head.*

Thugs: *All collectively very confused.*

Thug #1: Wha... What're they doin'?

Thug #2: Uhh I dunno.

Thug #3: Hey, isn't that what bikers do when they see a cop?

Thug #2: Nah. Nightwing's not a cop, dumbass.

Thug #1: Yeah, he's a vigilante. Wha's he need with bein' a cop?

Thug #3: But he's the type to snitch tho.

Thug #1: Well... I guess. Maybe that's why they do it, cuz he's such a snitch.

Thug #2: *shrugs* Maybe.

Thugs #3: Uh, guys...

Thug #2: What?

Thug #3: Ya 'ere that?

Thug #1: *Pauses but doesn't hear anything.* Uh nah.

Thug #3: Exactly. Where'd the fightin' sounds go?

Thug #2: Shit.

The fighting had stopped because everyone else had been taken care of. The batfam had just been waiting for them to finish their conversation like Alfred taught them to. He would be proud. Probably of the broken and fractured bones that followed. Well, he'd be proud of their technique, they reckoned. (To be honest, Alfred would be proud no matter what.)

Arsenal: So he just... told you all to stop?

Red Hood: *Shrugs.* Pretty much.

Red Robin: I don't get why B wants us to stop using 'dick' as a term of endeerment. It's a compliment! Being like Dick is the highest honour.

Red Hood: And that has nothing to do with the fact the Baby Wonder finds it enfurieating?

Red Robin, grinning: Cassie hating it is an upside, I won't lie.

Nightwing: *Drops down next to where they're all gathered on a roof.* Hey guys, sorry I'm late, I-

Red Hood:

Arsenal:

Spoiler:

Red Robin:

Robin:

Orphan:

Nightwing: Uh guys? *Starts sweating because there's something wrong with the way they're all blankly staring at him.* How- how's everyone?

Red Hood: *Starts tapping helmet.*

Nightwing: *So concerned that something's wrong he doesn't clock it right away so he just stares, a crease forming between his eyebrows.*

Red Robin: *Taps against his hair.*

Nightwing: Wait a sceond-

Arsenal, Spoiler: *Taps their heads.*

Robin and Orphan: *Looks at each other. Holds eye contact and then starts tapping their heads to fuck with Nightwing.*

The next day a photo of Nightwing standing with his head bowed in defeat whilst being surrounded by Red Hood, Arsenal, Red Robin, Robin, Spoiler and Orphan who are all patting their heads is trending. People think they're in some kind of cult and that they were either sacraficing Nightwing or they were summoning something. The fact that Nightwing isn't spotted for the next week makes everyone lean towards the sacraficing.

(Jason made him promise he would play into the bit by not going out and letting his friends and/or his siblings patrol his city. Dick has never been good at saying not to his little brother. And, come on, Dick fucking loved the idea of people thinking he was being sacraficed. Also, he doesn't mind the head patting. Batman was the only one who thought it might reveal his identity. Dick was with Stephanie on it all, really. There was no way people would connect him to Nightwing and if they did, it's not like anyone else would believe them.)

It gets to the point that it's not even to fuck with Batman anymore. It becomes a normal greeting, something that bleeds into their civillian lives. People understand it more when it's directed at Dick Grayson but it's very endeering to see it. It all fuels all the Bruceman shippers when Tim Drake-Wayne is caught doing it to Nightwing.

[trippinsorrows]

dreamland: the rough patch

authors note: idk. i wanted to write something. this is what came out of my opening google docs. been sitting on this concept for a while anyway, so why not?

not really tagging anyone, cause idk, this is too short for a taglist. if ya see it, ya see it. 😭

warnings: angst

*** gif belongs to @dejameflorecer ***

words: 1.7k (see, i can write short shit!)

The door being closed does nothing.

It muffles, but it doesn’t sound it out completely. Doesn’t provide the soundproof barrier prayed and hoped for by Leya who sits on her bed, her baby sister pressed up against her side, the story book of the night on her lap.

Though something tells her that Aroha isn’t paying attention to the tale of a beautiful princess and the handsome prince who came to save her.

She’s paying attention to something else entirely.

“And the princess said to the prince—”

“Leya?” 

The minute Aroha’s soft voice interrupts Cataleya from finishing her sentence, she knows what’s about to be asked. She just does.

Leya does her best to maintain her smile. “Yes, Roro?”

Aroha’s previously neutral expression slips into something solemn and almost fearful. “Why are mommy and daddy fighting again?”

Leya’s eyes shut. 

She knew it.

Knew it was only a matter of time before it was asked. Aroha may only be five, but she has eyes. Eyes that can see every time their parents avoid eye contact or minimally interact when in the same room. Can see every time it’s Leya who knocks on her door to read her a bedtime story cause mommy and daddy are “busy.” Ears that can hear the arguing that’s transpired more often than usual for their parents. 

Arguing that’s been happening the past two weeks. Increasing in frequency. And intensity.

But, Aroha is also only five, thus she doesn’t need to know all the ins and outs. Truth be told, Cataleya doesn’t either. She tries not to think too much about it, as it spikes her own anxiety. Causes her to face what could be a devastating reality. 

A knock on the door leads to it opening, followed by a set of faces. Leya and Aroha’s siblings. All of them. 

And, they all look the same sans Tama and Lina.

Worried.

Wordlessly, the kids load into Leya’s room, Lina closing the door behind them. Samaria is the first to speak.

“They’re fighting again.”

Leya casts a glance over to her twin, grateful for her sudden presence. Lina has always been much better at handling things like this.

“Couples fight sometimes, Aria,” she supplies, forcing a small smile. Leya and Tama see right through it. “It happens.”

Koa is the first to speak up, poking a hole in the defense. “But, they’ve been fighting a lot.” He looks over at his twin, prompting Kai to supply his own counter as well.

“And mom and dad never fight.”

Leya doesn’t say anything. That’s not necessarily true. She’s definitely seen them argue on an occasion or two. 

But….never like this.

It’s never been like this.

“They’ve just got a lot going on, you guys.” Tama attempts to cheer up his younger siblings, seeing the worry on all their faces. “That’s all.”

But, it’s Aroha who says and voices what all of the Reign’s kids are secretly thinking, just afraid to say.

Looking up at Leya, Lina, and Tama, her biggest siblings, she asks in the most innocent, heartbreaking voice, “are mommy and daddy gonna get a divorce?” Just hearing it makes Leya’s stomach drop. A shared sentiment for all the kids.

Still, she does her best to remain calm. “Aroha….” Cataleya closes the book, pulling Aroha onto her lap as the rest of the kids sit on the edge of her bed and the seats spread across her room. “Where—where did you learn about that?”

Aroha pouts, her voice so soft and sweet in nature. “My friend Raya’s mommy and daddy got a divorce, and now she only sometimes sees her mommy and sometimes sees her daddy.” Aroha’s eyes begin to water, followed by sniffling. “I don’t wanna live with mommy or daddy. I wanna live with mommy and daddy.”

“Oh, Roro….” Cataleya welcomes her into her chest, allowing her to silent cry, to let out her emotions. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Mom and dad would never get a divorce….right?” A tentative, nervous question asked by Samaria but issued to the OG’s. 

“They would never split us up,” Kai says with a level of conviction that wavers and fumbles as he too falls victim to his fears. “Right?”

It’s only then when the indecision washes over to Lina that she takes charge. “No.” She says, voice firm, drawing the attention of everyone to her. “Mom and dad are not going to get a divorce. No one is separating us. We’re a family, and that’s never going to change.”

Tama nods, recognizing that even if he’s struggling with his own anxiety about the unexpected onset of his parents' marriage problems, there’s no need to worry his siblings more than they already are. “Lina’s right. Mom and dad love each other. They’re just going through something. They’ll figure it out.”

Words that seem to somewhat settle Samaria, Koa, and Kai. Aroha requires a little more consolation from Leya, gentle kisses pressed to the top of her bonnet covered head. 

But, as the Reigns’ children work to comfort each other, the cause of said distress continues, thrives, prolongs longer than necessary down the hall, behind closed doors but never out of hearing distance.

Not from the children.

“Roman.” Solana closes her eyes and rubs her temples. This all feels so circular. “I don’t understand what you’re not understanding.” Because, she truly doesn’t. “I’m just asking you to commu—”

“Communicate with you, I know,” he cuts her off. Solana focuses on him. He looks just as exhausted as she feels. “I heard you the first time, Solana.”

“Then why aren’t you doing it?” She snaps, shaking her head. “Why do I have to keep repeating myself?” Without giving him a chance to respond, she continues, pointing out, “it takes five seconds to text me and tell me you’ll be home late—”

“Yeah, well, sometimes I don’t have five seconds, okay?” He cuts her off once more, running his hand over his face. “I text you when I can, Sol. I always do.”

She scoffs, looking away before crossing her arms. “A half hour after dinner time is not soon enough, Roman.” She points out what was an issue once again just earlier this evening. “I’m worried about you. The kids are wondering where you are—”

“They should know I’m working,” he counters, adding with a level of a defensiveness. “You should tell them I’m working, so they don’t worry.”

“Yes, of course, I’ll just add it to the list of the other 50 million things I’m doing.” Solana says with all the sarcasm before switching back to seriousness. “Roman, I am stretched so thin right now—”

“And you don’t think I am?” He challenges. “Why do you think I’ve been getting back so late?”

Solana hesitates to respond, readying for a generic answer but ultimately settles on the truth. “I don’t even know anymore.”

If she didn’t have her husband’s attention, she most definitely has it now. Roman’s face drops. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

She doesn’t say anything at first, partially wishing she hadn’t let the intrusive thoughts win. But, with the genie out the bottle, there’s no backing away from it now.

“You’re secretive. You come home much later than you have before. You….you don’t talk to me like you used to, and and you—you haven’t touched me—” She stops herself, hating the emotion building up. One minute she was angry with him, and now she’s on the brink of tears. “I just don’t know what’s going on—”

“What are you accusing me of, Solana?” A pointed, straight-forward question that he answers for himself, the devastation, hurt, and anger all palpable. “What, you think I’m fucking cheating on you? Is that what you think?”

Solana shakes her head, standing up from the bed. This is too much. “I can’t do this right now, Roman.”

“No.” He stops her, moving before her, blocking her path from the bathroom. Her destination. “We’re gonna have this discussion right now—”

“I said I don’t want to, Roman.”

“I don’t care.” 

The wrong answer, because as saddened as Solana was before, she’s irritated now. Stepping past him, she stalks over to her dresser, pulling out a change of clothes. “I said no, Roman.” Swallowing, she turns around and matches his intense gaze. “You used to listen to me when I said that.”

A slap in the face. It’s evident in the hurt that flashes in his eyes. That’s heard as he replies, evenly, “and, you used to trust me.”

A devastating blow. On both ends. One that renders both silent for a good moment or two, before Roman is back at it.

“Solana, we need to talk about thi—”

“I can’t, Roman—”

“Avoiding it isn’t going—”

“They found something when I went in for my mammogram.”

Probably the most unexpected thing to leave either set of mouths and most definitelysomething Solana didn’t want to share. Not right now. Not like this.

Because the look on Roman’s face is something she can barely stand to tolerate. His tone and volume have shifted almost entirely. “Wh—what?” She looks away, the tears finally spilling over. “What do you mean they fo—”

“I have follow up testing next week, but in the meantime, I need to not deal with all this stress.” She clasps her hands together, taking a deep breath, voice cracking at the end. “So, when I say I can’t deal with this shit right now, Roman…I can’t deal with it.”

Solana could and maybe should give him more than that. Should elaborate on what is easily the biggest bombshell he—and she—have faced in a while. If, she’s even facing it, because the fact that she’s been sitting on such a thing for almost two weeks speaks volumes. Roman’s correct in that they need to talk, need to sit down and actually try to conversate without it turning into an argument. 

But, not tonight.

Tonight, she can’t and won’t think about anything. 

Because thinking about it means confronting what could easily be a terrifying reality. 

One she refuses to acknowledge.

Not….not unless it becomes something.

[justarkive]

TABLE 3 | JJK ch 3

“For good service, and cute waitresses”

pairing: premilitary!jk x secret fuckbuddy! oc

contents: mild language, no smut (yet), fluff, humour, celeb au, very mild angst, slowburn </3

wc: 6k

this fic is not meant to represent the real jungkook or any other characters mentioned!

taglist: if anyone wants to join pls comment!!

a/n: this fic is going so much better than id thought it would! i love it and cant wait to progress. Nari’s might also come across as mean, but know its in a best friend way and she truly does love oc. ENJOY MY LOVES <3 p.s, all interactions are much appreciated, pls dont be afraid to let me know what you think:)

masterlist | < previous | next >

You find yourself back at Nari’s apartment. These days, it’s the only place you feel like going to. Your own place feeling like a lost cause- clothes piling up, draped over your desk chair you could’ve sworn you cleaned up last week, dishes in the sink that you could’ve sworn you’d washed yesterday. Work has been exhausting, and when you’re not caught up in the bustle of the diner, you’re busy running errands and keeping up with side hobbies, using them as an excuse to avoid everything else.

At least at Nari’s, things feel a little less overwhelming, and it’s easier to forget everything else.

And Nari doesn’t mind, she’d never mind.

She’s in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a glass of wine, her free hand lazily scrolling through her phone. Her TV hums in the background, playing some trashy reality show neither of you are actually watching. You’re curled up on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, fingers absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on the throw pillow in your lap.

You’ve been quiet for way too long, and though you are a quiet person by nature. It’s never been truly quiet with you around Nari.

And Nari notices. Of course she does.

It’s not past a second before she side eyes you over her glass, pausing mid scroll. “Alright” She says, pushing off the counter. “What’s going on with you?”

You blink up at her. “Huh?”

“You look like you just got caught committing a crime,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “Spit it out.”

You shake your head quickly. “It’s nothing.”

Nari stares at you for a second longer, then sighs, putting her phone down on the counter. She’s walking over, the heels of her socks dragging slightly against the floor, and plops down next to you, pressing her shoulder against yours.

You hesitate, fingers tightening around the pillow. The words are there, right at the tip of your tongue, but saying them out loud makes it feel too real.

Nari doesn’t give you the chance to stall any longer. She sets her phone down and walks over, plopping down on the couch next to you. “You’ve been sitting there looking like you’re about to have a breakdown for the past twenty minutes,” she says. “Either you tell me what’s going on, or I start guessing, and you know I have no filter.”

You exhale sharply. “It’s not that serious.”

Nari just stares. “Yeah, okay. So why do you look like you’re about to throw up?”

You press your lips together, debating whether you should even bring it up. It’s stupid. It really is. But the anxiety has been eating away at you since he did it, and if anyone’s going to tell you if you’re being ridiculous, it’s Nari.

You reach into the pocket of your hoodie and pull out a small, crumpled piece of paper. For a second, you just hold it between your fingers, staring at it like it as if that would make it disappear. Then, finally, you place it on the coffee table between you and Nari.

She frowns. “What’s that?”

You swallow. “Jungkook left me his number.”

There’s a beat of silence. Nari blinks. Then she blinks again, leaning forward to get a better look at the paper, like she needs to confirm that you’re not messing with her.

“Wait—Jungkook?”

You nod, heart hammering against your ribs.

“As in the Jungkook?” You nod again, looking at her as if to say: yeah Nari, who else?

Nari lets out a sharp breath, eyes darting between you and the paper. “And you’re telling me this now?” She takes the paper from your hand “Saturday?! Seriously? It’s been 2 days and you’re only telling me now?” She whines, smacking your arm lightly.

You shrug, biting your lip, not trusting yourself to say anything.

Nari stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. “And what exactly is the problem here? Did you text him? Has he shown up to the diner again?”

You bite your lip. “What if it’s a joke?”

Her expression drops into something unimpressed. “What?”

“What if I actually message him, and he laughs in my face? What if this is just some silly game?” You cross your arms, shifting uncomfortably. “Imagine I actually text him, and it turns out he just left it to mess with me.”

Nari looks at you like you just suggested jumping into oncoming traffic for fun. “Are you stupid?”

You blink. “Yes! What- No. Ugh! I dont know?”

“Why the hell would he give you a fake number? Celebrities don’t just do that.” She picks up the paper, waving it in your face. “And Jungkook? He doesn’t seem like the type to waste his time playing games.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” she cuts you off. “I saw the way he was looking at you. That man is not out here giving his number to random women for fun.” She shakes her head. “And even if it was a joke—which it isn’t—you’d at least know. Right now, you’re just sitting here torturing yourself over something you haven’t even done yet.”

You press your lips together, stomach flipping. “I don’t know, Nari.”

“I do know.” She leans back against the couch, arms crossed. “And at the very least, now you can get a heads-up before he randomly shows up again and you dont have to shit your pants every time he does.”

You let out a laugh, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Yeah, but you saw what happened last time…”

Nari rolls her eyes. “Listen I get that- Crazy fans and shit? Not it, but you could be missing out on something big here.” She shrugs, taking a slow sip of her wine, like this isn’t making your entire brain short-circuit. “Worst case scenario? He doesn’t respond. Best case scenario? Well.” She smirks. “I don’t think I need to spell it out for you.”

You stare at the number again, nerves buzzing under your skin.

Fuck it.

Your fingers twitch as you pick up your phone, opening your messages. You hesitate, heart in your throat.

The phone sits between you and Nari on the couch, untouched. You haven’t stopped staring at it since she made you unlock it, since she made you pull up Jungkook’s number and prove to her that it’s really there. His name isn’t saved, obviously—you’re not that delusional—but it’s there. Sitting at the top of your recents, right where you left it.

And you hate that it’s there.

Nari sighs. “Alright, I literally can’t take another second of this. Either you text him, or I’m throwing your phone out the fucking window.”

Your body jerks up immediately. “I can’t text him.”

She looks at you like you’ve personally offended her. “Yes, you can.”

“No, I actually can’t.” You grab a pillow and shove your face into it. “You do it.”

A scoff. “What? No.”

“Nari, please.” Your voice is muffled, desperate. “I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.”

“You literally will,” she deadpans. “Probably within the next hour.”

“I’m serious.” You peek at her from over the pillow. “Please, just send the first message.”

“You’re being ridiculous. He wouldn’t have given you his number if he didn’t want you to use it.”

“Or maybe he gave it to me as a joke.”

She groans, standing up and dragging a hand down her face. “Oh my fucking God. What is wrong with you?”

“If I message him, and he laughs at me, I’m never leaving this apartment again.”

She rolls her eyes, dropping back onto the couch beside you. “Yeah, because Jungkook has nothing better to do than sit around and make fun of random girls.”

“Exactly.”

Nari grabs your arm, shaking you. “You’re so stupid.”

You let out a strangled sound as she shakes harder, knocking you against the couch cushions. “Nari, stop—”

“No, because you’re actually so stupid. I saw the way he was looking at you.”

You groan extra loud.

Nari shoves you again, this time hard enough that you almost fall sideways. “You are so dramatic.”

“Okay, then you message him,” you whine, turning back to her with wide, pleading eyes. “Please. Just send one text, and then I’ll take over.”

She groans, leaning her head back against the couch. “Fine. But I’m not doing ‘Hi, this is YN.’ That’s lame.”

You nod immediately. “Yeah, no, that’s boring.”

She thinks for a second, then smirks. “What if we go with, ‘Hey, soldier, miss me?’”

You push her. “Stop.”

Nari just laughs. “Or, ooh!—‘I heard boys like you love discipline, so I waited a respectable amount of time before texting. 😉’”

“Im deleting his number.”

“You love me.”

“I don’t.”

She hums, tapping your phone screen. “Okay, what about this: ‘I promise I’m not a stalker, but I did just spend the past two days debating if this was actually your number.’”

You hesitate. “…Okay- Yeah, that’s actually kinda good.”

“Duh.” She types it out and, before you can stop her, presses send.

Your stomach drops. “Nari, what the fuck.”

She throws the phone onto your lap with a smug grin. “Too late.”

You gape at the screen, heart pounding as the message sits there. And keeps sitting there.

Jungkook doesn’t reply immediately.

Which—of course he doesn’t. He’s busy. He’s literally Jungkook. He’s probably off training or singing or whatever idols do in their free time.

Still.

You groan, throwing your head back. “This was a mistake.”

Beside you, Nari pats your head like a disapproving mother. “No, I made a mistake. I should’ve sent, ‘Hey, kookie~, miss me?’”

You nudge her away. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You kind of do. But now, you’re stuck waiting for a reply.

And it’s already driving you insane.

—

Hours pass.

You and Nari don’t do much of anything—just exist in the same space, like always. The TV plays some random drama you’ve both seen a hundred times before, voices droning on in the background while you scroll through your phone and Nari flips through a magazine she doesn’t actually care about. The comfort of it is familiar, easy. This is why you come here. Why her apartment is the only place you really want to be these days.

But none of it stops your eyes from flicking back to your phone every two minutes.

Still nothing.

Nari notices. Of course, she does.

“Y/n.” She doesn’t even look up from her magazine. “Get it the fuck together.”

You huff. “I am together.”

“No, you’re not.” She turns a page, unimpressed. “You look like you’re waiting for an organ transplant.”

You make a face, shifting to sit on your hands so you physically can’t reach for your phone again. “I just—I don’t get why he hasn’t replied yet.”

“Because he’s Jungkook?” Nari deadpans. “You know, worldwide superstar, busy man, famous guy? Maybe, just maybe, he has other shit to do?”

You grumble, kicking at her leg. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?”

You hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “What if he’s ignoring me?”

Nari groans. “Oh my God. I literally cannot do this with you right now.” She tosses the magazine onto the coffee table and sits up, jabbing a finger at you. “This is what we’re not gonna do, okay? We’re not gonna sit here and spiral. We’re not gonna create insane scenarios in our head. And we’re definitely not gonna act like Jungkook is some high school jock plotting to humiliate you in front of the whole cafeteria.”

You glare at her. “That was a very specific example.”

She shrugs. “I read a lot of Wattpad in my youth.”

“As you should.”

“Anyway.” She leans back, stretching her arms over her head. “Since you clearly can’t function like a normal person right now, I’m declaring a ban on all Jungkook-related thoughts for the next few hours.”

“You can’t ban thoughts.”

“I can in this household.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t argue. Mostly because she’s right—this whole thing is driving you insane, and if you don’t stop obsessing over it, you’re going to lose your mind before Jungkook even gets a chance to reply.

So, you let it go. Or at least, you try to.

The night continues as it always does. You and Nari switch to watching trashy reality TV, taking turns talking shit about people you don’t know. You fight over the last slice of pizza, which Nari wins, but only because she threatens to lock you out of the apartment. You don’t think she’d actually do it, but you’re not willing to take the risk.

Time slips by unnoticed, and before you know it, the sky outside the window has darkened completely.

“You sleeping over?” Nari asks, stretching her legs across the couch.

You blink at her like she’s just asked something stupid. “Of course, I am. What do you think?”

She smirks. “Good. I was gonna make you stay even if you said no.”

You laugh, throwing a pillow at her. She dodges easily, flipping you off in the process.

And then—your phone buzzes.

Your whole body goes still.

Nari notices immediately, eyes snapping to your phone, and then to you.

“Oh my god,” she says slowly. “Tell me that’s who I think it is.”

You don’t answer. Just stare at the screen like it might disappear if you blink.

Another buzz.

Nari lunges forward, but you snatch the phone before she can grab it. Your hands are shaking.

She bounces impatiently beside you. “Well? Open it!”

Swallowing thickly, you finally unlock the screen.

[ iMessage:]

Unknown Number: Took you long enough.

Unknown Number: Was starting to think you weren’t interested.

You just stare. Your stomach does a weird little flip, your heart picking up speed.

Nari, practically vibrating beside you, grabs your arm. “WHAT DOES IT SAY!?”

You lift your head slowly, meeting her gaze with wide, horrified eyes.

“He’s flirting with me-“

Nari screams.

And just like that, everything is chaos again.

Your brain short-circuits.

Your hands tighten around your phone, fingers pressing into the edges like you’re afraid it might jump out of your grasp. Your breathing is uneven, and you’re pretty sure your heart is going to give out right here, on Nari’s couch, before you even get the chance to respond.

Nari grabs your wrist, shaking you violently. “WHAT THE FUCK?! REPLY.”

“I CAN’T.” You clutch the phone to your chest like it’s some kind of secret government file, eyes blown wide in panic. “OH MY GOD, WHAT DO I EVEN SAY?”

Nari looks at you like you’ve just spoken in an ancient language. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHAT DO YOU SAY? YOU SAY SOMETHING BACK. LITERALLY ANYTHING.”

“No, no, no, I—” You shake your head frantically, scrambling up onto your knees as if somehow getting higher up will help you think better. “If I reply too fast, it’s gonna look desperate.”

Nari throws her hands up. “Desperate for what? A conversation? Bitch, this is not high school! We are adults. We do not play fucking mind games over text like we’re waiting for our crush to message us back like we’re 15!”

You press your palms over your face, groaning into them. “Oh my God, what if this is a joke? What if he’s messing with me? What if—”

“WHAT IF HE’S NOT?” Nari yells, shoving at your shoulder. “What if he actually fucking likes you, you absolute dumbass?”

You glare at her, shoving her back. “DON’T CALL ME A DUMBASS, I’M HAVING A CRISIS.”

“IT’S A STUPID CRISIS.”

The two of you wrestle on the couch for a second, limbs flying, before she overpowers you and shoves you back into the cushions. You huff, staring up at the ceiling, trying to steady your heartbeat.

A few deep breaths. Then another. Okay. You’re fine. You’re cool.

You roll your head to the side, looking at Nari. “What do I say?”

She stares at you, completely done. “You say, ‘Hey, this is me responding to your text message.’”

You groan, throwing an arm over your face. “Be serious.”

“I am being serious.” She snatches your phone right out of your grip, dodging your grabby hands as she holds it above her head. “Look. You’re overthinking. You don’t have to send an essay, just flirt back.”

You peek at her through your arm. “How?”

“Oh my God.” She sighs dramatically, shifting so she’s sitting on her knees beside you. “Okay, let’s workshop this. He said, ‘Took you long enough. Was starting to think you weren’t interested.’” She pauses. “Ooh, that’s kinda sexy.”

“SHUT UP.”

“I’m just saying.”

You groan again, kicking your legs in frustration. “I hate this. Why am I like this? I should just block him.”

Nari slaps your thigh so hard you yelp.

“YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING.”

You whimper. “Fine. Just—help me.”

She grins, shuffling closer. “Okay. So, we’re going for playful, yeah? Something that keeps the same energy.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Like, oh? You were waiting for me? That’s kinda cute.”

Your entire body recoils. “EW, no, that sounds so corny.”

She cackles. “Okay, okay. What about, ‘Oh, were you hoping I’d text first? That’s adorable.’”

You blink. “Ugh why are you so good at this?”

“I know.” She flips her hair dramatically. “I am the queen of texting.”

You shake your head, snatching your phone back. “Fine. I’ll say something like that.”

“Good.” She pats your knee. “Now send it.”

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard. Your pulse pounds in your ears. You type the message. Delete it. Type it again. Delete it again. At this point, you’re just spamming letters on your keyboard.

“Nari,” you whisper.

She groans. “What now?”

“…Can you send it for me?”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT.”

You flinch at the volume of her voice. “But—”

“No buts.” She glares at you, unimpressed. “Send it. Now.”

You hesitate for one more agonizing second. And then, taking a deep breath, you hit send.

You both freeze, staring at the screen like it might explode.

The message sits there. Marked as delivered. Silent.

You toss your phone across the couch and bury your face in a pillow.

Nari gasps. “Bitch, what are you doing?”

“I CAN’T LOOK.”

“Oh my God.” She lunges for the phone. “What if he replies? What if he—”

Buzz.

Your whole body seizes up.

Nari screams.

You scream.

Neither of you move.

Buzz.

Another message.

You shoot up so fast your vision goes blurry, scrambling for your phone. Nari practically jumps onto your back, gripping your shoulders as she shrieks into your ear.

You unlock the screen, heart pounding, pulse hammering against your ribs. And then—

[ iMessage:]

Unknown number: Adorable? That’s a new one. You trying to flirt with me?

Your soul leaves your body.

Nari shrieks. “OH MY FUCKING GOD.”

You smack her. She smacks you back. You both devolve into incoherent screaming, kicking your legs and shaking each other like wild animals.

And somewhere in the chaos, it finally sinks in.

Jungkook is flirting back.

This is real.

What the fuck do you do now?

You’re still gripping your phone like it’s a lifeline, staring at Jungkook’s message like the words might rearrange themselves into something less terrifying.

Your brain is malfunctioning. Your hands are clammy. Your heart rate is somewhere near cardiac arrest levels.

“Nari,” you whisper, voice shaky. “What do I say?”

Nari, who has just spent the last five minutes screaming and shaking you like a maraca, suddenly changes tactics. She plops back against the couch, crossing her arms. “Nothing.”

You blink. “What?”

“Nothing,” she repeats, grabbing the remote and flipping through Netflix. “Let him wait.”

Your whole body jolts. “WAIT?”

“Yes.” She leans back smugly. “We’re watching a show. You’ll text him in the morning.”

You gape at her, horrified. “No. No, no, no, please—”

“Yes.”

“Nari, please!” You grab her arm, shaking her dramatically. “I will literally die. My soul will leave my body.”

“Okay, good,” she says, deadpan. “Then I’ll text Jungkook myself and tell him his little admirer died of thirst.”

You let out a strangled noise, throwing yourself back against the couch. “I hate you.”

“You love me.” She pats your knee like you’re a distressed child. “And you asked for my advice, so now you’re gonna take it. No texting until morning. Let him wonder.”

You stare at her, betrayed. “This is evil.”

She shrugs, putting on some random drama. “Welcome to the game, bitch.”

You sulk for a few more minutes, checking your phone every five seconds like a lovesick fool before Nari finally yanks it out of your hands and tosses it across the room.

“BED,” she orders, standing up. “Now.”

You groan but eventually drag yourself to your feet, trudging to her bedroom like a prisoner on death row. When you finally get under the covers, you let out a heavy sigh.

“This is torture.”

Nari snickers, turning off the light. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”

You highly doubt that.

—

The next morning, you wake up feeling… slightly less insane. Only slightly.

Nari is still dead to the world when you roll out of bed, stretching with a groan. You grab your phone off the nightstand and check your notifications.

No new messages from Jungkook.

You stare at the screen for a moment, heart sinking slightly. Not that you expected him to double-text you or anything, but still.

Shaking off the disappointment, you tiptoe out of Nari’s apartment and head home. It’s a busy day—you’ve got errands to run, places to be, things to do. You get caught up in it all for a while, hopping from one task to the next.

And then—

Buzz.

[ iMessage ]

Unknown number: So, am I getting a response, or did you decide flirting with me was a one-time thing?

[jjsloverre]

blurb of babydaddy!jj and pouge!reader taking a mental day together

in which… babydaddy!jj takes pouge!reader for a mental walk to talk about the pregnancy

contains… pure fluff, a little cliffhangerrrrrr, foreshadowing (not proofread)

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

“cmon mama to be! we don’t got all day!” jj yelled for you.

you were getting ready for something. you didn’t even know since jj wouldn’t spill anything about. “coming!” you screamed back. you walked down the stairs and straight into his arms. “hey pretty mama, ready for this walk?” your eyes shot up at him. “walk? why are we going on a walk?”

“for your mental health and just to talk you know? and then i got some pizza in the lil square ways you like em. now cmon and let’s go, we’re walking for an hour!” he exclaimed. “okay baby.” you smile.

as you and jj are walking, your minds go to the topic of your pregnancy. “what do you want our little baby to be?” jj asked you, thinking hard about the question, you find your answer. “i want a girl, what do you want?”

“i want twins honestly, one boy one girl. can’t i just nut inside you and we have twins?” jj asked while he intertwined your fingers together.

“no smart guy that isn’t how that works.” you smile up at his pretty blue eyes. “well how does it work? how can i get you to have twins?”

“um? genetics?”

“real funny ma.”

“i really hope our baby has your eyes, they’re the prettiest color ever.” he smiles hard, his beautiful smile coming out. “i hope our baby has your beauty and brains. cause i don’t have brains for shit.”

“what else do you wanna talk about baby?” you brought your hands up to your lips and kissed his knuckles, (and also biting him per usual.)

“ready for the ultrasound?” jj asked. “really really ready!” you exclaimed. after just 30 minutes, you begged jj to take you guys back to the house, so you could eat the pizza he talked about.

★

“like the pizza?” jj asked. “course i do! it’s really really good, oh and jayj?” you look up at his pretty blue eyes. “what’s up?”

“do you regret this? like getting me pregnant? what if you have other baby mamas?” jj looked at you pretty confused. he didn’t understand where this concern was coming from. but then again, he realized you were pregnant, and probably had millions of questions about his past hookups. “i don’t fuck girls raw, i use protection. and i only didn’t do it with you cause you were my close friend and i trusted you to… i guess fuck raw? i honestly didn’t mean to get you pregnant, but to answer your question… no i don’t regret it. i’ve always wanted kids! didn’t think it would be this early but if it’s with you? wouldn’t want it with anyone else.”

“really?” you whispered.

“really.”

“can we… go to the mall for some stuff? and then a spa?” you cuddled into his arms while he rubbed your growing belly. “hell yeah we can! we can do whatever you want.”

“yay thank you!”

“no problem baby. hey… why don’t you get some rest? got a big day tomorrow don’t we?”

“yeah we do… thank you for this mental day and the walk, i didn’t realize how much it would help me, but it helped so much.” you whispered to jj, falling asleep in his arms.

★

as you went to sleep, jj had a plan that would change everything. he got on the phone with kiara.

“look… we don’t talk but i need a favor, don’t flirt with me either. and i mean it, i need to go ring shopping for y/n, i’m asking you for help since you’re her best friend, differences aside, do this for her and leave my drama out of it.”

“fine…” kie whispered back through the phone. “what time asshole.” jj rolled his eyes. “lose the attitude, the fuck you mad for? just because i rejected you to be with the mother of MY child? that doesn’t matter no more, but anyway… friday at noon while she’s at lunch with her parents. thanks kie.”

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

taglist: @sturniologirlzz @sturns-mermaid @bee-43 @anacamofficial @superlegend216 @eddxemxnson @sophand4n4 @ethanthequeefqueen @aaliyahsturniolo @always-reading @maybankslover @slut4rafecameronn @leaseyes @sttaejoon-blog @glitterybombshell @idontknowwhyimhere33 @moonywhisp3rs @imsiriuslyreal @sturnioloenthousiast @coalicionees

a/n- a little short but ty for 500 followers! and my bday in 20 days? we bouta t up👅👅 anyway! enjoy this foreshadowing 😉

more babydaddy!jj x pouge!reader here

[waynes-multiverse]

The Craving (Sneak Peek)

Summary: Everyone is moving forward, only Dean is standing still. Sam leaves the bunker first, but when he fears to lose you as well, he knows he finally has to do something. Because, after all, all he really craves is you.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: 18+ for language and smut, post S15, major angst, hurt, cheating, Reader x OMC (established), severe pining, jealousy, drinking, humor, idiots in love, friends to lovers, fluff

Word Count: 13.7k (total || Sneak Peek: 1k)

Song Inspiration: The Craving (Jenna's Version) – twenty one pilots. Listen here! 🎶

A/N: This is straight from the beginning, so you're not thrust into the middle 😉

Happy reading! 🩵

Main Masterlist || Dean Winchester Masterlist || Tag List

Dean’s not the jealous type. At least, he thinks he isn’t, considering he’s never really had opportunity to feel jealous before.

But then came you.

He knew he wanted to be with you – as in the one one – the minute Sam led you down the round, metal staircase after running into you during a hunt. Yup, it was instant. One of those “love at first sight” kinds of crap.

For quite some time, you’d been hunting on your own, but soon enough, you began to call the bunker your home and the brothers your family. And Dean would cockily smirk at you and throw flirtatious jokes your way all day long as if all he ever wanted was to simply get you for a drunk roll on the motel mattress and nothing more. But you crave more than a night of fun, not knowing he craves the same thing, too.

And it is more – more than a simple craving to kiss you, to touch you, or to fuck you. The craving wants to love you, to hold you, and to be with you endlessly, including all that other mushy, sappy shit that comes with it. And Dean’s not even sure it’s just all of that, either. Because all the craving ever screams is you. Nothing else.

You, you, you, you, you… 

You.

That’s all there is. And the more he has of you, the happier the craving is. The less he has of you… well, one gets the gist.

The craving is a feeling greater and stronger than the bloodlust he’s experienced during the Mark of Cain – not that he’s ever told anyone that out of fear of being called crazy. It is crazy.

Fucking crazy. 

Nonetheless, it’s true. The craving for you only grows stronger and more relentless every day, causes him to lose both appetite and sleep, and never leaves him in peace.

But for years, Dean’s never entertained the craving for too long. He’s never listened to his head, heart, or gut when either of those things urged him to ask you out. After all, you deserved better than him, deserved more than the darkness he could offer, deserved a life where you got everything you ever wanted and more.

He is sure, though, you don’t want him.

But then, finally, there was a dim, miniature, barely visible light at the end of his super dark tunnel full of horrors. Chuck was squashed, monsters were scarce, and retirement was on the near horizon.

Sam started bringing Eileen around more and going on dates and being all nauseously cute, while Dean watched Netflix, Disney+, Amazon Prime, and a whole lot of other subscription services Sam wasn’t happy about when he went through the household bills. The main takeaway, though, is: Dean was never bored.

Nope, not at all.

Besides, you were there, too. For some of it. At least for a while.

Not long after Sam’s “courting” began, his kid brother finally left the nest, and then only you and him remained.

“We’re kinda like full-on roommates now,” you’d said after Sam had grabbed his last box, and you had been entertaining Dean’s melancholic mood with whiskey in the kitchen.

Dean had only smiled into his glass. “We’ve been roommates for five years now.”

“Yeah, but we’re finally rid of Monica and Chandler. This is the Joey and Rachel era!” you announced with a slightly slurred speech and toasted to the occasion by drinking straight from the bottle.

Dean, of course, had found it fucking adorable and pressed his lips very hard against the rim of his glass upon his next sip, trying his best not to grab you and kiss you right then and there.

He’d already missed his fucking chance…

“Who’s Monica and who’s Chandler?” Dean had asked to distract himself from the craving.

“Duh, obviously Sam’s Monica. He’s a complete neat freak. And Eileen’s fucking funny,” you’d postulated. “This is what I mean, though! Both of us are sloths! We can finally let chaos reign!”

Welp, that hadn’t helped to lessen the craving at all. It had been downright whining then. His heart had only pounded louder, yearned more.

“What kinda mess were you thinking of, sweetheart?” Dean had flirtatiously and daringly asked – he still liked to test the water from time to time, although he knew the lake was frozen.

You had chided him with a partially amused look and then musingly sipped on the bottle. “Hmm, wanna throw wet paper towels against the wall?”

“Sure that’s a good idea? You know Sam’s coming by tomorrow morning to come pick up more boxes. I seriously think he’s taking the whole library with him,” Dean had joked.

“Even better! He’s gonna clean it up ‘cause he’s Monica!”

Drunk-you might have been evil in a mad but cute genius kind of way.

“No way!” Dean had scoffed it off, mostly to encourage you to carry on. He’d had feeling where this was heading.

“Oh, yeah? How much you wanna bet, Winchester?” You’d leaned forward with your elbows on the counter and a challenging look twinkling in your eyes.

And Dean had wanted nothing more than to bet a goddamn kiss. But he hadn’t been able to do that anymore, either. 

As Dean grinds his brain about all of this, he stares at the reason why from the dark corner booth of the bar. He watches you with a gigantic lump in his throat as you’re in someone else’s embrace, his grip white-knuckling around the tumbler of whiskey once more.

Dean’s greener than green eyes see it all. He sees the arms that tightly clasp your body from behind that aren’t his. He sees your laughs at jokes that he can’t hear. He sees the face nuzzling in your hair that he can’t feel. He sees the smiles you draw when kisses litter your neck, leaving fucking purple and blue permanent tattoos behind – and he can’t ink any of them.

Dean sees the fucking happiness shining in your eyes. He’s never seen you happier than this before. And not any of it is caused by him. Nope.

✨ Coming to tumblr April 1, 2025

🚀 Read the full version now on Patreon

TAGS:

Forevers: @alwaystiredandconfused @lyarr24 @supernotnatural2005 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02

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@americanvenom13 @lamentationsofalonelypotato @supernotnatural2005 @StoneyGGirl2 @kr804573

@dayhsdreaming

Dean Winchester: @deans-baby-momma @bettystonewell @gowanadrienne

[meanbossart]

ASK COMPILATION: SHADOWCUTE, EGALITATION DU DROW, THE MAN WHO HAS NEVER HAD A COLD AND PROMISES OF FROTTING.

ALL I CAN DO FOR TONIGHT FOLKS, but I might end up doing another compilation very soon since the inbox situation is dire 💀

Thank you so much for showing so much interest in my character and my art! And an extra especial Thank You as always to anyone who has taken the time to leave a nice compliment or words of encouragement in my mail!

Now, onto the debauchery.

Surprisingly, no! While they may have been stuck at the hip since the early game, DU drow most definitely wasn't interested in becoming intimately involved with anyone at that stage - having lost all of his memories and seemingly kidnapped by mindflayers and all, he was a little on edge. Besides, Shadowheart struck him as rather juvenile in the earlier game, which kind of erased any possibility of his interest in her growing. By the time she """matures""" in DU drow's eyes he was already locked in with Astarion, and their friendship was also firmly established.

He did not. I think if he had been more observant as a Bhaalist he could have put two-and-two together - but he was far too self absorbed for that. He is under the impression that Helena (Orin's mother) had a divine pregnancy.

Besides women more often falling into a category that he is sexually attracted to (which doesn't affect his treatment of them by much either as long as he and Astarion are together, he may just steal a glance down their shirt or something) not really!

He has specific prejudices about women from the drow race for the same reasons everyone else has, but otherwise sex or gender doesn't impact his views. The one exception I can think of that may apply here is that he has a slight soft spot for mothers.

And don't worry, your english is perfectly fine!

Hello! I have gotten an ask about this before where I went much more in-depth, but I can't find it right now. The TLDR is that he doesn't care as long as you can still "pull your weight" outside of whatever the disability is. How reasonable his expectations are vary on how much he likes the person in question, but generally speaking he doesn't care and this would be something that bears much less weight than race or attitude - if they don't make it into a problem, he just won't bring it up.

He does have a vile sense of humor though; that might come up if he's trying to hurt someone's pride or, ironically, has built enough of a rapport with that he's comfortable joking around about such things with them.

Have a great day yourself!

I don't think there is anything wrong with relating to fictional characters, even if they are profoundly flawed or even straight up evil. Hopefully that's a vehicle for self-examination and introspection - after all, we are all flawed ourselves.

Honestly it is very hard for me to picture him old, at least in the conventional sense.

Truthfully, I am preeeeetty settled on DU drow being an immortal being at this point. I think it makes sense that Bhaal would have just stopped his aging at some point so he can be at peak performance while following through with his bidding, and that just seems to make sense to me based on prior BG lore. He changes over-time in other ways that I most certainly plan on drawing, but it might take a while for me to get there!

LOL, I think he retained knowledge of illness and disease just fine, so if he were to come down with something he wouldn't panic - probably quite the opposite. He strikes me as the kind of guy who wouldn't walk into a hospital unless a limb was dangling off by an artery - and even then, his friends probably had to insist he went.

Luckily he must has the immune system of vulture after so many years of eating half-cooked wild animals and rolling around in the cold dirt, so he very rarely contracts disease. When he does, he likely just tries his best to hide it or dismiss the concerns of anyone around him about it.

I'm glad to hear that! I remember being concerned that DU drow's scars may get read as rather exploitative or disrespectful when my art first started getting traction - I'm relieved that not only that seems to never have happened, but that people like yourself can actually gain some self-confidence from it!

Listen now that I know that there is an audience for it -

I'm not sure how I feel about simply making a book with art that already exists online and charging people money for it - especially when I have prints for sale that are most definitely of better quality than a zine and can actually serve to decorate your home! But I suppose if an opportunity like that popped up and it made sense, I don't see why not!

Oh he hates her guts, LOL. He would respect The Hag Grind for the pure comedy of it if she weren't so disgusting to look at or so unpleasant to talk to. He's particularly irate at her during act 3 when she tries to trick him into killing that little girl's mother, since he almost follows through with it (one of my few moments of lore save-scumming because I felt like SUCH an idiot).

He definitely didn't take up on her offer in act 1 for the failed tadpole treatment!

And as a bonus, here are some Viscious Mockery inspired taunts Ethel definitely bombarded him with during every fight.

[karinamariee]

leave em alone

pairing: best friend!rafe cameron x reader

summary: you just couldn’t leave rafe well enough alone.

warning: smut, mdni!!

authors note: i haven’t even been active in a few months like let’s keep it a buck. i’m back for good though yall.

—————————————————————————

best friend!rafe who isn’t afraid to let people know that even though you’re not his, you’re not anyone else’s either.

best friend!rafe who wants to tell you how he really feels about you, but is nervous that you’ll blow him off.

best friend!rafe who is always sneaking into your panty drawer, pocketing the white lace. making sure to jerk off with them later that night.

best friend!rafe who tells you he loves you, and wants to make sure you know. he sneaks into your room one night, his hands balled into fists. his heart was beating loudly in his ears, but he had to finally do this. he grabbed your arm lightly, making you groan. he climbed on top of you, pulling down the sheets around you. you opened your eyes, peaking up at him, and you smiled lightly. he leaned down and kissed your lips gently, testing out the waters, but once he noticed you kissed him back, he was not afraid anymore.

best friend!rafe who tells you he wants you on all fours, sneaking his length in your tight hole. this is what he dreamed of for years, and now this was it. he pulled out of your slowly, feeling all of you on his cock, and pushed back in harshly, making your toes curl and you moaning in the pillow loudly.

best friend!rafe who guides you on his cock, hands on your hips, bouncing up and down. you felt this pleasure everywhere, you couldn’t hold it in anymore, and you came all over his cock.

best friend!rafe who is heartbroken when you finally get a boyfriend after everything you both have done together. he loved you with his whole heart. you loved him too, but you wanted to move on, to not be stuck.

[luigilore]

Hiii i’m having an awful flair up because i’m on my period, and reading anyyyyything lu + pain related would be so great. either he takes care of us or we take care of him or visceversa. esp if it’s like vulnerable and tender. thank you so much mwah <3 also no pressure if this isn’t something you wanna write today :D

luigi x reader with chronic pain, taking care of you (a/n: i am sorry this took so long also i hope you're feeling better!! i kept it vague re the exact pain but i really hope you like it <33)

luigi enters your shared bedroom quietly, just in case you’re sleeping. you're not– your pain instead spreads throughout your body and invades your mind like a parasite. 

“i got the heating pad,” luigi murmurs, holding it up with a soft smile and what you can tell are analytical eyes, silently assessing your state.

"thank you," you mutter halfway into your pillow.

“a hallmark of a strong relationship is a shared heating pad,” he jokes, bending down to plug it in. when he stands up, a hand comes almost instinctively to intertwine with your own. 

“i grabbed some epsom salts when i picked up your medicine- if you want a bath later," he adds.

sometimes you feel like luigi is so unfairly good that maybe you don't deserve him; deserve his tender patience or the energy he's put into researching remedies. but he always rejects those worries flat out, he knows how you feel, because he feels like that too sometimes. luigi always makes a pointed effort to how strong you are and how much he loves you whenever you have bad flare ups.

right now, you just want to pull him closer and let him hold you and forget everything else, an enticing offer, but your pain makes your mind focus on other more consuming things. 

“what if it doesn’t go away,” you whisper, avoiding his eyes as he sits down on the edge of the bed next to you. 

“then we’ll deal with it. if that happens,” he says carefully. you sometimes go back and forth with each other like this, trading reassurances. it just sounds so much better coming from luigi than it ever could from the voice in your head. it's always 'we' and you're glad that it is. he gently turns your chin to look directly into your eyes, hazel flecks from the sunlight streaming in through the windows, “right?”

"yeah," you say eventually, a bit distantly, "sorry."

luigi scoffs indignantly, "what could you possibly be sorry for?"

"i dunno. moping, making you cancel your plans." luigi had plans this afternoon to go to a yoga class with his friend but your flare up made him cancel- even though you still encouraged him to go.

luigi frowns and raises his brows. "first of all, you're not moping. second, shockingly, you're a bit more important to me than a yoga class, even with the cancellation fee."

"just a bit," you echo.

"yeah," he laughs, warm thumb rubbing across your palm, hands still interlocked. “you know i love vinyasa.”

you smile up at him and the silence between you is comfortable, like it always is.

“i just-" you start and struggle to find the right words, luigi doesn’t interrupt you and waits patiently, “feel like a bit of a burden.”

you cringe slightly at how vulnerable your voice sounds, something only luigi would get to hear. he smiles sadly, “i get it,” he starts slowly.

you look up at him with an equally sad look, taking an opportunity to fill a second of silence, “i wish you didn’t.”

luigi hums, like what can you truly do. “but, you're not a burden. not to me. or anyone. plus i like feeling useful and taking care of you," he says, which you know is true. your wide smile at him makes his cheeks burn red- even after years together.

“did you eat while i was gone?” he asks after a few beats of silence, looking at you expectantly with raised brows, knowing the probable answer. you look at him sheepishly and that’s enough of an answer for him. 

"you still have to eat even when you’re hurting," luigi says disapprovingly with knitted brows. he stands up and you frown as your hands break apart. "i can go get us something," he checks the time on his watch and laughs lightly, “we can have an early dinner.” 

"i just want you to stay here," you say honestly, maybe a bit desperately, voice hoarse.

“let me make you something then,” he says easily, “we need a grocery trip but i’ll get creative.” 

you smile and he does to; sometimes the amount of love he looks at you with overwhelms you in a really nice and tender and precious way. a feeling you want to hold onto for a long time. "thank you," you whisper.

“you do the same for me,” luigi says. like it's simple- and maybe it is.

[swtt4hk]

Are we still lovers? || ex!Cho Sang-woo x fem!Reader (Oneshot)

requested by: anonymous!

author’s note: this was inspired by the song “Are we still friends?” By Tyler , The Creator! It also contains some curse words…enjoy!

he’s here…again. Cho Sang-woo , your ex , is here to beg you to come back again. Everyday is the same shit. He comes over shouting and wakes up the whole neighbourhood just to beg you to come back. But of course you’re not going back to him , not after what he did to you.

You and Cho Sang-woo had been together for a few years now. You were both really happy with your relationship and were even planning to get married soon. Until one day , everything changed.

Flashback

—I’m breaking up with you.

You freeze. Him wanting to break up with you was the last thing you expected to hear.

—w-what? No , you aren’t.

—yes , I am. I’ve already packed your things.

—what?! But why?! Is there anyone else? What happened? What about our plans? You were just telling me , a few days ago , about where you want us to get married!

You protest with tears in your eyes. The truth is , Sang-woo didn’t want to break up with you either. He loved you a lot. But he had just gotten an offer to go work in America and he couldn’t turn down such offer. Money was tough and he couldn’t take you with you , so he had to make a decision. It was either you or his career. But his ego took over him and he chose to go to America. He thought that if he stayed here , he wouldn’t achieve anything and would make your life harder. But let’s be real. Work was his top priority, you were his second choice.

—do I really need to explain this to you? Don’t make this any harder for me and leave.

—no! Sang-woo , I’m your girlfriend and I have every right to know why you want to break up with me!

His jaw clenched in frustration and sighs.

—you wanna know the truth so badly, huh? Here it is then. I’m leaving you. I’m going to America. I got offered a better position and I’ll make much more money than I do here.

your eyes soften as tears roll down your cheek.

—Sang-woo , that’s amazing…why can’t I come with you?

He can’t tell you. He can’t admit that he doesn’t have any money. He’ll seem weak and miserable , so he lies instead. He has to.

—I don’t need any distractions. Also , the work hours will be long.

Then it hits you. He doesn’t love you anymore? He finds you a distraction? That’s not the Sang-woo you know…there is more to it.

—Cho Sang-woo! Stop lying and tell me why you don’t want me to come with you!

—I can’t sit here and argue about something pointless. Just take your things and go!

You burst into tears , take your things and go. You don’t have any choice.

End of Flashback

Ding dong

Here we go again.

—y/n! I know you’re in there , please just open the door! How many times do I have to apologise?!

you walk to the door

—you think an apology can fix this? You’re such an asshole , you don’t know me at all.

—please , just please open the door…

his voice breaks and cries. You’re tired of this shit. It wouldn’t hurt if you finally opened the door , right?

the door unlocks , revealing Sang-woo on the floor , his shirt half unbuttoned and his cheeks red. He must be drunk.

—you better have a good explanation.

You say coldly , not even offering to help him get up.

—can…can I come in?

He says and looks at you like some desperate puppy. You sigh and gesture him to come in. You both sit on the couch and wait for him to speak.

—y/n…can you please come back? I’m sorry. I need you. I promise I’ll be a better man for you.

You scoff at his words.

—I didn’t let you in for you to tell me the same shit you’ve been telling me for the past month. I need to hear something new.

He looks down at his feet in embarrassment. He is ashamed for what he did. After he moved to America , everything was going well at first. Until everything started going downhill. It turned out that he owners of the company he was working in had committed a bunch of crimes , scammed people , including Sang-woo. He , then , realised how big of a mistake he had made. He had left the love of his life , the person who gave him courage and happiness just for money. He knew it wouldn’t be so easy to come back to you but he was determined to get you back.

—y/n…if I explain…will you accept me back?

sighs

—no promises.

He lets out a small chuckle. He knew that you would react like this and it’s funny how well he knows your reactions.

—alright then…

Sang-woo explains everything to you , detail by detail and you’re left stunned. That’s both stupid and sweet at the same time. You found it cute and sweet that he thought he would seem weak and wanted to provide you with more money but that fact that HE BROKE UP WITH YOU and moved away just for money was stupid asf.

—Sang-woo…

—I know. I’m a dumbass.

You chuckle.

—yes , you are. But , first of all , why did you break up with me to move to America? I have a job , I could work some extra hours to get more money and I could come with you some months later. Second of all , you’re stupid for thinking I would find you ‘weak’ for not having enough money to take me with you. Third , you’re an asshole because you put work first and then me.

Sang-woo nods. He totally agrees with what you’re saying but he’s still surprised that you’re not screaming at him.

—I’m…I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?

—well…no. Not exactly. I’m glad that you finally confessed but I will not be accepting you back. It hurts. What you did hurts a lot and I don’t think I can ever forget what you did to me.

—oh…

—I’d like you to move on. Please don’t contact me anymore. Thank you so much for everything , truly.

You say and get up. You open the door and gesture him to get out.

—goodbye , Sang-woo. I hope you find the right one.

Sang-woo , with tears in his eyes , gets up and leaves. He looks at you one more time before leaving , all the memories fading and a new chapter of both of your lives starting.

This isn’t the end. This is only the beginning of a new and better life.

———————————————————————

Idk why but I think I made y/n a lil bit pick me , so I apologise 😭

Taglist: @sensationallysangwoo

@chosangwooswife

@nanamiscsleeve

@snowgirl12

@vkeyy

@lfegoeson

[monstersinthecosmos]

kacy i need ur thoughts on marius and dom drop

Oh! My friend! I have several. 🤗

I have a lot to say and I’m not sure how to organize myself so be patient with me. But !

I think a lot about both the in-universe/non-diegetic kink in VC but also Marius’s own admittance that he lies to himself, and what that says about both his role as a dom and what it means, and his ego as a defense mechanism and what it means to his actual level of self-assuredness.

Like the short answer here is like: I LOVE thinking about a soggy Mawwius who feels really bad and goes back to his lair at sunrise feeling like a nervous wreck because there wasn’t enough time for aftercare LOL. I think it ties in really nicely to his hatred of anger/the humiliation around identifying with anger, and I wonder like in a moment of dom drop does it feel too much like he was being an aggressive brute, and does he lose sight of the fact that Amadeo (or whomstever) was into it?

Is he so ashamed of himself that he doesn’t even ALLOW himself aftercare? He takes the shame with him to be alone and punish himself, maybe! :D

WHAT A BARBARIAN!

And like I know I bring this up from time to time but the whole idea of non-diegetic kink/DOYLIST KINK IF YOU WILL, is that it’s kinky to the reader, on purpose, but not necessarily following “good” BDSM rules in the text, right? Like the whipping scenes in TVA are intended to be kink to the reader, but they’re not negotiated. So I wonder like, what does a dom role mean to him if he’s not slipping into it in a traditional/realistic way? If they exist in a world where negotiation isn’t warranted, how much aftercare do they need? And speaking to dom drop—there’s aftercare in both whipping scenes in TVA, but they’re focused on Armand, not Marius.

In some ways that feels appropriate, too, like, I don’t know man! What’s the etiquette when one of you is inhuman and there’s a 1500 year age gap? In real life we’d see BDSM as a consensual roleplay where the sub might want to check in, too, and is just as responsible, but in a situation like this, is it Armand’s job to take care of him after?

That’s the tricky thing about the non-diegetic setup that I’m getting at. As the reader, the EXTREME power imbalance is supposed to be tropey and entertaining and titillating, and it’s interesting trying to tease that out from like, how sincerely we take the actions on the page. (ie: the timeless discourse about whether or not the BDSM in TVA is abuse blah blah). So like, we can chose not to worry about it and write it off as Not That Deep, or we can say like, maybe it wasn’t Amadeo’s fucking job to care for the ancient creature that just beat the shit out of him lmao.

We have to ask, does proper etiquette exist/matter in this universe? (Either answer still works, it’s just like, what are we focusing on for this particular moment, like is it for meta or a fic or what, your mileage may vary). And like on that note, what was the BDSM etiquette in the 1490s, anyway? LOL Like does anyone give a fuck anyway? (This might be an ask for YOU, apoptoses!!!)

So it’s kind of interesting to think about this.

I mean!

Like, Marius can still have dom drop, whether or not Amadeo (or anyone else) cares to aftercare him. And that kinda feels appropriate with the no-rules non negotiated scenes in the first place. It’s appropriately messy if he’s torn up about it and then just goes back to his lair and stews and panics about it. Love that for him lol.

It also occurs to me like, if AMADEO also needs more aftercare, if Marius knows that but has to leave, I wonder how guilty that makes him feel. Like, I remember you and I talked about this LOL because I wrote this into Gallows Bird, that he woke up Riccardo to go sleep with Amadeo so he wouldn’t be alone, and you were gonna write some Riccardo/Amadeo about it!!! Like, how often did that happen?

We can say if there’s no negotiation and shit poor BDSM etiquette in universe, maybe he just left Amadeo to fend for himself at sunrise and that was that LOL and it layers into the extreme way it’s built for the sake of the story and exaggerated for the sake of the reader, but as always, I know that you and me both as fic writers like to think about this stuff on the ground floor because we try to envision more of a 360° view of what these scenes looked like from the inside and I simply have to ask all these questions to develop my understanding !!

And I have to ask how purposeful these scenes & roleplays are within the universe: is he slipping into the dom/disciplinarian role with intention? It asks that question like, what does this person need and how does the BDSM role help them? We can say that Amadeo is a brat, and that by necessity Marius must become a disciplinarian to take care of him. But is that something Marius would choose for himself? For Marius I can only imagine him thriving as a dom in the sense that it feels good to have control, but it’s an odd thing to need to express in the Venice era in particular where he is so very in control anyway. Is his paterfamilias/daddy kink already served just by their 24/7 dynamic and his control of the palazzo, and does he still need to top it off with impact play? There’s so many options here!

Option A is like, he’s basically service domming for Amadeo’s pleasure, and the dom drop is going to come from the idea that he’s so completely self-loathing as a monster!  People give Louis credit for being like the OG Self Loathing Vampire but Marius has him so so beat, imo. God he hates that shit. He has such bad vampire dysphoria constantly, he feels like a monster, he uses his powers sparingly to feel like a person, every time he grows a new strength he’s disgusted by it. He hates the idea of violence and anger!

Option B is that it’s therapeutic for him to exercise these powers with someone who appreciates them? Does it feel nice to indulge in his violent nature for a little while in a space where he knows he’s not hurting anybody for real? And like, for all the ways he has control in Venice – Amadeo will grow up and leave, the boys will leave, Vincenzo will die soon, he cannot keep them, he cannot join society in the way he wants. I think when you break it down, most trauma comes down to “a time I did not have control” and it’s natural for people to want to play with control to unwind, but for Marius in particular, his turning was SO traumatic and fucked up and I think really set the tone for his entire life. Not just being turned against his will but the way it was prolonged, that he did everything he could while he was alive to rebel against Roman society and maintain personal freedom, only to have that taken away for a YEAR! Being held captive is so fucking dehumanizing, and I wonder if he never really got over it.

Option C is that it just genuinely also gets him off and he’s playing with his food because taking little sips from Amadeo for years is giving him insane blue balls lmao

I also would be remiss not to mention my sincerely held belief that Marius is more of a sub on the inside, too, and so roleplaying as a dom or being so stressed that he needs to control SOMETHING is not natural for him. If he rose up to be a dom by necessity here—whether to meet Amadeo’s needs or because he’s become so violent and inhuman and needs to relieve stress—I can definitely see him having dom drop after and struggling to reconcile it when he’s lying awake in his sarcophagus panicking about it.

Everything in Venice is designed to be the exact opposite of his experience in Gaul. He spoils Amadeo with gifts, gives him a beautiful place to live, all the food he wants, wants him to have a worldly education, encourages him to go out and experience the city and meet people and have sex and take advantage of everything the modern world has to offer. And I think he likes that Amadeo sees him as a savior and not a captor. He even knows pretty quickly that he loves Amadeo too much to go through with turning him, anyway, and is willing to let him live.

So it’s interesting to me like, this is actually something I’ve tackled in Sheith fics LOL but like how to overcome trauma in a way that allows you to be violent for fun again, and how to find it cathartic and safe when your instinct is that it isn’t, or when the idea of it feels triggering. We don’t know about Marius having any other relationships like this before Venice, but he’s rejoining society for a while and finding a healthy outlet for his hunger, perhaps.

Especially off the heels of his thing for Bianca and Botticelli, and how he knew he’d kill them if he didn’t distract himself. The entire reason he HAS Amadeo at all is as a plaything and a distraction/rebound, so it’s interesting that controlled violence plays into what they do together, and how Marius loves him.

What’s interesting about it too is that like, again in the sense of it being the actual text—it seems like after both whipping scenes that they both have sort of emotional breakthroughs and can be more honest with each other. We know that Marius is a person who keeps his feelings inside until he explodes, and this is how that looks when he’s with Amadeo. He comes away from it with a sense of catharsis that he needed. No matter how they get here, it does seem like it’s something he needs.

But yeah anyway. This was all over the place LOL but those are some of the angles I consider when I think about this topic. I genuinely can’t imagine a version of Marius where he DOESN’T experience dom drop, honestly, it’s just that I think there’s a very different routes of how we get there. In the end, no matter how intentional the roleplays are, I think he’s going to go isolate himself after and go “what the fuck why did I do that oh my god” and the curse of their interspecies relationship is that he has to leave in the morning and they can’t cuddle their way through it until it feels better.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Posting something silly before getting into some deeper AU stuff! >:3

Naming Ref.

"Six Monkie Kids" idea got away from me and I made this monstrosity:

Here's details of the boys going left to right!

Xiaotian/"MK":

The Eldest? No one is really sure tbh, but he takes responsibility like he is.

Just as obsessed with stories of the Monkey King. Tang used to read Journey to West, and other traditional stories to the kids to send them off to sleep - MK always tried the hardest to stay awake.

Though all the brothers can carry Ruyi Jingu Bang - only MK can wield and command it. They chalk it up to the Staff recognising birth (hatching) order.

The ADHD still kicking his butt.

Has a small crisis of identity related to being 1 of 6 brothers. Loves art, cooking, music like in canon, but isn't sure if he'd ever be able to persue his passions professionally.

Still self-sacrificing to a detrimental degree!

Has a half/heart shaped face marking like certain monkey demons.

Xǐ Qìng/"Porty":

Works as a DJ/host for a local anti-gravity bar, and does freelance gigs on the side.

Practically nocturnal. You ain't seeing this boy up at 8am for nothing.

Baby Porty had no sleep cycle At All. He was the baby who was jumping on the bed at 4am. Tang eventually found a work-around by sticking on a compilation of music videos for the kids to rock out to before bedtime (my parents did the same to us with a Gloria Estafan vhs).

Covered in piercings and a few tattoos. First time he got either of them was without permission. Pigsy nearly exploded on Porty when he found out about it - not just for getting a body mod without permission, but for not cleaning it correctly! This old rockstar raised you better!

Has an embarassing nickname for everyone. Half of his bros got their nicknames from him.

Facial marking has a spiky pattern.

Xìn Shǐ/"Delivery":

Happily eats his brother's + customer's leftovers if no one catches him. Is violently against food waste.

Is the most diligent worker of the family; hence his nickname. Hopes to take over the restaurant someday or open a second location.

Has inherited many physical habits from dear Dadsy. Instinctively reaches for the wooden spoon when angry/threatened.

The tallest of his siblings! Chalks it up to his appetitie.

Openly worries the most out of all of his siblings.

Indentified by his face marking having darker "blush stickers" on his cheeks.

Zhèn Jìng/ "Apathy" & "Backup":

Works as a busboy/cashier for Pigsy's. Isn't sure if he wants to be anything else.

Extreme Middle Child Syndrome.

Has Resting B_tch Face. Will ignore anyone telling him to smile.

Is a bit of an otaku. Whereas MK loves the literary Monkey King, Apathy loves him some Son Goku anime. Prized possession is a Dragon Ball noodle bowl he won in a giveaway.

When he's not working, he's online playing video games and chatting to his discord friends. Often has to be reminded to stretch his legs and eat.

Is the brother most often mistaken for MK; only physical difference is that his face marking is inverted.

Jié Zuò/"Artist" & "Arty":

Freelance artist. Works on commission mostly for local businesses needing their buildings touched up and/or new logo designs. Sold exactly one original painting in his entire life, and is still convinced that he wasn't finished.

Inherited his sense of perfectionism from Pigsy.

ANGER ISSUES. Has been working on mangement therapy with Sandy.

As a cub, every wall of the restuarant and the apartment was covered in his drawings. Pigsy agreed to stop washing them off as long as Arty kept to a theme. There's still crayon drawings of noodle ingredients on a wall of Pigsy's 15+ years later.

Face marking is a rounded butterfly, though it has white splotches from vitiligo.

Mòzhī/"Inky":

Working on a degree in Psychology, with a particular interest in the function of memories.

Biggest. Gossip. Ever!! Has the tea on everyone.

Has a pretty big friend group from college that he hangs out with. He's a little embarassed that he's the son of a noodle-maker and a "professional book nerd", since a few of his friends come from affluent backgrounds.

Might initially be a pile of ink from the Scroll of Memory that was used to make a baby monkey. (Nüwa was running low on materials).

Most visually distinct baby! Has black fur opposed to dark-brown. Face marking is "raccoon eyes"-shaped.

Bonus:

First time Pigsy found the boys, he thought he was being pranked or was dreaming. Who's kids are these?! Why are they all muddy? Sweet Guanyin, how is he gonna find clothes for all of them?! Eventually he calmed the babies all down (most were crying), and gave them their first ever baths and bowls of noodles. The resulting call to Tang was... eventful to say the least.

Pigsy got advice from his grandmother, and his other relatives, about how to wrangle so many piglets at once. Pigs do have large litters after all!

Pigsy and Tang got legally married when the boys were young, mostly so they could pool finances. Six little piglets aren't cheap!

Wukong treats MK's brother like his little monkeys. Since he's only the eldest brother's mentor, he's able to let his guard down more around them, albeit awkwardly.

Each brother had differing reactions to meeting the Monkey King; from anger, amazement, to indifference. Selfies were taken.

A number of characters initially think MK is using his duplication power when they meet his brothers for the first time. Red Son attempted vengence on the other 5 before he learned that they were all different Noodle Boys!

Since they are all still creations of Nuwa, at least two or three take after her as lil half-snake/naga demons! Delivery I feel has an unhinged jaw, while a few of the boys have slited pupils. MK is still the most monkey of the boys tho!

[freedelusionshere]

This season has to be all about Syd

S3 and S4 of The Bear are technically one season broken into two parts. Part 1 was obviously about Carmy hitting rock bottom and Part 2 should be about Syd's struggles during all of this. Most of the back half of S3 was filmed last year, I don't see why they'd change anything or do reshoots. S4 is really S5, etc. Otherwise, why put the Part 1 title at the end of S3?

And because Syd's been bottling everything, and we have yet to see her interior life portrayed, we're not really getting to fully explore her journey emotionally yet in S3 Part 1. But the setup is that we will, and the show must. The show has set up Carmy and Syd as mirroring each other and being two halves of a whole.

All the questions that are left on the table are about Syd and what she will do. Carmy has done all he can as an EC and failed. At the end of S3/P1 Carmy is getting unstuck and the review drops. A negative or even mixed review impacts their ability to get a star first and foremost. Which Syd wants and is her dream (which, I'm with Carmy, it's a trap). Carmy spent all of S3/P1 trying to convince himself this is what he is doing all of this for. The review is not only about The Bear's financial future (which Carmy didn't seem all that concerned about in Apologies) but is also wrapped up in his desire to give more of what he thinks/hopes/prays Syd wants which he's been doing like clockwork since S1.

Cicero pulling the funding is also really an immediate issue for Syd because she is the one who will be hit hardest out of the gate. She's already on deferred pay, she's single, her credit is in ruins, and she will potentially be forced to go work somewhere else immediately. Syd didn't sign the partnership agreement, and Carmy knows something is up and the clock is ticking. It's why she's considering Shapiro's offer, and it makes her literally feel sick to have to do it.

Syd just signed a lease. We still don't know who helped her get that lease, landlords typically don't give leases to people with bad credit without a guarantor, I still say it's likely Carmy, because they intentionally tied it to her dad's general disapproval of Carmy (the thin walls like the thin partnership agreement). It's not financially sustainable for things to continue as they have (Carmy's doing, but also enablement by her and his family). Other characters will be impacted as well, but there is an immediacy here with Syd, who is making jokes about still not having health insurance.

Then there is the matter of Carmy being a bad boss as a reason for Syd to leave, which the show directly pointed out and tied it directly to Carmy's treatment of Syd and he knows he has hurt her and their relationship. Shapiro isn't going to be any better, they've already given plenty of hints about that. Carmy is a pain in the ass, but he doesn't lie or hide what he is (the opposite, for better or worse). The issue now is Carmy having to prove to Syd through his actions (no more apologies) that he can be a good partner. But that comes with Syd also having to make it clear what that looks like to her. Because he's repeatedly asked her to tell him when he's screwing up. He wants her to tell him what she wants, and she avoids having to do that. We know she's not afraid of him, because she stood up to him easily in S1. It's something about herself holding her back.

Even Richie writing about Carmy in his little black book, and about Syd, Luca, and Carmy. Carmy is to Syd as Luca was to Carmy. Carmy is the one who needs to change his ways and follow Syd's lead. But Richie doesn't really know what's going on inside Syd's head either, because she always plays it cool. Syd was even being somewhat evasive when Luca asked her at Ever if anyone else looked out for her besides her dad. She obviously was avoiding answering. She could've said her good friend Marcus. I mean, Luca knows Marcus. But no, she's thinking about Carmy there and of course that conversation gets interrupted by Shapiro, foreshadowing.

I could be wrong about all of this, of course, but I don't want them reshooting stuff. I want to see Syd get to be messy and all her dreams and ambitions and backstory and her crushing defeats. She is the yin to Carmy's yang. That way when they come together and crush it, they will have earned it narratively and it will feel like a huge victory and tie it all together.

Of course I want to see more Sweeps, Ebra, and Angel and Manny stuff as well. I want to see Luca and Marcus together. But the main driver of S3/P2 should be Sydney!

[thehellsakook]

@ofblemishwithin

Always with the insults. JJ, you really need to pull your head out of your own ass. The insults and taunts are getting old. Besides, I still don't really understand what a "kook" is, so your insults basically just go over my head anyway. {I shrugged. I get it. He's a guy with severe trust issues, and after witnessing his deranged father beating the hell out of him, it made sense now why he was this way. Either way though, I did just help his ass so he could tone down the snark asshole comments for at least an hour or so. I knew that would never happen, but wishful thinking in all of that} Of course we're not friends. I'm some kook princess as you keep eloquently putting it. {My eyes shifted into a roll} You can relax though. I won't tell anyone about this. I wouldn't do that. The way I see it, this is your business and nobody else's, so even though you don't trust me, for promise sake, I promise you I wouldn't divulge your secret to anyone, JJ. In fact, when we get to your friend's house, if you want me to drop you off and leave right after, I can. I know you hate me, and you've already gone through enough today, so I don't want my pain in the ass self making your day worst. {I sarcastically uttered out. I knew JJ hated me. He didn't hide his disdain well at all. In fact, I think he prided himself on how mean, rude, and completely antagonistic he was to me. I thought to myself as I remained close for support on the off chance that JJ would want or need my help in getting to my brother's car that was parked out front}

Paths intertwined

@thehellsakook 

Outer Banks; it was made up of two sides. The rich freaks that lived on figure 8 and the pogues which were known as the people that had to scrape by. JJ was neither; well he was a pogue; it was his known family. But he wasn’t the guy that had people looking out for him. He had a dad but he was far from the father figure you’d picture in your mind. He was the guy that scraped by, with working on boats; that helped the rich across the town in order to make the ends meet, but he was also the dirty guy that tended to feed off any person that was willing to toss him money. 

JJ witnessed it first hand; the poker nights growing up. The smell of beer that stayed within these walls. The lack of food provided. JJ knew he had to count on himself. It’s why John B, Pope, and kie and I all stuck together. We helped each other when we felt in a bind. Kie was able to help more considering she lived in the big house; she was a kook yet she liked slumming it with us. She didn’t care what her parents said, all the warnings based on the rumors. It was always kooks vs the pogues what could I say? JJ though he had to fend for himself; he was the one who walked around at night; waiting for the wreck to close up; and Kie would help hand out any extra food the restaurant had. He didn’t like asking for help nor would you hear him say the words. But the pogues knew; his dad he was unreliable, the only person he could count on was himself. 

It was another start to a another school year. One JJ was dreading, he knew in order to make it life you had to learn. YOu had to sit through each boring class. He was his own kind of smart. He could pick up on cues, he could pick up on the simple concepts; but when it came to applying himself he froze. He rather let Pope do the work; and he’d feed the notes of each subject to him. Pope was the brains of the pogues; he was the school scholar that wanted to go to an ivy league school, and I had no doubt in my mind he’d make it. But me; I was barely getting by. John B had the smarts like myself; his quick thinking. But would we amount to anything? Heck no. All that in mind; JJ had pushed the simple supplies of a notebook, a few pencils into his backpack. Using his hand he zipped it; as he heard the calling from the windows. 

“ JJ Man let’s go.” John b neither of his friends dared to stay inside especially when his dad’s truck was parked outside. He had pulled the strap of his bag over his shoulder. Taking his gray baseball cap he brought it to rest over his sandy blonde hair. A pair of shorts he wore; an an old white T-shirt, simple was all the teen did. He closed the door to his room and made his way through the small home. He paused when he saw his dad head facing down against the arm rest of the couch. Same old day; he was passed out probably from his work last night; or the money he managed to trick out of his so called buddies. I had to roll my eyes as I took the keys for the boat; for after school. Tucking the key into my shorts pocket. I had stepped through the swinging doors spotting Kie and Pope. Eyes moved to try to find our missing friend; the one I had heard inside. Ducking my head down; I had felt a pair of arms wrap around my neck from behind. “ Took you long enough.” John B, I had used my hands to push behind me; in order to push the male down. 

This was us; joking around; laughing on the walk to the dreadful day at school. I never cared what anyone thought; the pogues were my life. The only ones I truly cared about. The walk was a bit longer compared to figure 8, as we stepped onto the pavements we caught sight of the sport cars, of the fancy cars; you’d dream of riding in. I had to roll my eyes; just another day. Topper and Sarah and their crew were hanging out by the small wall before the stairs. We had shrugged our shoulders as we passed. Stepping one at a time on the stairs until we walked right into the building. 

Pope and Kie had walked the other way as John B and I did our hand shake an agreement to meet at next class; math my worse. I had science first; the male ducked his textbook under his arm as he walked the distance to the class. Cap blinding his eyes from making eye contact with anyone. He had found a spot in the third row; the desk in front of him as he placed his book down. His legs in front of him. Hand had moved to rest on the edge of the desk when he spotted the brunette from the sports car; a kook. Figures. To his surprise she was directed to sit next to him; oh great, cue the roll of his eyes. JJ had barely acknowledged her. “ Ah okay.” As if I was giving out my name to strangers; attention drawn to the teacher as if I intended on paying attention.