#he's having a little crisis at home lmao

[infinitethree]

Okay, you know what?

The bastard is almost, on an aesthetic level, not terrible to look at while he’s like this.

Asleep, he can’t be a fucking sociopath or an asshole. Those too-clever eyes of his aren’t judging and dissecting, they’re closed.

The absence of that bright blue gaze makes him seem surprisingly vulnerable.

So does the way Daz has, in the short while he’s been asleep, already snuggled up to him and is being clingy.

After the last few hours of running around looking for him, it’s a relief to know that he’s been mostly fine all along.

Naturally, when Daz didn’t come home, Raine got worried. The Council, aside from Lee who had been kept out of it, have been searching his known hidey-holes for hours now.

Obviously the HQ was one of the first places they checked, but the wall that leads into the hidden room was sealed off. They assumed that meant he wasn’t there, so they ignored it.

It wasn’t until Aster, in a last-ditch attempt, decided to open it up and check that the bastard was found.

He’d been fine, thankfully. Just having hyper fixated on the code and shut out everything else.

Aster carefully takes his com out and taps out a message to the others.

ShiningAster: bastard located. fine but asleep. focused on coding body for Innit, forgot he has a human body.

RaineStorm: seriously?? uhg, at least it’s normal shit this time

RaineStorm: as opposed to soul crushing despair and existential terror

Khons: need help moving him? ShiningAster: staying here. fell asleep on me, he has nightmares. also touched starved. might be less bastard if he gets good sleep

It’s only a little bit of a lie. Technically, none of that was wrong, but the implication was that Daz wasn’t strongarmed into accepting.

RaineStorm: yeah his nightmares are BAD and music only kinda helps.

ShiningAster: I think I can fix it. saying more will make him pissy

Khons: well if he’s not in trouble and staying there we’re going to bed

ShiningAster: night

RaineStorm: gn

RaineStorm: it’s gonna be really funny seeing him fall for you ngl

ShiningAster: its gonna be weird as fuck for me

After a moment, he switches to DMs.

ShiningAster: at some point we have a kid. Not adopted I think. looks just like him. her name is Azira. means rising star.

RaineStorm: WHAT THE FUCK??????

ShiningAster: also he made a deal to help with Innits body for seeing the same shit I do. but for me obviously

RaineStorm: oh my god that stupid asshole

RaineStorm: maybe he’ll learn his lesson. bc you’re def good to him, I know you.

ShiningAster: hes capable of being good to me back. too busy being petty for now though

RaineStorm: yeahhhhhh. he’s def an acquired taste. but he really is a great guy when you get past his him-ness

ShiningAster: lol

RaineStorm: he figured out I’d want a heated tub, art studio, and a porch. it’s freaky tbh but it’s nice.

ShiningAster: sounds fake but ok

RaineStorm: you’ve never seen him be like that so it’s hard to picture but it’s true!

That’s not quite right; Aster has seen Daz be kind and generous to others…he’s just never been the target.

No, maybe that’s not fair. He’s dragged Aster to a place of being better in a way he never would have done on his own. Despite his attitude, it did still benefit Aster.

Granted, he’s also been an asshole on purpose for literal years, so. That kind of events out.

ShiningAster: honestly just want to eat his damn food without being drugged

RaineStorm: something something the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach

ShiningAster: it sucks so bad to play chicken on if Ill suffer when I touch his cooking

ShiningAster: usually its worth it. at least until whatever he put in it hits

RaineStorm: and now we know why

ShiningAster: maybe therapy will fix him

RaineStorm: ngl I think not thinking he’ll kill anyone he loves will do wonders on its own

RaineStorm: but therapy will help too probably

ShiningAster: cant say much for obvious reasons but hes fundamentally broken. has been for most of his life.

ShiningAster: but Id never have a kid if he didnt seem in a good place. so whatever he does works

RaineStorm: have you considered it might be the power of love

ShiningAster: fuck you

RaineStorm: I’m serious!! think about it, he’s spent like 4 years thinking being loved will get that person killed

RaineStorm: he might have divine confirmation but he’s stubborn. might not feel real

RaineStorm: soooo someone who loves him despite his bullshit might be the thing that makes him be less…yknow

Ah, another reminder of how deeply fucked up Daz actually is.

ShiningAster: could be having someone who knows his secrets or even just Innit being out

RaineStorm: remind it that it needs a new name btw. too close to existing ones

RaineStorm: but yeah that probably helps too

RaineStorm: I feel awful I never noticed he was so…unwell

ShiningAster: hes good at hiding what he wants to hide. cant blame yourself when hes a master manipulator.

Said master manipulator mumbles into Aster’s chest, voice small, “I missed you.”

And, fuck, something in his chest feels like it cracks when Aster realizes what and who Daz must be dreaming about.

There’s nobody it could be but his former mentor. The person who gave him everything he ever wanted…and then committed an unspeakable sin against him.

Clearly, Daz still misses him. Despite what Dream had done to him, a part of him still misses the person who crushed him infinitely worse than anyone before him.

Despite only getting brief glimpses of that time, Aster gets the impression that Dream had been someone whose preciousness went beyond words.

Yet Daz couldn’t stomach letting him have his way after what he did. He rejected a place as a near-god beside someone who, despite the sickness in his soul, was devoted to him to a disturbing degree.

That…takes a strength of will that Aster isn’t completely sure he could match.

Fuck, nor does the decision to use the lethally broken enchantment as a backup plan.

If the rest of the server had failed to kill him, Daz would have chosen a death so agonizing that it chills Aster to his core.

It’s not hard to see why Daz is so…himself, honestly. Aster might not be able to think like him, nor agree with his actions, but in a fucked up way he can follow most of the logic now that he has the pieces.

He swallows as Daz’s voice wavers and cracks. “You said you’d protect me, so why…”

Aster adjusts his arms to a more comfortable positon, and messes with his hair more. “I’m not him, Daz. You’re not Tommy any more. Dream was sick– you know that.”

Horrifyingly, Daz starts shaking as he cries.

He rushes to add, “But– but you can have something new. Fuck, if you can be even halfway decent, I’d fall for you pretty damn quick. You can be charming, you know? And– and pretty romantic. It was– maybe it wouldn’t be awful. If you just stopped being such a bastard–”

At a loss for what else to do, he cuts himself off and starts humming.

Eventually, Daz slips back into deeper sleep.

But the memory of this unsettlingly fragile side of him will remain in the back of Aster’s head. Even when Daz is being the biggest bastard he can be…Aster knows he’ll remember this.

[libraryofgage]

Good Vibrations Two

This AU got a lot more attention than I expected actually hfjdks I'm so glad everyone likes it!

Anyway, here's part two! We get some concert, some peeks at how Robin helps Steve navigate social situations, and a little Eddie having an itsy-bitsy crisis over Steve's fashion choices.

Have fun! And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't (especially for this one since I wrote most of it on my phone actually lmao)

----

Steve stares at the shirts laid out on his bed, arms crossed over his chest. Choosing jeans had been easy, but choosing a shirt is giving him trouble. What do you wear to a metal show at the local dive bar for a small-town band in which the lead singer is a long-time and way-out-of-your-league crush that you've been holding a candle for since the first time you saw him laugh on top of a cafeteria table?

You definitely don't show up in a plain black shirt, that's for sure.

The lights in the hall outside Steve's room flicker, switching off and on three times. Steve just barely notices, which means he doesn't get his pants scared off when Robin appears in the doorway, grinning at him while pocketing the key to the front door he'd given her months ago into a messenger bag. "Hey, dingus," she says, striding into the room and flopping onto the bed.

Steve rolls his eyes, yanking the shirts out from under her and laying them once more over Robin's stomach and legs. "What shirt should I wear?" he asks.

It takes a few seconds for Steve to look from the shirts to Robin, and she patiently waits until he's staring at her to say, "Just pick one. Nobody's gonna care what you're wearing."

"I care," Steve says, frowning as he looks back at the shirts. For the aforementioned crush reason, Steve cares very much about the shirt he wears. "What says 'Hi, we've never talked before but your music is the only thing I can hear and I think your hair is in desperate need of quality shampoo and also I've been halfway in love with you since, like, sophomore year'?"

Robin considers the question for a long moment before picking up a red sweater. "This one says 'I'm horny'," she offers.

Steve blinks, staring at the sweater for a few beats before laughing. "But I'm not," he says.

Despite looking at Robin, she happens to angle her head toward the sweater, and her response is lost on Steve. He frowns, waits until her jaw has stopped moving, and says, "I didn't get that."

After Robin first learned about Steve's deafness, he'd been overly anxious about asking her to repeat things. Somehow, it was worse to constantly ask when the person knew he couldn't hear well, if at all. But Robin had never shown annoyance; she'd just adjust her posture, make sure Steve could see her lips, and repeat her words. She does all of this now, and Steve gets to read her joking response, "Yeah, but you will be."

And, yeah, she has him there. Steve huffs and collapses onto the bed beside her, sacrificing the shirts. "I'll need a jacket," he says, turning his head to look at Robin so he can read her response.

Instead of words, though, he sees her face light up, and she jumps off the bed. Steve sits up, watching as she digs in her messenger bag before pulling out a t-shirt. "Remember when I stayed over a few weeks ago? And you let me borrow a shirt? You should wear it!"

Thankfully, Robin waits until she's done talking to throw the shirt in Steve's face. Honestly, he only understood a few words ("remember," "borrow," and "wear") but he's gathered enough context clues to get the gist of things.

He spreads the shirt out, humming at the Iron Maiden design. It's not one he wears often; for the most part, it's a shirt he wears on lazy days at home because of how soft it is. But as he's studying the design, Steve is suddenly hit with a stroke of pure genius.

He quickly changes into the shirt and then grabs a varsity jacket (not his letterman, but one he'd seen at the mall and bought on a whim because it used a nice shade of yellow) off his desk, tugging it on over the shirt but leaving it unbuttoned. After a few more seconds of digging around, he finds sneakers under the bed and tugs them on.

"Okay," he says, turning so Robin can see the outfit from every angle. He comes to a stop when he's facing her once more, hands buried in his jacket pockets, and asks, "What do you think? How's it look?"

"I think you'll give Eddie a crisis," Robin replies, wrinkling her nose at the varsity jacket. "Not, like, a bad one. But he'll probably ask where you got the shirt from."

Steve grins, thinking that sounds about perfect, and turns to study himself in the mirror. It's a surprisingly solid blend of metal and jock, and it makes him feel oddly confident, the same way he felt the first time he did his hair just right and everyone complimented it.

"Perfect," he decides. "Let's go."

----

The ride to the Hideout isn't exactly quiet, but it's not like Steve can talk and drive at the same time. So it's filled with music blasted as high as it can go on his car stereo, causing the whole vehicle to vibrate with each beat. When he finally turns the car off after parking, Robin grimaces as she rubs her ears.

She waits for Steve to be in front of her before saying, "We're putting the windows down next time."

"Oh. Sorry," Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck a little awkwardly as Robin dismissively waves off his apology.

"No, it's fine, I'm just saying. Now, let's get inside before they start."

With that, she loops her arm through Steve's and drags him into the Hideout. They're hit with a wave of cigarette smoke, spilled beer, and sweat as they walk through the door, the combined smells making Steve dizzy. He frowns, leaning closer to Robin as she squeezes his arm. He feels her thumb tap him twice, their code for asking if the other is okay.

"I'm fine," he mumbles, nodding to a table in the corner. "Let's go sit. I just need to get used to...everything."

The lights are weird, too. Despite the place being dim, the few lights that are on are flickering, and Steve is having trouble processing all the new information his (working) senses are taking in.

Thankfully, Robin pulls him over to the table he pointed to, a small circle near a stage of dubious sturdiness. It looks like it can barely hold the instruments, much less those plus the people who will play them. There's an amp on the side of the stage near the table, which means they'll have the perfect spot to feel the music's vibrations. Steve slides into one of the chairs there and closes his eyes, resting his arms on a table that is surprisingly not sticky.

He feels Robin move the other chair next to him, slide in, and start pulling things out of her bag. When Steve opens his eyes again, there's a notebook between them and a variety of pens in all different colors spread out across the open pages. Robin has already picked up a red pen and is writing with it as Steve chooses a purple one.

When Robin is done writing, she taps the page so Steve can read, "Want something to drink?"

"I'm not sure we can trust the glasses here," he writes back.

"The fact you're calling them "glasses" tells me everything. Just sit tight."

With that, Robin drops her pen, winks at Steve, and heads over to the bar where a woman is wiping the counter. Steve watches her for a few seconds before looking around at the other people in the place. Most of them are sitting in groups, talking amongst themselves. Most of them also have mustaches or beards, making it downright impossible for Steve to read their lips.

Instead, Steve just gets a dull kind of rush in his ears, an ever-present background noise he can't escape. Soon enough, maybe because he's thinking about it too much, a high-pitched ringing starts up in his right ear, growing and growing in pitch until it's all he can focus on. Steve grimaces and looks down at the notebook, trying to keep his shoulders relaxed so he doesn't look as tense as he feels. The ringing persists, and he rubs his ear like that's going to help.

His ear is still ringing, though it has started to diminish, when a water bottle is placed in front of him. Steve jerks, forcing himself to calm down as Robin slides into her seat again with a mug of beer that's more foam than anything else. "They're about to start," she says, waiting until Steve has nodded once to show understanding before taking a sip.

Steve looks up at the stage and wonders how he missed Eddie and his friends arriving. As his friends are setting up behind him, Eddie is resting one hand on the neck of his guitar and using the other to hold the mic close to his mouth. Steve can't read his lips, but Eddie's grin is a little contagious as he says something to a guy by the bar. The guy must say something back, because Eddie bursts out laughing, his head thrown back to show off a neck Steve wants to bite.

A tap on his arm brings his attention away, and he looks at the notebook to see Robin has scrawled out a transcript:

"Eddie: Thanks for coming out tonight, everyone

Guy: Fuck off, Munson

Eddie: Love you, too, Jeremy"

Steve snorts, looking up to see Robin's equally amused smile as she continues to write on another page. When he glances at the stage, Steve sees Eddie still talking into the mic, his eyes roaming over the audience until they reach Steve and Robin. Eddie seems to grip the mic tighter, and he holds Steve's eyes for a few seconds, giving just enough time for Steve to wave awkwardly before Eddie looks away. But his smile seems a little bigger than before, and Steve is happy to let himself think he caused it.

When he looks down again, Robin has finished writing, and she nudges the notebook closer to him. Eddie must talk fast, because her writing is almost indistinguishable from chicken scratch in dirt that a cat got dragged through. Thankfully, Steve is an expert at this point.

"Eddie: Anyway, you know the drill. We'll start with some Metallica, treat you to Iron Maiden, throw in a dash of Black Sabbath, and then grace you with a Corroded Coffin original. If you don't like it, not my problem."

Steve feels the beginning of the set as he finishes reading. He sits a little straighter, planting his feet firmly on the floor and placing his palms on the table with his fingers spread. Robin is still writing next to him, most likely transcribing the bits and pieces of conversation she can hear for Steve to read later and laugh at. She doesn't try to get his attention while she does, already knowing it won't be worth it after Steve has shifted into Music Mode.

In the same way that people can tell what song is playing based simply on the first note, Steve can sometimes tell based on the strength and length of the first vibration. In the same way people know the lyrics of songs after listening to them enough times, Steve knows the vibration patterns like the back of his hand. In the same way people who hear their favorite songs played live can tell when a note is wrong or a lyric is sung too fast, Steve can tell when the drummer or bassist makes tiny mistakes that wouldn't be caught otherwise.

And Steve loves it. He loves how his entire body thrums with each vibration that travels from the amp. He loves how he can close his eyes and picture a story based on the music, one that probably doesn't match the lyrics but tends to replace them in his heart. He loves that this is something he can still share with his friends, even if most of them don't realize how different his experience with music is.

So, for all the little bumps and dips that occur in the vibrations as Corroded Coffin plays, for all the tiny slips that certainly go unnoticed by anyone else, and for all the fact that Steve doesn't get to hear Eddie's voice, he can confidently say he loves the show. He's never heard the songs played like this before, and it helps diminish the gut-deep desperation for new music.

And then Corroded Coffin starts a new song. It's one Steve doesn't recognize, one with vibrations that are completely foreign to him, and he jerks his head up to watch Eddie play his guitar in an opening solo. It thrums across the floor, climbing up his legs and spreading in waves from his palms on the table. Steve feels goosebumps chase after it, a new wave washing over him when the guitar solo ends with a particularly strong vibration that's immediately followed by the drums and bass.

Eddie throws himself into the music, moving and twisting and strutting around the stage like he's playing to Madison Square Garden. Steve can't look away, the lyrics incomprehensible but replaced by the jerk of Eddie's hips and the tilt of his head and the little half-spin he does on his heel.

It ends too quickly with one final, reverberating strum that lingers in Steve's bones, burrowing into his marrows as Eddie pushes his hair back and grins into the mic. He says something breathlessly, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath, and Steve knows he's gone.

He's hopeless.

He's desperate.

He needs more Corroded Coffin, more Eddie, in whatever form he can get.

----

For the first time, Corroded Coffin gets genuine applause after playing. Usually, the patrons of the Hideout will politely clap (if they even notice the set is over) for about two seconds. Tonight, however, Eddie and his friends are graced with excited clapping, a few shouts, and one very strong whistle from a small table to the left of the stage. And it spreads because even rough biker dudes can fall to peer pressure when it's that enthusiastic.

So, yeah, genuine applause all because of Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley who, Eddie thinks, is surprising company for the former King of Hawkins High. No matter how unexpected, he should still thank them and ask what they thought of the set now that it's over. He carefully sets his guitar on a stand and glances over his shoulder, catching Jeff's gaze and flashing a grin. "I'll be right back," he says before jumping off the stage and heading over to Steve and Robin's table.

As he gets closer, he notices the notebook and pens spread out, colorful writing filling the pages and Steve grinning with amusement as he reads it. Robin is watching him like she's waiting for him to understand an inside joke already so they can laugh about it together. If Eddie didn't already know Robin was like him (band camp, summer after his junior year, during an unfortunate game of Seven Minutes in Heaven where they awkwardly stood in a closet together before Robin commented on his black bandana), he'd wonder if something was going on between them.

"How'd you like the set?" Eddie asks when he reaches the table, suddenly nervous enough to tug on a lock of his hair and pull it in front of his mouth.

Robin looks up, but Steve doesn't. He's still reading the notebook, snorting at whatever is written there like he didn't hear Eddie. It's not until Robin elbows him that he raises his head, eyes widening when he sees Eddie. "Sorry, could you repeat that?" Steve asks, his gaze dropping to Eddie's mouth (Eddie definitely isn't imagining that) and faltering some.

"I asked if you liked the set," Eddie says, frowning slightly as Robin grabs a pen and scribbles something on the notebook. It's too small for him to read, but he doesn't miss how Steve glances down for less than a second before his eyes light up with realization.

"Oh!" he says, looking back at Eddie and flashing a charming grin. "It was great. You guys are so loud, and I've never f-uh, heard anything like your original song before."

Eddie catches the way Steve fumbles, faltering like he wanted to say one word but forced himself to say another. Something is tugging at the back of Eddie's mind, but he can't quite grab onto it just yet. For now, he leans forward, placing both hands on the table so he can be closer to Steve. "You listen to metal often, Harrington?" he asks.

Steve stares at his mouth for a few seconds before nodding, and Eddie feels the thrill of learning something completely unexpected. "I like Black Sabbath best, but Judas Priest and Guns N' Roses are close seconds," Steve says.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, "What do you like most about it?" He wants to know. Does Steve Harrington (King Steve, Steve "The Hair" Harrington, Steve fucking Harrington) like metal for the same reasons he does? Does he like the stories and the passion and the heavy theatricality of it all?

Steve seems to hesitate, possibly thinking about how to answer, before finally saying, "I like how it's music I can feel. When I listen to metal, it digs into my bones. Other music doesn't."

Somehow, Eddie's grin gets impossibly wider, and his cheeks are hurting from the sheer force of it. He's about to say more when Robin glances at the clock and swears under her breath. "Shit, I promised Mom I'd be home ten minutes ago," she says, grabbing the pens and recklessly throwing them into her bag.

It's the movement that seems to catch Steve's attention, and he looks down at Robin's hands before looking up at the clock. "Oh, fuck, your curfew," he says, looking at Robin like she hadn't just said the same thing two seconds ago.

"Yeah, no shit, dingus," Robin says, pausing long enough to speak while looking straight at Steve before throwing the notebook into her bag, too. She jumps to her feet and hauls Steve out of the chair, making his varsity jacket fall open to reveal an Iron Maiden shirt.

And Eddie thinks his heart just about stops. He doesn't know why, but seeing Steve in a metal band shirt under an undeniably jock jacket makes him feel....something. This is, like, sacrilege, right? How dare Steve Harrington allow Metal and Jock to meet? Doesn't he know the two styles clash? Or, well, they're supposed to clash, but Steve somehow wears them well, and Eddie thinks he's upset and annoyed by the fact.

Before Eddie can analyze that feeling, Steve says, "Sorry to run, Eddie. You played really well. Let me know when the next show is."

There's a lot to unpack there, too. Steve Harrington wants to come to another Corroded Coffin gig. Steve Harrington is sorry he has to cut the conversation short. Steve Harrington thinks his band played really well. Before Eddie can say anything in response, Robin is dragging Steve away, throwing a goodbye over her shoulder.

Eddie doesn't want Steve to go without something, though, some kind of departing word, so he shouts, "See ya later, big boy!"

Steve doesn't look back, but Robin nearly trips over the doorway. She then pauses long enough to say something to Steve, watching with sheer delight as he splutters and glances at Eddie before dragging her through the door. Eddie couldn't stop the grin if he tried, and he didn't try.

Later, when Eddie is sprawled on the floor of his room, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about Steve's stupid combination of Metal and Jock, he'll be struck by a sudden, consuming thought. What if Steve was wearing just the Iron Maiden shirt? What if he wore just the jacket?

Eddie swallows around the sudden lump in his throat, his mouth going dry as he scrambles to his feet and gets ready to take a very, very cold shower.

----

Tag List (the tag list is completely filled up! There definitely wasn't enough room for everyone who requested a tag orz

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[reverie-starlight]

this one goes out to everyone who gets horrible back pain and big emotions before/on their period. aka me last month when I started this fic but was in too much pain to finish it lmao. notes from when I started it: get me a heating pad, a blanket and a hug stat. is it so wrong to want to be taken care of and babied a bit after doing it on your own for so long? I think not.

gn!reader that gets periods, no physical descriptions. extreme fluff.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

as soon as he got home, he frantically shimmied out of his jacket and shoes and made a beeline for your bedroom. he was worried about you- a fear that was founded on some text messages you had sent him about being in so much pain you couldn't even sit up properly.

upon entering, he was met with a sight that made his heart clench up a bit. he let out a sigh and made his way over to where you were curled up under a fuzzy throw blanket, scrolling on your phone. despite the discomfort he could see you were in, when you noticed him enter the room, you tried to smile and move to greet him.

he quickly crouched down by the side of the bed and stopped you from getting up. his hand moved to caress your cheek and he smiled at you in return.

"hey sweetheart," his voice was quiet and soft, knowing you were probably feeling too horrible for anything more than that.

he also knew that you probably needed (and wanted) lots of TLC. you usually did in the days leading up to your period and that was fine- he was always more than willing to baby you a bit, whether you were feeling poorly or not. "rough day?"

your smile fell at his words and a pout took its place. his heart clenched again, this time out of affection, and he silently scolded himself for thinking you looked cute while in crisis.

you nodded and nuzzled into his hand a bit. "hurts," you mumbled.

"what hurts?" he asked, running his thumb under your eye. your skin felt warm and he made a mental note to get you something cold to balance out the heating pad he could see peeking out from under the blanket and behind your figure.

you shifted a little and whined when a sharp pain shot through your body. his hand immediately went to your hip, trying to soothe you however he could. "my back, mostly. my thighs, too."

seeing you in pain was always one of his least favourite things. it was a monthly occurrence, so he should have been used to it by now, but he knew he never would be.

but if there was one good thing to come from your suffering, it was that he knew how to take care of you exactly how you needed.

he hummed at your response and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "I'm sorry, my love. will you wait here for me while I get changed and grab some things for you?"

you cracked a small smile. "it's not like I could go very far without help anyway, so yeah, I'll be here."

he chuckled and stood back up, but before he could turn, you weakly grabbed at his hand. when he looked down at you, he wasn't surprised in the slightest to see a hesitant look on your face.

now that you had him, you didn't want him to leave, even if you did just say you were fine with it.

once again he sighed fondly and gripped your hand a bit tighter, crouching back down and pressing his forehead against yours. your eyes got a bit teary and he nudged his nose against yours. "baby, I promise I'll be back so soon. I'm just going to the kitchen and the bathroom to get a couple of things, and then I'll be over by the dresser where you can see me."

your lip started to wobble a bit and he frowned a little, feeling bad that he was the source of your sadness in that moment.

"but you just got here... please don't leave..."

fuck. he bit his lip. you sounded so dejected that it made him want to abandon everything and jump in bed with you, but...

"sweetheart... I promise I won't even be five minutes. I'll be back in no time, and then I'm going to wrap you up in my arms and work on making my baby feel all better, okay? but you need to let me go so I can come back."

you sniffled and nodded against him, reluctantly letting go of his hand and pulling the corner of the duvet up to bury your face into as a replacement for him.

he smiled down at you and pressed a kiss to your temple before quickly making his way out of the room. he made a promise for under five minutes and he intended to keep it.

from the kitchen, he got you a bottle of water from the fridge, and something he had hidden away from you for moments like these, just incase you got hungry later. then he made his way to the bathroom and tried to balance everything in one large hand as he got some pain meds from the cabinet before walking back out into the hall.

he checked his watch. two minutes to spare.

you visibly lit up when he walked back into the bedroom with everything in his arms, watching closely as he set some things down on his side of the bed. you put your arms out for him, but he just chuckled and shook his head.

"gotta change first, baby, I'll be right there."

you nodded a little, clearly getting impatient, but you didn't push him to hurry. instead, he felt the intensity of your gaze on him as he put on some sweats and took off his shirt. grinning teasingly, he looked over his shoulder at you.

"see something you like? you're burning holes in my back."

you didn't say anything until he moved to put on an old t-shirt. "leave it off."

he turned around and raised an eyebrow at you. "hm?"

you gave him an embarrassed look and turned your face away. "please leave it off... I just wanna feel you."

he nodded in understanding, not even thinking of teasing you further in your state of mind and tossed the t-shirt onto the chair in the corner of your room. sometimes skinship was just nice.

he got into the bed behind you as gently as he could so he wouldn't hurt you further, but then asked a favour of you. "my love, do you think you can turn over to face me?"

you nodded and slowly but surely shifted onto your back, taking a second to adjust, before moving again to turn on your other side. he smiled at you. "thank you, darling, I know moving’s not easy right now."

you pouted up at him in response and he shifted a bit as well, running a hand up and down your back to soothe you.

he formed a fist and started applying some gentle pressure to your lower back and you mewled as some of the pain was relieved.

“does that feel okay, my love?” he really tried to lay it on thick with the pet names- trying to be as sweet and attentive as possible.

you weren’t complaining one bit.

“feels nice… thank you.” you mumbled, pressing your face against his chest and throwing an arm over his torso.

he nuzzled his nose into your scalp and pressed light kisses in a line along the area. “I’m sorry you had to deal with this alone today.”

you shook your head against him. “it’s okay, it’s better now that you’re here.”

he trailed the hand that wasn’t focused on your back to your upper thigh, gently digging into the soft flesh and making you groan. “that’s amazing, thank you.”

after a couple moments of comfortable silence, he realized that you were trying really hard not to fall asleep.

“poor thing, you must’ve been exhausted all day, hm?” he slid his hand under your shirt and rubbed his warm palm over your skin, making you mewl and cuddle closer to his chest.

you nodded a bit and rested your cheek against his collarbone. “couldn’t fall asleep cause of the pain.”

he kissed your forehead kept smoothing his palm over your skin. “you can sleep now, baby, I’ve got you.”

you peeked up at him and he melted at the soft, sleepy look in your eyes. “you’ve got me?”

he nods and for the third time that day, his feels his heart clench because of you. “I’ve got you, you’re safe with me. just rest, you deserve it.”

“you won’t leave while I’m sleeping?” your words were slurred and he bit back a soft laugh that was bubbling up. he’s never loved anything as much as he has loved you. what a pleasure it’s been and always will be.

“I won’t leave, darling. I’m not going anywhere. ever. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

you seemed satisfied with that answer and finally let yourself succumb to the sleep you’d been denied all day. he knew you had it rough some months, and he hated that you had to endure it, but he was more than glad to be your main source of comfort during those times.

“sleep well, baby,” he kissed the top of your head one last time before you fully dozed off, still gently rubbing your back. “sweet dreams.”

KUROO, GETO, kirishima, sakusa, hawks, any and all of your favs honestly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(I fully wrote this with kuroo in mind, then I was like WAIT this really fits geto too, so that’s why those two are bolded and tagged. but it can be whoever you want 🫶��)

[moonlightdarlings]

be your star | l.norris

a/n: ahh my first insta au! i'm kinda new with these but i had an idea while drinking my cold coffee so :) i hope you enjoy these and let me know if i should do more/less of these

part two

---💌---

pairing: ricciardo!sister x lando norris

summary: in which daniel's sister finally shows up at the grand prix and well...things happen

fc: jennie kim

y/n_.ricciardo

liked by landonorris, daniel3.jpg, maxverstappen1, yourbestie, and 4,800,135 others

y/n_.ricciardo: 🫶🏼 love to be home with red bull to watch my big bro slay on track

545 comments

yourbestie: you didn't even bring me along 😫 smh

redbullracing: happy to have the Ricciardo family back

danielricciardo: lmao but i saw you ditch the Redbull garage to go talk to lando👀

fan4: not daniel exposing his own sister😭

dr3fan: OMG? the queen herself graces the paddock 😌

landolover: she's such an icon

-----

landonorris

liked by y/n_.ricciardo, carlossainz55, yourbestie, and 2,345,000 others

landonorris: P2 BABY! woo let's party tonight 🎉🍾

view all comments

mclaren: yes! we're a proud papaya fam today

carlossainz55: much deserved little lando 😌

fan2: carlos calling him "little lando" awww landolover: it's so cute

y/n_.ricciardo: he's so dreamy *sighs in awe*

danielricciardo: he's w h a t now danielricciardo: y/n! you can't just say that and dip 😭

dr3fan: not daniel having a crisis over what y/n said

y/nfan: she's so real for that

----

BREAKING IN F1

Daniel Ricciardo's younger sister, Y/n has announced herself as a sponsor for the Mclaren F1 team. She's recently admitted, "I'm proud to have my brand, Gentle Monster, in the pinnacle of motorsport. I think it's important for more girls to put themselves in the spotlight. I'm extremely honored to be partnering with Mclaren and I can't wait to see both my brand and the team go to new heights."

When asked what influenced her to partner with Mclaren instead of her brother's team, Alpha Tauri, she simply responded, "Just felt right."

Both Daniel and Y/n's fans are on opposite sides because she recently posted that Red Bull was her family. One would think that due to that, she'd want to have her brand on the number one car currently. In a recent Instagram live with Mclaren, she spoke up about not choosing Red Bull, saying, "You know, I was never really close with Red Bull but I've always been a fan of Lando Norris since my brother introduced us a few years back. Of course, I haven't been in the paddock for some time as I've been busy with deals and my brand, but I will say I do have the Lego version of Mclaren's Formula car."

---

a/n: should i do a part two?? it feels right to do a part two, but either way, i really really hope you all enjoyed this <3 please let me know if this was good or not 🫶🏼

[ghostlyglimmer]

My personal take on Phantom. I love the idea of him being absolutely terrifying and in turn making it harder for amity park to trust his good intentions due to his gross visage. I like to think he looks like a charred corpse from being toasted in the Portal and of course lots of electric ectoplasm seeping through him. He hobbles around a bit stiffly when not in fighting monster mode. He’ll fly like a bat out of hell to clash with the ghosts that have not so good intentions, he prefers to attack first and ask questions later once he figures out if the entity is a boon or bane on Amity Park. And this does not help his case within the public eye.

Around fellow Amity Parkers, he tends to slouch and make himself smaller and to try and not scare the fellow residents. He also loves to be goofy and try to get the humans of Amity to like him. He just wants to be liked and loved for the sacrifices he makes for his home town (which are way too damn many)

In my version of this, no one knows he’s phantom (Which is the juiciest of AU’s i love me some existential crisis)

Anyway if you read this far I super duper appreciate it ;w; I just love taking Danny and transforming him into my little OC lmao. I might write up a story soon based on this version of him!

[mxtxfanatic]

Notes on Inheritance and Succession in MDZS

Within mdzs, there exists certain tropes shared with other traditional genre cnovels set in similar “hazy-on-history ancient past” settings. One of these tropes is the issue of inheritance and succession, i.e. who gets to be the new leader. In every traditional genre novel I’ve read, while succession and inheritance is assumed based on birth order and ranking (eldest son of the main wife inherits over second son of the main wife or eldest son of the father but born to a concubine), this is not always the case. For instance: a major plotline in a lot of family conflict-driven stories is that a man who has had multiple sons born to different main wives (first wife has died or been divorced) may choose his successor based on which main wife he loved more or whose family has more political backing rather than who is eldest. A man who respects his concubine more than his main wife may scheme to legitimize his shu (concubine-born) son to allow him to succeed over his wife’s son(s). A man with no sons can petition or be petitioned by the clan to “adopt” one from another branch of the family in order to carry on the legacy of his branch of the family. And in very rare cases, complete outsiders are adopted in—though not without approval or challenge from the rest of the clan. Succession is not some set-in-stone process in the genre.

Likewise, we see this play out in mdzs. Taking concubines exists as a practice in the world of mdzs, but with none of the great clan leaders choosing to have any, there’s no issue of di (main wife-born) son fighting shu son. Instead, we have many di son contenders who… don’t content for anything lmao. Of the 5 great clans, 3 of them have 2 di sons, and one of them has a single di son and multiple unclaimed sons outside the home. The Jiang is the only great clan that has only a single son, di or otherwise, born to the clan leader. Let’s break it down a little further: the Lan clan have two di sons born of the same mother—a circumstance usually portrayed as harmonious in similar setting novels and follows, here, with the Twin Jades—and the QishanWen assumedly do as well, also without any signs of conflict between Wen Xu and Wen Chao.

But the Nie have two di sons born of different mothers, one who is the shining example of a Nie leader and the other who is considered a waste. In a traditional genre novel, the expectation would be that Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang have a poor relationship because of having different mothers, that they should fight over inheritance, and that Nie Huaisang’s ���waste” reputation be either a personality cultivated in him by Nie Mingjue to prevent his younger brother from being capable of inheriting or a ploy by Nie Huaisang to deceive his older brother into not perceiving him as a threat. Neither is the case. Nie Mingjue inherits the Nie Clan leader mantle effortlessly, and Nie Huaisang rejects the idea that he succeed. In fact, Nie Mingjue succeeded to clan leader so early in life that he is the one who raises his brother, and rather than raising his “competition” to be a waste, he is the one who pressures Nie Huaisang into developing a golden core and practicing with his saber, against all of Nie Huaisang’s objections. Despite having different mothers who were both main wives and therefore giving them both an equal claim to inheritance, there is no succession crisis.

Ok, so what about the Jin Clan? On the surface, it should be very simple because Jin Guangshan only has one di son, only claims this one son, and even if he were to claim another, he does not want to change his successor. So even when Jin Guangyao comes in, there was never a crisis in succession because Jin Guangshan made it very clear that he would never make Jin Guangyao his heir. That’s partially why when Jin Guangshan claims Mo Xuanyu and brings the boy back to Koi Tower as his heir, Jin Guangyao doesn’t bother to kill Mo Xuanyu. He kills Jin Guangshan and has Mo Xuanyu exiled from the clan. The Jin never had a crisis of succession; Jin Guangyao simply killed the original heir, killed his father while Jin Guangshan thought he had another heir secured, then exiled that other heir post- their father's death so that others couldn’t be brought in to challenge him (and lest we forget the rumors that he was secretly offing the other unclaimed sons behind the scenes, if you want to believe that). Later, when Jin Ling inherits the clan leader title, his claim is tested by older clan members and established clan elders because he is young and seemingly defenseless, not because there was a breadth of heir apparents with legitimate claims to his title waiting in the wings for their chance. It was just a power grab.

So now we have the Jiang Clan, the only clan with only one son and one daughter from the clan leader. There is no succession crisis, and there could never be one. Despite the possibility of having a female clan member succeed (Lan Yi exists as example) and the prevalence of highly respected female cultivators in the story, Jiang Yanli is a weak cultivator and has been engaged to be married out since birth. Jiang Cheng is the only option. I've seen some say that if Wei Wuxian was officially adopted in, then that would cause a succession crisis, but that's also not the case, because Wei Wuxian would be neither Jiang Fengmian's di son unless he were adopted under Madam Yu's name (something she would never allow to happen) nor a viable successor if Jiang Fengmian, himself, did not name Wei Wuxian as a successor over Jiang Cheng, something he would not do. And this isn't even counting the fact that Jiang Fengmian would need clan approval to adopt Wei Wuxian at all (think how Lan Wangji needed approval to adopt A-Yuan as a Lan), let alone the uproar that the Jiang Clan would have as a whole at the idea of Jiang Fengmian making a former servant's son the new clan heir over his son and all the other legitimate sons of the Jiang Clan. Absolutely would not fly. Jiang Cheng has the only claim to the Jiang Clan, and if he dies without an heir, the clan dies with him. Nothing a married-out Jiang Yanli or Schrödinger's adopted son Wei Wuxian can do about it.

Where mdzs diverges from this trope with the traditional genre cnovels is that where this diversity of family types would be cause for conflict, mxtx pretty much ignores them because mdzs is not a dogblood drama. Therefore as morally weak or loose as a lot of the characters are, most characters still hold to a lot of the core beliefs of their society, such as filial piety. There's simply no need to fight over something like who gets to be clan leader unless you truly are a person willing to abandon all morals simply for a crumb of power. And wouldn't you know it, the only character to completely eschew all filial piety in pursuit of coveted power is the biggest villain of the novel who receives the most gruesome death when all his crimes catch up to him.

Some in-depth quotes under the cut:

Concubines exist in the world of mdzs and is not uncommon among cultivation clans:

[Jin Guangyao] never took in any concubines, much less had a relationship with any other woman. This was indeed something that many wives of sect leaders envied.

—Chapt. 47: Guile, exr

Why Jin Guangyao could never be heir under Jin Guangshan despite becoming a claimed son:

In comparison, Mo XuanYu and his mother were rather favored. At least Jin GuangShan still remembered that he had such a son and brought him back to Koi Tower. Meng Yao, on the other hand, wasn’t as lucky. The son of a prostitute was far from that of a good family.

—Chapt. 47: Guile, exr

[Jin Guangyao] spoke, “My whole thing? Which whole thing? Brother, you’ve always yelled at me for calculating people and being too dishonorable. You say that you’re a proud, righteous person, that you aren’t afraid of anything, that propen men shouldn’t need to play with schemes. That’s fine. Your background is noble and your cultivation is high. But what about me? Am I the same as you? First, my cultivation isn’t as firm as yours. Ever since I was born, has anyone taught me? And second, I have no prominent background. Do you think that I’m in a steady position, here at the LanlingJin Sect? Do you think that I can rise into power the moment Jin ZiXuan dies? Jin GuangShan would rather bring another illegitimate child back than want me to succeed him! You think that I should be afraid of nothing? Well I’m afraid of everything, even other people! He whose stomach is full believes not him who is starving.”

—Chapt. 50: Guile, exr

“This is what he said, ‘It’s especially women who’ve read some books who think they’re a level higher than other women. They’re the most troublesome, with so many demands and unrealistic thoughts. If I bought her freedom and took her back to Lanling, who knows how much fuss she’d make. It was best that I let her stay where she was just like that. With her conditions, she’d probably be popular for a few more years. She wouldn’t have to worry about her spendings for the rest of her life.’ “‘Son? Oh, forget it.’”

—Chapt. 106: Hatred, exr (Jin Guangshan's words recalled by Jin Guangyao)

The conflict in the Nie brothers' relationship:

Nie MingJue was on the school ground, teaching and supervising Nie HuaiSang’s saberwork in person. He didn’t acknowledge Jin GuangYao, so he stood at the edge of the field, waiting with respect. Since Nie HuaiSang was quite uninterested and the sun was bright, he was rather half- hearted, complaining that he was tired after just a few moves. ... Nie HuaiSang roared at Nie MingJue, “Saber, saber, saber! Who the fuck wants to practice the damn thing?! So what if I want to be a good-for-nothing?! Whoever that wants to can be the sect leader! I can’t learn it means I can’t learn it and I don’t like it means I don’t like it! What’s the use of forcing me?!”

—Chapt. 50: Guile, exr

[oacest]

My thoughts on the audio are that I genuinely cannot come up with a sane explanation. I don't think Liam was necessarily in the studio but he has to be talking about him, right? Like IDK there was some visual effect or whatever, literally who else could be the cunt Noel doesn't want to see. Beyond which I am not a proper scholar so please let me know if I'm way off base but I have an extended divorce theory that goes:

2009: Breakup, they're both big mad for a minute

201?-2012: They are texting and like, sending their kids to the same school. possibly the most normal they've ever been.

2013-2015: Liam blows his entire life up and is extremely sad about the consequences of his own actions. I saw actual video footage of Noel saying that he's shocked beady eye broke up and he's actually sweet about it and tells Liam not to give up? who is this man. anyway while Liam will later claim Noel wasn't there for him during the divorce but as a general rule they're much nicer about each other when they're divorcing other people. this is where I become extremely conspiratorial because at some point they had to get the documentary off the ground and a second, more personal breakup is clearly going down around this time. I believe in their ability to deeply wound each other by playing cryptic telephone through the press but I think it genuinely makes more sense if they were actually talking, perhaps about a potential reunion.

2016-2020: supersonic documentary and also (coincidentally?) the apocalypse. Liam launches his solo career, Noel hates it and is pretty relentlessly mean about it and about Liam more generally. we are gearing up for the kind of tweeting/podcast commenting where you call your brother your ex-wife. I think this is also when Noel decides to drag Molly into it for some reason. Liam says publicly that he thinks Noel was waiting for him to hit rock bottom so he could be magnanimous about saving him. whether he thinks this because of something concrete noel did or said or because he's liam is a mystery. the Anais incident goes down, the vogue article comes out. we are never ever getting back together for real this time. noel says a bunch of normal and well adjusted stuff about how he wants Liam to die in a self driving car crash with Donald Trump and seeing his face makes him want to shoot up a MacDonalds.

2020-2022: the pandemic saves oasis. I'm serious. they're both stuck sitting at home with nothing to distract them from themselves and think of brighter days. apparently being trapped in a house with noel is genuinely so unbearable that Sara calls it quits (in the matter of Sara v. Noel I'm on her side). presumably this was cause for at least some self reflection. divorce is a lonely and difficult experience, sara and liam seem to legit hate each other in a way that would be a barrier to reconciliation (in the matter of Sara v. Liam I am also on her side but less so bcs she didn't get trapped in a house with him). at the same time Liam pulls off Knebworth 2022, demonstrating he can handle big events without headcasing (and without noel, and he will be doing those big events solo or otherwise). at this point I genuinely think it was just a matter of time before we were back, baybeee! let's hope they can keep it together.

bro your brain is so huge and deeply wrinkled, profoundly agree with all of this. why you on anon when your opinions are so correct and you could be sharing them with us directly tbh 👀.

but yeah, 100% covid saved oasis lmao. noel's divorce saved oasis. noel's miserable midlife crisis (ongoing) saved oasis 🥰🥰🥰. and it juuuuuust really seems like all those insane highs and lows that went on publicly in the media between them over the years probably, or at least quite possibly, had irl personal catalysts rather than just a general holdover of ill will from the 2000s. there are so many random little times one or both of them casually mentioned they were in contact, and any one of those instances can be disregarded, but when considered in retrospect from a collective standpoint..... AWFULLY DAMNING!!!

lots more to say about all of this actually, every point you've made is legit af and could be expounded upon for a hundred years, but it's midnight and im coming down with a flu (punishment for some kind of hubris im sure), so. thank you for all of this and goodnight 🙏

[gor3sigil]

What being trans means to me

I love being trans. I love transitioning. The thing is, most of the time, I read about other trans people experiences. And I just can’t relate.

I have plenty of tattoos and piercings, and if I have to be 100% honest with y’all, I see transitioning like a bodmod. To me, getting top surgery was one, as I wanted to at least get my nipples removed before I even knew top surgery was an option.

I see HRT as much as a bodmod. A few years back, I wasn’t so sure I even wanted HRT, but after thinking it through and doing a lot of research, I decided to do it. And I never looked back. I’m close to 2 years on T, which isn’t a lot, and I don’t even know if I plan to stay on T for very long, maybe I’ll stop at some point. Who knows.

It goes hand in hand with the everlasting identity crisis I’ve been having since I was born, basically. I was a different person before, and she was so tired, so she left the body to some dude, and he got tired, and they fused, and it was me, and I’m in a trans body, I’m trans, I take T like I paint my nails, I take T like a cigarette, I take T like a hot bath. It’s comforting, it makes me feel good, it makes me feel at home in this body.

I got surgery because I wanted my silhouette to be mine. I changed my name because since I was little, and that’s the only point for which I can say confidently I knew since I was a kid, I never understood why we couldn’t name ourselves. To me, a name was so intimate, so personal, that I couldn’t understand why it had to be someone else’s choice. So I took a new one and changed it.

And now I look at myself in the miror and I’m Cyan, and I got a flat chest, and I have a deep voice, and I’ll do my T shot on friday just like I do every 14 days since almost 2 years, with the same pleasure, with the same smile on my face, the same rush I ever have when I’m excited for my shot.

Close to the feeling I get when I get a new piercing, when I up the size of my lobes, when I feel the first tingles of the needles that tattoo me.

I didn’t “always knew” I was trans. I remember being a kid with a shit ton of OCs, and names for myself that I couldn’t choose, and whose dream was to live a thousand lives before I died. I don’t know who I will be in 3 years. Or in 6 months.

It says on a letter that I suffer from gender dysphoria, and by all means it was true before top surgery. Not so much now. I still am insecure about my body a lot of times because there’s some things missing to my chara design and I am fatter IRL lmao, but with this body I cum, I eat good food, I get drunk, I smoke, I feel hot and fresh water, I swim, I sing, I write this. Even when it’s half broken and it’s raining and my joints ache and I feel like I’m already old, I love this body. I’m not the type of people who will be like “your body is a temple, you HAVE to exercise and eat only fresh veggies” because if I have to be here let me at least have fun. I take care of myself though, maybe not as much as I should, but the best I can.

If I hadn’t overcome everything I did in my life, maybe I wouldn’t have transitioned. Or maybe I would. I don’t care. I don’t need a reason, and neither do you.

This is what I mean when I say that everyone should do whatever the fuck they want because, I wasn’t born trans, or at least I don’t think so. But does it make my transition less valid ? No. I’m better in my skin that ever, even when the low self esteem hits, and I know I would feel way less good if I hadn’t transition. That’s all that matters.

[driaswrld]

ultraviolence — gojo satoru and geto suguru.

wc : 3k

summary : suguru coming home was supposed to make things better. but, it's as if everything is going wrong again.

part of : the star paradox collection.

notes : pls read this and this first ty!! LORE DUMP 🤭 mostly from sugu n toru's pov dealing with their new life and the twins along with jujutsu society. reader is trying to be the mediator as always and shoko is the best ofc. just the one where everyone has an existential crisis. (part one of two hopefully)

other : I PROMISE YOU'LL GET FLUFF SOON 😭 mentions of alcohol, blood, smoking obvi, idk why i named this ultraviolence lmao (shit hits the fan in the next tsr im js trying to be kind i promise!)

comment to be added to the tsr taglist!

current cassette : pretty when you cry - lana del rey

You come home to a house colder than you left it.

There’s a small comfort in the droplets of water that splatter against the wooden floor when you hang your jacket up, having remembered the way the girls beamed up at you only an hour ago as you walked them to school.

The twins were adamant to hold your hands, Mimiko blushing the whole time and Nanako poking fun at it, promising to hold your hand everyday until they became big girls.

Big girls that would only need you to hold their hand halfway — the same way Suguru only walks you and Satoru halfway to the school before heading back.

But the sliver of a chill that reverberates through your bones doesn’t resemble the comfort of a morning’s soft rain drizzle.

“You can’t just dismiss the issue like this, Satoru!”

“Where’s my own will, huh? Can’t I just do this?”

“This isn’t about you.”

You hear everything for a moment, muffled shouts and grumbles from the bathroom.

“Yeah, you’ve made that pretty clear, haven't you?”

Then you hear nothing at all.

The investigation launched on the ninth day in December.

Suguru had all but been home for a week and then some, settling into the shoddy apartment you and Satoru called home between missions and meetings with Yaga and the higher ups.

It took half a day to move his old things out of the dormitory building, most of what really mattered was already sitting in the hall closet untouched, kept the way Suguru would’ve wanted it.

It was after he rifled through the closet in search of a fresh set of clothes did he realize, he had been mourned.

You and Satoru had mourned him like a mother would a child, like a womb stretched to make space, only to bleed.

His clothes smelled more like the both of you than it did him.

The fourth day, Suguru spent the night hunched over the balcony, smoking a silver blue parliament with Shoko while you and Satoru attended a hearing with the higher ups.

A necessary audience, they defined over the cryptic email.

Shoko described it as a means to an end, Satoru was still the strongest and you were his voice. The meeting was all but a farce to keep you two in check — but Suguru read it clearly for what it was.

A threat.

“He’ll be clan head,” Suguru murmured between plumes of smoke. “They won’t let him turn it down any longer, especially with me around.”

At this, Shoko chuckled, sucking in a sharp breath.

“You think he’ll do it this time?” She asked, somewhere between knowing and not knowing.

The higher ups want Satoru under their thumbs — not that you’d so much as let them come close — that much is evident. But it’s become a lose to win situation.

The guarantee that Suguru and the girls would remain untouched and hidden under the condition that he follows their rules, does it their way, doesn’t ask, doesn’t so much as breathe a word or commit an action using his own strength outside their command—

“Satoru as a lap dog?” Suguru laughs a little.

He just can’t picture it.

What he can picture though is the Six Eyes user backed into a corner, with no other choice but to concede. Then again, Satoru’s never been submissive to authority, no matter the setting.

A beat of silence passes over him and Shoko, and she knows what he’s thinking before he says it, yet she doesn’t caution him otherwise nor does she blame the nicotine.

“He could kill them.” Suguru says, “It wouldn’t take him long.”

The seventh day, Suguru stands in the middle of one of the many engawa corridors of Jujutsu High, dressed like a teenage dropout, teeth sinking into the inside of his cheeks until crimson stains his tongue.

You told him last night while cuddled into his side, Satoru’s head on his chest, “Walk away from it the right way, Suguru.”

And admittedly, he was going to laugh a little, kiss your cheek and maybe lull you back to sleep and ease your worries.

I don’t resent you,

for the path you chose.

As long as you swear,

yours and ours will converge.

“Geto, what is this?”

Suguru looks down at the sealed envelope he passed to Yaga seconds ago, the word resignation printed in bold atop the sealed flaps.

If he intends to kill himself, he should at least do it the way you asked him to.

He owes you that much.

Suguru never thought of himself to have been in a position where he could live past twenty ; he thought he was lucky Satoru even let him live to see the first snow, even if it was from the bittersweet solitude of the bed you three shared.

“I’ll graduate first,” Suguru says, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets.

For the sake of saving face he took a total of ten missions after his sentence was pardoned.

Five to prove he wasn't a liability to the Jujutsu world, two to hover by your side – he hadn't realized post traumatic stress could manifest in the need for more physical attachment – and three to see up close just how much Satoru had on his shoulders now.

To see just how different Satoru had become because of him.

“And then?” Yaga asks it like a cruel joke that only he and Suguru know.

People are talking. People have been talking.

Suguru Geto the defect. Suguru Geto the cancer of the strongest. Suguru Geto the curse. Suguru Geto—

“Maybe I’ll die of old age.”

I pray death finds me

under you two

in our bed.

If not,

kill me yourselves.

There’s meaning in that too.

That same afternoon, brandished with what should be newfound freedom – Suguru Geto. Not the sorcerer, not the curse, not the man – he drinks himself sick until he blacks out on the sofa.

Alcohol is cheap at Shinanoya, it’s been that way since he was sixteen and idle in the summer of ‘06, coaxed by Satoru into printing fake IDs, blacking out on the floor of your dorm room and waking up to throw up, just to blackout again.

Suguru took the train back and passed his stop two times.

Two times he thought of two different outcomes and two different destinations.

First, he’d go back to Jujutsu High and take the resignation back from Yaga before he signed it.

He’d call your cellphone, tell you how he's had a change of heart, whisper into the line : “We should celebrate. Me, you and Satoru.”

But you’d know it was a lie.

He still has twisted dreams of waking up in a gas station bathroom in a pool of blood that isn't his own.

Dreams that don't frighten him at all.

Second, it came to him the moment he considered actually getting off at his stop and going back to the apartment.

He’d let the train take him to Shibuya, stand in the middle of the crossing and scream.

People would look at him weird, others would walk by.

And the first monkey to reach out and offer him help, he’d—

“Suguru?”

He wakes with a startle, eyes bloodshot and half lidded.

“Name—” he opens his mouth, half empty vodka bottle tilted over and soaking the carpet. Satoru comes through the door a moment later, leading the twins to the kitchen to set their half eaten bentos down.

A shiver runs down his spine when he glances at the clock above the mantle. 12:53pm.

“School ended half day,” you say to him. Satoru doesn't so much as glance at Suguru when he steps back in to take the plastic bags of takeout from your hands. “They called but you didn't—”

Suguru's already sitting up, fishing through his pockets for his phone and clicking at the buttons.

Two missed calls from Mimiko and Nanako’s school.

Two missed calls from their homeroom teacher, Ms. Aiko.

Four missed calls from you.

One voicemail from Satoru.

“I'm so— shit,” Suguru sets the bottle of alcohol upright, pressing a palm to the carpet to find it damp.

His skin is hot, he feels like a mess, no doubt he looks like a mess with the way you're already kneeling beside him to screw the bottle shut. “I’m so sorry, I didn't— everything with the letter and then the train got delayed—”

“Suguru.” Satoru speaks for the first time, looks at him for the first time – behind bandaged eyes. “Sober up by tomorrow, yeah?”

Your head flits around to give Satoru a stare, as if to ask if that's all he has to say right now. But Suguru’s fingers enclose around your wrist, it’s okay, I was the one at fault.

“Satoru—”

“Just do this one thing right, please.”

The twins’ school dismissed half day due to heavy snow this early in the month. Suguru, listed as the girls’ primary guardian, gets the calls first.

He doesn't pick up.

Your work line rings next, and it goes to voicemail.

In between exorcising a special grade in Shinjuku, you don't hear it ring.

As the devil would have it made and done, Satoru’s line rings while he's at the school. Loud.

“Gojo-san!” The lady from the admin office knocks on the door twice, and is met with silence. The phone rings again, but this time it's the main line. The office extension.

The one he’s been using since he put in his teaching application.

The phone clatters against the desk in robust vibrations, Limitless almost bending the coily cord to nothingness.

The meeting room of four higher ups and two members of the Gojo clan watch him intently, scrutinizing him, waiting.

Beyond his better judgment, Satoru tells himself it's just you, calling to ask if you should bring back kikufuku or just the udon.

Or it's Suguru, who’s confused and can't find one of his things in the apartment and needs some guidance.

Satoru's not a pious person. But he wishes he’d have prayed the moment the call went to the answer machine.

“Good day, Mr. Gojo! I’m calling regarding the girls. School’s been dismissed half day today on account of the weather but Mr. Geto nor Ms. Name are picking up.”

“I’m hoping this reaches you soon so the girls can have a ride home. Thankyou! Stay warm!”

The eighth day, you wake to the smell of jasmine and hot oil. Four messages from Yaga, one email attached, forwarded to Satoru : Adoption fraud.

“—he hates me.” Suguru mumbles, shirtless and damn near cowering from your gaze, flipping the omelet in the frying pan, two steps away to avoid the oil splatter.

“Don't say that so casually,” you shake your head, shutting the fridge door, setting a carton of milk on the counter. “It's not like you believe that.”

Suguru flips the omelet with one hand on the pan handle, the other flicking the carton open and turning it to his head in a quick gulp.

He doesn't confirm it.

“Suguru—” you smack his arm and take the milk, turning away to rummage through the pantry for the pancake mix.

“I know.”

No, Suguru.

You don't know.

"I try to be patient," Suguru says quietly, shaking his head. "I know we're not sixteen and that this and then are two different things—” He turns the flame down, refusing to look over at you.

“Nobody's asking you to be perfect,” you cut him off, pancake mix forgotten on the counter. “You made a mistake, it happens—”

The higher ups are already breathing down Satoru’s neck about the twins now that they've been found out. It's an uphill battle in the Jujutsu world, your phone won't stop ringing.

Whether it's Yaga proposing damage control to have you and Satoru set apart on missions or another higher up waiting for you to slip up and beg for help, beg to be in their debt.

“I owe you better,” Suguru whispers, more to himself than to you.

He’s never been the type to ask for help or beg for forgiveness or cower at someone's heels. But you saved him — by putting your life on the line and in turn making Satoru cover it up — and he hates himself for it.

I wish

you would've

just let me stay dead.

“Because that's what I deserve? Better?”

Suguru gets the call from Shoko the next day.

December 9, 2007.

A formal investigation is announced into the involvement of [name] [name] in the case of Suguru Geto’s defection and pardon — alleged charge : fabrication of evidence.

Satoru makes his mind up the same day, sends the twins to stay at the dorms with Shoko for the weekend and brings you and Suguru with him to the Gojo estate.

“I can feel your eyes,” you whisper, seated cross legged on the tatami floor, nursing a cup of tea in your cupped palm.

You've never liked the Gojo estate. Not in winter at least, not when it's like this.

Satoru has his back turned to you, fingering the loose cloth of white bandages covering his eyes, almost hesitant. He recalls his mother's words to him from a few hours ago.

You look tired, Satoru. You're never tired.

There’s an unspoken thing residing here between both your energies and it becomes unbearably evident.

“It’s nothing,” he murmurs, slipping the baby blue haori off his shoulders, draping it over the edge of the bed. “Just the cold getting to me 's all.”

Loose and darkened strands of hair lay on the silk sheets where Suguru sat moments ago. Satoru holds his breath.

My lover’s hair is splitting at the ends, tearing apart at the seams just like me.

I pray you don’t notice.

“Is he okay?”

You set the ceramic cup down on the table, turning your head to glance over at Satoru, who despite himself, wears his emotions like a cardigan knit tight between his brows.

“Why won’t you just ask him, ‘toru?”

He thinks he hates you. He hates not being more like you.

With the way you say these things so easily.

Maybe it’s the deep rooted thrum of Suguru’s cursed energy in his veins, or the bitter taste on his tongue when he wakes in the middle of the night just to see if he’s still here—

Maybe it’s that voice in the back of his head, the instinct pounding on the walls of his heart, telling him this is only for a while, it won’t last.

“You can’t lie to me.” Satoru reasons, bending his knees and folding his body next to yours, wrapping and unwrapping the length of cloth around his fingers over and over again. “But he can.”

Or maybe it’s the way he knows even if Suguru lied to him again, said it was okay, said that he’d stay, said that he’d let you and Satoru be selfish for once and keep him here, keep him tethered to this existence he loathes so much—

“Satoru…”

—he’d believe him.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” He sighs, near breathless.

You lift your hands to cup either side of his face, hooking your thumbs under the pale cloth, unraveling and unraveling and unraveling.

How many more layers?

How many more walls?

How many—

“His energy is restless.” Satoru could find other words to describe it, the aura, the shape of Suguru’s soul, his scent, his being, his whole existence. Something only you could understand.

“It’s pouring into me, and I can’t— I pretend I don’t feel it, that I don’t know that he’s…”

Different.

Suguru is different now, he wants to say.

Suguru’s unhappy with me, unhappy with us.

I can’t give him what he needs.

I was too selfish to have asked him to stay. You were too selfish in saving him.

We were too selfish. Do you think he hates me for it? Do you think he wishes he were—

“He loves you.” You tug on the cloth, let it fall and pool in endless strands around his neck. “Isn’t that reason enough?”

Satoru’s eyes are dim, bleaky sapphire and cerulean staring back at you.

Don’t look at them, look at me, look inside me, my eyes are lying, that’s not how I feel—

“He loves you too,” he says it like a confession, a secret. Love can’t be enough, can it?

Love never stopped Suguru from leaving the first two times.

Love never stopped Satoru from waking up so many nights with tears running down his neck, from where you cried for Suguru in your dreams.

Love never stopped Satoru from not being strong enough to bend the world and stretch it to fit Suguru inside.

Why should you love him whom hates the world so?

Satoru lets his head fall into the crook of your neck, body slumped over yours and breath shaky.

Loving Suguru came as easy as breathing if not easier.

He’d spend nights curled in his bed at the dorms, clicking through photos he’d taken of you three, back then, when it wasn’t anything yet but still everything to him.

“Yaga-sensei, please pair me with someone else!”

“Hah!? We not good enough for you anymore, name?”

“Satoru, name, don’t yell so early in the morning…”

And even from the first mission, when Suguru’s hair was shorter and you hadn’t quite figured out how to control your technique.

When Satoru had to save you from plummeting to your death after you sliced a curse open just for grabbing Suguru and yanking him by his hair.

Satoru thinks, maybe, he came into this world loving you two.

Because he loves me more than all the world.

“I’ll protect you,” he whispers into your neck, full of conviction.

He’s never not the strongest, except maybe when he’s here, in these moments. “I’ll protect the both of you.”

Let me do this one thing,

just this once.

Let me be the one

who holds us together.

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

tsr taglist :

@wishmemel @draecys @pearlvalley @cookielovesbook-akie @astral-hydromancy @celestair @/midnightbluehorizons @plaggi @blue-blossomss

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #31] The Photo Booth

warnings: THE photoboth chapter!!!! a legend amongst bd readers!!!! we meet jaykays mum (shes the best) and his dad (legend), byeol gets her own back for the 'daddy' debacle, teasing, shameless flirting, a lil dirty talk, jaykay is desperate and whiney (just how we like him!!), precum...swapping?? as much as it can be swapped lmao, jaykay does her glitter ::(((((, a date! between friends!! some would argue!!, photobooths, kissing !!!!, oh god I love them so much, very cute, mmmmmm the way he says goodnight!! or alternatively, the way he doesn't say goodnight!!, our babies are v confused <3 cos they are stewpid <33

wc: 9k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"Mum? Dad?" Jeongguk calls into the entryway of his family home, pushing the door further open with his shoulder.

Your bag is hooked over his broad back, along with his own, Jeongguk not even considering it a favour. Just helps you out in little ways whenever he can, just because he can. You do what you can to make his life easier, and so it's reciprocated without a second thought.

Carrying a bunch of fresh flowers that had hastily been picked up from the shop across the street, you're a little nervous. There was no way you could show up empty-handed, but had been so scatterbrained when you left your place, it had completely slipped your mind. They're pretty pink posies and are something - which is always better than nothing, even if they aren't all that impressive.

"Oh, you're here!" A sweet voice calls from the back of the house. The sound of indoor slippers scuff against the wooden floors, as his mother scurries to greet you both. "I thought you'd call when you were on your way!"

"Sorry," he apologises and leans down to let the bags softly tumble to the floor, before outstretching his arm for a hug. "Left in a bit of a rush."

Squeezing his mother gently, his back eclipses her from your view. Hands patting his back, you think you can tell a lot about a person from their hands - and she's no exception.

Well-manicured, his mum clearly looks after herself. She wears just two rings - her wedding band and engagement ring. Gold. The only remaining elements of her wedding jewellery that had survived the '98 gold drive.

"Spent my whole life in that house," Jeongguk had said of his family home on the journey to Busan. He'd been opening up. Telling you tales that you'd have never heard if you had declined his offer. Is clueing you in on the life that formed him. Wants you to know. "They held onto it throughout everything. The financial crisis, turn of the century, everything. I'm lucky. We were never well-off, but they never let me know when we were struggling."

It explains a lot about who Jeongguk is, you think. Never wants others to shoulder his burdens. Keeps things bottled up until the glass shatters - but you can see through glass. You always know.

A modest three-bed, there's something nostalgic about the four walls he calls home. Though you've never been here, it somehow feels familiar - but that's perhaps more so to do with the scent of laundry drying, and the fact that Jeongguk uses the same fabric conditioner as his mother always has done.

Swanning Jeongguk out of the way, his mother greets you with a smile that could stoke warmth in even the coldest of hearts - and suddenly, you understand exactly where Jeongguk gets it from.

Dark, round eyes, and a smile as radiant as a spring day, she's got the kind of delicate nature bestowed upon Disney princesses. If you were to learn she'd been a model in her youth, you wouldn't be surprised. 

Introducing yourself,  you hold out the flowers for her to take.

"For you," you offer, a little shy and reserved, in a way that Jeongguk doesn't see too often. Your glitter - toned down today, for some reason - sparkles in the late afternoon sun that pours through the windows. "Thank you so much for offering to host me. I really hope it hasn't put you out too much-"

"Oh, don't be silly," she tuts, flipping her hand away as if to emphasise that it really is no big deal. "It's always lovely to have Jeongguk's friends staying with us."

She glances over to Jeongguk. Leans in a little closer. Whispers just loud enough for him to hear. "Plus I'm sure you'll be a far better house guest than Jimin ever is!"

"Mum!" Jeongguk goes to defend his housemate - but he knows his mother adores Jimin. Treats him like a third son. Knows she's creating an alliance with you, given the little lie Jeongguk told about you previously dating Jimin.

"What?!" She plays innocent, and it's suddenly so easy to see why Jeongguk is the way that he is. A product of the people around him, he soaks up their best qualities like a sponge in search of water. His playfulness must come from her. Taking the bunch of flowers, she smiles. "Let's go put these in a vase. You must be hungry."

"Ravenous," Jeongguk confirms, as if he didn't eat half an hour ago. "What's for dinner? And where's dad?"

"At the driving range," she tuts, encouraging you both further into the house.

Large and open plan, the sitting room is adjacent to the kitchen; a space designed for socialisation, it's clear that Jeongguk's parents enjoy hosting. It's no surprise that they agreed to let you stay without hesitation, and is also why Jeongguk had no qualms about asking.

"Minhyuk got a new driver that he wanted to show off, apparently," she continues. "A Titlelist. Got it in some dodgy back alley sale. Your father reckons he's been scammed, but Minhyuk reckons it's the real deal, so I'll guess we'll see."

"Minhyuk lives down the road," Jeongguk explains to you as his mum rummages around in a cupboard to find her favourite vase. He's smiling, amused by it all. "Bit of a busybody. Likes being in people's business, so Dad likes to return the favour. Petty middle-aged man shit."

"Watch your language," his mother scolds. He apologises immediately.

It's sweet, seeing Jeongguk like this. He's always been respectful, even if he does swear like a sailor and has a sense of humour that would send a prude to an early grave.

"As for dinner, I told your father to meet us at the samgyeopsal place you like down by the beach-"

"Ugh," Jeongguk smiles, beaming from ear to ear. "Thank you."

"Don't know why you're thanking me," she hums sweetly as she arranges the flowers in the vase. A little lacklustre while they were still wrapped up, she manages to preen them to look far more beautiful. "You're paying."

"I'm- what?!" He whines, now, taking on the role of youngest son perfectly.

She's just joking, and you all know it - but you also know Jeongguk will likely try and cover the bill regardless. Glancing over to you with a cheeky grin, his mum playfully shrugs her shoulders. You return the smile, and giggle a little harder when Jeongguk continues to whine.

"Oh hush your moaning," she simply says. "Go take your bags through to your rooms. We'll head out in half an hour."

Jeongguk doesn't protest. Drags you along with him back to the entry hall to retrieve the bags.

"See," he says quietly, finding your shyness all rather curious. You're never normally like this. Never so quiet. "Told you there was nothing to worry about. Mum always likes my friends."

Picking up your bag to hoist it over your shoulder, you simply say, "Nerves are natural."

Jeongguk doesn't entirely disagree, but really thinks there's no need for you to feel this way.

"Yeah, if you're meeting, like, a girlfriend's parents," he says. "My parents are nothing to be scared of. Idiot."

"Doesn't matter if I'm not your girlfriend, Gguk. I still want them to like me," you remind him. "And let's be realistic here, parents aren't one for subtleties. You've brought a girl home and have hickies on your neck - I need to touch up the foundation, by the way. If they notice, they're gonna add two and two and get five."

"Well actually," he interjects. "They'll add two and two and get four. You are the girl who gave me them."

You laugh. He's got a point. "But I'm not your girlfriend ."

Yep , he thinks. Thanks for the reminder.

It's not like he even wants that. He knows that things are good as they are. Knows that any indication of things getting serious will likely make you run for the hills.

Things feel easy, now. He doesn't wanna do anything that will complicate it. Won't tell you how he's feeling, 'cause he knows the second it does, things will change.

He doesn't know if it would be for better or for worse, but he knows you. Knows his own lived experiences.

The mistakes made with Hayun have contorted his ability to go with his heart, because he knows the pain it can cause. Will take the nail-biting uncertainty of his feelings for you over the soul-crushing certainty of rejection any day of the week.

You're equally as shaped by your own experiences.

Once had a man who would declare his love for you on a Monday morning before his monthly business trip, only for him to spend the entire week in bed with a girl from the accounting department. You've no trust in words. No trust in anything, really, when it comes to matters of the heart. All you can trust is how you feel - but even that's a little more confusing than usual, these days.

"And thank God for that," Jeongguk teases, which seems to settle the woes within you. He tilts his head to the side and guides you up the hallway. "C'mon. I'll show you to your room."

He deliberately doesn't show you his own room. Will show you later, once he's had the chance to hide away most of the embarrassing stuff he hasn't touched since he was a teenager.

Instead, he leads you straight into his brother's old room, and winces.

"It's worse than I remembered."

Jeongmin's bedroom walls are coated in the Lotte Giants; like an oil slick on the surface of a road, or ice cream dripping down the side of a cone. Unsubtle, garish and impossible to ignore, the man is an interior decor menace.

Flags, shirts, commemorative posters, you name it; Jeongmin has it. You think he must have personally spent enough money to fund an entire season of the KBO.

It's a pretty inoffensive colour scheme - white, blue, red - but it's still an eyesore. The rest of the house is well-decorated. Tasteful. Roses do come with thorns, you consider. Maybe Jeongmin and Jeongguk's rooms qualify for that position.

"So your brother likes football?" You deadpan - although you're sure if there was a Lotte Giants branded football, you'd be able to find one in this room.

Jeongguk just shakes his head. Doesn't even dignify it with a proper response.

"It's a miracle he even managed to get girlfriends during high school. This shit is... I didn't recall there being so much."

Signed baseballs, bobbleheads, foam fingers. God. It's endless. Trading card binders, house slippers, even a rubber duck. It's overwhelming.

"What about now?" You ask of Jeongmin's passion. "Still obsessed?"

"Less so," Jeongguk shrugs. "Did call his dog Seagull, though."

The prospect of a dog being called Seagull has you bursting into laughter. You half think Jeongguk is joking - but quickly realise he isn't. For some reason, that only makes it even funnier.

"Will he be at dinner? Your brother?" You ask, setting your bag down on the freshly made bed. The scent of laundry detergent wafts up, and it reminds you of being back at Jeongguk's place in the city. You've never felt more at home in a stranger's bedroom.

"Why?" Jeongguk asks, narrowing his eyes, remembering what you had said earlier. "You're not allowe-"

"Oh give over," you laugh. "You know I won't."

You've never seen his brother, but already know Jeongguk must be the brother. The one that the girls go crazy over.

Then again, Jeongguk did say that his brother is a fuck boy. Perhaps he's just as handsome.

Impossible .

Thing is, Jeongguk doesn't know you won't go for his brother. You made threats earlier. Knows he ignited a fire in you the second he pulled the 'Daddy' stunt. Knows you're competitive. Regrets it a little bit now. Only has himself to blame.

"Anyway, piss off," you playfully tell him. "I wanna get changed."

Jeongguk doesn't care. Takes a seat by his brother's desk, instead. Smirks. Raises his brows in that promiscuous, boyish way that always disrupts the butterflies who peacefully rest in your diaphragm. "Okay. Get changed."

"Gguk," you deadpan. He's pushing his luck, and he knows it. Glances over to the door. It's ajar, but pushed shut enough to obscure any unwanted eyes. Just means he needs to keep his deep voice quiet.

"What?" He flirts. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

"Your mum is down the hallway!" You whisper-shriek. Sometimes you forget how much of a boy Jeongguk is, and then he pulls shit like this.

The worst part?

You love it when he's like this; all cheeky and brazen, audacious in his quest to get what he wants.

And when it's you that he wants? Oh, it gets you all hot under the collar. He has that effect on people, you think. It can't just be you.

"So?" He licks his lips. Rakes his eyes down your body. Looks fucking hungry - and to him, you look like a 5-course meal he'd gladly get on his knees and beg for. "She's not gonna come in."

His lips press down against one another, tightly. His lip ring does the thing. You whine.

"Gguk."

"Byeol." He teases. "It's not like you're getting naked. Not like we'd be doing anything. Seen you in your underwear so many times."

He'd like to know that he still can. Wants to know he hasn't fucked it all up by getting you a little vulnerable earlier.

"Maybe I am getting naked," you whisper back, feeling challenged now.

"Are you?"

"Should I?" You tease. He sits up a little straighter. Tries to be subtle as his hand drops between his legs, the heel of his palm pressing against himself. Fails. You know he's adjusting himself. Know that it means he's getting a little excited.

"Think if you need to, then you should," he simply replies. "Just a little revision of a bird, no? Nakedness ? It'd be good."

You don't need to get fully undressed. Not in the slightest - and you're not gonna.

In fact, Jeongguk isn't gonna see anything - but you're still gonna fuck with him a little first. He deserves it after this morning.

You turn away from him. Shrug the jacket off your shoulders. Toss it onto the bed. Open up your bag, and have a little dig around.

"I'm not sure what to wear," you hum, sounding a little defeated. It's intentional. Want him to think you're being genuine.

Turning to face him, you hold lingerie in either hand. Packed deliberately just to fuck with him. Had figured you'd wear it discreetly, letting him know as and when he deserved to know. Would use it to wind him up - and not to give him any satisfaction. He's right in thinking he's ignited a little competition in you.

Didn't realise you'd take him to war, instead.

He's not seen you in either of these. Has never really seen you in your 'nice' stuff. All of your underwear is nice to a certain extent, because you're intentional with your purchases. Like feeling good beneath even a pair of sweats.

However, Jeongguk has only ever been treated to matching sets.

After all, you've never tried to seduce him. He's your friend. You fuck each other, sure, but it's cause it's comfortable. Safe.

The lace in your hand is far too exciting for your established arrangement.

In your left hand is a lace bodysuit. Mesh panels make up the structure, but it's the ornate, hand-sewn lace that really makes it beautiful. The neckline is fairly high, so sometimes you get away with wearing it at a top on nights out. Been a while since you went that risque.

In your right hand, it's a classic black garter belt. Jeongguk has no idea what the fuck they're called, just knows he likes them.

He swallows. Licks his lips. Doesn't know where to focus his eyes. Barely realises he's gripping himself now. Is so fucking hard.

"Which is your favourite?" You ask, eyes innocent, voice nonchalant.

Jeongguk thinks he'll die if you wear either.

"Both are fine," he manages to say, eventually.

"Fine isn't good," you pout.

"Well what do you want me to say, B?" He whispers, clearly a little frustrated. Not with you. With himself . "That as soon as you put them on, I'll wanna take them off you? They're fuckin' hot. Both of them. Fuck ."

He tilts his head back. Whines a little. Moans. "Why do I do this to myself?"

"Think you might be a masochist," you giggle now, tossing the lingerie back down by your bag. Will save it for later. Poor boy is going through it. "You did this to yourself."

He looks at you with a huff and a frown that is far too sweet for the situation at hand.

"I'm stupid," he pouts. "Pea brain. You're the one with a big brain. You should tell me to stop doing pea brain things."

"You wouldn't listen to me even if I did," you smile fondly as you walk towards him - 'cause even if it looks like he's admitting defeat, you don't trust him yet. His cock is too hard to be making sensible choices.

Coming to a stop between his legs, you don't stop Jeongguk when his large hands stroke up the backs of your thighs. Your own hands are toying with his hair. It's all very amorous; affectionate despite the allure.

"You don't know that," he whispers, still. Cupping his strong jaw, you tilt his head upwards. Your hair is still up from earlier, and he regrets it now. Always loves it when your hair tumbles around his face. Likes being consumed by the entity of you. The scent of your shampoo, the softness of your well-conditioned hair. Heaven.

"You made a bad decision this morning," you remind him. "Would have done it even if I told you it was a bad decision."

Regretfully, Jeongguk thinks this is true. That instant gratification of his ' Daddy' stunt made it worth it.

Worth it at the time, at least.

He's not so sure, now.

Sinking to your knees, your hands stroke up his thighs. Jeongguk looks down at you, tongue wetting his lips. There's a change in his breathing. Anticipation.

"You know," you say quietly, making sure no sound travels at all. You're not looking to get kicked out of Jeongguk's house within an hour of being invited in. Looking directly at his hard crotch as your hands squeeze his thighs, you simper. "I really thought you were gonna take charge this morning. Thought you were gonna get me where you wanted me."

"Yeah?" he husks, pulling on his shirt, releasing it from the belt around his waist. Lifts it a little. Gets his abs out. Is doing shit he knows will make you salivate. One of your hands follows his encouragement and pushes up his chest. Hard beneath your warm hand, his body really is a gift from the gods.

"Yeah," you tease.

"What did you think, huh?" He says, his hand cupping your cheek to raise your gaze to his. It'd embarrass you, if it were anyone else; but for some reason, you don't mind worshipping Jeongguk unabashedly. Are on your knees like his body is your alter. Whisper words of sin like you're in a confessional. Pray that you'll never have to give this up. Religion is wasted on you, and Jeongguk is a false God, but you've never felt more holy than when you're committing cardinal sins with him. "Where was I gonna get you?"

Smiling in that coy way you so often do whenever he gets you a little vocal, your eyes rake back down his body.

"Right here," you shrug. Give him those eyes; the ones that make Jeongguk think he's seeing fucking stars. Smirk, before you say, "thought you were gonna get your cock in my mouth."

"Shit," he curses as you press down over the hard ridge in his pants. He's always so pleased to see you - especially like this. "You want that, huh? Wanna suck on it?"

Nodding, you bite on the lip, sin written in the constellations Jeongguk's gazing at. "Wanna make you feel good, Koo."

If Jeongguk doesn't get his cock in your mouth within the next minute, he's pretty sure he'll die. Has wanted it for weeks. Months . Wants you in any capacity he can get you, granted, but there are few things in life better than a good blow job. Good pussy, is, admittedly one of those things, but he already knows you have that. Thinks your mouth must be just as good.

His hands drop to his belt. Metal clangs as he races to get it undone. You let him. Don't stop. Watch on with sated pleasure as he hurries. Undoes his buttons, and then his zipper is down, too. His Calvins are on display. There's a teeny tiny damp mark showing through; evidence of how badly he wants you. "We don't have long. Be quick, B. Gonna nut so fuckin' fast."

Smirking, there's something so painfully endearing about how needy Jeongguk is as he untucks himself from his boxers. Thick and firm, his cock is just as pretty as it always is whenever he's desperate for you. The little bead of precum pooling at his tip is begging for your tongue, the freckle on his shaft deserving of a pretty little kiss.

And then you pull back. Look at his pretty, needy face and raise a brow. Poor baby .

"Said I wanna make you feel good," you smirk. "Not that I will."

You get to your feet. Walk away. Giggle to yourself as Jeongguk fucking whines as quietly as he can. Needs that door closed. Needs you to know that this balling is gonna kill him off. Head thrown back, cock in his hand, he's gonna fucking die .

"B," he growls a little, faux sobs echoing from his throat.

"What?" You smile. He looks like a fucking state, desire taking hold of the way he's staring you out, chest heaving a little bit. And then, to add insult to injury, you remember to 'address him properly'. "Something wrong, Daddy ?"

His face bunches up. Regret embeds itself into the lines on his face. He whines. "You're so mean, Disco Ball."

He's cute. Really fucking cute.

It makes you feel bad.

And fuck, you want him.

Seeing him like this gets you all sorts of fucked up - but he deserves it.

He watches you cautiously as you walk a little closer.

You crouch between his legs this time, instead of getting down on your knees. Replace his hand with yours. Have missed how it feels to have him in your grip.

Eyes on his, you watch as his chest begins to beat a little fast. His lips are ajar. Eyes forlorn, he's desperate . His cock twitches in your hand, so you tighten your fingers. A hushed moan lets you know he likes this. Likes every fucking thing about it.

Licking your lips, you position yourself a little better. Glance down. Think it's a miracle you haven't given him head yet. Have never wanted to choke on a cock more - cause what are friends for, if not that?

"I'm not mean," you whisper. You drag your wet tongue across the tiny slit that is fucking oozing for you. It takes everything in you not to give into what you want. "I'm so nice to you, Koo."

You've got a point to prove, though. Ease your grip. Stand. Replace the now empty space in your hand with his chin between your thumb and index finger, grasping onto it as you tilt him upwards.

You hold your tongue out, encouraging him to do the same - and without even a second fucking thought, he does it.

Eyes wide, Jeongguk wants this. Want you. Wants your tongue on his.

And what Jeongguk wants?

Well, eventually , he always gets it.

Your tongue swipes against his; traces of his own precum sinking onto his tongue, masking the taste of you.

He wants more.

Wants you to do it again. Wants to taste you. Wants you to sit on his lap, tongue in his mouth. Wants to be too fucking busy with his lips to remember how to breathe.

And, like always, he will get it - just not now.

Eventually, yes.

Immediately, no.

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me one day, B," he whines as you walk away from him again.

"Good," you smile, talking at full volume now. Playtime is over.

You do, however, take off your shirt, and let him watch. All he can see is your back, but even that drives him insane. He can't remember the last time he was this worked up without any indication of a release. He's been horny all fucking day.

Pulling a fresh shirt over your head, you're a little sad to see he's tucked himself away when you turn around again.

"Go get ready," you say fondly. "We don't have long."

Jeongguk is pouting. A crease between his brows, he looks hard done by.

" So mean."

His stroppy demeanour makes you laugh. It's so classically him. A Ggukism, if you ever did see one.

"That's what you get for making me call you Daddy," you say quietly. Find it funny how much of a baby he's being - and consider that maybe he's the one that is better suited to the nickname.

He whines again. Louder this time. You glance to the door. Make sure you're still without disturbance.

You want to call him baby.

Just because it works, and it's funny, and - fuck it - maybe it'd be nice.

But it would also be a step too far, you think.

"Shush," you say affectionately, not accenting your command with 'baby' like you really want to. Instead, you walk over to him and cover his mouth with your palm. "What if someone hears you whining, huh? I don't wanna have to tell your mum you've just been tasting your own cum in your brother's bedroom, do you?"

"You're so fucked up," he wails, feeling incredibly hard done by. He needs to learn how to resist you. Never wants to have to endure this again.

"We're so fucked up," you correct. "I wouldn't be so mean to anyone else - but you deserved it."

He can't even argue against it. He knows that this is a product of his own creation.

"Go, get yourself sorted out," you encourage him along. "We don't have long."

He nods. Sighs. Gets to his feet, and does his trousers back up. Is convinced he'll die before your trip to Busan finishes if this is the game you're playing.

Leaving you to get ready (and to let his raging boner die, even if he won't) Jeongguk returns within 15 minutes. He's nonchalant, as if what happened the last time he was in the room was simply a fragment of your own imagination.

You're sitting by the floor-length mirror (which is, of course, adorned in Lotte Giants memorabilia), doing your makeup. Hair claw-clipped now, Jeongguk is a little sad to see your space buns go, but understands why. You seem to be a little more demure than usual.

He nudges his knee against your back, gentle in how he touches you, your body swaying ever so slightly.

"Don't," you smile, pulling the liquid glitter away from your face. "I'll get it in my eye."

There's an innuendo to be made there, but Jeongguk knows better. Just smirks. Plonks himself down next to you; cross-legged, knees up, arms hugging around them. He looks like a condensed version of himself like this, sitting as close to you as he possibly can just so he can see himself in the mirror.

"Little disco ball," he says fondly, watching you dab the glitter onto the inner corners of your eyes. It's not something he often calls you these days, but there's something about hearing the name now that makes you smile.

"Strange, isn't it?" You muse. "This time last year I was just disco-ballin' in your club. Didn't even know your name."

He nods. Smiles. "And now you're in my brother's bedroom turning yourself into a disco ball."

"Funny little lives, we live," you muse fondly. How far you've both come. If it wasn't for the glitter, you don't think you'd recognise yourself.

"Would you have ever predicted it?" he asks. Knows he was intrigued by you from the very moment he first saw you. Has no idea what you thought of him. Wonders if you had 'what if' thoughts about him. Who he was. Who he could be. What you could become. "That you'd end up here?"

"Honestly? Sorta wanted to curl up and die after you found me in your living room."

The memories are a little hazy, but you still remember the look on Jeongguk's sleepy face in the early morning sun that was intruding on his living room at the time.

Jeongguk nods. Smiles. Remembers it far better than you do. "Yeah, wasn't your finest hour."

You turn to look at him, chin resting on your shoulder. There's a glow about you now that Jeongguk can't seem to get enough of. Wants to drink you in like purple starfuckers at 2am in the heat of full-capacity Dionysus nights.

"I mean, I don't know," you say with a small shrug. "How often do you become friends with your punters?"

"Not often," he admits. "How often do you become friends with your bartenders?"

You're coy as you smile. "Not often."

Not ever, actually.

Yeonjun doesn't count - you've never spent any time with him sober, even if you do always enjoy seeing him behind the bar. Even then, it doesn't compare to the way you seem to light up whenever Jeongguk is serving your drinks.

Jeongguk's the first. The only.

Taking the liquid glitter from your hands, Jeongguk scoots a little closer. Gets more product on the wand, and sets the tube down beside him. Pinches your chin between his index finger and thumb.

There's no opposition from you; just a silent acceptance of Jeongguk dictating your movements. Lips parting as he draws a little closer, there's apprehension to the way your eyes flicker between his own pair and his lips.

Jeongguk is pleased, but tries not to let it show. Fights his smile. Battles the inner voices telling him that kissing you would be a good idea.

Breath hitched as his dark eyes survey your face, you're regretful of the way your body responds to him. Friendship tainted by desire; a natural by-product of fucking someone you really care about, you think.

It's no secret that you adore each other, but doesn't everyone feel so fondly about their best friends?

He's slow as he dabs the end of the wand against your cheek, following around the curve of your eye socket. Jeongguk always thinks you look so pretty when you highlight yourself with glitter there. It catches the light so easily that he always notices it. Might have even been the first glitter of yours that he notices in the dreary lights of Dionysus, the hedonistic haze of neon lights and dark shadows creating the disco ball effect he likes so much.

"There," he says quietly as he finishes evening it out. "Pretty little star."

"Careful," you say back just as quietly. "You'll give me an ego."

"Just returning the favour," he jokes, screwing the wand back into the tube, his hands working quickly. "The Daddy thing really did a number on my ego this morning."

Rolling your sparkly eyes, you gently push him away.

"Fuck off, Jeon," you playfully reprimand him for mentioning it again, getting to your feet. Smoothing out your clothes as you check yourself over in the mirror, you're pleased to see that Jeongguk has applied your glitter just the way you like it. Dabbing it out slightly, your heart swells a little with how attentive he is.

Still sitting exactly where he was, Jeongguk strokes up the inside of your leg. It's all very innocent. Just touching you 'cause he likes the comfort that comes with it. You're in sheer tights, there's a softness to them that Jeongguk likes. He tries to forget the garter belt you were holding earlier. Doesn't think you'd wear it out for dinner with his parents.

He's right.

No matter how hot it might be working him up in public, you're not about to go and do it in front of his parents . You have some morals at least, even if Jeongguk does make you momentarily forget about them from time to time.

Reaching down, you scratch his hair a little, just behind his ear. Eyes closed, he leans into your touch like a little puppy dog. So docile and devoted. Cute.

"C'mon," you encourage him, but remain fixed in position. Head versus heart. Wanna stay right where you are in the cocoon of Jeongguk's family home with him, but know you have places to be. "Shouldn't keep your mum waiting."

He nods, head resting against your leg. Sighs. "Yeah. You're right. Let's go."

You offer him a hand up, of which he gladly takes. Checks himself over in the mirror. Is still wearing the outfit he drove in. Considered changing, but he's aware of the way the girls at the service station were ogling him earlier. Knows the outfit probably has something to do with it.

He doesn't mention the change of your outfit; the fact that you're wearing a white shirt too, now. It's tucked into a little black skirt, he's certain you're probably gonna wear those slightly worn out Converse of yours - and he intends on doing the exact same.

"C'mon, kids!" Jeongguk's mum calls up the corridor, echoing your thoughts about needing to leave.

It's nice, you think, to be grouped with Jeongguk in such a way. Makes you feel like this is the way it's always been. Doesn't matter if you're in your twenties, and Jeongguk's mum met you an hour ago. There's an acceptance of you; of your place in her son's life.

He glances over at you, scrunching his nose a little. Is a little awkward. Likes the idea of you being part of his life since childhood. Is sad it'll never be the case.

"You heard her. Let's go."

Ushering you back down the hallway, a hand on top of your shoulder, thumb rubbing the nape of your neck, there's a casual intimacy to the way Jeongguk always finds an excuse to touch you.

It's not scary, nor daunting in the way that you always deem intimacy to be, but it is something . Gets you feeling a little flustered. Has you wriggling out of his grip with a laugh, as if he was tickling you.

"Stop annoying the poor girl," his mother scolds fondly as you come into her line of vision, which just simply earns another protest from Jeongguk.

"She's the annoying one."

You scoff. "That's rich coming from you."

It's all in good humour, and his mother appreciates this. Likes seeing Jeongguk goof around, especially knowing how stressed he's been lately. Has barely called. Missed his father's birthday to study.

All she wants is for her children to live happy, fulfilled lives, and if there's one thing to be noted about Jeongguk's current demeanour, it's that he's undoubtedly happy.

Whether or not that has anything to do with you, she doesn't know - but she wasn't born yesterday. His desire to visit home is understandable after the pressure of his studies. He needs rest - and somehow, he factors you into that rest.

Of her two children, Jeongguk's always been the more introverted one. He needs his time to recharge. Would be the life and soul of the party at school, then come home and remain silent until dinner time.

For a few years, it bothered her. Thought that maybe Jeongguk was unhappy at home - but it was quite the opposite. It's his safe space.

And now he's bringing you into it.

"Is the room okay?" she asks you, knowing that the sheer amount of baseball memorabilia in Jeongmin's room is... a lot to take in. "Interior decoration was always more of Jeongguk's speciality. Had Jimin to give him pointers. Jeongmin... Well, he had an acquired taste... As you've probably already gathered."

Laughing a little, you nod. "It's grand. Thank you for letting me stay. I really appreciate it - and I grew up with a Lions-loving Dad. I'm used to it."

"Ohh," his mother winces, then addresses Jeongguk. "Keep this one away from Jeongmin."

You also turn behind you now, raising a brow. He's just rolling his eyes, a soft smile on his lips.

"Samsung Lions - and their fans - are the scum of the earth in Jeongmin's eyes," he explains, then looks over to his mum. "Is he coming to dinner? Do we need to sit them at opposite ends of the table?"

Shaking her head, she laughs. "No, he's got plans, apparently. I did tell him you were visiting, but you know what he's like."

Jeongguk just sort of accepts this answer. Nods. Shrugs his shoulders, as if it's to be expected. An air of disappointment clouds around Jeongguk, lips pursed, eyes stern.

He and his brother are cut from the same cloth, but have been sewn together with different stitches. For all their similarities, they have stark differences, too. This one has always been the most challenging for Jeongguk; how little his brother seems to care about maintaining a good relationship.

Jeongmin seems to think their status as brothers is enough to keep the bond strong. Doesn't seem to care about fostering an actual friendship with him.

It's part of the reason why Jeongguk is so reluctant to let go of friendships that no longer serve him. They're filling a void. He never wants to be the one who gives up. Doesn't wanna be the reason things fall apart.

"Alright," Jeongguk's mother smiles at you both. "Ready to go?"

It surprises you that she's the one driving to dinner instead of Jeongguk - but it makes sense, given the fact you and Jeongguk will stay in the area afterwards.

She insists that you sit up front, even if all forms of hierarchy would dictate that Jeongguk should be there instead. He doesn't complain. Sort of likes how you and his mum are ganging up on him like a little team.

When you arrive at the samgyeopsal place, his father is already waiting.

He's everything you expect him to be: funny, a little dramatic, and the spitting image of Jeongguk, just with a few more grey hairs and even deeper creases beneath his eyes. Introduces himself with as much gusto as a cartoon character; full of life and pleased to have another person to relay all of Minhyuk's misdemeanours to.

You learn more about the Busan Driving Range circuit than you ever could have predicted - specifically about Minhyuk, the legitimacy of his 'bargain' driver, and how Jeongguk's father is convinced he's been tampering with his balls.

Jeongguk chokes on his drink when his dad mentions that last point. Earns himself a talking to for thinking with such a dirty mind - but after a few drinks, his parents are giggling about it, too.

There's something incredibly easy about being around Jeongguk's parents. It's no wonder he's grown into the person he is.

You feel a little shy. Don't understand the in-jokes at first - but someone always explains them to you. Normally Jeongguk, but sometimes his mother. Never his father, 'cause he'll go on a twenty minute long tangent explaining the lore and the back story. They've learnt this the hard way.

Still, he's a dab hand when it comes to grilling the meat. Takes charge of it all. Plates his wife up first, always. You second, Jeongguk third, and then himself. Head of the house, he takes his place in the hierarchy seriously, but not at the expense of the ones he loves. Will make sure they're provided for first.

Jeongguk is much the same. In charge of refilling the soju and beer, he'll pour for his father first, then mother, then you. Puts the bottle down before he fills his own, which is when you step up and fill his glass. He'll nudge with you his knee beneath the table to make you wobble, but never enough to make you spill it.

Subscribing to drinking norms is something that you never really do with Jeongguk. He's a bartender, after all. Things are always a little unconventional. He's normally the one making you drinks and sorting himself out, too.

Something about this feels incredibly domesticated. Natural. Pleasant.

By the time dinner is done, Jeongguk's parents have to order a taxi. Had a little too much to drink- but you're bloody glad for it. Made it a lot easier for you.

"Your parents are fun," you beam, walking down the promenade of Gwangalli with Jeongguk. It's your favourite of all the busy beaches in the city, but you rarely ever get the chance to see it after dark. There'll be a drone show, soon. You've definitely never seen that. Can't wait for it.

"They sure are something," he laughs, a little embarrassed. They have big personalities, which he's glad of, but he knows they can be a bit much sometimes. "Dad drinks well, so we probably had a bit more than we should have done. Sorry."

Shaking your head, you don't mind in the slightest. Are at that giddy stage of drinking, where everything seems marvellous, and bad decisions cosplay as good choices.

"Are you forgetting how we met? I don't mind having one too many, Gguk."

"True," he agrees, checking the time on his phone. Still a good half an hour before the small show. It's just a free thing that the city council puts on every night, not a huge deal to him anymore, but he understands why people romanticise it. Knows that you have to see it.

Tugging on your hand, Jeongguk checks the road before he crosses, dragging you along with him.

"Hm?" You squeak, taken by surprise. A little tipsy, your reflexes aren't as fast as usual, just like tipsy Jeongguk isn't as good at voicing his thought processes as sober Jeongguk usually is.

"Photos," he simply states, leading you into a small retail unit that houses only photo booths.

It's the standard set-up: wall partitions between self-timer camera units, and curtains instead of doors to the small spaces. Each booth has a different colour background, adding to their own individual charms. The walls of the entryway are lined in discarded pictures; friendship groups, couples, first dates, anniversaries, birthdays. Life events, big and small. Moments of time captured to last forever.

Accessories and props are abundant in the entry area - hats, glasses, wigs, signs. Your favourites are always the headbands. Kitty ears, normally, though sometimes you branch out into bunny ears if you're feeling fancy.

There are five booths in total along the back wall, but one in particular grabs your attention: the one advertising Sanrio-themed frames instead of the standard solid colour outline.

"Oh my god," you gasp, and then it's Jeongguk's turn to squeak with confusion. You point to it. Specifically, to the My Melody and Kuromi figures by the bottom of the ad. "It's us."

He smiles. Doesn't really understand your hyper fixation. Agrees nonetheless. "It is us."

The pair of you goof around, picking props. Jeongguk learns that you find him in any sort of animal ears absolutely hilarious, but the second he puts on a yacht captain's hat?

"Take that off right this second," you tell him, voice stern, eyes wide.

He's bemused. Snorts a little. Teeth on show, he's dangerously pretty. So handsome and yet such a little shit. "Why? Like it?"

You turn your nose up. "Hate it."

"I know you're lying," he laughs. Tilts it down. "Is this getting you all hot, B?"

"I'm leaving," you say, because it's so much easier than saying yes.

Something about him in a white shirt, with that hat? White with a navy peak, gold embroidery on the sides? God, you see why the old money girlies like boatmen so much. Decide that you're never getting on a boat with Jeongguk if you want to retain your sanity.

He takes it off. You don't even realise it, but you pout.

"You're so confusing, Byeol," he says as he playfully puts it on your head - and then he's feeling all fucked up too.

Something about a captain's hat. Just really does the trick.

You've both had too much to drink. There's no reason for you both to be getting flustered because of a stupid hat and yet -

"I don't think we should ever touch hats again," Jeongguk says very quickly.

But then you put a pair of kitty ears on and he starts questioning whether or not furries are actually kinda onto something.

He furrows his brows. Picks up a pair of ears. Bunny ones. Black. They're satin and a little too sexy, he thinks, but he's gotta see himself in them.

And when he does?

He kinda gets why girls dress up like cute animals for fancy dress parties. Doesn't wanna blow his own trumpet - but shit. He does look cute.

"Oh my god, YES," you exclaim when you clock his new attire, and quite literally drag him to the booth. He gets no say in the matter, and honestly doesn't care. Is having too much fun with you to take any of this seriously.

You pick the Sanrio framed booth, because of course you do. Jeongguk pops his card in the slot, and lets you click through on the options that you want - 4cut, vertical frame. The classic style. Your favourite.

Turning to Jeongguk, you tweak his glasses a little. Can't decide if they look better hiked up, or further down his perfectly sloped nose.

All Jeongguk can think about is your nose, and much he wants to nudge his up against yours.

And so he does just that.

Doesn't give a fuck.

The camera flashes.

You're caught, forevermore, in your state of Jeongguk-induced hypnosis. The pictures will survive beyond you. Will be stored in boxes to be looked at once, maybe twice by future generations.

One day, no one will know the name of you nor the boy you're with. They won't know how the scent of his aftershave lingers, nor the way your soft exhale of air sounds as you smile. Your present will be lost to history, this photograph? Your legacy.

Nothing will be known of you, and yet this picture alone will tell them everything they need to know.

"We're gonna waste shots," you whisper. The booth takes six photos, but you'll only be allowed to choose four for the printed picture at the end.

The more to choose from, the better.

"So?" Jeongguk smirks. Holds your neck just beneath your jaw. Strokes across your cheek with his thumb. Looks at you with sparkly eyes and a boyish smile that is just begging to be kissed. "Don't you wanna see what it looks like when we kiss?"

"It's intimate," you remind him.

"Maybe - but it's also fun," he reminds you.

The camera flashes again. That's two shots wasted, now.

If you let this carry on, it'll be three, and then one of them will have to be used in the final print.

And yet as Jeongguk nudges against your nose a little deeper, you let him.

When his lips ghost yours, you let him.

When his lips press down, you let him.

You'll let the third photo be taken, because you'll be too busy kissing him back to pay attention.

The fourth, too.

Lips on yours, Jeongguk kisses you in a way that he hasn't done before. It's delicate, and gentle, but his lips are strong. Intentional. There's no intrusion of tongue, no fervent need to get you moaning, even though it feels like you will regardless.

Your brain screams at you. Something about rules, and breaking them.

You ignore it.

'Cause all you can think about is the way this feels.

You don't think you've ever had a kiss like it.

And it's terrifying.

It's not until the fifth shot flashes that you both pull away; smiles smitten, eyes glossy. Both of you felt that. Ain't no way he couldn't have.

You think that maybe that's even more terrifying.

And so for the sixth shot?

Both of you pretend to throw up, disgust plaguing your giggly smiles and blushed cheeks.

There's distance between you, but as soon as the camera flashes, Jeongguk is pulling you back to his side again. It's just so that you're both ready to look through the pictures that are about to pop up on the little touchscreen. He's being helpful. Glances down at you, and has to stop himself from pressing a kiss into your hair.

Things are just so easy with you.

As soon as the pictures load, you're laughing. "We have to retake these."

"No, no, no," he swats your hand away, then taps on one of the photos, adding it to the preview frame. "My jaw looks really good in this one."

It's shot number four. Mid kiss. His hands on your cheeks, yours out of frame because they were on his waist. His jaw really does look fantastic - but it's sort of devastating when you realise just how happy he looks. He's smiling into the kiss. The most devastating thing of all?

So are you.

"How is that even us," you giggle. Seems so bizarre to see yourself like this.

"Gross isn't it," he smiles, adding more of the pictures to the frame, but you're the one correcting him now, tapping his hand to move him out of your way.

"We need them in order," you say. "A chain of events."

Eventually, the order is settled: the nudging of noses, the innocence of a kiss with the sin of Jeongguk's sharp jaw, the slightly startled look in both of your eyes as you'd pulled away, and then, of course, both of you pretending to vomit.

As they print, you pick out props for the next set of photos - Jeongguk in a pair of purple heart-shaped glasses and a Kuromi headband, you in that damn sailor's hat - and discuss which poses to actually do. This time round, it's all peace signs and finger hearts; goofy angles too close to the camera and a little laughter to set the tone.

"C'mon," Jeongguk says softly as you finish sliding the pictures into the thin plastic sleeves next to the booths. He normally doesn't bother with them. Likes that you seem to care about preserving the integrity of your memories. Hand outstretched, he encourages you to take it.

"Your bird," he says. "Said we'd do it in Busan."

The look you give him is coy, eyes a little sultry, lips a little pouty.

When you're silent, Jeongguk laughs. "Hold my hand, B."

"Getting a little date-like, don't you think?" You say of the night, but Jeongguk just shrugs.

"So? We'll just call it practise."

"Mhhm," he nods, shaking his hand a little because you still haven't held it. He's impatient. It's only as you take his hand that he begins talking again. "You don't wanna go back into the dating world unprepared. What if Mr Mechanical Engineer tries to hold your hand without you being ready for it?" He squeezes your hand, leading you out the door. "Let's get you used to it."

The mention of Seojoon makes you feel guilty. About him? About Jeongguk? You're not sure. It's something you need to figure out. Something you need to figure out fast .

And yet as Jeongguk holds both yours and his shoes in one hand, your hand firmly secured in the other, you choose not to think about it.

Just think of the sand, and how it will be a bitch to get out of your tights. It's sort of like your glitter, in a way.

But just like Jeongguk wouldn't trade your glitter for anything, you wouldn't trade this moment for anything either.

Neither of you say much. Just listen to the waves rolling in. Listen to other people's conversations. Listen to the whir of the drones as they start up and get into position. The show begins. Won't last longer than ten minutes. The silence is comfortable.

He holds your hand, and you move them to your lap in a bid to keep them warm.

Jeongguk isn't really feeling the cold. His heart is simply burning too brightly.

"I'm really glad you're here," he says as the show draws to a close.

"Me too," you whisper back fondly. "It must be nice to be home."

"Well, you know they say," he muses. "Home is where the heart is, and all that."

Been at home for months, B.

You breathe through your nose, exhaling a sincere smile. Could say a million things. Could say nothing at all. Could ask what he means, but you're taking it at face value. Genuinely think he's just happy to be home.

"We should visit more often," you suggest.

"I'd like that," he nods as he squeezes your hand. "You wanna go explore the night markets?"

Grinning, you get to your feet immediately. "Thought you'd never ask."

Jeongguk leads the way. Shows you his old haunts. Gets you hotteok from his favourite stand down by the promenade. Shows you the arcade machine he once spunked away 50,000 won on and didn't even win a prize. Shows you the initials he and Jimin caved into a pavement curb fourteen years ago. Took them hours. Both got blisters. Worth it though. They're embedded in the city, forevermore.

He takes you down memory lane, and you find it's your favourite street to visit with Jeongguk. You love his history; learning what shaped him. Who shaped him. Where.

Not once does Jeongguk let go of your hand.

Not down the markets, not along the beach, not in the taxi home, even when he doses off for a moment, head resting on your shoulder.

Not once. Not until you're both home, and he's saying goodnight outside of his brother's bedroom door. He's still toying with your fingers. Isn't even gonna suggest the idea of doing things you know you shouldn't.

Doesn't wanna taint the night.

In the morning, he'll blame all of his bad decisions on the alcohol. Will say he was tipsy, even though you stopped drinking hours ago.

He hugs you goodnight. Lingers a little too long. Too close. Nudges his nose against yours. Brushes his thumb against your cheek.

"This..." he whispers. "This is what it should be like."

His jaw tenses. He holds himself back from pressing his lips against yours like he so desperately wants to. Knows he's already said too much. Pulls himself away from you, to press a kiss against your forehead.

His lip ring is so hard, and his lips so soft, that it makes you feel all sorts of fucked up.

The most fucked up thing of all?

How badly you want his lips on yours.

But then he fucking walks away .

Closes his door. Shuts you out.

The evening had been so simple. So straightforward. Casual. Nothing confusing in the slightest. You were happy. So was he.

And yet as you lie in bed, all that rattles around in your head for hours on end is the question: what the fuck is happening to us?

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[jymwahuwu]

Okay but what about Jing Yuan and his personal assistant… like… a secretary kinda. He’s always trying to call you away to come to his office so he can just chat with you. Sometimes these ‘chats’ become him dropping hints about how cute you look in your skirt, or blouse… and how he wants to take you out on dates after hours.

I imagine a scenario where after your shift is over, you’re getting ready to leave, and Jing Yuan stops you. He says you don’t have to worry about going home because… and drum roll please- tada! You’re gonna go home with him instead because he just can’t handle another lonely night by himself.

But also I’m eating up your Jing Yuan text/call stories you’re doing. Maybe he just calls you, tells you to meet him at the office because it’s urgent- and when you get there he’s leaned back in his chair with candles (because he really is a romantic at heart) and wine and tells you that he wanted to have dinner with you.

Thanks for your time! - 🔮

TW: yandere, harassment

The position you applied for was obviously not the general's personal assistant, but in the end you were assigned to serve General Jing Yuan. This job is like walking on ice for you, it's not that the general is harsh, it's just that he… seems to have some kind of attachment to you?

There is an office for you in Seat of Divine Foresight, but it is basically useless, because the general often asks you to meet in his office, and you have to stay all afternoon. He tells you to do things while commenting on your everyday look, hinting at how cute and suitable that dress/blouse is for you. He even gives you a fee for the clothes, ostensibly to subsidize the cost of fitting the assistant's work clothes, actually out of his bank account. You follow his advice…but the skirt keeps getting shorter and shorter, its length running from your calf to your knee and finally your thigh. As packs and cleans his office, your panties are inadvertently exposed. Also, your clothes have to reveal a little bit of your breasts. He insists on buying you dinner because you've worked all day. Hey, he's always been so nice to his staff!

Your refusal is useless. He still puts you on the spaceship and to the restaurant, and maybe back to his house. The night is too long for long-life species, there is Yanqing as a son at home but not enough, he uses some excuses to ask you to spend the night at his house. Sure, you said you were going to sleep in another room, but you might wake up in the general's arms :))

And that emergency lmao He has been planning to solve the crisis in Xianzhou, and you have witnessed the general's resourcefulness. Perhaps during a rare vacation, you received a call from the general. He tells you that there is an emergency and that you must go to the Seat of Divine Foresight. However, you arrive to find that there are no other employees - they've apparently all gone home. Jing Yuan is sitting in the office, preparing a candlelight dinner. No matter what your reaction is, he's ready to take you home after dinner, touch you, give you little kisses. That's his idea of a perfect date!

[leoruby-draws]

Here's a fun little comic, with Bluejay Jason meeting with his fellow Blue Jays, Jay Abrams! Jason is such a menace, Dick's so embarrassed lol.

Blue Jay is an interesting minor hero who (along with his fellow Champions of Angor) is patterned after Marvel superheroes, he's basically supposed to be Ant-Man. In fact, his entire home world is modeled after the Marvel Universe. Which kinda came off as weird since their supposed to be aliens but their world looks just like ours, or a 80s version of it anyways. Jay has a rough time in the comics, what with losing his planet, friends, and doesn't get a whole lot of respect as a hero. Here's hoping he has a better time in my au!

This meeting between the Blue Jays was something that I was bound to draw at some point, since Blue Jay is an actual superhero in DC comics, was something I discovered while googling heroes with bird names (btw, Starling is also a superhero in the comics as well, I've got a drawing concerning them but that's for a different time.). By then I'd already grown really attached to the name, so I had to figure out a way to make them co-exist.

But turns out, there was a solution available! Thanks to how the timelines work in the comics and for my own au, Jason in the TrWh au would already be Robin by the time Jay Abrams arrives to earth. In the comics Blue Jay (along with Silver Sorceress, and Wandjina) debut directly at the start of post-crisis (late 80s). Canon Jason was already halfway between his tenure as Robin, and my TrWh Jason follows a similar timeline (he might've become Robin just a year younger maybe tho).

So technically the comic above is not actually 'canon' to my au! It's a 'non-canon' gag, made for the sake of the joke of the two Blue Jays meeting! They're never actually Blue Jays at the same time, but I couldn't resist drawing it lol.

Here's the actual 'canon' meeting between them below:

Jason can be such a gadfly sometimes lmao. Also here's some extra drawings of (Bluejay, so also 'non-canon')Jason being annoying to Jay, how do you even handle having a 8 year old antagonist? Jason just likes bothering the older Blue Jay, there can only be one!!

Also bonus drawing of Jay and Laura, I decided to be funny and model Jay's face after Paul Rudd's face. I know that the Ant-Man Rudd plays is actually the second ant-man (I think...didn't watch the movie), so not the ant-man Blue Jay is suppose to homage. Here it is:

Well, hope you liked all that!

[onboardsorasora]

I made a random post a few weeks ago about Daniel needing to have an existential crisis over a grey pube hair (if I find it I'll link). Weeks later @yesloulou made this post and I was immediately compelled all over again.

Dedicating this brain rot to @arturleclerc. I hope you enjoy it💕 (also I haven't reread it so hopefully it makes sense and is actually good. If it's not good we can pretend it didn't happen lmao)

Max paused in the doorway of their bedroom, eyebrows pulling to his hairline the longer he watched Daniel turn this way and that in front of the full length mirror. 

Naked. 

“Uhm, Daniel?” He asked, biting back his grin when Daniel jumped in surprise and slapped his hand over his dick to cover it. 

“Jeepers Maxy.” Daniel held his chest. 

Max tilted his head when Daniel’s eyes strayed back to the mirror. He never took Daniel to be the ‘check himself out in the mirror naked’ type. Considering he hadn’t seen him do it once in the entire time they’ve been dating. 

Daniel furrowed his brow as if annoyed before grabbing a pair of shorts from his drawer, what he had attempting to do in the first place. 

“What are you doing?” Max asked again, walking further into the room. 

“Nothing babe— can’t a guy check himself out? Still good looking, hot, sexy.” Daniel replied, Max knew him long enough to clock his uncomfortable babbling. 

“Are you looking at your gray hairs again?” Daniel had been weird for the last week, ever since Max pointed out a couple grey hairs that had started growing in his beard. 

Daniel stilled and unconsciously glanced at himself in the mirror again. He didn't look any different than he did a minute ago but clearly time and his age were catching up to him. He was 34, 35 this year. And greying.

Sure his job was stressful. Sure the last three years of his career were particularly stressful among other heightened emotions. But for his body to outwardly tell him that he wasn't providing a proper working environment for his cells was a slap in the face.

And his balls.

A handful of grey hairs in his beard by his jaw. He can handle that. Eventually. He eventually learned to accept it. Ok he hasn't accepted it yet but he was getting there. 

Sure he was shaving his beard more so he didn't have to see it but Max liked him with a mustache so it was all great.

But this was just egregious. 34 wasn't like all that old. He didn't even know that greying ‘early’ happened in his family! Grey hairs on his head he could manage (eventually). But grey hairs anywhere else should be illegal. 

It was fine, his day was going great. He had a productive meeting, went for a run, and came home to manscape a little in the shower, hoping to maybe lure Max off of the sim for an hour or so. 

Sure, Max didn't care if he had pubes or whatever but Daniel didn't like his shit growing too wild and free. A trim here and there was fine for him. Max made him promise not to wax anymore.

Anyway, he was just about to go through his almost meditative process when he saw something that he hoped was maybe just glare from the light. He'd almost fainted dead away right then and there when he'd brushed the hair with his finger and it continued to glint grey against the rest of the dark hair.

He had a grey hair beside his dick.

He had a grey hair beside his dick!

His dick had a fucking grey curly q.

“Daniel?” 

Daniel jumped, surprised to see Max so close. He hadn't even realized he'd spaced out.

“Daniel you are not old, of course.” Max smiled, cupping his cheek and swiping the stumble at his side burns that had started to betray him.

“Maxy I'm old as fuck apparently.” Daniel grumbled, soothing the ache in his chest with Max's giggle.

“Well I still love you.”

“Maxy...” Daniel trailed off because he wasn't yet willing to admit that his greatest fear was Max would come to his senses and realize that Daniel was too old. That these greys would be a warning sign to Max that Daniel's best years were officially behind him while Max's were yet to come.

“Daniel, you are being silly I think.”

“Maxy you say this now but I don't think you're ready to deal with old man balls.” 

“Daniel!” Max's eyes crinkled as he laughed. “You do not have old man balls.”

“Nah yeah. I like really do Maxy.” Daniel sighed.

Max rolled his eyes, Daniel was being so dramatic. He dropped to his knees in lieu of saying anything else.

“Max!” Daniel squawked. Sure this had been his plan maybe a half an hour ago but he hadn't gotten rid of that pesky grey hair and he couldn't let Max see.

“Daniel, you are being silly and I love you and you do not have old man balls.” Max started tugging at Daniel's shorts, snorting when his boyfriend grabbed at the waistband.

“Max– it's– no.” Daniel struggled, biting his lip when Max looked up at him curiously.

“Daniel?” Max furrowed his brow, Daniel was being more squirrely than usual. Something wasn't right.

“I–” Daniel's mouth opened and closed a couple times and no more sounds came out. He sighed explosively and his shoulders slumped. Max's eyes widened.

“Daniel what–”

Daniel bit the inside of his cheek, there was nothing for it. He may as well rip the band-aid off and just let Max see. He let go of his shorts, allowing the fabric to fall down his legs.

“I really do have old man balls Maxy.” Daniel said morosely. “A whole old man dick!” Max bit his lip so he wouldn't laugh at his boyfriend who truly was going through it. He couldn't figure out the trigger though.

“I don't understand, Daniel.”

“It's there!” Daniel, aggrieved, pointed aggressively to the thatch of hair surrounding his still soft dick.

Max followed his finger, stopping himself from leaning in to suck it into his mouth or to kiss Daniel's still lovely non old man dick. If only to apologize to the organ for how ungrateful Daniel was being. 

He mentally rolled his eyes and paid attention to what Daniel was trying to show him. Max didn't see anything wrong, Daniel's pubes had grown out a bit and Max wanted nothing more than to just press his face into the wiry hair– feel the burn of it against his chin. Then he saw it, and oh.

“Yeah– oh. Old man dick and balls. The whole package. I'm ancient Maxy. A fossil–” Daniel continued to babble, dragging a hand down his face.

“Daniel you are being silly. You are not old.” Max gave into the urge to press his face into the crease of Daniel's thigh, pressing a kiss to the section of skin that the lone (and apparently offending) grey hair was growing.

“Max–” Daniel was exasperated that Max wasn't getting it. Wasn't picking up what he was putting down. Even though he didn't want him to…he was confusing himself. The fact was he was old and Max finally knew and he was steeling himself for the inevitable.

“Oh!” Daniel shuddered when Max licked a wet stripe along his soft dick that wasn't very soft anymore. Max smirked and continued, sucking Daniel's half hard dick into the warm wet heat of his mouth.

Daniel gripped Max's hair to steady himself, moaning when Max swallowed him whole and pressed his nose into the curls at the base of him. Max looked up through his lashes, humming long and deep.

“Fuck.” Daniel hissed and Max clutched at his thighs. He created a rhythm, coaxing Daniel to fuck his throat. Daniel snapped his hips forward eagerly, groaning as he watched Max swallow his dick in the mirror. Max winked up at him before doing that thing with his tongue that Daniel loved. 

Daniel was a goner, curling over Max's head while he came– hard. 

After, he staggered backwards, watching dazedly as Max licked his swollen, pink lips. Daniel wanted to swallow him whole.

He dragged Max to his feet and planted a sloppy kiss to his lips, tasting his come and Max's lips. He was about to push him onto the bed so he could eagerly return the favor when

“Of course it's exactly what I thought.” Max said smugly. Daniel raised a brow curiously.

“What do you mean?” 

“I don't know what you're talking about earlier, Daniel. Your old man dick still works.”

Daniel couldn't help it, he laughed. Because in his own way, Max just alleviated Daniel's fears.

“I love you, y'know?” 

“I know Daniel.” Max pressed a deep kiss to his lips before pulling back. “My young man dick needs attention, of course.” 

Max grinned when Daniel laughed.

[emojellyace08]

If Lookism Characters (and Y/N) were in horror movies

WARNINGS: mentions of death (not too graphic/explicit) mentions of paranormal/disturbing stuff (mentions with the word killer/s), cursing/swearing

Daniel Park/ Y/N

Would probably be the main protagonist (lmao)

Plot armor 100%

Will tell everybody to calm down when things go wrong "C'mon guys calm down! It's probably just an animal or something".

Will 100% scream and have a mental crisis if one of their friends died.

Zack Lee/Eli Jang

That one motherfucker who's always loud (especially Zack when things started going wrong, Eli's calmer though)

Will have a mental breakdown when his friends (Mira for Zack and Yenna for Eli) was put into danger.

His vengeance will get in the way and they'll seek revenge and has the balls to fight off the killer.

"I don't give a shit Daniel! They're in danger and you're expecting me to chill the fuck out! You're so pathetic I'm killing that little d*ck!"

Jay Hong

If someone's always the quiet one in horror movies, they're probably the killer.

Lol kidding he's not he's just being framed (either by Samuel, Ryuhei or Goo those mfs.)

Tired of everyone's bullshit but still willing to help for the sake of everybody.

Will risk his life to protect everyone especially Danny, I need this boy so much.

Vasco/Warren Chae/Jerry Kwon (add in Alexander Wang)

The dumb one lmao

Will probably die first if they're not careful enough (NO VASCO/WARREN/JERRY/ALEXANDER STOP)

Or, he'll be the one who will be seeing abnormal/paranormal stuff (monsters/killers/ghosts). "Did you see that?" "Wait is that a white lady?" "GUYS I JUST SAW SOMEONE WEARING A WEIRD LOOKING MASK HE'S RUNNING LIKE A MAD MAN!"(will talk and ask a lot).

Zack and the others will probably not listen to him since he thinks they're so "dumb" (bitch listen to them they're being honest).

Goo Kim/Samuel Seo/Olly Wang/Vin Jin/Kuroda Ryuhei (add in Gun Park and James Lee: well a little bit)

The fucking menace who won't listen.

You said to not open the door? Bitch he'll kick it down.

And will pick fights with the others (especially with Zack or Eli). Wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice somebody lmao.

Believes ghosts are stupid, yet thinks killers are cool (they're probably the killer).

Crystal Choi/Sally Park/Jace Park/Mary Kim/Xiaoleoung/ Gun Park/James Lee/Johan Seong/Jake Kim/Hudson Ahn (add in Daniel Park/ Y/N)

Another one who's tired of everyone's crap

Will make the escape plans for the team

Calm outside, angry and scared inside

"Why did I get into this position?" type

Zoe Park/Mira Kim/Yui Kim/Mitsuki/Vivi/Doo Lee/Alexander Wang (edited: add in Heather)

The ones who will cry af (or pretend they're not scared: Doo Lee and Alexander)

Will have a mental breakdown bc they're scared that they'll be dying later or be the first one to die (it's both scary for them).

"I just wanna go home!" type

Will be so worried about themselves and their friends.

Jake Kim/Johan Seong/Kwak Jihan/Hudson Ahn/Sinu Han (add in Zack Lee, Kuroda Ryuhei, Doo Lee and Vin Jin)

"Wtf just happened" type.

Would not believe anything that's happening is real (Fuck this shit I'm out type).

Will curse a lot when the killer/ghost is coming.

"Oh shit, shit, SHIT RUN!" type.

Gun Park/James Lee

This mfs

Will smirk or laugh when somebody dies (I swear to God)

Everybody will probably ditch them for being a sussy baka thinking they're the killer (can you blame them?)

Doesn't give a sh*t since he can either solo the killer or he is the killer (if it's a ghost they just won't care or accept their fate lmao).

A/N: For Y/N you can be anything you want since we all have diff. personalities and ways to handle problems and situations and yeah hope you like it :).

[castawavy]

November Save MEGA summary (part 2)

before / next

hope you all enjoyed the previous summary, it was a nice walk down memory lane for me 😁❤ anyways let's just jump into the next one

so basically overall steve was really HATING working at Hogan's but June was just doing really well in general (enough to be the main earner in the household essentially so steve was able to quit his job)

june attempted to wingwoman raj again because things didnt really work out with kamala... LMAO

on friday she took a day off and decided to go for a job interview to join an in-house legal team

and very quickly she learned shed got the job 😁🤸‍♀️💖

on monday she let her manager Margot know she was resigning and officially handed in her resignation to the boss, boss, Jared. they were all super happy for her, and june was grateful to have had a good time working with them all

THEN, after that she visited her mom for awhile (who lives in Brindleton Bay, and caught up with her without steve or the kids)

that same weekend it was adelaide's birthday and they threw her a modest party (they are always paycheck to paycheck kinda ngl but june's recent job change / promotion means that things are getting better

bonus shot of the kids being EXTRA cute (they get on really well) 💖

very VERY soon after that, june attended a conference in Tartosa with her new team, which was a great chance to get to know everyone...

UNFORTUNATELY things got a bit flirty at the dinner 🌹😢 and the brunette guy behind june flirted with June and she did it back 😵 and yeah... nothing else happened but YIKES. my interpretation of june is honestly that she got a taste of what her life could have been like, without steve... the kids... bills etc, and she got a bit carried away by the glitz and glam of it all 🤷‍♀️ (sorry I do like my sims to have flaws, & like everyone else june is not perfect </3), but yeah as I said nothing else happened and june immedietaly felt AWFUL about it as she should (shes a loyal trait sim) 😘 but she did look stunning that night

when she got home it was extra bad as well because she had to face steve (and the kids) and it made he realise how lucky she had it, cuz steve also got her some champagne to celebrate her new job ☠😂

so... june confessed and told steve about what happened, and ngl even I was suprised he took it so well and was understanding + I think he appreciated she told him right away

also right after he mentioned marriage??? I think the two of them needed to talk about it cuz june always saw herself getting married I think and steve hadnt really considered it...

BUT YEAH drama / crisis averted AHAHAH sorry this seems really fast but I promise it had been brewing for some time - I think out of the two of them, unfortunately june is just a little bit more insecure than steve, because she has set so many expectations on herself & her mother growing up was very strict with her </3 overall I know she invisioned her life going differently, but when faced with that actual opportunity she didnt take it 😘❤🤸‍♀️

bonus picture of steve because we havent seen him for awhile now and hes gotten a lot healthier recently / working on himself and his mental health a bit (not quit smoking yet though) also raj came over and june seemed more like his best friend than steve because they were joking around so much 😂😂😂

also omg then adie had a bear phase...

😁 and that's a wrap for this summary but PHEW a lot of focus on june this time (I always love giving my sims really complex spouses)

before / next

[milksnake-tea]

I'm new to your blog but I just wanna say that you have amazing talent and you should be proud of that (/positive)! Also if it's okay, I'd like to request on your event.

Can I get a Jing Yuan angst prompt no. 6 and dialogue no. 2? Please and thank you!

❀ ˎˊ- prompts: They only confess their love to you once you're already gone. + "Please, stay. Just… stay." ❀ ˎˊ- 1k followers event ❀ ˎˊ- character: jing yuan ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: major character death (its us lmao), war, implied violence/stabbing ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: this scratched my neurons so bad THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST !! sorry for the wait lol school is eating at me so bad

Many believe that Jing Yuan does not feel fear.

It wouldn't be a hard lie to believe. The man is always sporting a carefree smile, even in the midst of the Ambrosial Arber crisis. His composure never cracks, his calm never disturbed. He greets scolding with laughter, anger with tranquility, and danger with a steady stance.

Very few have seen him truly enraged, and even fewer have seen him afraid - the latter having long been lost to time.

But rest assured, Jing Yuan certainly feels fear, simply not in the way that others do.

He has screamed out names of comrades, calls that have never been answered. He has seen stains of red that have never stopped spreading, a seemingly endless sea of crimson. He has stood at countless graves, galaxies away from home, watching as friends passed away in unfamiliar territory.

How cruelly familiar he is, with the reaching for what can never be reached, grasping for just a trace, just a hope for continuance, for a miracle.

And here he is again, fingers just within reach of you, but still too far away.

The battlefield is loud - ringing with the sound of flames, shouts, and lightning. His weapon drags against the ground, hanging from his belt and digging a long, jagged gash in the earth as he pulls himself through the flames, your limp body in his arms.

You're barely breathing, little puffs of air wheezing through your lungs as you fight to keep your eyes open.

It's hot.

The searing heat of fire and rage is overwhelming, burning through your skin and filling your ears. Jing Yuan clutches you close to his chest, looking around valiantly for a medic, but to no avail. You two are alone in this desolate battlefield, save for Jing Yuan's spirit standing guard over you.

"Everything will be alright."

You remember the words he whispered to you when he found you. You've never seen horror strike someone so fast, nor have you seen someone hide it so quickly. Those words of consolation... seemed to be more for him rather than you.

Even now, Jing Yuan puts on a brave face as he realizes that help isn't coming. You can see the panic in his eyes, golden swirls that reflect the inferno.

For the first time in years, he doesn't know what to do.

You shift, leaning your head onto Jing Yuan's shoulder.

"It's okay," you whisper, your voice straining against your wound. The taste of iron is salty against your tongue, and you wince at your voice.

It's cold.

The rapid loss of blood was finally beginning to take its toll on you. You shiver, chills running up and down your spine, goosebumps forming on your skin. But still, as your exhaustion begins to take over, you strain your eyes open.

Jing Yuan stares back at you.

He's scared.

"No," he replies, almost defiantly. "Do not give up just yet. Just a little longer, and-"

"I don't have a little longer, Jing Yuan," your voice raises by the tiniest bit, silencing him. Your hand comes to grasp at his clothes, bunching the little folds of fabric peeking out from his armor in your fist. "Just leave me here."

The honor of a warrior, one of the things Jing Yuan hates the most, and yet the one thing he shared with every other Cloud Knight. He knew the pride that ran through your veins, the pride that would not allow you to drag him down with your corpse.

And yet, he refuses to give up.

"I cannot do that," he says, a subtle plea in his voice. "You know I cannot."

Your grip on his shirt tightens. "You must."

He shakes his head, and the mask shatters. Desperation and devastation wreak his expression, premature grief already twisting his face.

Jing Yuan sinks to his knees, his legs barely able to support both you and himself.

"Please," he begs, voice barely above a whisper. "Stay... Just stay."

You try for a smile, but even that is too much for you. Your fingers slacken, and you linger on the cliffside for just a little longer. You want to touch his face, to feel his warmth one last time, but can't muster up the strength to.

In the end, you can only breathe out a quiet farewell.

"I'm sorry," you murmur. Jing Yuan's eyes widen.

"No, not yet!" he pleas, clutching at your bloodstained shoulder. "I-"

But he's too late. Your hand drops to your side, and the light fades from your eyes.

"I... I love you."

Your soul has joined the stars by the time the words come out. The confession is lost among the blaze, never to reach your ears. Jing Yuan holds your body in his arms, strangled whimpers leaving his lips in shuddered breaths, his mind still processing your death.

By the time reinforcements come, Jing Yuan is standing alone, an unreadable expression on his face. Your body is nowhere to be seen, buried in the ground of the foreign planet in a makeshift grave.

He refuses to answer when spoken to, and is silent when his wounds are patched. His eyes are downcast, shadowed and dull as he replays the moment in his head, thinking of how things might've ended differently - of how he could've saved you.

But deep inside, he knows that those are futile thoughts. He'd thought them when his mentor had fallen to mara, when his friends had given in to death and insanity, leaving him and only him behind.

There will always be people he cannot save, situations he cannot control. And it scares him.

He closes his eyes as the starskiff rumbles, succumbing to his fatigue as it takes off into the skies.

And in his dreams, he sees you.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!