#i have no braincells left in this head of mine I am still working on retrieving that aadgasgdg

[boyfrillish]

at some point I’ll go back and retroactively add the “fave” tag again to stuff I’ve reblogged in the past couple of months but today is not that day

[definitelynotsuzumi]

Zapped to Another World

Genshin Impact x Fem!Reader

I wrote this in my spare time when I was working back in November and thought that I should share this ^-^ 

Depending on the comments/notes and if I have spare time, I may be updating this. 

[Masterlist]

The rain poured down your umbrella. The clouds coloured the sky a dark grey as you ran for the bus. You sighed as you reached the traffic light. Yup, you were definitely not going to be able to catch it now.

School had ended for the year, which meant more free time for you and the new game you had recently gotten into. Genshin Impact.

You could not help but smile at the thought of it. With school out of the picture, you could finally focus on the game completely. There was so many things to do. Farming for artifacts, completing your daily commissions…

You sloshed your way over as the lights turned green. While you love that school is out, you honestly hated the wet weather that came with the winter break and the feeling of wet socks on your feet. After safely crossing the road, you winced as a white truck rushed by, soaking your clothes through as the giant puddle you have been trying to avoid poured onto your skirt and legs.

You let out a sigh as you quickly took shelter under a tree nearby to try and wring out the remaining water when it happened.

“Just my luck…”You muttered as you clumsily balanced your umbrella, “Can it get any worse?”

Just as those words left your lips, it happened. A white flash lit the sky for a brief second. But it was too late. Thousands of volts came cascading upon your body and everything turned white.

“This is your fault.” You heard a voice. It sounded like a young, sulky boy.

“How is this my fault? You’re the one who lashed out when I put down that +4 card down.”

“THAT AIN’T FAIR STILL! I WAS SO CLOSE TO WINNING AND YOU BLEW IT!”

“Uh…What’s going on?” You blinked as your vision settled. You sat in what looked like a library of sorts, with several shelves lining the walls and a long white and gold marble table in the centre of it all. A girl with long, platinum hair glared down at her male counterpart, who huffed in annoyance.

“How about you explain it to her, Artem.”

“Sorry, but I don’t speak to cheaters.”

“Oh for gods sake- fine. We apologize for uhm…Killing you. Truly, a thousand apologies. If only someone can control their temper for once in their life-“ The girl shot a dirty look at Artem.

“LIKE YOU ARE ONE TO TALK! SOLARIA, YOU SINGED MY EYEBROWS OVER KILLING YOU IN AMONG US!”

“Well excuse you! My anger was perfectly justified! You voted me out even when I told you the truth and that I was innocent!”

“DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT WAS TO EMBROIDER AND GROOM THEM BACK TO NORMAL AGAIN?”

“Could you guys please stop fighting for 10 seconds?” You yelled over the noise. The girl and boy finally stopped, leaving you to rub at your ringing ears.

You sighed. Kids were always a handful back in your home. You had to take care of your cousins whenever your aunt was over, and it often resulted with your ears ringing and your head pounding.

“What’s done is done. I’m…well, dead and I seriously have no idea where I am.” You said, trying to stay composed.

“Well…In your human terms, this is kind of like the After Life.” The boy, Artem explained, sighing as he put down his Uno cards.

“Or well, it shouldn’t since…You were supposed to live for like, another 50 to 60 years. But someone messed it up.” The girl, Solaria, summoned a book from a shelf. You blinked as a weathered leather book with gilded, golden pages floated down onto the table.

“Shut up. I said that I was sorry, didn’t I?” Artem groaned.

“Sir Artem, are you losing your braincells? I was the one who apologized. You still owe the human an apology.” Solaria bit back icily.  

With a wave of her hand, the pages of the book flipped and she studied it carefully for a minute before looking back up.

“Well, as a soul now, you have an option. You can go into Elysium or be reincarnated.” Solaria sighed as Artem huffed again.

“Huh. What do you know? Elysium sounds real good right about now-“You thought out loud as Artem’s eyes turned wide with fear.

“Please don’t go into Elysium!” Artem yelled. The books shook in the shelves as his voice echoed.

“Ow, inside voice please? Hasn’t your mother taught you better?” You winced in pain. It seems that immortals had a throat of steel, judging from the way they could shout infinitely.

“I’m really sorry, but if Dad finds out I brought in another human because I accidentally killed them…He’s going to banish me…To Earth…” Artem looked down onto the table.

He was unable to meet your eyes as you stared at him with bemusement.

“Yeah, as much as I hate to say it, please…Reconsider on our offer to reincarnate. He is on thin ice with Father and if he is banished, I’d have to take on his duties as well. I’m pretty exhausted with the workload as it is.” Solaria sighed.

“As long as it’s not Earth, I’m cool with it.” You looked up at the ceiling, which took your breath away. The entire solar system was on it. With it, was the familiar sphere of white, green and blue.

“Hm, that is easy enough. I could reincarnate you into my world.” Artem brightened up.

Solaria sighed with relief.

“And to make up for it, I could buff you up with a couple of blessings here and there-“

“Within reason.” Solaria cut in, with a sharp look at Artem.

“Psssh, as if it’s hard to make a Gnosis.” Artem had considerably relaxed after hearing your statement.

“Are you serious? Don’t you even know the situation down at Teyvat?!” Your eyes widened. Were they talking about what you were thinking of?

Artem rose to his feet, the ivory wings on his lower back flaring. His eyes gleamed gold as he stared down his sister.

“It’s my world. I do what I like with it. If you don’t like it, get a world of your own.”

“You only got your world because Mother took pity on you. Don’t act all big when you have killed so many humans.”  Solaria hummed, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll only grant this human the bare minimum. Anything more, and I’ll let Father know of your deeds thus far, even if it means more work for me.” Solaria glared back. Her eyes gleamed silver as she did so. You felt a shiver run down your spine. 

“That’s all that I’ll need then. Work on your blessings and gifts. I’ll work on mine.” Artem turned away from his sister. The siblings set to work, the atmosphere of ice cold professionalism now in the air.

Solaria rose from her place on the table. With a flick of a finger, the Uno cards vanished with a burst of gold sparkles. The leather book floated beside her as she constantly referred to its pages while flying around the room.

“Hmm…Not much of a combatant, I see. Polearms and swords will probably be hard for you. Perhaps…A catalyst?” She pulled out a bright blue book adorned in gold, with feathers sticking out.

Blowing off any dust from the beautiful book, she casually tossed it over her shoulder and onto you. You instinctively brought your arms up to protect your face but as the book hit your arms, it disappeared into a burst of gold.

“Huh?” You blinked as you saw the book reappear beside you, its pages flipping.

Solaria returned with a satchel and a bag of gold coins. Looking satisfied as she noticed the book beside you, she inserted the bag of coins into the satchel before sliding it over your shoulder. Solaria hummed to herself before smiling again.

Reaching behind her neck, Solaria detached a shimmering teardrop necklace before slipping it around yours.

“There’s nothing special about it, apart from it glowing. I thought it would be a nice touch.” Solaria winked at you. 

Tilting your chin up, you froze with shock as she pressed her lips against yours.

“WHAT WAS THAT FOR?” You felt heat rush to your cheeks.

“Oh, please. Don’t be flustered. That was merely a blessing of mine. It will help you when you need to speak with the natives of the land.” Solaria coolly said as she wiped her mouth.  

You were still reeling in shock. Your throat seemed to tighten as you coughed. 

“..Thank you, for agreeing with us on our selfish request. To be forcibly stripped of our powers can be the worst pain and humiliation a god or goddess can bear.” Solaria murmured to you as she hurried to the end of the room, where she knelt and seemed to draw symbols in gold.

You held back your tongue. ‘What about me? I got zapped to death here.’ You thought to yourself.

“It is done. Please step into that summoning circle there.” Artem held a floating, golden cylinder in his hands. Solaria rose from her place on the floor, gesturing for you to come over.

It was a Gnosis! You were quick to obey as you hurried to Solaria’s side.

Stepping into the centre, you turned to face Artem and Solaria, who stood side by side. They flared their wings as you sensed an energy swirl around you.

“I, Artem, God of the Moon, grant you passage and dominion over my world, Teyvat. Do you accept, (Y/N) (L/N)?” Artem’s voice echoed in your ears.

“I accept.” As the words left your lips, the Gnosis within his hands flew into your chest. You gasped as it did so, a heat spreading rapidly across your chest.

“Be safe on your travels, (Y/N) (L/N).” Solaria flashed a warm smile as you coughed.

“Resigno!”

The gold summoning circle glowed bright blue and you found yourself falling through the blue skies.

You screeched ungracefully as you fell from the sky headfirst. The green grass was coming up way too fast. 

‘Am I going to die again?’ You thought as you held out your arms to break your fall, only for a huge gust of wind to cushion your fall. 

“Huh?” You blinked in surprise as a person clad in green floated beside you. 

It was a young boy with 2 braids, which gleamed blue in the light. His eyes were a beautiful mix of green and blue. 

‘Venti?’ You gaped as he grabbed your hands and guided you back onto the ground. 

“Never thought I’d have an audience during my practice session. Are you okay?” Venti grinned at you. 

“Never...Never better. Thank you...”You gave a thumbs up as you got air back into your lungs again. 

His deft fingers plucked at his harp as he sat down on the soft grass. 

“It’s no problem. But what brings you here anyways? Not many people know of this spot.” Venti tilted his head. It seemed as though you uncovered his secret place. 

“I- uh well...Accidents happen. I’m not a mad fan or a stalker, I swear. Well, maybe I am a fan but still.” You rambled but you forced yourself to stop talking and to breath. Venti is real and he is in front of me. Venti is real and he is in front of me. 

Your heart was beating fast. 

‘I should say something smart, introduce myself or something.’ You thought to yourself as you composed yourself. 

You wanted to at least tell him your name but the words are out faster than you can stop them. 

“Wanna grab a drink?”  

[thesunshinebunny]

Can you please do headcanons for what the twisted wonderland boys would do if their girlfriends ex showed up wanting her back?

Uh… .ALL OF THEM ???? Are you serious ?? Oh My God !!!! Ummmmmmmm, OK, I’LL DO MY BEST, but I think it’s about time I started putting character limits because this is going to be difficult.

IT WAS INSANEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE For obvious reasons I didn’t include Ortho, so I hope this is still to your liking

Riddle

He tried to make the meeting as smooth and consistent as possible.

He is the dorm leader, he has to be the example of maturity and consistency in dealing with women.

He tried for more than half an hour to dispel the insults towards him and politely asked them to get out of Hearstlabyul, but when your ex started talking about you… oh boiiii

Our Queen is pisseeeeeeeeed.

Indispensably if your ex had magic or not, it’ll be OF WITH THEIR HEAD.

Had to ask not only to Trey and Cater but also the dynamic duo to escort them out.

Treat him with little sweetness and a cup of coffee, our redhead will thank you.

"I love you, and I will always be by your side as long as you want to have me with you"

Trey

The personified knight. Outside of joking, at no point did he get upset or ask them to leave in a rude manner.

He handled the situation calmly and when your ex finished speaking, that was when his face changed radically.

Yes, the knight in shining armor was quite a facade.

He gave your ex a gloomy look and in a low tone commented that they were not welcome at Heartslabyul, much less NRC and that they had to leave if they didn’t want to end up with a broken leg.

SHOOK.

Both of you spent the night baking cakes and watching bad movies, even though what Trey really cared the most was spending the night with you, snuggled between his sheets.

"I may have reacted in a somewhat terrifying way, but believe me when I tell you that that look will never be directed at you"

Cater

Our dear orange haired man here didn't take it very well. It was one of the few moments in which his face or voice had not the hint of happiness and amusement that characterized him so much.

He may have used his unique magic to intimidate your ex… I mean, if a mildly angry Cater doesn't do any good, I guess five will work.

Indispensably whether it worked or not, you could always call in the dynamic duo to get your ex out of the way.

Spoiler alert: it wasn’t necessary the one neuron duo, with the five Caters it was more than enough.

Before they left the dorm, he took a selfie as not in a mockery mode and uploaded it to his social medias.

“Do you want to appear in the photo? So I can show the world how beautiful you are, how lucky I am to have you and how stupid your ex was to show up at school "

Ace

Another one who lost his temper, but just when the person in front of him said it was your ex.

Don't overthink it, he just made an angry face because he already knew what your ex was up to, and he didn't like it one bit.

Believe it or not, Ace didn't hold on to the punches with them. No, he simply told them that he had no intention of letting you go and immediately sent them flying with his magic.

For the last thing, he told them not to bother trying, turned around and went to where you were to give you a long, possessive kiss in front of your ex.

"I maaaay have been a bit possessive, but I don't want you to leave my side"

Deuce

He threw a cauldron at their head ... jocking ... or not?

Nah, nah, I'm kidding, but he did come close to throwing his famous cauldron at them and leaving them squashed like a figurine.

Lowkey rogue mode activated.

It may have scared you a little, but it didn't have much of an effect.

Your ex didn't leave you alone until Deuce punched him across the face, screaming for them to leave you alone.

You have to get out of the crime scene before any teacher comes.

Ashamed of himself. Maybe the way of resolution he had was not the best, but it was effective and you were grateful for that.

You gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek and told him everything was fine, that he didn't have to worry about anything; he was your knight in shining armor.

“Sorry, anger washed over me again. I couldn't bear the idea of you being taken away from me "

Leona

Man, this one acted out of pure pride. A stranger grabbing his beloved herbivore? Ohhhh noooo, honey, you messed with the wrong lion and prince.

This is one of the few times he wouldn't send Ruggie in to fix it. No. He would stand tall and beat this motherfucker ass.

You'll have to stop him before he turns your ex to sand, and I'm not kidding this time.

The very thought of someone taking his girlfriend from him drove him wild.

With your ex out of reach, and scared for life, he will demand cuddles and a nap.

He won't admit it, but Leona was afraid for a moment of losing you. You are his, and no one else's.

“I will not let anyone take you from my arms. I will protect you no matter what”

Ruggie

Used Laught with me, no discussion.

And there was no discussion with your ex. He just saw them with you, heard snippets that they wanted you back, that they wanted a second chance, blah blah blah ... and that was it, unique magic in action.

You got disoriented for a moment when you saw your ex walking strangely towards the exit, but when you heard the famous giggle of your boyfriend you knew immediately what was happening.

Let's be honest, in all it was a pretty funny image.

Ruggie stayed by your side all afternoon in the Savanaclaw lounge room playing and splashing in the water.

"I may be a possessive and territorial hyena, but this hyena is at your complete mercy"

Jack

Nothing like a good roar to scare away any predator that intends to stick its nose into other's prey.

Just kidding, Jack would never consider you prey, you are his significant other and that means he must protect you from any danger.

Wolf mode activated to the surprise of your ex.

He growled until their figure could not be seen on the horizon… lowkey cute as fuck.

Give him cuddles in this form, he would really appreciate it… he really would love your hands caressing his soft fur.

Record a video of his tail wagging, just for science.

“I figured you were uncomfortable and couldn't think of anything else to get your ex off your back. Now come with me, I want to caress you correctly"

Azul

Believe me when I tell you that the appearance of your ex not only irritated Azul, but also brought him insecurities that he thought were already buried under the ground.

The fact that a stranger appeared at the doors of the Mostro Lounge with an air of melodrama was enough for our octopus to go out to meet them directly, thinking they was just another customer ... an annoying customer, to tell the truth.

But when they started yelling for your presence, demanding that you come back to them, oh ... Yeah, this so-called customer is now banned from entering.

He let Floyd and Jade take care of them.

Like Riddle, give him love and a few sweets, he needs it. He really needs affection.

He needs to hear your voice, to remind him that you are with him now. He wants to hear you say that he is the only person in your world right now and that you would not leave him for nothing.

“I'm a silly octopus who got tangled in your arms and not the other way around. Only you give me the comfort that I've been looking for so much "

Jade

Your ex must have some balls of steel to even be close to Jade and plan to face him to have you back ... this guy has a suicidal desire.

Jade's appearance was not only scary, but his way of talking and engaging in conversation with your ex was what made them run out of the Mostro Lounge.

But you were already more than used to his characterization as an intimidating person.

Bring him a basket full of multiple mushrooms from the botanical garden, he will appreciate it.

And maybe also a glass container to create a little mini environment for those mushrooms… both of you will have a nice time together, maybe the whole night putting it together.

"You are my favorite starfish and I cannot allow any sea thorn to monopolize your beauty"

Floyd

Even having the same calm expression as Jade when he saw your ex, it didn't last long. The moment your name came out of their mouth, Floyd's face broke.

You remember in episode 3 when he asks Adeuce braincell to shut up, well… that same expression.

By this time, Floyd was no longer as calm as his brother; in fact, he went directly to squeeze them.

If you paid close attention you could hear how the ribs were cracking little by little. Good thing you were there to stop Floyd.

Your ex stalked to the exit as they was nearly squeezed alive and Floyd gave you a grin from ear to ear as if he had done nothing wrong.

"I protect what is mine, no one has the right to take my shrimpy from my side"

Kalim

At first this ray of sunshine didn't even know what was happening, he thought they were just looking for you to chat, to keep up.

But when he heard this strange person exclaim that they wanted you back… he was still just as lost, but not in an innocent way.

He went to where you were to give you a big hug in front of your ex. He may have looked cute and adorable, but unconsciously Kalim was marking his territory.

Kindly asked your ex to leave the dorm and not make any more advances, they were making you uncomfortable, and if you were uncomfortable he was uncomfortable.

He gave you butterfly kisses when the situation calmed down. Give him kisses back, he needs them.

“You love me, right? Because I love you very much, and my love cannot be compared with anything in the world, and yours cannot be bought even with all the jewels I have in the treasure chamber "

Jamil

This is simple. Jamil only asked your ex once to leave the dorm.

Not understanding reasons the first time, he simply used his unique magic causing them to go "on their own".

Problem solved. NOW, that doesn't mean Jamil was in a good mood.

Not at all. Anger can be seen rising from his ears like smoke, but his face expresses calm.

Help him in the kitchen, he may not say anything, but internally he will thank you.

Cuddling in the middle of the night, curled up in his bed? HELL YEAH.

"You are the most precious diamond I have in my life, I am not going to let you go so easily"

Vil

How dare this pathetic person to proclaim you back in front of his own nose?

Putting aside how impressed he was by such a daring act, Vil was once again furious.

Vil isn’t a person who defends his opponent in a violent way like Leona or Floyd, but he could attack the self-esteem and brain.

Even though… if the obscene words towards you kept bubbling out of their disgusting mouth, he would have to give him a poison apple.

It almost happened, thank goodness you were there to lower the fumes.

Vil was irritable all day and not even a beauty treatment could calm him… shit this was bad.

Give him a couple of hours to calm down and try talking to him during the night and if he doesn't want to, you can always do the routine for his face before going to sleep.

“I'll be honest, I liked your ex's audacity, but it didn't displease to see how mistreated they was and if I can correctly assume, the mistreatment they caused you. You are here with me and I am here with you, neither is going to be detach from the other "

Rook

When Rook saw how your ex was trying to convince you to come back… let's just say he didn't take it very well.

But his face said otherwise. He had the same grinning and somewhat creppy expression as ever, so it was difficult to determine in that tense moment whether he was really angry or not.

I think the arrow that passed between the two of you, best expressed between your two faces, made it pretty clear that Rook wasn't going to sit idly by.

A bit violent and shocking, but effective. Your ex shitted their pants and stormed out of the place, without even looking back.

Coward.

"I'm sorry for the bad moment I put you on, but nobody touches my prey"

It may be that his action was with tenderness of support, but that doesn’t remove the shock from your face.

You slept with one eye open that night.

Epel

Let's say the conversation got off to a good start, until your ex had the brilliant idea of mistaking Epel for a girl.

Oh yeah, the truck driver's voice came out to our farmer.

Be prepared to hold him and prevent him from giving your ex a tremendous punch in the face. Even in that situation your damn ex had the decency to keep asking you to go back to them.

It even occurred to them to denigrate Epel for how short and his supposedly sweet voice was... now you can let him go.

With your ex out of your sight and a reprimanding of Vil towards Epel's ugly acting, you guys spent the night in your bedroom.

Simple caresses and a few small butterfly kisses to calm the atmosphere.

“Sorry, I lost control and gave you a hard time. Don't be mad at me, I don't even want to think about the possibility of losing you "

Idia

Oh… .emmm, embarrassed baby became even more embarrassed at having to come face to face with a complete stranger.

Talking to you is one thing, but talking about yourself with your supposed ex is another thing entirely; he even finds it difficult to talk about you with his own brother, so imagine the traumatic moment Idia had to go through.

In a stuttering manner, he asked them to please get away of hs face… and from school. If the shame towards his person was not enough to get your ex out of there, no problem ...

From somewhere he'd get a little machine that would run your ex's fucking ass outside the doors of NRC.

The machine would have a small camera embedded so you could see from its monitors how your ex ran like a baby with their butt burned thanks to Idia's invention.

He may have uploaded the file to the internet… who knows.

After this terrible and agonizing day, Idia doesn’t plan to leave his room until the end of the year.

Stay with him as long as necessary, hours, days, afternoons, nights, early mornings, whatever it is, just ... stay hugged him at all times.

“For a moment I thought you were going to leave with your ex. You know, Ortho loves you very much, and you leaving would make him very sad ... and me too"

Malleus

They have to have balls to go straight to Malleus and tell at his face that they wants you back.

10 for the audacity, -1000 for their physical health.

 Malleus, like Vil, doesn’t need to destroy or attack your ex, just standing there and acting intimidating is enough.

If your ex still wants to hang around you after seeing that scene, then Malleus is going to have to put his horns on it.

Nothing like a spark of fingers to make him disappear from your side and send him flying out of school.

They are fine, at least that’s what Malleus said.

“Even being amazed at the audacity of that little creature, they should learn that the word no means no. You, little human, you are mine"

Lilia

Big bear mama Lilia took the situation with great grace. If only your ex knew that the were talking to a fairy over five hundred years old I throw a number they would freeze.

He endured the boring and monotonous talk with your ex with a sarcastic smile and when they finished speaking he wished them a good way back. He then sent them flying towards the exit of Diasomnia.

With their butt out, Lilia slammed the door in their face. You watched the scene from the top of the dorm lounge stairs.

At no time did our little fairy have a hair out of place. And with that same tranquility he disappeared from the door and magically appeared next to you with his characteristic smile and face down.

He gave you sweet kisses before he went out to babysit some freshmen who were about to set the kitchen on fire… as if Lilia hadn't done it before.

“Don't listen to them, they are part of your past. The best thing is to leave it behind, because now you have a present with me "

Silver

It happened in one of the few times when Silver was wide awake and with no intention of going to sleep in whatever corner he came across first.

Still, he literally didn't understand anything, he just wanted to spend time with you and that time was ruined.

Silver did nothing, just grabbed your hand and led you into the hall of mirrors, disappearing into Diasomnia's one.

Before going through the mirror, you turned your gaze over your shoulder, seeing how your ex was following both of you and with a handshake which happened to be raised the middle finger you disappeared into the mirror.

In the warm cold of the bedroom, you spent a long time in the arms of your loved one.

"There is no need to look into the past, I like living the present with you"

Sebek

Don't hate me for what I'm going to say… but your ex didn't even have a chance to say hello, Sebek was already on his shoulders asking them to leave if he didn't want them to face a duel.

Just kidding, not a duel… but it would give him their lesson if they didn't immediately leave the dorm.

No one without the consent of his young master Malleus could enter the residence. And speaking of Malleus… he spent about half an hour talking about his master and how he would be able to turn them to ash if they approached Diasomnia again.

And by the way to you too.

"Incredible how a person thinks they had the right to appear like this out of nowhere, how could you be with a person like that?"

Oddly enough, the day passed like nothing, even at bedtime Sebek acted as if your ex had never shown up.

But… during the early morning, a heaviness on your stomach woke you up from your dreams. Sebek was huddled behind you, his head buried in your hair, his arms across your belly.

[everybodyscupoftea]

finally free

ole miss rafe x reader

rafe is tired, you try and help, and eventually the two of you get to drink

two in one day baby (almost?)

(warnings: cursing, drinking, hardly edited)

Rafe had been exhausted lately, cancelling dates to do homework and pulling at least one all-nighter a week. He’d decided to TA his first semester in the program, and while you were happy he got the subject of his choice, you were worried he was running himself too ragged.

It’s not like you had much room to talk, Vet School had been brutal, and the amount of work was what you expected, but weren’t exactly prepared for. A lot of the time you’d spent together starting mid-semester was takeout and homework in one of your apartments.

Your semester came to an end before Rafe’s by two weeks, and you spent the first week catching up on sleep, working out, and making actual home cooked meals for Rafe. You’d been practically living at his apartment, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Babe,” you called one morning, walking out of his room around 10:30.

He was sitting at the dining room table, and looked up at you, glasses perched on the edge of his nose, “What’s up?”

“About to head to the gym, want some breakfast before I go?”

“Had a bagel, thanks though.”

You nodded and kissed his forehead before heading toward the door, “Gonna get some groceries while I’m out and probably Strange Brew. Text me if you decide you want me to pick something up.”

He smiled at you tiredly, and you could see the bags under his eyes from across the room, “Thanks, sweetheart, I think I’m good though. Going to work for a few hours and then take a nap.”

“Please take a nap, you need it. How many days do you have left?”

“Three and then next week is finals. So I’ll have tests and papers to grade. Plus my schoolwork.”

“Are the tests multiple choice?”

“Yeah.”

“I can do those. So you can focus on your own shit and the papers.”

You couldn’t be sure, but it looked like his eyes filled up and the lines on his face softened, “That would be fantastic.”

“Alrighty then, sounds like a plan. I’ll see you in a few, you’d better be asleep when I get back.”

Rafe grinned and sent you a salute, “Yes ma’am.”

-

He had clearly just laid down by the time you got back, and when you walked in, arms full of grocery bags. Laid on the couch, he jolted, eyes snapping open. You winced, “Sorry, babe.”

Putting away the groceries, you went over the couch and knelt down before running your fingers through his hair. He hummed, leaning into your hand, “Not asleep like you told me to, sorry.”

You smiled softly, “S’okay, you almost were, I woke you up.”

“Groceries put away?” he asked suddenly.

“Mhmm.”

Without saying anything else, he lifted the edge of the blanket closest to you, a clear invitation for you to slide in next to him. Huffing out a laugh, you kicked your shoes off and laid down, half on top of Rafe.

Rafe wrapped a leg and both arms around you, adjusting the blanket until he was happy, and then promptly fell asleep. You smiled and rested your forehead on his collarbone, content to lay in silence with him for a little while.

It couldn’t have been more than two hours before an alarm on his phone under the throw pillow started going off, startling you out of the half asleep state you’d fallen into and waking him up completely.

“Fuck,” he slurred, “don’t wanna get up.”

“Sleep more,” you told him, voice just as quiet.

“Can’t. Got a paper on the Black Plague due in a few days, don’t have enough sources yet.”

“Baby,” you muttered, “you’re running yourself ragged. If you don’t sleep your paper won’t be good anyway.”

Rafe shut his eyes tightly, “I know. But I just can’t.”

“Is there something I can do for you.”

“I-” he paused, one hand coming up to rub his eyes, “you aren’t my mom, I hope you know I really don’t see you that way. I don’t want to treat you like that, you need to know that you’re my equal and that you don’t have to take care of me, that I’m capable of it.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “I know. Where’s this coming from?”

“Can you,” Rafe sighed, clenching his eyes shut for a second, “would you mind taking care of my laundry? It’s been a few weeks and I’m almost out of underwear.”

“Yeah, of course. I need to do mine too.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I did offer.”

“Yeah, but I’ve seen my friends act like children, treat their girlfriend like a glorified mother. I don’t want to be like that.”

“You aren’t,” you reassured, “I promise.”

He smiled wryly, “Let me know if I am, yeah?”

“I will, don’t worry.”

-

A week later found you and Rafe sitting on the floor, side by side, backs leaning against the couch. He had a key spread out between the two of you, and you had a stack of exams handed in by two sections of the class. He had an even thicker stack of essays in one hand, and a blue pen in the other. 

“Why blue?” you asked, twirling your own black pen in your fingers.

“Hmm?” he mumbled, looking over at you.

“Blue pen instead of black or red, why?” you asked again.

“Oh,” he smirked, “Ole Miss blue.”

“You,” your jaw dropped, “I hate you.”

“You so don’t. I’d even go as far to say you love me.”

“You know I do, please don’t act slick. You’re an MSU student now.”

“Uh huh, only two years compared to five at Ole Miss.”

“Grade your essays, I don’t want to talk to you,” you huffed, faking annoyance, and turned up the quiet music playing through the speaker.

He dropped his head back against the couch and whined, “These papers are so bad though. Like they barely even tried.”

“I’m sure they did, babe, but you’re used to graduate level writing now.”

“No,” he shoved one in your face, a strand of hair falling over his furrowed brow, “read this.”

Grabbing his wrist, you pulled it a few inches from your face to read. He stared at you as you scanned, and made a triumphant noise when you squinted,

“There are a few mistakes,” you mumbled.

“Generous,” he added, sounding smug.

“Don’t make fun of kids, they’re barely 18.”

“They’re assholes,” he corrected you, “like I knew it was a mostly freshman class, but goddamn. I hope I wasn’t this annoying back then.”

“You probably were. I mean, you were barely tolerable when you and I met.”

“No, I was relatively mature, I just didn’t know how to express emotion in a normal way.”

You put a hand on his shoulder and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, “You’ve come a long way.”

Rafe’s cheeks went a little red, and you cooed at him. He pushed your face away from his and muttered, “Grade the exams. You’re a menace.”

-

“Hey, sweetheart,” Rafe asked three nights before his last exam.

“Mhmm?” you answered, half asleep.

“Do we have Christmas plans this year?”

“Don’t think so, why?”

“I wasn’t sure if we were going to your parents’ house.”

“Haven’t talked to my mom in a while,” you frowned, “you think I should call her?”

“Up to you.”

“No, you’re part of this decision too. I know you’re exhausted, so if you don’t want to travel, we won’t.”

He frowned, “You can still go.”

“And leave you alone on Christmas?” He shrugged, not meeting your eye, and you pushed yourself up, staring down at him, “Rafe, you know I wouldn’t, right?”

“I mean, we’ve only been together for a year,” he mumbled.

“Not quite yet,” you corrected, absentmindedly, “but still, you’re important to me.”

“Well, in that case, call your mom, we’ll make the trip.”

“Are you sure? Why don’t you take a few days to think it over. I know you’ve never met them in person before. Doing it on a holiday would be a bit overwhelming.”

He laughed, “Yeah, I guess it would.”

“Sleep now, get back to me.”

“Fine.”

-

The afternoon of Rafe’s last final, you walked into his apartment to hear Christmas music blasting. Your boyfriend was sprawled out on the couch surrounded by beer bottles, and he gave you a lazy wave, “Sup, mamas.”

“Hey, Rafe. How’d the test go?”

“Excellent. Now I’m celebrating.”

“I see that.”

“It’s Christmas season now.”

“Now, huh?”

“Well the tree has been decorated for two weeks now, so I could argue that your logic is flawed.”

“No no,” he held his hand up, “it’s only Christmas now that I can focus on it.”

“You given any thought to Christmas plans?” you asked.

Rafe sat up suddenly, “Yes,” he pointed at you, “what if we FaceTime your parents instead of making the long ass drive.”

“Fine with me. I talked to my mom the other day and she told us that she’d put our presents in the mail anyway. They expected this.”

He frowned, “You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Great, sounds great.”

“Great,” you joked in response. 

Rafe rolled his eyes and shoved your shoulder, “Drink with me.”

“I will. Picked some stuff up this afternoon for spiked eggnog, by the way.”

“Oh fuck yes. Homemade eggnog?”

“Of course.”

He followed you to the kitchen, so close he was almost tripping over your heels, and you huffed, coming to a stop. Rafe ran into your back before stepping back, a sheepish grin on his face, “Sorry.”

“Can I trust you to help me or are you too gone right now?”

“I can help,” he nodded, doing his best to look sober.

“Fine, you’ll stir, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He stood by the stove, wooden spoon in hand, feet spread further than shoulder width apart, dropping down to your height. You measured out the milk and cream and turned the heat up, giving him a weird look, “Why are you standing like that?”

“You were humming that song that’s like do you see what I see and I don’t, so I was curious.”

“It’s a song? You don’t have to take it literally.”

“Hmm, braincells gone. Everything is literal unless specified.”

You snorted, “Stir, dumbass,” before starting to separate the egg whites from the yolks. Keeping an eye on him, you started to whisk the egg yolks, pausing to help him add in the sugar, vanilla and nutmeg when the milk started bubbling.

“Smells good,” he told you, sniffing the mixture.

“It does. You ready to whisk it in?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Rafe very carefully poured and you whisked before pouring it back into the saucepan.

“You got a thermometer?” you asked him, flipping the heat back on.

He pulled open a drawer and brandished one eagerly, clearly proud of himself for being prepared, “Fuck yeah I do.”

“Put it in, tell me when it hits 160.”

Rafe stared, eyebrows furrowed, fully focused on the number. When he told you, you flipped the heat off again and poured in the rum and brandy. Making it a bit stronger than you normally would.

“Bro,” he said, taking a spoonful, “this is incredible.”

“Thanks, bro,” you answered, bumping your hip into his.

“Oh, hip check,” he bumped back, twice as hard, knocking you off balance.

“Rafe,” you glared, stepping away to pour two glasses, “don’t make me spill or you can make another batch on your own.”

“No,” he pouted, “I could never.”

“You couldn’t, no.”

You watched, appalled, as Rafe chugged his first glass, slamming it down and wiping his mouth with the back of his other hand.

“Shit’s good,” he told you earnestly.

“We’re not at a bar, Rafe. Take it easy.”

“Nope, blackout remember?”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, rubbing a hand over your forehead, “pour yourself another I guess.”

Rafe leaned in for a kiss, missing your mouth and landing on your chin, but it was like he didn’t even realize before he was moving around you back to the pitcher you’d poured it in.

It didn’t take many more cups for Rafe to be totally gone, curled up with you on the couch while the live action Grinch played in the background, eyes fluttering shut every few seconds.

“Tired?” you finally whispered, when you were pretty sure there was drool on your shirt.

“Huh?” he asked, blinking rapidly, “No.”

“Sure,” you responded, amused, “let’s go get ready for bed, huh?”

You put the empty cups in the dishwasher before guiding Rafe to the bathroom to make him brush his teeth and get undressed. 

“Tryna get me naked?” he asked, swaying in place as he pushed his shirt over his head lazily.

“Yeah,” you answered, rubbing moisturizer in.

Rafe followed you to bed, falling in after you, mostly on top of you, knocking the breath out of your chest.

“Jesus, Cameron,” you wheezed.

“Rafe is fine,” he mumbled into your neck, and was out like a light a few seconds later.

You sighed, squirming under him to try and get comfortable before falling asleep yourself.

~

day 7 of @obxmermaid​‘s holiday challenge: spiked eggnog or cider

[guessimwritingficsagain]

To been seen, part Four (Frankie Morales x Reader)

Summary : You get a text. You freak out.

Author’s note : I am very very soft for Frankie.

Also, I have a few days off and I thought I have been really self-indulgent so : the cheese gift really happened to me (best birthday ever, he got me a Mont d'Or because he knew I had planned on eating one with my best friend to celebrate), the Edward Scissorchands movie thing really happened to me, and the "date" with the grandma too. In France, the Opera is often showed in movie theaters. When I was a teenager, I thought it was quite the event, though. So I got invited. Next thing we saw together with that guy was the movie Black Swan and I made sure someone was tagged along.

The holidays came and went in a blur of laughter, hot chocolate was big sweaters. You were happy. And Jessie was happy too. January came, and went, too. Everything was slow. So you watched the movie you’d bought, and a bunch of others too.

February was over before you knew it, and when March warmed up the air, you found yourself, one morning, looking at the screen of your phone like the message would disappear if you blinked. You turned your eyes to the cupboard that contained the empty box of chocolate that sat there, hidden from the sniggering remarks of Linda, and looked back at the screen. The text message was still there. You put the phone down, abruptly, fingers tingling and burning and went to get a glass of water. Your eyes landed on the bottle of wine, still unopened, and you almost spilled your drink. You went back to your phone in a hurry, opened the chat you shared with your friends and sent

Who the fuck gave Francisco fucking Morales my phone number ?????

You waited, breathing hard, hoping anyone would answer. Nothing came, not right away. Phone on the table again, you slumped on the couch, nervous breakdown on its way. You couldn’t do it, there was no way you could do that, you couldn’t, that would kill you, you wouldn’t survive this.

Time floated for a while, up until your phone vibrated and you jumped. You’d been so caught up in your thoughts you hadn’t noticed everyone had answer, Anna, Jessie and Linda with a simple « not me » but James …

James had sent a

Go get some

And an eggplant emoji.

James, then.

Okay.

Okay.

You were fine. You could answer a text. You knew the drill, by now. You knew how to pretend you were not freaking out every time Frankie did something unexpected and kind, like that time he offered you chocolate and a bottle of wine for Christmas. You had coping mechanisms, now, to hide the fact you had a doctorate in yearning.

You’d replayed the Christmas Scene so many times in your head you sometimes thought you made it up, but the reminders were there, in your flat.

You’re replaying it now.

You’re getting out of your car, with ten minutes to spare before work starts. It’s almost six. You spot Frankie’s truck on the parking lot and you’re a bit surprised but mostly delighted, even more so when you see the man himself jogging towards you. It takes you a minute to see he’s holding presents. By the time he gets to you, you’re confused. He smiles a breathy hello before handing you what he’s got in his hands. You stare at the neatly wrapped packages for a bit, like the dumbass you are, unable to put two and two together. Maybe it’s for Clara ?

It must be for Clara.

You take them. Say thank you. And Frankie answers :

« Open them. »

Your braincells must have left the building like God in Supernatural, gone off to do the Macarena dance somewhere very far away because all you can answer is what and you know you sound like a dumbass and you feel like one too.

The lack of reaction is getting to Frankie, you can tell, because he’s rubbing the back of his neck and you feel bad that he’s embarrassed so you say :

« You got me presents ? »

Well, except you don’t really say it. More squeal it. Or shriek it. You’re not sure. It feels like a repeat of that moment a boy you’d liked but never made a move on offered you fucking cheese on your birthday and was all embarrassed about it and you didn’t know what to do or say because his birthday had been a few days before yours and you didn’t get him anything.

You add, for good measure, because why the hell not :

« But I didn’t get you anything. »

Like maybe he’s going to take them back, or maybe the moment is going to rewind except you don’t want it to rewind because Frankie has gifts for you, just for you.

Maybe he got something for Jessie and Anna, too ? You wonder. And Linda. You know he goes there to buy books. Maybe he showed up and got her some stuff. Not books, you hope. Stupid to buy books to a bookseller.

All of this goes through your mind and in the meanwhile Frankie’s waiting and when you finally put your bag down on the hood of your car to carefully open the first present, your body finally moving, you don’t miss the sigh of relief that escapes Frankie. It’s a box of chocolate, a fancy one at that. You recognize the brand. You hold it for a while, before you set it down with your bag and say thank you in a voice that’s way too small. You open the second one, then. Wine. White wine. Wine that you actually love. Your favorite. You wonder how he knows that.

You’re holding the bottle the way he’s holding his breath : tight. You lift your eyes to meet his and you can tell he’s embarrassed and a bit blushing. He rearranges the cap on his head and announces :

« Merry Christmas. »

You say it back, smile so big your cheeks hurt because Frankie got you presents for Christmas. You put the bottle with the rest of your stuff and then, on a whim, you throw yourself at him for a hug. He closes his arms around you, and one hand comes up right between your shoulder-blades, his thumb just here, sitting on the back of your neck, skin against skin and maybe you’re dead and in heaven right now.

You stay like this way too long and at some point you mumble against his shoulder that you really didn’t get him anything.

« It’s fine », he answers as he lets go, hands squeezing your side briefly.

You get into work late.

And now, you got a text. You opened it, read it again.

Maybe you could do this. Maybe you could take it to the next level. After all, you’d became closer to the boys over the last two months. Santi could have sent you that text, right ? That text didn’t have the word date in it. Maybe you were friends now. Frankie’d gotten you Christmas presents, after all.

So you read the words again, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you sent a yeah, sure, I’m in !

Your eyes went over his message once again, just to make sure the words would be burnt into your brain.

Hey, it’s Frankie. I know Friday’s your day off this week. I got two tickets to that new Marvel movie and one with your name on it. You in ?

You could spend two hours in a dark room with Francisco Morales right next to you. No problem. None at all.

———

He’d picked a screening that ended around seven. Your mind supplied just in time for dinner, and you kicked the two remaining braincells you had. You’d decided to drive there separately and were now sitting next to each other, you explaining the Marvel timeline and him listening intently. You were a nerd, but, him, not as much. You didn’t try to think too hard about the fact that he was doing this for you, because he was not as much into comics or movies as you were.

The whole thing was pleasant and relaxed.

This was not a date, you reminded yourself.

You got dinner after that, dissecting the movie as you ate - nothing fancy, but it was nice. The conversation shifted, at some point.

« Yeah, I get what you mean : movies are not the place to make a move. Especially when there’s a hot guy on the screen. I mean, what chance do you get when you’re watching a movie and Oscar Isaac is right there ? » Frankie laughed.

You nodded, getting another sip of your drink, and, as an afterthought, added :

« You know, Santi kinda looks like Oscar Isaac … »

Frankie grunted :

« Never, ever, tell him that. »

You promised you wouldn’t. After that, the two of you told each other stories about your worst dates, and you remembered :

« You know, when I was younger, before I met James, I hung out with a bunch of guys. I was like, fourteen, and they were sort of … beginning to understand I was a girl, you know. There was this guy, a good friend of mine, who actually told this other guy we weren’t going to see a movie. I remember, it was a special screening of Edward Scissorshands. So, my other friend never showed up and the guy told me he couldn’t make it. »

« Let me guess, the other guy told you later he thought you weren’t going ? »

You laughed.

« Yeah, basically. And then this guy I went to see the movie with invited me to a really fancy thing. It was a Wednesday afternoon, I remember. We got lunch. I didn’t pay for anything because he’d invited to come along with him and his grandma. Let me tell you : after that, I made sure to always have someone with us when he invited me somewhere. »

Frankie’s laugh was something you’d never grew tired of, you knew that.

———

Months went on, like that, with you and Frankie hanging out to see movies, and everybody showing up for Benny’s fight when you could (Jessie and you had to keep James updated, those nights, because he’d gone back to Washington after new year’s eve but wanted to know everything). Jessie had started dating a guy, at some point, and you didn’t find him that great but Will hated him.

« When are you gonna make a move ? » You asked, one evening as you were sipping beers with him at his place.

« When she doesn’t have a boyfriend dull as dishwater » He answered without missing a beat.

You knew this was the moment, then. You had two options : say nothing and let things be, or say something and get those idiots together. You thought hard, about the phrasing of your next sentence, and settled with :

« For you, she’d dump him. »

Will froze at that, just for a second, and quipped back :

« I’ll make a move when you make a move on ‘Fish. »

So that conversation was happening. You’d hoped none of the guys had noticed but obviously, at least one of them had. And you knew, by now, that his ex-wife had left him, had left Maria too. You knew he was available. You sputtered a bit and Will, kind Will, let it be. You enjoyed a nice evening with him, not once wondering why he sought you out, because Will and you didn’t hang out.

The answer came a few days later, with a simple text from Frankie.

Come over please

———

« I need you to take care of Maria », Frankie said as he opened the door. He looked really tired, like he hadn’t slept in days.

Please, he added, begging but you didn’t quite understand what he was begging for.

You complied, never stopping to think that this was the first time you saw Maria, never stopping to think about what might be possibly happening, even as Frankie went to his room, muttering apologies. It hit you when you put the girl to bed, and you remembered Frankie and the way he’d been looking at you that day, when he’d asked if they could throw a birthday party for their late friend’s daughter.

It was around that time, last year.

You walked hesitantly towards Frankie’s bedroom and stared at the white paint in it for a while. You were nervous, and actually turned around to smoke a cigarette outside, the air a bit too chilly for you, but cold enough to wake you up and give you the strength to walk to Frankie’s bedroom and knock.

So you did it.

He didn’t answer, but, feeling bold - or rather, feeling like you needed to do it - you opened the door anyway. The room was almost dark, the moonlight giving you an idea that Frankie was curled up, on his side. You put a hand on his shoulder. He put his on top of yours. You chose - you chose - to take it at a silent invitation, lifted the covers, and got, fully dressed, right next to him. Because friends do that.

———

When you woke up, he was staring at you. While your brain tried to make sense of the situation, you asked, voice heavy with sleep :

« What time is it ? »

Seven, Frankie answered. Maria’s gonna wake up soon, he added. You were too tired to say anything else, because when you’d laid down next to him you’d felt like your heart had been about to burst so you’d just listened to him, his breath steadying as he’d got to sleep. You’d finally got to sleep too, but it was too damn early for you.

Later, you’d blame what happened on your foggy brain : you snuggled closer, and Frankie let you. Then, it hit you. At that moment, right next to him, it hit you : you were not friends with him. You were pretending to be, but you were not and never would.

You couldn’t.

You wanted to wake up everyday like that, to Frankie telling you it’s seven, Maria’s gonna be awake soon. You wanted everything and friends just wouldn’t cut it.

Two things happened at once, then : you were realizing how much you liked - loved - Frankie when he gently took one of your forearm and brought it to his lips. All of the feelings hit home just as he was kissing the soft skin on your wrist and you froze.

He saw it and let go immediately, muttering apologies, while you were still processing what you felt about him. When you reached to grab him, to tell him how good that was and how wanted him to do it again, it was already too late.

[rjhpandapaws]

When the Music Plays

Chapter 1: Jimmy's

Tw: Hank alcoholism and suicidal ideation.

A/N: just a reminder that I am playing fast and loose with Canon

Hank wasn’t the best with technology, for that and other reasons he kept clear of androids; but even he knew things were changing. Androids were going missing with more and more frequency. An alarming number of people were reporting being attacked by their androids before they disappeared. It was something bigger than programing issues he suspected, and he also knew he didn’t want to be anywhere near it when things finally fell apart. As usual though it seemed fate wasn’t all that inclined to listen to him. He was doing what he normally did on days like this; avoiding his responsibilities and making a valiant attempt to drown whatever braincells were stubborn enough to stick around. Old Fashioned had gotten too complicated a few hours back so he had moved on to straight whiskey hoping that his consciousness would get the hint and move on as well. He’d pass out at the bar in his usual fashion and Jimmy would wake him up at last call; he’d drive home and pray to get in a wreck, feed Sumo if he survived, sleep, then repeat everything again if he woke up again. Except that tonight his consciousness was too stubborn to leave. He was hunched over the bar, all but face first in his whiskey when Jimmy’s hand came into his line of sight. Once he had Hank’s attention he pointed over his shoulder. Hank turned to look, and standing right there in his sanctuary was a fucking android. Fucking fantastic.

The things Hank has liked about Jimmy’s had been that there were no androids allowed on the premises and everyone would mind their own damn business, too busy drinking to worry about what was happening around them. Except now there was an android in the middle of the bar and everyone was staring at him. What had been a sanctuary was no longer safe. The android was talking and the nice thing about being Deaf was that he could easily ignore him simply by not looking at him. So he turned back to the bar to continue nursing his whiskey. The thing had the nerve to sit beside him. It gave Hank time to finish his whiskey before it tapped on his shoulder to get his attention. Hank thought about trying to ignore him again, but he had the sneaking suspicion that wasn’t going to work. It had after all made itself at home in a clearly anti android bar. It was either here for him, had no sense of self preservation; or if Hank was particularly unlucky, both. He sighed and turned to face the android. Immediately it started talking again. Hank withheld the urge to bash his head against the bar as he picked up his hands to sign, ‘I Deaf.’ The android took a moment of pause. The Led om his temple blinked for a few cycles. It returned to blue and began to sign, ‘You Lieutenant A-N-D-E-R-S-ON?’

Hank wanted to groan, ‘Yes.’ He signed the letter ‘A’ and tapped it over his heart for his rank and name sign in one making things easier, ‘You Want What?’ ‘I Look For You.’ The android signed sharply, ‘I Find You After Five Bars.’ ‘You Want What?’ Hank repeated going as far as to tap the android’s chest. ‘I Sent For You. Active Case.’ It signed, ‘My Name C-O-N-N-O-R.’ He took a moment to to sign ‘machine’ but with the letter ‘C’. ‘I From CyberLife.’ Of course it was. Androids had taken every other job, and at long last it seemed they were coming after his. He sighed and rubbed at his face. ‘Tough Shit. I Not Join You.’ He didn’t even get back to facing the bar again before Connor tapped his shoulder again. Hank groaned and turned back to it. ‘If I Buy Drink You Will Come With Me?’ Connor asked and tipped his head to emphasize the question. Hank figured he had nothing left to lose. Connor had already made it clear he had no plans to leave him alone. So much so that he had made himself comfortable in a place that he clearly wasn’t welcome. ‘Sure. Why Not.’ There was no getting out of this as it was, so he might as well get a free drink out of it.

Hank didn’t see the bill Connor had slid across the counter, but after a long moment Jimmy slid him another whiskey. He took his time with it. He had to work this evening, which most likely meant dealing with Gavin and that wasn’t something he wanted to do sober. Connor just lingered. He sat stiffly in the corner of Hank’s vision, a constant reminder that he was one mistake away from being replaced. He didn’t know what Jeff was thinking with this, but Hank was certain he wasn’t going to like it. Unfortunately, a single glass of whiskey could only be made to last so long. Not to mention that Connor was just outside his line of sight as a solid reminder that there as no getting out of this. He sighed and set the empty glass down on the bar then stood. Connor followed him to the end of the bar and watched him settle the tab. It was creepy as all fuck. He got in his car and Connor got in on the passenger’s side without prompting which unsettled him. Hank reached across the car and opened the glove box. He felt around until he found his hearing aid case. He took them out and put them in, he turned them on, then put the radio on a volume where talking would be unpleasant if not difficult. With everything settled he made his way to the location that Connor had sent to his phone. Hank found androids as a whole to be off putting, not the least of this was because of how real they looked. This of course extended to Connor as well, but there was more to it than that when it came to him. He looked young, innocent almost and it was uncomfortable. Hank didn’t trust it. Androids had no reason to look like that. Something was up, and Hank had a feeling he was going to find out whether he wanted to or not. This android had sought him out and there was a reason for that. It was a mystery he would rather not solve, but he knew that wasn’t up to him either. So in his usual fashion, he planned to ignore it until it became unavoidable. They pulled into the scene and Hank turned off the radio and then turned to face Connor, “Stay in the car.” He said firmly and went so far to sign ‘stay’ as he spoke. “Got it.” Came the android’s response. His voice was somehow both earnest and emotionless. It was added to the list of things Hank found unsettling about Connor. Hank didn’t trust that he would actually stay in the car but he still got out. As much as he disliked it, he still had a job to do. If he got it done quickly enough he might even be able to go back to Jimmy’s and finished his night the right way. Drunk enough that none of this would stick around, or be a distant memory at the very least. He didn’t even make to the police line before he heard the other car door close. As he had suspected, his orders were not the ones Connor was designed to follow.

He waved at Ben who responded in kind then looked over Hank’s shoulder with a perplexed expression. Hank could hazard a guess at who or rather what he was looking at. Connor who was dutifully following him like some overly eager rookie. “I didn’t think you one to get an android.” Ben remarked with notable confusion to his voice. Hank gave another sigh, his annoyance mounting further, “He’s not mine. CyberLife sent it to try and figure out what is going on, I’m just along for the ride I suppose.” Ben eyed Connor and he and Hank both crossed the police line. Hank changed his focus to the scene, though it took longer than he would have liked given the whiskey coursing through his system. He kept one eye on Connor as he looked over the scene. He wanted to know what had happened here as well as what Connor was capable of. From what he had gathered from the landlord Carlos Ortiz hadn’t been the best tenant, or even a good one at that. A Red Ice addiction and an android, those two things never mixed well as it was. Now the guy was dead, and like many androids as of late, his has vanished. Hank figured Connor was here for the android and he would be left with the homicide. It made the most sense. So with that plan in mind he made his way into the house.

The house was a mess, which Hank had for the most part expected. His years spent as a detective were the only things that kept him from losing his stomach at the smell. He talked to some of the other officers that were present before he went over the scene itself. Once he had an idea of what had happened he stepped out of the way to let Connor do his thing. Whatever that happened to be. He watched Connor go over the scene. It was unusual. The android would stand in one corner of the room or a doorway and observe the room as though he was watching something that Hank was unable to see. After that it would go through the room and observe the evidence. The LED would cycle between yellow and blue. What Hank was by no means ready for was when Connor swiped two of his fingers through god only knew what and then licked it. “Jesus Christ. Connor what the fuck?” Hank groaned as he looked away. “My apologies Lieutenant.” He didn’t sound the least bit sorry, “I have a fully functional forensic analysis unit and I wanted results on the thirium before it evaporated.” “Just don’t do it again.” Hank replied as he turned back toward Connor. “Got it.” Connor responded in the same empty earnest tone from the car that Hank didn’t trust for a moment.

They moved through the house and the process repeated itself, save for the licking of mystery substances thankfully. The bathroom was a sight to behold. They both agreed that it was the android’s doing, but it was strange. As Hank understood it, android’s didn’t think. There was no way for them to develop beliefs, faith, or create something this ritual. Yet there it was. It was concerning in how unusual it was, and Hank was once again uncomfortable. This android, wherever it was, was defective and dangerous; but it also seemed like something more was going on. Hank couldn’t place what and he was getting more suspicious. Connor was looking up at the ceiling like he could see something that wasn’t there. Hank looked up to be sure, and other than the latch to the crawl space there was nothing up there. Connor’s LED rolled yellow and stayed there for a long moment. He passed Hank on his way out of the bathroom and Hank hesitated before he followed. Connor met him in the hallway with a chair from the dining room and Hank’s confusion only grew. “Connor, what are you doing?” He asked as he turned toward the bathroom. “The android is still here.” Came the distant reply. His voice was still emotionless and flat, but somehow colder at the same time. It teetered on dangerous and Hank didn’t like it.

Hank waited in the hallway because he had the feeling he wouldn’t want to be in the way when Connor came down with that android. He couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling from having heard Connor’s voice so dangerous but flat at the same time. It didn’t suit how he had been built to look, though Hank supposed that was the point. As it stood, the fact that CyberLife felt the need to get personally involved in this; as personal as sending an android to do your bidding could be; made him uncomfortable. Why send an android liaison? What were they trying to do? All of it was suspicious. There was more going on than they were being told, he just needed to figure out what. A commotion from the attic brought him out of his thoughts. Connor had found the android and apparently it didn’t plan to come quietly. Hank moved back toward the main part of the house; he didn’t want to be caught between two androids with something to settle. Connor and the other android got into another smaller scuffle in the front yard before they made their way back to the station to try and question the thing. There had the be a reason for it to have snapped like that. The alternative was that it was only a matter of time before every android out in the world did something like this; and that was not a line of thought that Hank was too keen on entertaining.

Gavin was waiting for them outside of the interrogation room when they got back and Hank had decided that he was way too sober for this. Hank pushed to have Connor question the android, it was the only way he could think of to get answers from it. Though as he watched Connor effortlessly manipulate it he came to regret that. Everything about Connor made him nervous, and that was before the other android had decided to self destruct in its holding cell. As Hand drove home in what was now the early hours of the morning he had the feeling that this was going to get so much worse before it got better. That, and he had better get used to this ever-present discomfort because he likely hadn’t seen every side of Connor yet.

[thequeenb]

"Goodbye Poppy" Angst Pleaseee! Thank you

you asked for it anon

Poppy x MC

Never in a million years i would thought that i would actually have to leave my dream University but here i am packing my bags because reality hits harder than untouchable dreams. Zoe couldn't handle the sight of me packing, she is in her room crying, i mean who wouldn't? We have been through so much together

I can still hear her stupid laugh, i can still see her sarcastic smile, the hideous yet amused look she gave me when i lost, her words still ringing through my ears

"Have fun back in pig town Hughes" everyone laughed, everyone clapped except a few, within the large crowd i could spot some sad faces knowing well i have to leave

What's the point? This year has been hell, i was so focused on winning a stupid crown instead of expanding my academic knowledges and in the end all i am left with is nothing

I suddenly feel the walls consuming me, the T shirt i was folding is long forgotten as i grip tight at it. Flashbacks of each semester come crushing down like a thunderstorm on my mind. The Kick-off day, the halftime show, the frat parties, the endless nights i spent with Zoe and of course all these wasted hours i sat alone thinking about Poppy.

Tears form in my eyes and i try to blink them away. I have a lot of things to pack because my father will come pick me up soon. Gathering all my strength i finish packing and i decide to go for a walk and get some steam off of my body

The night air hits my face as i wrap my arms around my body protectively. What the fuck am i even doing? Its just a stupid university, except its not. I have so many memories here. I walk past the Zeta building and a shiver runs through my body

In my surprise i see Poppy sitting alone on a bench nearby and i turn around wanting to run for my life but i freeze when i hear her shaky voice call for me

"H-Hughes?" I sigh as i turn around walking towards her

"What do you want Poppy? rub your victory on my face? Its all over the T everyone knows no need to put on a show"

"I read on The T that you are leaving" she says returning back to her usual bitchy tone

"Yes i am going back to pig town, i hope your one braincell is satisfied" i scoff folding my arms as i feel my cheeks go red from anger

"Gosh you are annoying stop talking" she now buries her face in her hands. Wow wont your expensive make up get ruined Miss Min-Rich?

"I don't understand your frustration, you got what you wanted since day one and here you are being a bitch about it. If you honestly think i will feel bad--"

"Agh shut up! You don't understand!" Her tone now changed, but she looks at me in the eyes and i can see them shine under the moonlight

"Are you crying?" Without hesitation i approach closer tilting her chin up so she can meet my eyes, she doesn't pull away as i run my fingers across her face, yes she is crying

Poppy Min-Sinclair. The person who wanted to destroy me since she first laid eyes on me, the same person who wanted to murder me too many times during this year. Am i dreaming?

"Oh wow at least you have some humanity left in you" she pulls away from my grip and i sigh sitting next to her. I am so tired, i was packing for hours, confronting Zoe, reading all the hideous comments people left under T's update

"Something got in my eyes dont get so--"

Oh hell no. She made your life a living hell and you will sit here confronting her when she should be the one doing so? I dont think so Bea

"Ha! Do you think i actually care? I am leaving damnit! This was my dream University, a way to change my whole life and now what? I have to leave because of you!" These words come out of my mouth without realising and now i stand up running looking at the sky hopelessly

"Dont raise your vo--" she tries to speak but i cut her off again

"You don't get to talk. You tortured me, you made everyone turn their back on me and you have the audacity to cry?"

I pace in circles as i feel my anger flow through my veins. This is it, this is my reaching point. One more second and i will explode, Tic tac tic tac..

"You weren't crying when you were trying to humiliate me Infront of the whole university" i now pause sitting next to her. Her bittersweet perfume is filling my lungs and for a moment all i can do is stare at her messy hair and her weak posture. Maybe it doesn't sounds like something big but seeing Poppy like this? It kind of worries me

"When you were telling me how worthless i am, how i need to go back to my town, how i dont belong here..you never ever cried" i throw my hands in the air frustrated

"So why now huh? Or are these happy tears? If yes then Excuse me for interrupting your stupid celebration"

Taking a deep breath i can sense how tense she is just by looking at her body and hearing her shaky breaths, maybe she is the one on the verge of a meltdown

"I like you..i really do Hughes" she doesn't dare to look at me in the eyes, instead she stare at the night sky and time seems to stop

She likes me? Since when? All i can remember is all the awful situations she has put me through and BOOM, I can't handle my pain anymore. I stand up again looking at her with fury

"Oh you like me, yea awesome that makes so much sense!! If i knew fighting and bullying turns you on i would have made my move earlier"

"That's why i didn't want--" but once again she is cut off

"Oh don't you dare even say a word. Since i got here all you ever did was to manipulate me and every god damn student and do you know what i did?" I raise my voice intently, and before i can stop myself i continue

"I kept thinking..why is Poppy behaving like this? Who hurt her? Where did it all go wrong? I even felt bad for you, for who? For the most awful person that exists!!" Wow maybe i am going off way to hard but its either now or never

"And do you know what's the funniest thing of all? I like you too Poppy, i really do even after everything you have done"

This is the first time that she meets my eyes tonight and i can see fresh tears running down her face. Vulnerable Poppy is something rare, so i take a deep breath trying to calm myself down

"Why did you have to be so cruel?" My voice breaks as tears take over me. How could we let this escalate to something so terrible? How could we both hide our feelings so perfectly masking them behind hatred?

"You don't have to leave Bea" this is the first time she ever said my name. She always referred to me with my last name or other nasty nicknames her and her circle were thinking about

"The Dean already reached out, seems like your charm worked as always" i sigh wiping away my tears

I look at the sky again, noticing that it slowly changing colours. I am leaving today, i leave everything i have ever felt passionate about behind me, all because i lost at her game and got burned

"I should really get going, my father will be here 7 am sharp, I don't want the whole university watching me leave while cheering"

Poppy stands up with me adjusting her clothes. She might have not spoken a lot but her silence is actually enough for me to understand that this bothers her. I expected her to jump from happiness or throw a giant party to celebrate my absence but instead she looks like a mess

Before i can turn around and walk she stares at me for one brief second before crushing her lips against mine. Her strawberry flavour lip gloss mixed with her bittersweet perfume make my senses dizzy and i get lost in the sensation.

She pushes me away and i see now her mascara running "no waterproof mascara Miss Perfect?" I tease and i earn a little laugh off of her

"Shut up jerk" she leans in again giving me a soft peck on my lips and i melt against her. How can i possibly leave her behind?

So i lean in again giving her one last breathless kiss and once we part i whisper against her lips "Goodbye Poppy". My breath ghost her face and with all my willpower i push her slowly walking away.

Before i can turn my back on her i stop to take her in. Part of me will miss her attitude, her comebacks, the little fights. I scan her from head to toe making sure i will never forget such an enemy.

And then i turn around and i can feel the tears dropping uncontrollably. What happened to me? I was so mad and now look at me i am a mess for her. Despite the urge to turn around i can feel her eyes burning my back and i try pull myself together.

Walking away i let the memories brush away. I will never forget how much fun and adventure i have been through this university. Everything will now be a memory and i know fully that right now i am not just leaving a building behind, but friendships, a great future and do you know what else i leave behind? Poppy. I will miss you, but i hope you know that you are unforgettable.

Tag list: @lolimugly @origmansello @greatestflirt-hero @mvalentine @otakufangirl-12 @sugarplumpnhoneybun @princessstellaris @coldbatfriendroad @indecisive-choices @i-loveeveryone @kiara-36 @ognenniyvolk @somewillwin @it-lives-in-braidwood-manor @ghalind @dumb-jock-lesbian @sergeant-pepper-loves-choices @dibberdipper @justastranger-passing

[1-800-get-sherlocked]

this was supposed to be an incorrect quote but it spiraled out of control

note: im american idk if yall brits have cuties (kidding im sure ur all cuties ok im sorry i couldnt resist) but i really had to alright pls be-ryllium ar-gon with me yes im sorry we are revisiting chem lads dont worry i will provide you translations/i will make it obvious also theres switching povs & im telling you ahead of time: the puns are very, very bad 

also i wrote this at like late 5am un-beta-ed so please forgive me for any mistakes, i have 0.5 braincells left and i used up 0.279 for academic papers

kind of a crackfic btw 

ok without further ado bc i ramble too much, other notes at the end: 

*on Valentine’s Day*

John woke up to the sound of clinking and the faint sound of rustling of papers, the other side of the bed empty and cold. Ah, probably on that experiment again with those oranges he said were also a good pet name for me. What was it again? Right, cuties. A small smile appeared on John’s unshaven face. His hubby was too endearing for his own good sometimes. 

In the kitchen, Sherlock paced back and forth, eyeing his failed experiment with disdain. Which he was totally worrying more about rather than whether his plan would work. Would John like these? Maybe he should have just gone with George’s advice and went to get some takeout Angelo’s like they often did during quarantine, but Sherlock wanted to make this special. He nervously adjusted his shirt collar, looking down to check that he was indeed wearing the purple shirt John loved so much. Apparently it was called the purple shirt of sex or something? The detective honestly had no idea how or why but that wasn’t important, what was important was John. John. He still couldn’t believe the brilliant, patient, and gorgeous army-doctor was....his husband. After the drunk night they had that one day, things got a bit heated and...well, you could say they definitely had a good time and cleared up their feelings for each other, much to Donovan’s chagrin who lost Scotland Yard’s bet by just a week. Mrs. Hudson was the winner, obviously. 

Thank god for Mrs. Hudson’s and Gavin; he didn’t know what he would do without both of them giving him advice, though the DI wasn’t always pleased to be summoned in the middle of a case to help Sherlock out. 

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Sherlock scanned his surroundings to make sure everything was in place. Ah, he could now hear John about to step into the aisle, right on time. Quickly, Sherlock went back to pretending he was working on his experiment. 

Just a few moments later, John padded into the kitchen, clean shaven, and as expected, looked at Sherlock pointedly. Of course, the detective was used to this and promptly ignored it, waiting for John to say something. 

“Sherlock,” John said, tilting his head to the side a bit, “What is going on here? Why are there little sticky notes all over the place?” 

Sherlock simply shrugged. “Why don’t you go take a look for yourself, John? I’m sure you would be able to find out that way.” 

Sighing, John went back into the living room and perused the various bright colored sticky notes. Sherlock’s scratchy handwriting was on all of them, along with small drawings on some. Stepping closer, John took the first one off the wall above the couch and read the note out loud: 

“Jawn, you’re small and angy, just like the bunch of Copper (Cu) Tellurium (Te) Iodine (I) Einstieinium (Es) we got the other day. Will you be my clemenvalentine?” Belatedly, John noticed a small orange drawn next to it, with a small >:[ face. Sherlock still wasn’t going to let him ever live it down, huh? 

Shaking his head with the faintest hint of a smile crossing John’s expression, he moved on to the next one. 

“John, the first time we met and dined at Angelo’s, I said girlfriends weren’t really my area. What I really wanted to say was that I was Gallium (Ga) Yttrium (Y), John. Obviously, I am married to my work and love of my life now, but would you still be my Valentine again, for the 11th time?” This one was written in rainbow ink, probably one of those pens Rosie got for Sherlock, insisting that he would have some use for them someday. Which he did, evidently.

As John picked up more and more notes strewn around the room, and read more and more puns, some of his favorites being, “Forget Hydrogen–you’re my number one element” and “Why don’t we go back to the bedroom and form a covalent bond ;) Or we could do it on the table, periodically” he didn’t know whether he should have laughed or cried. Maybe both. Some were so bad they were hilarious but the fact that they were that bad just made it more funny and endearing. Oh Sherlock, where would I bee without you? who would I be without you?

Oh god, John realized with horror. Sherlock’s terrible puns were rubbing off him and invading his thoughts. Typical of him, that bloody cute charismatic arse.  

Finally, John reached the last one. 

“John, I know I’m not very good with expressing my affection for you, but I want you to know, especially today, that Iodine (I) Lutetium (Lu) Vanadium (V) Uranium (U). You are my best friend, my lover, my husband, and my lifelong partner. You’ll always be my doctor and blogger at heart.” On the side, a small smiley face was drawn. 

The entire time, John knew Sherlock’s eyes were on him, even though he pretended to be busy with his experiment. The doctor knew those telltale signs: tense shoulders coupled with a nervous biting of his lip. Watching closely, trying to gauge his reaction after reading all of them.  

“Sherlock, were you trying to test my chemistry knowledge again? You know it’s been awhile since I’ve studied all this, right?” 

Of course, Sherlock knew this. Sherlock always knew but was somehow still an oblivious idiot. My oblivious idiot, John thought affectionately. 

“Well yes but I-” a beat. Sherlock took a deep breath. “Well, it’s always you making plans for Valentine’s, and I thought, maybe I should take charge this time, with something other than Angelo’s–don’t worry, I’ve already ordered takeout for dinner, I know you love their food, John, so I still did it. But I wanted to do more for you this time. Mrs. Hudson and Rosie agreed it would help me express myself better, so I tried it out. Um-” Sherlock stopped mid sentence as John walked up to him, and put a finger over those pouty lips. 

“Sherlock, you amazing, adorable, gorgeous man, you’re so cute, you know that? And I did in fact notice your shirt–we will be making use of that later, obviously.” The detective gulped visibly. “But for the record, I want you to know that I know how much you love me, and you know how much I love you, so don’t ever feel bad about having trouble expressing it verbally; I can always tell through the small thoughtful gestures you do for me and the looks you throw my way when you think I can’t see. What you did for me today was very sweet, and it made my day–I will always cherish this memory on this Valentine’s, but I can assure you my love for you will never change no matter what, whether or not you do gestures like this for me. My love is of the same magnitude as yours to mine, and it never stops growing everyday”

Sherlock beamed, that charming crooked grin of his slowly spreading across his face, and John pulled him down for a kiss, both laughing against each other’s lips lightly as their mouths clumsily crashed together. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[rem289]

Q: Why are you writing this post?

A: Because during the Christmas holidays I started to receive attention from the Zootopia fandom which led me to re-discover some concepts that I thought I had made clear, and since this didn’t turn out to be true, I am forced to reiterate them.

Q: What happened?

A: I discovered that someone had reposted, obviously without my consent, an old comic of Aoimotion and mine on reddit, a site I don't like and on which I had already said not to publish my actually and old contents. This repost "reminded" this fandom of my existence, and after this event some people came to ask us questions such as "when Nick and Judy would reappear in our work?" and the like.

You can imagine how much it bothered me, so I went to reddit and wrote to immediately delete the content. Unfortunately, doing this I couldn’t help but notice how the post had become a place to waste insinuations and insults aimed at me and Aoimotion. In particular, the comments of three users stood out: @ggctuk , @owningsuperset7​ and @hammytotherescue

Q: Why did these users get your attention?

A: ggctuk, which I have no idea who they are, have proclaimed themselves as the narrative voice of the events that have taken place between us and the fandom, providing a lot of incomplete and, in the worst case, completely wrong information, about why we left the fandom and about the alleged "abusive behaviors" we had against translators.

Owningsuperset7 spoke about us (like he does every time the occasion presents itself to him), defining us ungrateful towards the fandom "that had fed us". But "fed" in what sense? It seems to me that we have been those who have definitely "eaten" very little… or likes can be monetized, just like the views on youtube, and I didn't know it? Did they break the keyboard in order to put those likes on our works? If it’s so, I'm sorry, but I certainly wasn't the one who pointed the gun at their head to follow my work. Always remember that paying attention to a work is always and only a reader’s choice. No creator has power over these phenomena, we just create and publish, the rest is always an unknown factor. So expressing yourself as a seduced and abandoned lover on an old and free work doesn’t make you a victim, it only makes you ridiculous. Anyway, I know the subject, who had already decided in the past to talk on DeviantArt before I blocked him, and I decided not to tell him anything in that moment, also because, what can you say to a person who clearly has problems that go beyond fandom? Sometimes ignoring is the kindest choice you can make.

Hammytotherescue instead claimed that he and I were friends in the past, before the duo formed by me and aoimotion became toxic. Since I had no memory of this person and I hate when someone alludes to relationships with me that don't exist, I wrote to him privately on Tumblr asking him if he could kindly refresh my memory about this "friendship" he was bragging about.

Q: How did it end?

A: The conversation, which I report below because I, unlike him, have nothing to be ashamed of, is as follows:

As you can see, Hammy never replied to my last message . But in reality the story was not over. A few days ago, in fact, I discover that the user in question "vented" in the post of reddit, not under my comment (so that I received notification of his reply) but in response to another comment that had been left to me. Showing, as always, the incredible maturity of these people.

After reading this comment, I decided to act by reporting the user on reddit, but the answer I received can be summarized as: "since you are a content creator, you deserve insults regardless." In short, a response as useful and smart as the people who gave it to me. So don’t worry Hammy, you won't be banned from reddit because the only braincell shared by you users agrees that defining a toxic and manipulative person is, to quote one of the wise moderators I talked to, "a fairly typical level of criticism". All is well that ends well.

Q: You mentioned "concepts to reiterate". What would they be?

A: Let's start by denying what ggctuk wrote in that reddit's post, given how much popularity his comments have gained.

My split from this fandom started because I simply lost interest in Nick and Judy and preferred to do something else, something of my own. Black Jack gave us the opportunity to invent many original characters and they was those I wanted to work on. We have never worked for ulterior motives other than having fun together. When we recognized that we no longer have anything to give to this universe, we declared it openly and closed this chapter of our "artistic life". This split could take place in a peaceful and calm way, I would have taken my own path and you yours, since it was obvious, since BJ times, that you had very little interest in our original contents. You also reiterated this between the lines of these last comments, so really, I make a terrible effort to understand your logic of contents belonging to your fandom. It's not your fault, don't worry. You have been spoiled by this entrenched habit of creating any anthropomorphic animal and attributing it to your precious and super-nutritive fandom. Once you labeled this attitude at heresy, now everything is fine as long as it helps you keeping this universe going, honestly, I just pity you. However it seems that your obsession with me prevents you from accepting the fact that my life would have continued even without this fandom and that I would have lived very well even without the amount of likes that fanarts could give me. Indeed my life would be even more beautiful if I didn't have to waste time like I am doing now.

Both me and aoimotion together gave you a lot, and in the end we simply got it back. Jack is a prime example: yes, he is a character born from the scratches of Zootopia's artwork, but thanks to our work he has evolved to the point of becoming a completely original character. This fandom has not been able to accept it and until the end has tried to claim him as its own, and even now it can’t accept that we have instead taken him back, and even less can you bear that we are successfully using him in our original works, which is why you insist so much on his "Disney" origin, as if this defines his identity, and for months you have made fun of us saying that we were claiming something that belongs to Disney as our own. Unfortunately, beyond a doodle and a hint of a hypothetical background, Disney has absolutely nothing. Whatever weight you have attributed to "Jack Savage" is only thanks to our work, Disney has nothing to do with your mania and it has nothing to do with everything we've built up over the years. Still, you took our job and stuck it over the "Disney" label, and that was even when Black Jack was long gone, so don’t use that excuse anymore. You even tried to attribute Cynthia to the Disney universe by calling her "Skye", since you are so desperate to keep your fantasies going, and when you had nothing more to say, you said that my art style was "clearly inspired by Disney". Did you think I could condone such an attitude? I suppose these statements derive above all from the certainly very poor culture that you have of the world outside the fandom (or fandoms), however there are artists who WORKED for Disney, who TEACHED drawing techniques at the Disney Academy and who work at own productions with that style, without anyone attributing anything to the major. If you don't believe me, try using the web for something constructive, like doing some in-depth research on the subject.

As for the matter of our alleged abuses on translators, I will only say two things: the translations started because of my naivety, and we prohibited them because the translators abused their role and went out of control, acting as if the comics belonged to them and / or as if there was a special relationship of complicity between me and them. I'm sorry I gave false hopes to these people, unfortunately I didn't have time to realize the misunderstandings that were being created and how our work was being used. There is a clear difference between the fan content and the original content, so now more than even, less our work passes into the hands of others, the better it is for us.

Now let’s analyzing the brilliant messages of Hammy, both on Tumblr and on reddit:

In both cases, what I see is a desperate need to cling to Rem's "pretty" facade while simultaneously demolishing the person behind Aoimotion. These insinuations suggest that the only possible Rem to conceive for your narrow minds is the kind and lovely one, and everything I say and do that does not fall within this definition is the work of aoimotion.

I will never go into detail about the dynamics between me and her, because frankly it’s not your business and I don’t want to give you further ground to cultivate your absurd speculations and your degenerated ideas. If you have decided to treat us as two two-dimensional characters of some fourth category fan fiction born from your fragile minds and then feel disappointed or offended by my attitude or a severe response I can give you, you cannot help but blame yourself and not who is my friend .

But you have to get it into your heads that when you talk about us in a personal way, you refer only on the basis of two web profiles. You don't know us personally and above all you don't know me. Being an extremely reserved person, I always decided to use social networks to share my artistic side or my interests related to entertainment, nothing more, nothing less. "Rem289" has always been only a blog, a showcase on the web, I’ve never attributed a real emotional and above all personal value to it, even before Zootopia. For the rest I prefer to live my personal life off the web. Unfortunately, you have been so careless as to decide to hit my personal sphere, my friendships and my affections. So no, Aoi didn’t take over between you and me, but the person behind Rem289 took over and you paid the consequences.

Still on the subject of aoimotion, it seems that the moment this comment was written on DA has remained particularly impressed: https://www.deviantart.com/comments/1/765376682/4647911119

This great insult, which among other things is attributed to her as if I didn’t think the same (if not worse) about you, has become the new reason why aoimotion is ugly and bad and is the reason why she deserves to be insulted and disparaged at the slightest opportunity, even during a conversation with me in which she’s not involved in any way.

Now, since this term seems to me rather dated to be used as a matter of indignation during your debates, and since I still find it rather ”soft” to use to outline my intolerance towards you, in order to give you another thing to think over, I will give you an attribute which seems more correct to me: you are sick. Confronting you is like talking to someone who has been brainwashed. You are a broken record that always says the same things over and over again. I can't even feel sorry for you, what I feel is just a great sense of unease. (Of course there are people that still participate in this fandom and are perfectly normal, but those are exceptions and they already know we think good of them.)

And it’s precisely your illness that prompted me to dissociate myself so violently from the fandom. Not aoimotion, as you have been saying for months between an insult and another that you address to her because perhaps you are too afraid of me to address them directly to me, which is rather contradictory since I should be the sweet and pretty one of the duo. After all, it's better to treat me like a poor brainless fool who lets herself be manipulated rather than admit that I also have my own ideas and that, you don’t say, you don't like them.

Q: In any case, you have no right to deprive your fans of old content they love so much, you just want to be spiteful! Why did all your old WildeHopps comics disappear from the web?

A: The decision to delete the contents created by me relating to the fandom from my web platforms or those shared with my partner was not born in the least out of spite or "punishment" towards the members of the fandom. It was a decision made to dissociate my name and my current work from fandom, because unfortunately it created difficulties for my image and real difficulties for readers to understand (you can go on and say that if people think your work is still Zootopia-related is not a big deal, but I assure you it is). All that came after, are only and exclusively speculations built on purpose to find the most sinister reasons of why it happened. Publishing content is only an accessory part of the job itself, a percentage of the process. Deciding to publish, not publish or cancel a publication is at the pure expense of the author, and no consumer has the right to impose his will on the creator. I understand that they are perhaps too complex concepts for you, since it’s clear that you are used to measuring the value of things based on the likes they receive, but this current of thought also exists and I hope it will be useful to you someday, in the remote possibility that decide to take moments of deep reflection (which would be more and more useful than tapping your fingers on the keyboard).

(Little curiosity: in the last few weeks we have forwarded about twenty reports to various sites to remove our old contents posted there without our permission. Not only all twenty reports have been accepted, but the contents have all been removed in less than 12 hours from the date of reporting. This is to remind you that if we don’t want our content on the web, we have them removed and it’s the reposters who pay for it, not us.)

Q: Well, however you can't force us not to talk badly about you or aoimotion, in fact, you can't stop us from believing that she's been manipulating you for years. Almost certainly it’s she who is writing this post without your knowledge, isn't it?

A: The people of the web are notoriously lazy and are therefore often uninformed and constipated in developing their own concepts. They spit sentences without even knowing what they’re talking about, they choose "comfortable" truths, such as the fact of attributing to aoimotion every not nice word that comes from me, and when this phenomenon is reflected on real persons, unfortunately it’s quite difficult to manage.

We are attributed with labels, words, concepts, faults, relationships that don’t belong to us and that are difficult to get away from. A simple comment or a wrong statement towards a person can spread like wildfire and end up marking them for life. Needless to say, these conditions often prevent these same people from continuing with their activities, which instead are healthy, in a serene and peaceful way. Even now, instead of drawing, I’m writing this latest post to defend me and my partner from your sick slanders. Those who allow themselves the luxury of damaging the "active personalities" of the web are people who fully enjoy anonymity behind a screen, and often people who have the matter of regulating them (like the reddits moderators, who are a joke at best) limit themselves to considering certain behaviors "ordinary” in the creator / consumer relationship. The mere fact of normalizing certain behaviors doesn’t smooth out the rules of civilized life, makes these "authorities" complicit and therefore only adds a problem. It’s more than evident that some people are not yet able to distinguish the boundary that exists between objective opinion and direct and personal insult, but from people who lose sleep at night because they have been defined as “lunatic” I don’t expect anything less. Who knows what you will do now that I have called you sick.

I conclude with a message to the interested party:

@hammytotherescue​: I don't know how old you are, however, judging by what you write and how you write it and how you act, I deduce that you should not be more than 14-15 years old. Unfortunately I regret to tell you that the fact you are a minor doesn’t mean that you don’t have to take responsibility for your actions, and if you still have doubts about understanding where you have gone wrong I advise you to ask your parents for advice. I gave you the opportunity to confront me but you ran away to cry on a public platform. Hasn't anyone taught you that real life doesn't work like that? If, on the other hand, you are an adult, I sincerely feel sorry for you, I say this from the bottom of my heart.

I know how comfortable it is to hide behind a group or in this case a fandom to vent one's dislikes towards the individual. This time you and your friends have received the same treatment, you have not caught generic appellations addressed to the fandom but I decided to speak to you personally. My only advice is to use this experience to learn how it behaves on the web, and when you have learned it, you could teach it to all your friends, perhaps starting with @owningsuperset7​.

For @ggctuk: I hope you will appreciate my effort in writing this long post, as so the next time you talk about us again, you can use it as a reference to explain how things went 🤗

[tarithenurse]

Stranded - 2 of 2 (or 3)

Pairing: Loki Odinson x fem!reader Content: A bit of drama, but mostly fluff. Some errors due to lack of proof reading. A/N: So people liked the original (see Masterlist) and asked for more though I’d meant for it to be a one-shot…and then I thought: why not? There will be one more part after this if you guys are interested, other wise I’ll let this be the last.

Pacing back and forth, Loki only listens half-heartedly to the nonsensical babble of his friends. Lady Sif is entertaining Thor and the Warriors Three with her latest news from the training of the newest guard – she had assisted Tyr in a mock battle which he and his team had lost.

“Loki?” the victorious warrior call out.

The long strides carries the prince in question to the door where he has to turn around. “Yes, marvellous. Well done, lady Sif.”

Raucous laughter finally causes Loki to pause.

“Oh, brother mine,” the deepest voice hollers, “your thoughts are so far astray a skirmish may break out and you would not notice.”

Fandral, at least, finds a smidgen of compassion. “Is it the fate of the Midgardian that troubles you?”

There is understanding to be found despite the mirthful twinkle in his eyes and Loki admits to the worries. The Midgardian has been called before the All-Father, interrupting the stroll through the gardens that she and the raven-haired prince were enjoying after lunch. The two of them spend nigh all their waking hours in the company of each other as though each day is the last, they have together – it may as well be because lady [Y/N] is bound to return to her homeworld sooner rather than later.

Always. A word spoken so easily, taking their willing hearts captive. But always and forever will end eventually, Loki knows, as his father is ill-inclined to allow the use of Bifrost for the youngest son to travel to and from Midgard once [Y/N] has returned to a home she has no longing for.

“But this is simple!” Despite Volstag’s enthusiasm, the rest of the chamber’s occupants wait silently for him to elaborate. “If you cannot go to her then she must stay here.”

Loki frowns. “As much as I would love this, we all know how Odin’s attitu–“

“Yes, yes!” Fandral picks up on his friend’s idea. “A young maiden can easily be disguised among the people of Asgard or Vanaheim for a while until the All-Father’s attention has shifted and he has forgotten about the foreigner –”

“– at which point the young prince conveniently forgets the cause of his broken heart when he finds a new love,” Volstag completes, the two friends beaming.

…   Reader   …

You had decided with yourself on the very first night in Asgard that you like Frigga. The queen is kind, smart, and wonderfully wise to the point where you’re beginning to suspect that she’s got a lot more to say in terms of the affair of the kingdom than she officially is supposed to. Right now that’s a good thing. Sitting face to face with king Odin all on your own would have been nerve wrecking (the guard in full armour and with a fabulous but rather lethal looking spear might not help either) so you’re thankful for Frigga’s presence.

I wish Loki was here. It’s not the first time the thought presents itself during the audience, but you try your best to keep calm. This is about him too, though. Odin is ignoring that detail quite brilliantly, however, as he talks about your future without pausing for you to get a word in.

The thing is: as a so-called Midgardian, you’re not supposed to have come to Asgard at all. Now that you happen to be there, the quasi-mythological ruler is worried if other people might suddenly pop up from either Earth or anywhere else, really, and as you haven’t been able to  explain how you managed the trip…well, it’s hard to put that concern to rest. The next point that Odin wants to discuss (or rather, monologue) is how you were to handle the knowledge you now have of Valhalla and the “realm” once you do return home. At this point, you take a risk by interrupting the old god to promise that of course you wouldn’t say anything to anyone, and at least Frigga supports you (and further adds that no one would believe you anyways which hurts but is true). Odin? Not convinced.

A song you can’t quite remember enough of keeps bouncing around in your brain: Should I stay or should I go now…unfortunately, you can’t recall more of it so it only adds to your frustration. Seeking Frigga’s gaze, you’re seconds away from losing your temper.

“Perhaps, then, we must consider the simpler of two options?” Frigga winks quickly at you, making sure her husband doesn’t see. “It appears to me the best solution would be to have [Y/N] stay. I am certain that she can make herself useful, and although it will be hard to leave everything behind…it time, she might find happiness here?”

You don’t dare to say anything or even breathe as you wait for Odin to make up his mind.

Tugging softly at the beard, the king mumbles to himself. “It would eliminate the risk of the wrong people obtaining any information, exploiting it…”

“Indeed, dear husband.” Frigga has clearly counselled like this before. “Of course…accommodating lady [Y/N] need not be your concern. Such trivial matters could be dealt with by, say, Loki?”

The beard gets an extra tug before the god lights up with a smile, his eye nearly disappearing between the wrinkles. “He has taken quite an interest in you, has he not?” For a second, you recognize Thor in that face.

“Y-yes, your highness, prince Loki-i is very uhmm kind to me.” Nooo, why do I have to stammer?!

“So it shall be,” Odin declares with a grand gesture, “you must remain here...or on Vanaheim if that is more agreeable. Loki will be informed of this and he shall be in charge of your settlement.”

To his right, Frigga winks again, a mischievous smile at the corner of her mouth. “Do not worry, dear girl, I will be delighted to ensure everything is fine.”

It’s clear the audience is over and you get up, making sure to bow (which makes the king guffaw quietly) and thank them both before you rush out.

Every cell of you is aching for Loki with the exception of your braincells that are working overtime to make sense of what just happened. I’m staying? Odin never asked what you wanted and maybe he knew already from the queen whom you’ve talked a lot with about your home and the situation there, but it still feels odd to have someone else make a decision on your behalf as though it isn’t actually your life at all. But…I wanna stay. Pausing briefly next to a statue of a stern-looking Viking, you feel the warmth of the golden metal reflected in your chest and stomach. Yeah, staying feels right. For a moment, you bask in the soothing serenity that everything only can get better from now on.

But…what if…? A new wave of disastrous possibilities rise to engulf you, drown out the joy. Fighting the tide is useless as you own mocking voice pokes fun at you and questions everything you might just have gained. What if Loki doesn’t really want you around? Or if he does, for how long then? A simple “Midgardian” really can’t hold his interest for very long, the sing-song voice in your skull jeers.

A strong arm wraps around your shoulder, bulging muscles squeezing a bit too tight for comfort as they pull you into the shadows behind the golden statue. Too surprised to say anything, you automatically follow the order to remain quiet whispered by a deep voice.

Thor peers at you with gleaming eyes. “Lady [Y/N],” the whisper sounds like a distant rumble of thunder, “do not be alarmed.”

Easy for you to say! The heart is stuck in your throat, hammering frantically. “Oo-kay?”

…   Loki   …

Urging the stead out of the stables, the young prince resigns to the fact that he will not have a chance to double-check the hastily packed supplies - at the very least the trip to Vanaheim should not last more than a few days, though, now that any official passages are out of the picture.

Loki lingers for a few seconds, looking wistfully at the golden-capped towers of Valhalla before he spurs the horse into a gallop out of the city.

Leaving has never been this hard before. He knows he will return, forced to keep up the charade until the All-Father has forgotten the incident of the Midgardian intruder, but in this very moment, he has left the fate of his true love in the hands of his friends.

The plan is simple. Loki will wait until the cover of darkness at which point Fandral will smuggle [Y/N] out of the castle. Thor will stay behind to distract their father and mother, however in case that is not enough then Lady Sif, Hogun, and Volstag will remain as well to give credibility to any scenario established to throw the king (and potentially Heimdal) off the tracks.

The raven-haired prince prefers to leave with his sweetheart (and argued vehemently for this until Sif commented that he would be the first to be kept under observation as soon as Odin’s mind was made up). No, it will be better that he already is out of sight, and as he is needed to navigate the hidden paths between realms, then this is the only other option.

…

No rest for the wicked. Anxiously pacing around and around the same tree, Loki’s mind is a mess and his guts are filled with alternatingly lead and butterflies. There has been no comfort in the company of his steed as the animal has found a patch of sorrel collecting the evening dew. Now the last bird sings goodnight, ending its tune on a soft twirdle that echoes through the dusk before stilling.

The shadows grow deep. Loki’s horse decides it is time to settle in for the night, rubbing the saddle that lies on the ground into position before lying down with its head upon the embossed leather. The man walking in circles find no rest.

When a light finally can be seen, moving between the trees as a glowing orb entrenched by sharp teeth of darkness, Loki’s heart stops. One horse. He supposes it shouldn’t surprise him. Do Midgardians ride horses nowadays? A tentative breath makes room for normal breathing until he realizes that the single horse only has no rider while merely a single shape walks beside it. Fandral…where is [Y/N]? It is as though a bottomless crevasse open before Loki’s feet, invisible currents trying to pull him in, making him stagger as he steps forward to wards the blond man.

“Where is she?” Loki is aware how his voice shakes, but it does not matter. “Has Odin sent her away already?”

The mischievousness beneath the gentle smile is similar to Loki’s own, yet he cannot abide the sight of it and nearly looses his temper before Fandral finally answers. “As surprising as it may be, our carefully laid plan turns out to be unnecessary for a different reason. Come, my friend.”

…   Reader   …

You’re steaming with indignation, but thankfully for your surroundings a sense of appreciation for the (misplaced) helpfulness is creeping in…or maaaybe it’s the abashed apologies on repeat from Thor.

He’d scared the life half out of you when he grabbed you, and pretty spot on compared to the myths the guy had carried on with the “plan” without listening to any of the objections launched at him with an increasing amount of violence. Admittedly, your fists probably weren’t the worst pain he’s imagined through his life. It wasn’t until you’d been brought to the rest of the gang that you get a word in, stopping the outrageous escapade.

“We truly were just trying to –“

“I know!” You interrupt Thor a bit harsher than intended. Oops. “I know and I…I’m thankful…it’s just…” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose for a moment, “perhaps it’s best to ask next time if the help is needed?”

The blond warrior slash god has the decency to agree before making himself scarce to see if someone elsewhere needs any help.

Left alone, you finally have a chance to look around the room. It’s not your own but Loki’s and although you’ve been in there before, it’s the first time you really have the time to look around – or more correctly, it’s the first time you’re not being distracted by Loki in all his kind and brainy splendor.

…

Mesmerized by one of the few books you can actually read (honestly, you’d just wanted a peek to see what sort of literature the god likes) the sound of running footsteps barely manage to register with you before the door is slammed open to reveal a dishevelled Loki in front with a Fandral and Thor behind (both looking appropriately apologetic, still).

“[Y/N]…”

The silver tongued prince is rarely in lack of the right thing to say and you would have felt smug about it if it wasn’t for the desperation in his eyes. Large, roaming your face and shape in sign of any sign of distress before they light up with the intensity of a winter’s sun, stealing your breath away and making your knees go soft. An impractical change as you’ve just stood up. But of course, within a split second he’s there, practically sweeping you off your feet and into a lover’s embrace, lips meeting soft and hungry.

When next you become aware of your surroundings, it’s nice to see that the door has been closed to provide the two of you with some privacy.

“I thought…” Loki’s breath fans your cheek and neck. “If only I had dared to imagine father would let you stay…”

Pulling back slightly to kiss his nose, you share the anxious shiver of what could have been. “Your mom probably had something to do with it, to be fair.”

“I shall be sure to thank her.” He is somehow able to lift you and carry you to the bed without getting tangled in the dress you’d been told to wear today by a maid, and for a second it’s like you’re a real princess. “My love.” The plush mattress rises to hold you instead as the gentleman of a god kneels before you. “I could not stand the risk of losing you, not now and not ever…”

Waaaaait a second…

“I have no token to offer you in this moment as a symbol of my undying love, yet I must ask…” At this point you’re certain you feel your brain implode. “Will you take me as your husband?”

[silverlightqueen]

Ruin My Life

Based on Ruin My Life by Zara Larsson

RML masterlist

(fratboy!Jimin bc I’m a slut for douchey Jimin🤷🏽‍♀️) - smut, flirty banter, angst and fluff to come

Word Count - 8.7k+

Summary - After an eventful afternoon in the library and an unexpected reunion, you end up sending a text that you might regret...

Warnings - v v smutty!!! dom!Jimin, daddy kink, oral, dirty talking, intercourse, spanking, thigh riding, a lil bit of everything ig

a/n: so this went in a very different direction than I intended it to when I started writing it lol, but I actually like the plot twist so here ya go. also, this is definitely going to be a series and hopefully I’ll be uploading part 2 very soon bc I've already started on it lmao. Please tell me what y’all think, I’d love to get some feedback💕

Edit: Part 2 is out now, link in my masterlist💕

I love university. Everything about it. My course is super interesting and there’s never a moment when I think I’d rather be doing a different course. My lecturers are super cool and understanding, all of them young, so they know what we’re going through, and considerate. My friends and roommate are all amazing people and they’ll never give me a chance to be sad or bored, always on hand to cheer me up and take me out. The parties are always so much fun and I’m lucky enough to have never had a bad experience with a drunk and horny boy, or a group of bitchy girls. So yes, unlike some others around here, I love university with my whole heart and soul. I’m one of those annoying people who shows up to early morning lectures with a coordinated and pristine outfit, a full face of makeup and perfect hair, my laptop and matching stationery ready, as well as a Starbucks and breakfast. I wake up happy in the mornings and go to sleep happy at night. And this isn’t one of those stories where I’m going to rattle on about how much I love university and then say that there’s one exception to the rule. No, definitely not. This is a slightly different story. Because I was pondering how much I love university whilst sat at a desk in the library, book in hand, both headphones in, just as something happened which would cause a chain of events which would in turn change my view on my university for the rest of my life. Maybe even ruin my life as it is, for better and for worse.

Someone leans against the desk beside me and pulls out one headphone, Drake being cut off mid-rap, and I look up, expecting it to be my roommate, Mija, or one of my other friends, but instead, it’s a surprise, and not exactly a nice one. ‘Hello, darling,’ Kim Taehyung says, looking down at me with a small smirk. He’s dressed in the school’s football kit, shorts to his knees, and a loose t-shirt, and he holds his varsity jacket over his shoulder. I sigh, knowing that this probably won’t end well. ‘My name isn’t darling,’ I say quietly, but he reacts to the words like I shouted them in his face, flinching slightly. ‘Well, obviously, y/n,’ he chuckles, saying it with emphasis as a way to prove that he knows my name, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Can I help you, Taehyung?’ I ask, putting my book down and leaning back in my seat, knowing he isn’t going to leave easily. ‘Yes, actually, babe. I wanted to ask something of you,’ he says, his jawline clenched once the words leave his mouth, and I roll my eyes. ‘Ask it then, and I’ll see if it’s worth my time,’ I say, and his lips quirk up in amusement.

Now, I feel like I should explain something. I’m not a bitch, okay? I’m super nice. I’m one of those girls that gets along with everyone, little kids, old people and everyone in between. I could get along with a brick wall if I had to. I’m sociable, kind and easy to talk to. But frat boys… frat boys are the one exception. I’m lucky enough to not have to see them most of the time, my schedule conflicting with theirs, and we don’t really run in the same social circles. But Taehyung and his friends, I’d been unfortunate enough to encounter them a few times more than I would ever want to. Not direct encounters, though. Through my friends, and their heartbreaks, one-night stands, rejections and short relationships with the boys. I’d had to wipe away their tears, console them and spend nights chatting shit about the boys more times that I can count. It had become tiring to say the least. So, please, forgive me for the way I’m speaking to Taehyung, because he deserves it.

‘Let me take you out?’ he asks, and my lips curl up into a grin. ‘Ah, you and your stupid friends are really not as funny as you seem to think you are. Is this a bet, or a dare? Or are you getting something for it? Money, maybe? If you are, I’ll say yes, and I get half,’ I say, and he looks surprised, trying to keep up with my words. ‘Wait, what? This isn’t a dare, and it’s not for money,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘So, it’s a bet then?’ I ask, and he shakes his head hastily. ‘Can’t a guy ask a girl out for the sake of it?’ he asks, tilting his head in a way he must think is endearing. It is, to be honest, but I wouldn’t admit it to him in a million years; he already knows how intimidatingly handsome he is. ‘What makes you want to ask me out? What’s special about me?’ I challenge. ‘Of course you’re special, baby,’ he says, mistaking me trying to catch him out as insecurity. The way the words roll of his tongue with such ease tell me he’s said them many times before, and it makes me even more annoyed. ‘I know I’m special, dumbass, way too special to be dealing with this right now. I wanna know what you think is so special about me to ask me out,’ I explain exasperatedly. ‘You’re, like, clever, and stuff. And you’re pretty,’ he says with a grin, thinking he’s done well. ‘I’m clever, pretty, and stuff?’ I ask deadpan, and he nods proudly. ‘Wow, thanks!’ I say sarcastically, and then he seems to clock that I’m not too impressed with his observations. ‘To save myself from any more of the bullshit that has been nonstop exiting your mouth for the past minute, I’m going to ask you to leave now,’ I say, and I hear choked laughter from behind me. I don’t bother to turn and look, knowing that it’s probably his stupid friends, and continue staring at Taehyung, waiting for him to leave. ‘I’ll see you around, y/n,’ he grins, strutting away. I roll my eyes, putting my headphone back in and getting back to work, incorrect in thinking that that was the end of it. Only a few minutes later, and I have another visitor.

‘I guess my desk is the place to be this afternoon, huh?’ I ask as I pull out a headphone, looking up to see Hoseok smirking down at me, dressed in the same kit as Tae, his varsity jacket on instead. ‘It’s not because of the desk, though,’ he says, and I nearly laugh out loud. ‘Can I help you, Hobi? Because I have loads of work to do,’ I sigh tiredly. ‘Fuck the work, do me instead,’ he says with a grin, and I choke. ‘Wow, you’re… straightforward, I’ll give you that. But you do know that no girl with more than one braincell would ever be flattered or turned on after being spoken to like that?’ I reply with a raised eyebrow. ‘And you’ve got more than one braincell, have you, y/n?’ he asks, a mischievous grin playing at his lips. ‘Yes, more than can be said for you and your friends. Now whatever stupid game it is that you guys are playing, give it up and leave me alone. I’m busy,’ I say in annoyance. ‘Too busy for me? Don’t hurt me, y/n,’ he says, his mouth constantly stretched into that stupidly handsome smile. ‘Even if I’m watching paint dry, I’m still too busy for you,’ I say, and he clutches his heart dramatically. ‘How can you hurt me this way, babe?’ he says, and I roll my eyes. ‘Leave, Hobi, I’m not dealing with your stupidity anymore,’ I say, putting my headphone back in, not waiting to see if he’s left or not. I’m lucky to be left in peace for a few minutes, until another of their stupid friends bothers me.

‘Oh, this had better be good,’ I say, putting my book down again, looking up to see Jungkook smiling his annoyingly cute bunny smile at me, his jacket tied around his small waist. ‘Trust me, baby, if it’s to do with me, it will be,’ he says confidently, my eyebrow quirking up. ‘Arrogance? Not the best way to seduce a girl,’ I say. ‘Who says I’m trying to seduce you?’ he asks, trying not to grin, and I laugh. ‘Don’t be silly, Jeon.’ ‘Who’s the arrogant one now?’ he says, and I give an impressed nod. ‘Touché. So, what have you come over here to ask me to do? Are you gonna beat around the bush like Tae and ask me out on a date, or are you gonna get straight to the point like Hobi and tell me to do you?’ I ask, and I can see him try not to laugh. ‘How about I take you out and then you do me? Or rather, I do you?’ he suggests, and I nod as I digest his words, trying not to let the way his words affect me show. ‘What a… tempting offer. But no, thank you, I have much more important things to do,’ I say, and he pouts at me. ‘More important than me? I didn’t think it was possible,’ he says ponderingly, and I hold back a laugh. ‘God, you’re annoying. You must be insane if you think you have any importance in my life,’ I say, and he hisses, pretending to be hurt. ‘Ouch. Come on, noona, you know you find me attractive,’ he says, and I laugh aloud. ‘What’s the game? Is it a bet to see who can get me on a date?’ I ask, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘You’re clever,’ he says, revealing it straight away. ‘I am, but even someone with your IQ could figure that out after having three morons from the same friendship group come up to you in the space of twenty minutes,’ I say. ‘I’ll have you know my IQ is higher than average. 128, to be precise,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow at his IQ being mere points off mine. ’28? Sounds about right,’ I say, and he laughs a genuine laugh. ‘You’re a funny girl, y/n. I’m actually genuinely asking you out now, not because of the dare,’ he says, and I grin, amused. ‘Maybe some other time, Kook, when I’m not so busy,’ I say, taking pity on the boy before scrawling down my number on a piece of paper. ‘Don’t hit me up if you want your dick sucked, that’s not what this is for. Send me your name so I have your number, and I’ll let you know when I’m free if I don’t change my mind,’ I say, and he grins victoriously as he takes it from me, the boys behind causing a ruckus. ‘Can I have a kiss for the road?’ he asks, a cheeky smile on his annoyingly cute face, and I laugh. ‘Run along, Jeon,’ I say, and he does so, leaving me laughing to myself.

Only a few minutes later, someone takes a seat opposite me, and I supress a sigh. ‘I’m not gonna fuck around like those kids, I’m gonna get straight to it. Let me take you out,’ Seokjin says once I’ve taken out a headphone, and I raise an eyebrow at his straightforward statement. ‘Well, what a way to woo a girl, Jin. God knows how you’ve managed to get so many girls into your bed,’ I say, and he gives me a smile, staggeringly handsome with his dark hair hanging over onto his forehead, his kit the same as the other boys. ‘I get into theirs, they don’t get into mine. Imagine the germs. I’d let you, though, babe,’ he smiles, and my heart jumps. ‘Thank you, I’m flattered, but I’d rather not step foot anywhere other than the downstairs of your frat house for as long as I live,’ I say, and he laughs his endearingly loud laugh, sounding distinctly like a windshield wiper. ‘I don’t mind coming to yours,’ he offers. ‘So you took that obvious rejection as an offer to come to my apartment? God, you frat boys really are dense, huh?’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘So you don’t want me?’ he asks. ‘No, Seokjin, I don’t.’ ‘You gave your number to Jungkook,’ he points out, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘He wore me down. And he’s cute, I guess,’ I admit, and Jin gives me a sceptical look. ‘So I’m not cute?’ ‘No, you aren’t cute, and you know that that’s not an appropriate word to describe you at all,’ I say, the subliminal message obvious to him. ‘So you find me attractive, then?’ he asks. ‘So is this about getting validation or about asking me out? Because it’s sure seeming like the former,’ I say. ‘I don’t need validation, babe, I know I’m handsome. I just want to know how you feel about me,’ he says, tilting his head to the side inquisitively. ‘I think you’re handsome, but I don’t have any kind of emotional or physical attraction to you in the slightest, Jin. My apologies but go find a girl who will fawn over you like you want her to,’ I say, and he laughs. ‘Fair enough, I gave it a try, I guess,’ he says, getting up. ‘And it was a good one at that,’ I say, taking pity on him, and putting a sympathetic hand on his forearm, and the boys start to pipe up behind me. ‘See you later, Y/N,’ he says, and I smile at him.

Next, I have someone filling the seat beside me, and I roll my eyes, knowing this stupid roleplay is unavoidable. ‘Hey, y/n,’ I hear once I’ve removed my headphone, and the voice brings a smile to my face. Perhaps the only one I actually like out of them all. ‘Hey, Joon,’ I say, with a wide smile, hearing the boys whispering once more. ‘I… I’m sorry, this is so dumb,’ he says with a shake of his head, and I laugh. ‘It’s okay. I guess it’s kind of brought me some entertainment for this afternoon,’ I say. ‘It was a stupid bet to see if any of us would actually be able to get you to agree to going out with us,’ he says. ‘Where did it come from though? Why did it even come up into conversation?’ I ask, curious, the handsome man rolling his eyes. ‘We were supposed to have a meeting with the Dean of the school in here, something about the frat, but she had to reschedule, and we ended up staying in here because we had nothing else to do. Then Tae spotted you, and asked when you got so hot, and I said you’ve always been hot, because you have, and then one thing led to another, and Tae bet he could get you to go out with him, so all the rest of us bet too, because we’re mindlessly competitive morons,’ he explains, and I crack up at his last few words. ‘Well,’ I say in a low voice, smiling gently as I lean closer to him and place a hand onto his chest for effect, ‘you can go back and tell them that I said I’d definitely go out with you, and I said I’d take you home too, because we really are due a catch-up, and we haven’t binged a series since freshman year.’ He grins at my physical deception to the boys, my words about reconnecting as friends conflicting greatly with my actions, and brushes a piece of hair behind my ear. ‘I’ll text you soon,’ he says, getting up, and I smile at him. ‘Please do,’ I say, the boys reacting far too loudly for the library.

And then I get another visitor ten minutes later. ‘I’m gonna cut to the chase. What’s it gonna take for you to give me your number just so I can shut the boys up?’ Yoongi asks me, and I let out a laugh. ‘You need to convince me,’ I reply as he takes the seat beside me. ‘What did Namjoon and Jungkook do? Did they bribe you?’ he asks, his big brown eyes dancing as he grins mischievously. ‘No, neither of them bribed me. They used their natural charm,’ I say, and he grimaces. ‘I don’t have any of that so would you take a bribe?’ he asks, and I laugh again. ‘You are charming, and witty,’ I say, and he raises his eyebrows. ‘Why does it sound like you’re trying to get my number?’ he asks, and again, he has me laughing, effortlessly funny. ‘Aw, Yoongi, you’re funny. But no, I don’t take bribes,’ I say, and he fake scowls. ‘Not money? Or food?’ he asks, and I contemplate this for a moment. ‘Yeah, probably,’ I say, and he grins the most adorable gummy smile I’ve seen in my life. ‘Okay, I’ll buy you takeout of your choice on any given night. Just text me and I’ll order it to your apartment,’ he says, and I consider his offer. ‘I’ll one-up you; I’m gonna have Joon over soon for a day of binge-watching Netflix. You can come too as long as you bring snacks and then order dinner,’ I bargain, and he nods, ‘Deal.’ ‘Perfect. Let me put my number in your phone and then text me later,’ I say, and he hands me his phone with a smug look at the boys. They let out outraged noises as I put my number in his phone, trying not to laugh as I see the librarian stomping over in their direction. ‘Thanks, y/n, you’re a real one,’ he says, and I grin, shaking my head as he walks away. But the last visitor I get, around twenty minutes later, is definitely the most… unwelcome.

‘Hey, princess. Long time, no see,’ he says after plucking out a headphone, and his voice sends a chill through me. Okay, so maybe I lied when I said I hadn’t directly encountered any of them. One of them may or may not be an ex-fuck buddy (I hate that phrase but it’s the best way to describe it, because we definitely weren’t friends with benefits). It’d been a low point in my university life, when I’d broken up with a long-term boyfriend and wanted to go crazy for a little, and I guess that’s what I ended up doing. Or rather, who I ended up doing. No one other than my roommate knows about our fling, as far as I’m aware, and it’d ended after a few months. We haven’t spoken since, and every time I’ve seen him in real life, I’ve practically run in the other direction to avoid him. It’s not that we ended on bad terms; it’s just… awkward. And now, here he is. Sat on the desk beside me, looking as handsome as ever in his football kit, his thick thighs and strong arms straining against the material, his varsity jacket tied low on his hips. He runs a hand through his newly dyed dirty blond locks, smirking as he watches my eyes travel over his body.

‘Hey, Jimin,’ I reply, not really knowing what else to say. ‘That’s not what you used to call me,’ he says with a smirk, looking down at me with sparkling eyes. ‘It’s what I called you when we were around other people,’ I point out, and he grins widely, his pearly whites out on display. ‘How have you been, princess? I’ve missed you,’ he pouts, and I roll my eyes, trying to act like his nickname for me doesn’t affect me in the slightest. ‘I really doubt that, Jimin. Did you even have enough time in your… busy schedule to miss me?’ I ask with a raised eyebrow, his grin becoming even wider. ‘Now, babe, don’t get jealous. You know that when I was with you, I was with only you, no one else. So, don’t act like the scorned woman,’ he reprimands me, running a hand through his hair again, and I roll my eyes once more. ‘What a privilege,’ I say sarcastically, and he shakes his head at me. ‘Look how you treat me. After everything we went through together,’ he says. ‘The only thing we went through together was a jumbo pack of condoms,’ I say, and he bursts out laughing. ‘I forgot how funny you are, babe,’ he says, and I try not to smile at seeing him look so happy. ‘Listen, don’t be mad at me for moving on. As much as I hate to bring it up, you’re the one that ended things with me, though only God knows why. We were good together, right?’ he asks, and I nod, knowing he’s right; we were. ‘So why did you end it?’ he asks, and I sigh. ‘Do you really wanna know, Jimin?’ I ask, and he nods, watching me interestedly. ‘Because I started to catch feelings for you,’ I admit, watching his face for any kind of reaction, but he doesn’t show any sign of emotion, his face not changing in the slightest. ‘And?’ he asks after a few seconds, hand sweeping through his hair again. ‘Two reasons. One, I’d just gotten out of a relationship, and wasn’t looking to get into another one. Two, you weren’t, and still aren’t, the type of guy to even want a relationship, so there was no point continuing what we had, because I would’ve fallen for you more and more, and it wouldn’t have gone anywhere,’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Because you know me so well?’ he asks, and I nod with a small smile. ‘I knew you better than you thought I did,’ I say, and he nods, digesting my words.

‘Well, what do you say we give us a go again, Y/N?’ he asks seriously, and I nearly choke. ‘What, like… do what we used to do?’ I ask, and he nods with a small smile, running a hand through his hair. God, it’s so sexy when he does that. ‘Obviously. Not a relationship, you said it yourself, you know I’m not that guy. Unless you’re gonna go catching feelings again,’ he says, and I scoff. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve matured. Just as much as you’ve become more of a douche,’ I say, and he holds his chest in mock pain. ‘Ouch, princess, you really know how to hurt me, huh?’ he jokes, and I stick my tongue out at him. ‘Thanks for trying to pimp yourself out to me, Jimin, but no, thank you. I’ve passed that stage in my life,’ I say, putting on a snooty voice, and he pulls a face at me, scrunching up his nose adorably. ‘Come on, princess, for old times’ sake. Just one more time. Then I’ll leave you alone,’ he says, and I shake my head. ‘Can’t you go ask some naïve freshman who doesn’t know you well and will think she’s ‘oh-so special’?’ I say, and he laughs. ‘Princess, you were the naïve freshman at one point, remember?’ he says. ‘We were sophomores,’ I point out. ‘Regardless. Nothing like a one-last-time fuck, huh?’ he says, his casual way with words igniting something long forgotten inside me.

‘Go ask someone else, Jimin,’ I say, looking away from him, knowing if he doesn’t leave soon, I won’t be able to resist him much longer. ‘Don’t you understand, y/n? I’m asking you because I want it to be you. I don’t just want any old sex, I want good sex, and, as much as this is majorly wounding my pride to admit this to you, you are the best I’ve had,’ he says, his tone honest and shameless, and my eyes widen. ‘Seriously? I’m the best? Out of like the other 200 girls you’ve fucked?’ ‘Hey! Don’t downplay me, more like 300,’ he jokes, and I try to hold back a laugh. ‘You’re probably a walking STD,’ I say with a disgusted shake of my head, and he lets out a small laugh. ‘Fine, y/n, but you have my number still, right? You know where I am if you need me,’ he says, getting up. But he hesitates before leaving. ‘I really did mean it when I said I missed you, princess,’ he says, our eyes locked together as he runs a hand through his soft locks, and I look away, embarrassed. He leaves then, and all I can think is, I missed you too.

And it is that thought, resounding in my mind all afternoon, for the rest of my stay in the library, on my way home, during movie night with my roommate, that leads me to do what I nearly do. My fingers ghosting over the screen of my phone, hovering over the send button, I look up at the screen briefly. ‘I can’t believe the main character died already. Her death was so sad,’ my roommate, Mija, says. ‘I know,’ I reply half-heartedly, looking back at my phone. ‘You bitch! You really haven’t paid attention at all! The main character hasn’t died! And he’s a guy!’ she shouts, hitting me repeatedly with a pillow. ‘Ow, Mija! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Just stop! Mija!’ I shriek, the other girl finally giving up. ‘Right, explain. Why have you been staring at your phone for the past hour?’ she asks. I give in instantly, telling her of the events of the library, specifically my conversation with Jimin, and she gives me the perfect reactions, gasping and laughing in all the right places. She really is the best person to tell stories to. Once I’m done, she stares at me. ‘What are you waiting for then?’ she asks, and I stare stupidly at her, confused. ‘What?’ ‘Message him, you idiot!’ ‘Oh! Yeah, but what if I catch feelings again? He basically said today that he is not up for a relationship,’ I say. ‘So, fuck him once last time, and be done with it,’ she says. ‘You think?’ I say. ‘I know! He told you you’re the best sex he’s ever had, you dumb bitch! For Park Jimin to say that, it must’ve been fucking good, so don’t let that opportunity go to waste,’ she says. ‘Okay, okay, stop cussing me out!’ I say in mock hurt, and she rolls her eyes. ‘Text him, you moron. I’m gonna go see our neighbours, and you’d better put on that brand-new Agent Provocateur set we bought together,’ she says threateningly, jumping up from the sofa and leaving in her pyjamas, phone and popcorn in hand, before I can even say anything. I grab my phone and send the text before I psych myself out. I quickly put my phone on speaker for once and then begin to clean up the living room. I get a text back around a minute later and I practically pounce at my phone. The text I see simultaneously makes me roll my eyes and smile, before I lock my phone and rush around tidying. Then I quickly slip out of my comfies and into a black lingerie set; bra, pants, suspenders, lace, sheer, straps, the whole shebang.  I quickly tidy my room too, and then take a seat on the couch again, acting all calm and collected, flicking through the music channels on the TV impatiently.

Only sixteen minutes after I sent the text, I hear a knock at the door and wait until he knocks again before getting up to answer the door. I pull it open slightly, looking through the small gap, his dark eyes meeting mine. He looks positively delectable, dressed in a pair of light blue distressed jeans with rips that reveal strong thighs, and a white t-shirt with the word ‘Lovers’ printed across the front in black writing, a fitted black leather jacket over the top. A silver earring dangles from his left ear, a silver hoop in the other, and his hair is parted just slightly off-centre, a small strip of his forehead exposed.  ‘I hate it when you leave me waiting. I nearly ran a guy over driving here, and this is what I get in return?’ he growls, only half-hearted annoyance behind the words, and I pull the door completely open, letting him in. ‘Wow,’ he says, stopping in his tracks in the doorway, his eyes raking over my body shamelessly, ‘all this for me, princess?’ I smile coyly, shy under his burning gaze, and brush a lock of hair behind my ear. ‘All for you, Jimin,’ I say, and he takes a step into the room, throwing the door closed with a thud.

He practically throws himself at me, his hands gripping at my waist as his lips find my neck. ‘Now, now, princess, that’s not what you call me when we’re alone, is it?’ he murmurs against my skin, the feel of him touching me again nearly making me melt in his arms. ‘No, daddy,’ I breathe out, and he exhales shakily, his lips pulling and biting at the tender skin below my jaw. ‘Fuck, it’s been so long,’ he whispers, his hands snaking around my thighs, pulling me upwards. I get the hint, jumping up and wrapping my legs around his waist, my actions a result of muscle memory, and he walks towards my bedroom, his lips still working on my neck. He kicks the door open, the loud noise making me jump, and he lets out a gentle laugh at my reaction, before he virtually throws me down onto the bed. He climbs over me, his toned body hovering over my smaller frame, and he stares down at me. ‘God, I’ve missed you,’ he whispers before pressing his lips to mine, our bodies fitting together perfectly.

He parts his lips and I follow suit, his tongue easily sliding into my mouth to meet mine, and the way our mouths work together in perfect harmony brings memories of long nights past rushing back. The hand that isn’t holding him up grazes up and down my side as my hands grip his back, feeling the soft leather against my skin. I tangle my fingers into his soft hair, the locks sliding between them like silk, and pull on it, feeling him groan into my mouth. Our kiss becomes more heated and passionate, all dancing tongues and clashing teeth. The taste of mint and something distinctly Jimin has me wanting more. I didn’t realise how much I missed the feeling of him, and I relish every moment that his hand digs into my waist and his mouth works against mine. I pull his plump lower lip between my teeth before running my tongue over it, and he groans again, the sound heavenly. He rolls us over, so I lay atop him, and both of his hands furiously explore my body, tracing the curves of my back, waist and hips, and gripping onto my ass tightly. My hands rest on either side of his face, our lips still attached, my hair falling around us like a curtain. ‘Princess,’ he breathes out against my lips, and I pull away by a millimetre, our noses touching, the tiniest distance between our lips. ‘As much as I’m enjoying catching up, I’m getting impatient,’ Jimin says, grinding up against me, the hardening bulge in his tight jeans brushing against my stomach, and I let out a tiny whimper. ‘You like the feel of that, princess? I’m so hard, just for you,’ he whispers against my ear, grinding up against me again. I try to palm him through his jeans, and he slaps my hand away instantly, a dark glint appearing in his eyes.

‘Off,’ he instructs, and I climb off him, watching as he sits up, moving to the edge of the bed, his feet planted firmly on the floor. He pats his lap and I already know what’s coming. ‘Why, daddy? Haven’t I been a good girl?’ I ask, pouting at him with big eyes, and he lets out a harsh laugh, repeating the action again. I reluctantly bend over his lap, my ass up in the air, as he chuckles. ‘Good girl? You think you’ve been a good girl?’ he asks, and I nod. His hand lands on my ass without any warning, the slap hard and stinging, and I supress the yelp that nearly leaves my mouth, knowing it’ll only get me more. ‘That is for not replying to any of my texts or calls,’ he spits out before his hand lands another slap on my ass, even harder this time. ‘That is for avoiding me around campus and at parties.’ Another slap, painfully harsh, bringing tears to my eyes, slick beginning to pool in my black lace pants. ‘That is for flirting with all my friends at said parties, where you knew I could see you.’ Another slap, harsher again, causing me to lurch forward on his lap. ‘That is for giving Jungkook, Namjoon and Yoongi your number.’ ‘Namjoon already had my number!’ I say indignantly, and he slaps my ass harder than any of the previous slaps, causing the tears to spill over, my cheeks stinging and red. I’ll probably have bruises the shape of his hand tomorrow. ‘You never know when to keep your mouth shut, princess,’ he says, his hand landing against my ass again, a loud clap resounding against the room, and I can feel heat rushing to my core. ‘And that one is for how you’ve gotten even sexier over the past two years,’ he says before pulling me up off his lap and pushing me back down onto the bed.

He hovers over me again, pressing his lips against where the tears spilled over onto my face. ‘You are a good girl for me, princess. You always take your punishments so well. I just missed leaving bruises on this perfect ass,’ he murmurs against my face, his kind words making my heart warm. ‘Thank you, daddy,’ I whisper in reply, feeling him tense against me. ‘Such a good girl. My princess deserves a reward, right? You deserve a reward, don’t you, baby girl?’ he asks, and I nod, my bottom lip between my teeth. He ducks his head suddenly, his lips appearing at my jaw, slowly travelling down my neck to my collarbones, leaving blooming bruises in his wake, wanting to mark me as his. When he reaches the black lace of my bra, he lets out a deep breath. ‘You look so sexy in this,’ he says, looking up at me through his dirty blond locks. ‘Don’t rip it off, please, daddy, it was expensive,’ I say gently, and he chuckles. ‘I’ll buy you a new one, princess,’ he says, and I pout at him, not wanting it to go to waste after only wearing it once. ‘Fine,’ he huffs in mock annoyance, his hands snaking under my torso to unclip the clasp of my bra expertly. He pulls it off me, throwing it over his shoulder, and I shiver at the cold air hitting my newly exposed breasts, my nipples already hardening. Jimin exhales deeply, his breath hitting my chest, and I whimper at the feeling, watching him grin before ducking his head to wrap his lips around one nipple. His hand tugs and toys with the other nipple whilst his mouth pulls and sucks on the first, the sensations making me whine. I wrap my hands into his hair as he moves his mouth the other nipple, doing the same, making me numb. He moves further down my body, his lips pressing kisses down my stomach until he reaches the hem of my pants. With a roll of his eyes, he pulls my pants swiftly down my legs rather than ripping them off me like he used to, discarding them on the floor too, leaving me completely naked beneath him. ‘So fucking beautiful,’ he whispers, spreading my legs slowly.

‘God, I forgot how wet you get. Has anyone else managed to get you this wet, princess?’ he asks, and the question embarrasses me. The truth is that no one has. No one has ever pleased me the way Jimin used to. He grew to know my body well, knowing exactly what got me going and what I liked. It’s slightly humiliating how quickly Jimin can get me to my climax. ‘I asked you a question, princess. Has anyone else gotten you this wet?’ he asks, teeth gritted, fingers pressing into my waist. Jimin is all about validation, I’ve learned to realise. Praising him makes him feel fantastic, and when he feels fantastic, he makes me feel fantastic. ‘No, daddy, only you,’ I reply, a grin splitting his face before he ducks between my legs. He blows hot air out over my core, and I let out a small whimper. ‘Please, daddy,’ I say, unable to stop the words slipping out of my mouth, and ready myself for a reprimanding. ‘So needy, princess,’ he chuckles, surprising me by fulfilling my wishes, licking a stripe across my slit. ‘Tastes so good, princess,’ he praises as I let out a small moan, my feet curling up against the soft sheets. He licks at my core slowly, tongue lapping up my slit languorously, dipping his muscle in between my folds every few seconds, the process sending mind-numbing shocks through me. Without warning, he attaches his lips to my clit, sucking and tugging on the bundle of nerves, and I throw my head back onto the pillow, my back arching up. ‘Stay still, princess,’ he warns me, the vibration of his words against my heat having me shivering as one arm comes up to hold my hips down against the bed. His other hand comes up to between my legs and he slowly pushes one finger into my core, working his way in. ‘So tight, baby girl, am I not turning you on enough?’ he asks, and I know this question’s rhetorical, moaning out as he plunges another finger in, trying to open me up a little more. ‘I’m not gonna get my cock in at this rate, princess,’ he says, still with his lips wrapped around my clit, his two fingers slowly pumping in and out of me.

He gradually increases his pace, adding another finger in after a few moments, his mouth still working wonders at my clit. After a while, I can feel my orgasm building up, the moans falling more frequently from my mouth, Jimin only increasing his pace more and more, until his fingers pump in and out furiously fast, his tongue licking up and down my slit before pulling on my clit with his lips. My hands, threaded into his soft locks, pull him closer and closer to my core, and I can feel myself fast approaching the edge. He curls his fingers inside me, hitting that a particular spot, and I let out a loud whine. ‘Shit, Jimin, right there,’ I moan, and he stops his movements. I look down at him, already feeling my orgasm diminishing, and he stares back harshly. ‘What did you call me, princess?’ he asks sternly, and I pout. ‘Sorry, daddy, I forgot. It just felt so good,’ I reply, and a tender smile slips onto his face. ‘It’s okay, baby girl, you can say my name if you want,’ he allows before he goes back to his previous ministrations, and I feel myself tumbling towards the edge. ‘Come on, princess, you’re so close,’ he whispers, and I finally reach my orgasm when he curls his fingers and pulls on my clit at the exact same moment. ‘Fuck, Jimin!’ I cry out, back arching off the bed as my release washes over me.

Once I’ve come down from my high, Jimin licks up my release before he climbs off me, standing up beside the bed. He holds out his fingers to me, and I open my mouth, tasting myself on his digits, licking them clean. He slips off his socks and shoes as I take deep breaths, recovering, and he watches me fondly. Shakily, I push myself up, kneeling at the edge of the bed to help him undress. He shrugs off his jacket and then pulls his t-shirt over his head, throwing it onto the floor as I unbutton his jeans, tugging them down his legs, leaving him in a pair of plain black boxers, his bulge straining against the material. He watches as I run my hands over his chest, the muscles more prominent than they used to be, his skin more tanned now too. I bring my lips up to his collarbone, kissing and sucking to leave a mark of my own, threading my hands into the hair at the nape of his neck. ‘Princess, as much as I’m enjoying this, I really need you,’ he says breathlessly, obviously trying not to let out any noises, and I pull away from his skin. ‘Okay, daddy,’ I reply, pulling his boxers down just enough to let his hard length spring up against his stomach. He’s longer than I remember, thicker too, and his head is painfully swollen, the tip leaking precum. My mouth waters at the sight. I press a kiss to his tip, my tongue sliding out between my lips to lick up his precum, and he lets out an audible breath. I move back, spitting on my hands and running them up and down his length slowly, Jimin’s hands coming to gather up my hair and hold it back. I place my tongue at the base, licking up to his tip against the vein on the underside of his cock, feeling him tense as I do so. I take his head into my mouth, swirling my tongue around him, my hands rubbing him slowly. I look up at him through my lashes as I take him further into my mouth, feeling him hit the back of my throat, and his head falls back, a moan falling from his lips, the sound rushing straight to my core.

I build up my pace, steadily bobbing my head up and down, taking him as far in as I can, trying not to gag around him. ‘Fuck, princess, your mouth feels so good around my cock,’ he groans, saliva dripping down my chin and my eyes watering, not to mention the pain from how hard he’s tugging on my hair, but hearing the moans from him makes it all worth it. Just as I manage to adjust to him in my mouth, nearly backing down my throat, he becomes impatient. He begins thrusting into my mouth, controlling my head movements with the hand he has fisted in my hair, and all I can do is grab onto the back of his thighs as he fucks my mouth. ‘Ah, you’re such a good girl, princess. You make daddy feel so good, y/n. Taking my cock so well,’ he groans, and I moan at his words, the vibrations only making him thrust faster. The tears stream down my face, saliva now dripping all the way down my neck and chest, and I begin rubbing at my clit, already wet again. His thrusts into my mouth become messier and I know he’s nearing his edge, the moans and groans of my name becoming more and more frequent. I feel his cock twitch inside my mouth, ready for the hot cum that hits the back of my throat. ‘Shit, y/n,’ he moans, his head thrown back as he continues thrusting into me, filling my mouth with his release. Once he’s done, he pulls out of my mouth, his cum mingling with my saliva.

He looks down at me, my hair a tangled mess, my eyes streaming, spit and cum dripping down my face, fingers rubbing at my clit. I look up at him, hair pasted to his forehead with perspiration, chest heaving, lips swollen and shining. I swallow down what’s in my mouth as he collects up the liquid from my face and neck, his fingers entering my mouth. I lick them clean of all release again, still rubbing at myself, and I moan around his fingers, watching his eyes darken. ‘Already turned on, princess? You only orgasmed a few minutes ago! You always have been a greedy girl,’ he scolds, moving my pillows out of the way and sitting at the top of the bed, resting his back against the headboard. He pulls me up towards him and I think he’s going to want me to ride him, so when I try to straddle him, he shakes his head with a chuckle. He lifts me up and puts me down on his leg, my legs straddling his thigh, and he holds onto my waist. ‘You want me to ride your thigh, daddy?’ I ask gently, looking at him through my lashes, and he nods with a low groan, leaning forward to press his lips to mine. I can taste myself in his mouth, and I know it’s the same for him, our tongues and teeth clashing as his hands trail down to my ass, giving it a light slap before gripping it tightly. He flexes his thigh beneath my heat and I moan into his mouth, feeling him grin against mine before pulling away.

I begin grinding down on his strong thigh, holding on to his shoulders for support, and his mouth comes to my breasts. He begins licking and sucking on my nipples again and the feeling distracts me. It’s only after a little while that we both realised that I’ve stopped, and he flexes his thigh beneath me. ‘Jimin!’ I cry out, my head falling back as a result of the pleasure coursing through my veins, and he smirks. ‘Move, princess,’ he commands, and I slowly begin rocking down onto his bare thigh, the friction against my heat making me moan, Jimin watching me intently. ‘God, I can feel how wet you are. Gushing all over my thigh, princess. Such a dirty girl,’ Jimin breathes out, eyes on me as I grind down on his thigh. He grabs onto my waist, increasing my pace, and I moan out his name, the motion sending my mind into overdrive. ‘Look at you, grinding on my thigh like that, so beautiful,’ he groans out, licking his lips. Jimin’s eyes don’t leave me for a second and I know exactly what’s running through his mind; smugness and desire at the sight of me getting myself off on his thigh. ‘Fuck, Jimin, you feel so good, daddy,’ I whimper, looking down at his thigh to see it coated with my slick. ‘Be a good girl, y/n, work hard on daddy’s thigh, and I might just fuck you senseless afterwards,’ he whispers, and I let out a moan at his dirty words, a reminder of how vast and vibrant his vocabulary used to be. His length is already hard again, precum leaking from the tip, and I swipe a finger to collect it all up. The action catches him off-guard and he moans out, his head falling back and his thigh flexing, causing me to moan out his name. ‘Come on, princess, I know you’re near,’ Jimin urges, flexing and bucking up his thigh, the moans falling from my lips in rapid succession as I hurtle towards my climax. My orgasm finally washes over me and my back arches before I fall forward, my head buried in his neck, his scent of an expensive aftershave that I recognise from two years ago, his fresh soap and, again, something that just belongs to him, and him only, just something Jimin, floods my senses. He continues rocking me on his thigh until I’ve come down from my high.

‘I don’t think there’s anything more beautiful than the sight of you cumming on my thigh, princess. I wish I could imprint it in my mind,’ Jimin breathes out, lifting me off his thigh and laying me down on the bed, hovering over me. ‘Do you still keep your condoms in the same place?’ he asks, eyes flitting over to my bedside drawers, and I smile up at him. ‘I’m on the pill,’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘You’ve always been on the pill. Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t take precautions. I don’t want you pregnant,’ he says, and I roll my eyes. ‘Yes, I keep them in the same place,’ I sigh, and he grins, reaching over to the drawer and pulling one out. He hands it to me, shutting the drawer as I rip it open, sliding the rubber onto his length gently, hearing him hiss at the feeling. ‘Ready?’ he asks as I wrap my legs around his waist, and I nod, ‘Yes, daddy.’ He plunges into me, filling me up to the hilt, and my head drops back on to the pillow, Jimin’s head falling onto my shoulder. ‘Fuck, you’re so tight, princess, why don’t you ever loosen up? I won’t be able to last long,’ he groans, and I know it’s a lie, knowing Jimin will keep going for as long as it takes me to cum before he does, his stamina something inhuman. ‘Can I move?’ he asks. ‘Please, daddy,’ I moan, and he pulls all the way out, leaving me empty, before he slams all the way back in, hips snapping up against mine. ‘Fuck, daddy, you feel so good,’ I moan out, and he groans, setting a steady pace, his hips rocking up to meet mine. ‘Deeper, Jimin, harder,’ I moan and, after a few more thrusts, he gets impatient and unhooks one of my legs from around his waist, moving it to stretch up over his shoulder instead, slamming into me harder. ‘Daddy, oh, god, yes!’ I scream as he goes deeper than I thought possible, leaving me feeling completely and utterly full. He slams into me again and again, hitting the spongy spot deep inside me repeatedly, having me screaming. ‘Yes, fuck, Jimin, feels so good!’ I cry out as he begins rubbing at my clit. ‘That’s it, princess, scream my name. Let everyone know who’s making you feel so good,’ he urges, groaning and grunting as he thrusts into me at a fast pace, his thumb rubbing furiously at my clit. ‘Jimin, fuck!’ I scream out, my orgasm washing over me without a single ounce of warning from my body, having me quivering and convulsing under him. ‘Ah, fuck, princess, I’m gonna cum, fuck!’ Jimin moans, his thrusts slowing completely as he cums into the condom, his fingers still working on my clit. ‘Stop, Jimin,’ I say, slapping his hand away when the overstimulation kicks in.

Obligingly, Jimin pulls out of me, standing up and pulling off his condom, throwing it into the bin in the corner of my room. I slowly rise up from the bed, shakily walking over to my bathroom to go for a wee (no UTIs here, thank you very much), and when I go back into my room, Jimin’s redressing, beginning to pull his jeans on. ‘What are you doing?’ I ask, and he looks at me dumbfounded. ‘Um, I’m getting dressed,’ he says, his tone indicating how obvious it is. ‘I know that, I mean why,’ I say impatiently. ‘So I don’t show up to the frat house naked,’ he says in the same tone, and I roll my eyes. ‘Stay the night. It’s late, why would you go back home now?’ I ask, and he grins at me. ‘You sure, princess?’ he asks, and I nod exasperatedly. ‘Don’t make me regret offering,’ I say, picking up his t-shirt from the floor and pulling it on before grabbing a clean pair of pants from my wardrobe, pulling those on to. When I turn to face Jimin again, he’s lying in the bed, just in his boxers, watching me with a small smile. ‘You look so good in that shirt,’ he compliments as I climb into the bed beside him, taking a sip from the bottle of water sat on my windowsill. ‘How do you want me?’ I ask, and he smirks at me. ‘Another round already, princess?’ he asks, and I sigh tiredly. ‘You know what I mean,’ I say, and he chuckles. ‘I wanna spoon you,’ he says shamelessly, and I turn away from him, lying down. He lies down beside me, snaking his arms around my waist and pulling me closer to him so my back presses against his chest, my head tucked beneath his chin. ‘Goodnight, princess,’ he says tiredly. ‘Goodnight, Jimin,’ I reply, already drifting off to sleep, feeling so safe and comfortable in his arms.

[minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong]

Ephemera Chapter Ten

Ephemera: In art, transitory written and printed matter (receipts, notes, tickets, clippings, etc.) not originally intended to be kept or preserved.

Alternatively, things that exist or are used for only a short time.

Description: Nobody knows who Vante really is. Everything about the popular artist is shrouded in secrecy: from his face to his name to everything in between. After years of working for his art gallery, Y/N feels she may just be the closest thing he has to a friend. Between her success at work and her relationship with campus hot-shot Jeon Jungkook, Y/N’s life has never been better. But is Jungkook truly who he says he is? And who will Y/N protect now that she knows Vante’s livelihood may be on the line?

Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Jungkook x (f) Reader x Taehyung

Word Count: 5.8k

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Gang!Au, Art History Student!Reader, Film Student!Jungkook, Art Student!Taehyung

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of alcohol, although infrequently

A/N: IT’S GRAMMY DAY KIDS LET’S GET THIS BREAD!! Honestly, I thought the Grammys were yesterday so I’ve clearly only got 2 braincells left, but trust those 2 braincells are here to support BTS. Anyway, I hope you guys like this chapter! I enjoyed writing it. Please don’t be shy and send feedback, critique, questions, theories, and comments my way. I’ll be sure to respond to all asks I receive within a day of receiving them! Links will be added later!

And again, if you want to follow my Twitter, my username is @/plzpunchmebts. I’m super active over there and hopefully in the future I’ll do some livestreams/chats with you all!

- Mercury

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Masterlist

Weekly updates: Sunday, 1PM (PST)

“So what am I doing again?” I asked Taehyung over the phone as I saw quietly in the taxi, my dress pooling around my feet.

It had taken what felt like years to get my makeup done, and still in the reflection of the cab driver’s GPS I looked slightly too plain to suit my dress. But in the reflection I caught the brief shimmer of my necklace and, with a grounding inhale, I swallowed and nodded my head once.

My nerves were making my hands sweaty and my knees bounce. Every bump in the street made my jump and, despite Taehyung’s gravelly voice lending comfort, my heart was still racing. I smoothed my free hand on my thigh, letting my fingers play with the beading.

Taehyung chuckled. “You’re just showing up.”

“That’s really it?”

“That’s it.”

I furrowed my brow and sighed. “Seems too easy.”

Taehyung’s voice went distant as he replied to someone I didn’t hear, saying, “Just a second,” before returning his attention to me. “Don’t worry. You just make sure Jungkook is in the ballroom for the speeches.”

“Hey, if you need to go then-,” I began, but he was quick to stop me.

“Nope. I’m talking to you right now,” he said, and the sternness in his voice made my heart thump a little faster. I stared at my painted fingers. “They can wait.”

I stiffened, bunching and releasing the fabric of my dress, adjusting the deep v-neckline so it didn’t reveal too much, fussing with the straps. “Sorry,” I said, chuckling as I finally managed to settle my fidgety body down. “Just…kinda weird for someone to be prioritizing me.”

Taehyung was quiet for a moment on the other end and I wondered if I’d said something uncomfortable. I wished in an instant that my social filter was better, that I could just stop myself from saying things like that with people I was comfortable with, that I could just say thank you and move on. But instead of changing the subject or clearing his throat, Taehyung simply sighed.

“Well, you deserve to be prioritized,” he said, then paused and coughed a little. “N-Not that I’m the one who should do it! And not, like, romantically or anything! Just, uh…you know, in general. Like…,” he trailed off before humming a little. “Anyway, I’ll see you soon?”

The cab pulled over on the curb outside the Exhibition Center and I sucked in my breath, nodding. “Sooner than you think,” I said, sliding my transit card and bowing my thanks to the driver before exiting the cab and standing, shivering, on the side of the road.

“You’re here?” asked Taehyung, a smile clear in his voice.

I nodded. “I gotta go. I think I see Jungkook by the entrance,” I said with a sigh, smoothing my hair down as the wind tried to ruin its styling.

Not awaiting his response, I ended the call and slid my phone into the main compartment of my clutch. I took a deep breath, letting the evening air cool my warm cheeks and stepping forward on the sidewalk. Jungkook stood by the entrance, and as I neared my heart stammered a little upon taking him in.

Dressed in a fine black suit that looked sat just right on his shoulders, his hair was pushed back from his forehead, revealing more of the perfect symmetry of his face. His lips were parted, white vapor escaping into the atmosphere with every silent exhale. He lifted his hands to cup around his mouth, breathing into them with eyes on the ground as his lashes swept across his cheeks. His legs looked long, his shoulders strong, his eyes sharp but somehow still warm. Standing outside the Exhibition Center windows, he seemed to glow from behind and as he gently guided his hands into his pockets I couldn’t help but admire him. Who knew how many opportunities I’d have to do this after tonight…

After all, after tonight there’s no telling what we’ll be…

My heels clicked against the cold concrete and I carefully practiced my smile before quietly approaching him, taking up the spot at his right side without his notice. Once he felt me standing nearby, he jumped and laughed, surprised, before taking a proper look at me.

There it was. That blush in his cheeks that I was getting used to. His doe eyes went rounder than usual as he stared at me, slack-jawed, and I watched him swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing, before he glanced away and coughed into the crook of his elbow.

“Hey,” I said, fishing around for my folded invitation in my clutch. “You clean up nice,” I teased with a smile.

He laughed, a sputtering, nervous sound, and nodded, rubbing his jaw. “Ah, thanks,” he said, eyes traveling the length of my body from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, barely exposed through the heels Taehyung had packed in the bottom of the package. “You look…”

I smiled and gave a little twirl, the train of my dress swirling around me. I spread my hands out as I stilled and offered a smile. “Like it?” I asked.

He nodded, lips parted, eyes focused on the trumpet skirt, the slightly sheer skirt revealing just a hint of my legs. “Yeah…,” he said, shaking his head. He returned his attention to my eyes and smiled, face red. “Beautiful.”

I inhaled sharply, mindful to keep a close eye on my feelings, and eyed him. Had he always been this affected by me? Somehow, this felt decidedly…new. “Should we head inside?” I asked, smiling as I jerked my head toward the big glass doors.

He smiled gently. “Mhm,” he said, offering his arm for me to hold.

I scanned him for a moment before, without a word, I saddled up beside him, so close my shoulder brushed his chest, and held fast to his forearm. I felt his muscles stiffen beneath my fingertips and hummed a little, watching my feet as we walked forward slowly, joining the stream of other guests as they presented their invitations to the security guards at the door.

“Honestly, baby,” said Jungkook softly in my ear, his lips close to my skin causing my heart to kick up. “You look incredible.”

I smoothed my hand over his forearm and smiled at the ground as we took our place in line. “Thank you,” I said.

He pouted beside me. “You’re not dressed like this for that Taehyung guy, are you?” he asked, craning his neck to meet my eyes.

I laughed and gently reached my pointer finger out to poke his cheek. “Don’t be so jealous,” I said, then smiled. “I’m dressed this way for me.”

“For you?” he asked, voice smaller now, shy.

I nodded, chuckling at my dress as I ran my free hand over the ornate bodice. “Is that strange?”

“No…I mean…kinda, I guess,” he said, then shook his head. “Not that I’m not for women’s empowerment! Viva la…uh, woman.”

I laughed and turned to him, leaning up to press a soft kiss against his burning hot cheek. “Cute,” I said. What had come over me? It was like that night in the club all over again. I sighed and watched the line move before us. “It’s not about empowerment or anything,” I said with a shrug. “I liked it, so I’m wearing it.”

Jungkook was quiet beside me and, worrying that I’d said something odd, I turned slightly to examine his expression. I found him red-faced, scanning me from above with something like awe glittering in his eyes. His brows were raised as he watched me like a hawk, studying me.

“What?” I asked, concerned. I held his forearm tighter.

He shook his head and his expression shifted from wonderment to a soft smile. “That’s hot,” he said.

I stiffened. Again with that word. I cleared my throat and fixed my hair, guiding it behind my ear before meeting the security guard with Jungkook in tow. The dapper security agent outstretched his hand to me with a smile, asking for my invitation. Gently, I handed it over.

“Ah, and your name?” he asked, peering down at his clipboard.

I smiled. “Y/N,” I said, watching him carefully as he scanned the names on his list. His brows furrowed and worry settled into my veins. “Is it not there?” I asked.

He hummed. “No, Miss. But I’m sure there’s just some mistake. Could you provide the name of the person who provided you this invitation?” he asked, cordial. But his smile had gone tight. Clearly, he was eager to be rid of me.

“It’s Kim Taehyung,” I said, an upward lilt to my voice as if even I wasn’t so sure.

As the man lifted his eyes to meet mine, there was an unsettling measure of distrust there. His smile faltered. “I’m sorry, but that’s impossible.”

I raised my brows. “It’s true,” I said, anger beginning to roil in my stomach.

“Mr. Kim has never invited anyone to any of the events he’s participated in,” said the guard with a thin smile and a nod. “If you’ll step to the side, we can sort this out once everyone is inside.”

All of this, for nothing? Was Taehyung playing some sort of trick on me?

I released Jungkook’s arm and crossed my own over my chest, cocking my head to the side. “Once nobody’s around to see you kick us out?” I asked, surprised by the strength in my own voice. Had I always spoken this way?

Jungkook stood close to me and leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Maybe we should just-,”

But before he could finish, the guard was crossing his arms too, clipboard stiffly digging into his side. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to step aside,” he said, no longer smiles and benevolence.

Here lied the difference between Jungkook’s crowd and high society, I supposed. At least the guards outside the club had been honest about their exclusivity.

“And I’m going to have to ask you to let me through. I’ve been personally invited,” I said, grabbing for the invitation he held captive in his clenched fist.

He yanked it away before I could as the people behind me in line grumbled and slowly moved toward the other doorman’s line. “I’ve worked every event Mr. Kim has attended and I can assure you that he doesn’t have guests.”

“Then what about my invitation?” I asked, pointing at it. “Forged?”

He sighed. “I’m not accusing you of forgery. I’m simply concerned with the security of our event.”

I rested a hand on my hip and scoffed. “Sure,” I said, eyeing the second doorman as he simply waved people through after only a brief flashing of their invitations. He never once consulted his list. I returned my eyes to him and cocked a brow. “Seems like you guys are very concerned.”

“Ma’am…,” said the man, rubbing his jaw with knitted brows. “We’re not discriminating against any of our guests-,”

“Just us then?” I asked, smiling tightly.

He inhaled sharply, glancing to the side like he was searching for someone to help him. Unfortunately, his associate was too busy waving guests inside. Women dripping in finery, men dressed in impeccable suits, known names that don’t even require a second glance at some arbitrary list.

“I…,” he began, then sighed and shook his head. “Please enjoy your evening,” he said, but the way he spoke made it sound like the words physically pained him.

I smiled and bowed my head, wrapping an arm around Jungkook’s as he stared down at me, mouth agape. Before we could enter, however, someone came barreling out into the entryway, spilling through the gaping mouth of the Exhibition Center to join the throngs of people. Breathlessly, he turned to me and his eyes went wide.

“Taehyung?” I asked, brows furrowed as he ran toward me panting. “Whoa, you okay?” I asked.

He nodded, settling his breathing as he greeted Jungkook with what could only be described as a forced grin. He turned his attention back to the guard, gaze imploring. “Sir, these people are my guests. I hope you haven’t given them a hard time.”

The guard’s demeanor saw a marked shift in tension, now standing horribly stiff with shoulders perfectly straight and aligned. He swallowed hard. “I-I was just letting them through,” he said.

Taehyung furrowed his brows. “Really?” he asked.

Gently, I reached out and touched Taehyung’s upper arm, causing him to jump just slightly. “It’s fine,” I said, eyeing the guard sidelong with a smirk. “We were just heading inside.”

The guard’s expression remained stiff as the three of us slipped past him inside. Jungkook took up my right flank as Taehyung guided us in through the entryway towards the grand ballroom. As he turned around to greet us properly, Taehyung’s eyes caught the gentle light from overhead and it was the first time I got a real glimpse of him. My cheeks reddened. He’d finally had a much-needed haircut, letting his honey-colored fringe sit just barely brushing his brow bone. He’d forgone the glasses for the night, his eyes bright and beautiful as they glittered. He was fitted in a suit that was almost too perfect, likely tailored just for him. When he lifted his foot to make sure he hadn’t picked up the black runner leading to the ballroom doors, I noticed the bottoms of his shoes were pure, blood red.

Was it just me, or did he look extremely important?

Jungkook placed a warm hand on the small of my back and I shivered against his touch, eventually leaning into his side as the three of us stood just before the grand ballroom’s open doors. I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it, but the way Jungkook touched me felt…territorial.

He smiled and extended a hand toward Taehyung who accepted it readily. “It’s nice to meet you again,” said Jungkook.

“Likewise,” Taehyung replied with a smile before turning his attention to me. “God, I wish you wouldn’t have hung up before. I was planning on meeting you at the doors so I could get you in. You didn’t have any issues, did you?”

“Your security gave us a pretty hard time,” said Jungkook, examining a cuticle on his free hand before shrugging his shoulders and pulled me closer. “But Y/N handled it.”

Taehyung’s brows raised. “You did?” he asked, angling his body to allow a duo of well-dressed young women to pass, one of them knocking his hip with her bag.

For someone who was so revered by security, he was sure treated like a nobody by the other guests…

I lolled my head side to side, pondering it, before nodding. “Yeah. I guess so.”

Taehyung smiled just barely, the corners of his mouth pinching. “That’s a relief,” he said, almost impressed. “That’s my friend’s guard, so I’ve met him a few times. I knew security would be tight tonight, so I figured you’d need some help,” he said, then laughed. “Guess I was wrong.”

I hummed. “I think it’s the dress,” I said, touching it gently. “Feels like I’m someone different.”

“It looks amazing on you,” said Taehyung with a smile that touched his eyes.

Jungkook cleared his throat. “Should we head inside?” he asked, forcing a smile as he guided me with a hand on my back past Taehyung and towards the ballroom.

“Ah! Sure. The speeches start in an hour,” he said as he jogged to catch up to us, taking up my right side. He eyed me from above, casting me a knowing glance. “Make sure you’re here for them.”

I nodded, trying to ignore that ever-present bead of guilt that was lodged right in the back of my throat. Whatever Taehyung had planned, it wasn’t going to be pretty for Jungkook. Whether he’d end up humiliated or incarcerated, I had no way of knowing. As we entered the sprawling, black-and-white ballroom, I took a beat to really absorb it all. High ceilings and gorgeous tiled floors, the room was very open and breezy, black catering tables lining the front alongside a large bar. Guests milled about in beautiful gowns, and a few congregated near the lifted black stage pushed back against the massive wall of windows. A few waiters bounded by with silver trays. Champagne flutes glowed golden atop them and, as a waiter flew by, I carefully grabbed one from the side and took a big enough sip to make me wince.

“Whoa,” said Jungkook from beside me, eyes round as he scanned me. “It’s not a race, baby.”

I shook my head and pried my eyes open, looking back at Taehyung with a clenched jaw, set brows. “We’ll be here,” I said with a nod.

“No, no, no! No, that’s where you’re wrong! Hogarth wasn’t a killjoy, he was a political commentator! It was satire,” I said, slurring just slightly as the multiple glasses of champagne caught up with me.

I leaned across the bar in the center of the ballroom, engaging in a heated debate with some rich old man with a loud voice and awful opinions. His cheeks were flushed like mine, likely just as drunk as I was, and he rested on one elbow, leaning toward me as he countered all my points with some drunken retort. Jungkook, sitting beside me on a white stool, simply watched everything unfold, nursing his whiskey with a sly grin. How out of character it was for me to be picking fights with strangers without even a drop of concern.

The man huffed and stiffened. “Hogarth hated fun!”

“He hated moral depravity!”

“Oh-oh, and now you’re gonna tell me Henry Fielding was a historian,” he said with a scoff.

“Tom Jones is literally a history!” I shouted back, slamming my palms on the pristine, white bar.

“It’s a fictional history and-,” began the man when a woman approached him from behind and smoothed a hand against his back with a soft smile. “Oh, Hayoon,” he exhaled, reclining his head backwards to rest on the woman’s abdomen.

She gave me a smile. “I hope my husband hasn’t caused you too much trouble,” she said with a laugh, fondly gazing at him from above. I felt Jungkook wrap an arm around my waist from behind. “He always gets horribly drunk at these events.”

I smiled and shook my head. “None at all,” I said, giving the man the side-eye.

He furrowed his brow and pointed at me. “You’re half my age, young lady!” he shouted, vaguely chastising.

His wife’s attention was temporarily assuaged and, using the opportunity, I met the man’s eyes and stuck out my tongue. Jungkook sputtered a laugh behind me. “Baby,” he whispered through chuckles.

The man sat up straight and waved his finger at me again. “Look! Look, Hayoon, look!” he said, whipping his head back and forth between me and his wife, Hayoon. The forthcoming woman turned chocolate eyes on me and raised her brows. By then, however, I’d returned to smiling. “She was just making faces at me!”

Hayoon covered her full lips with a hand as she giggled into her fingers, glancing away. “Gosh, Jaesun,” she said, laughing. “I haven’t seen you this riled up since Hwayoung came home.”

Now with his wife beside him, this man didn’t seem quite so pompous. I may have even been fooled into thinking they were normal folks, just like me. The man glanced at me out the corner of his eye before breaking into a grin, his previous ill-will vanishing into the air like water on pavement.

He laughed. “Ah,” he said, reaching out a hand for me to shake. “You’re a good girl, young lady.”

I stiffened, taking his hand with a tentative glance back at Jungkook. He met my eyes and raised his brows, still smiling, as if he was as confounded as I was. I returned my attention to the man, Jaesun, and smiled, shaking his hand twice before releasing it.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” asked Hayoon gently as her husband wrapped a big hand around her waist, pulling her close.

Somehow, I felt like Jungkook and I were a mirror of this couple.

The alcohol made guilt run hot through my veins.

“It’s Y/N,” I said, taking another sip of champagne. I slid the glass back onto the bar, but noted in my hazy brain that it was near the edge.

“Ah!” said Jaesun with a snap, pointing at me. I jumped slightly at his sudden movements, but quickly settled as I noticed him smiling. “Could you be that Y/N?”

I raised my brows. “That depends,” I said.

He laughed. “Ah, Hayoon you’re right. She’s like a little Hwayoung,” he said, smiling brightly. His smile was vaguely familiar.

Hayoon smiled, rubbing his shoulder with a soothing hand. “No wonder,” she said quietly, examining me.

I reached for my drink once more, but as I did I accidentally clipped the side of the glass flute, knocking it backwards off the lip of the bar. The glass went careening towards the polished tile floor, exploding into shards around Jungkook’s feet. I jumped off my barstool and turned to Jungkook with wide eyes. It seemed his smile was burned onto his face, the shock perhaps keeping it in place. My eyes fell to his ankles, left exposed by the hem of his pants from sitting. There, emerging in dots along his unblemished skin, blood.

“Oh my God!” I shouted, immediately falling to crouch in front of his injury.

He glanced down and finally seemed to notice the blood. “Whoa! Y/N, stand up. It’s not safe-,”

“Let me get you a bandaid,” I said, reaching for my clutch as it sat on the bar over my head. But my fingers were fumbling drunk along the surface, and if I continued I may knock another drink to the ground.

Jungkook quickly grabbed me by the upper arms and guided me back to my feet, laughing. “It’s not a big deal-,”

“No! Let’s get you fixed up. It might get infected and-,”

Smiling, Jungkook laced his fingers with mine. “It’s fine.”

I pouted and shook my head. “I’ve got bandaids in my bag,” I said, then glanced around me.

A few partygoers had noticed the commotion and turned piercing eyes on me. Stiffening, I held Jungkook’s hand tighter and grabbed my clutch, casting an apologetic smile over my shoulder at the couple as I led Jungkook toward the grand ballroom doors.

The two of us emerged in the entryway and, still crowded with people, I knew this place was no better than the ballroom. I dragged Jungkook behind me, marching straight into a quiet hallway leading outside. With a sigh, I fell to my knees.

“Wait! You’re gonna mess up your dress,” protested Jungkook, slender fingers seeking purchase on my shoulders which I wiggled away from his grasp.

“Stop fussing,” I ordered, lifting on hand to rest on his hip, hoping to keep him in place as I rifled through my clutch with the other. “Here,” I said, finally producing a bandaid and unwrapping it swiftly.

I pressed the adhesive to his skin and was extra careful around the wound. He hissed as the cotton pad made contact with his injury and gently I lifted my gaze to make sure he was okay. One eye was squeezed shut and the other was heavy-lidded, watching me.

“Hey,” he said with a laugh. “If anyone comes down this hallway, they’ll think something weird is going on.”

My body stiffened and I felt my cheeks go hot. Quickly, I stumbled back to my feet, meeting Jungkook’s warm eyes once I’d righted myself. “I just didn't want it to get infected,” I said, but my voice was small.

He hummed gently, the sound of music still seeping through the hall as he snaked his hands around my waist and stepped back against the wall. On instinct, I laced my fingers behind his neck and sighed, furrowing my brow at him. After everything, why did I still care so deeply about him? Even the way he blinked was beautiful to me, lashes long as they kissed the skin beneath his eyes.

Gently, I poked the freckle beneath his lip. “Hey,” I said. I sounded soberer now, and perhaps in a few ways I was. His eyes flashed up from my collarbone to meet mine. “Did you mean it?” I asked.

He raised one brow. “Mean what, baby?”

“Did you mean it when you said you loved me?” I asked, eyes flashing between his brown irises and his rosy cheeks.

His brows knitted and he opened and closed his mouth a few times, no words coming for a few seconds. “I…Y/N, why would you ask that?” Again, it looked like he was…hurt by me.

And it dawned on me then in a moment of drunken epiphany.

What bothered me the most was that I had the capacity to hurt him at all. Like he’d hurt me…

“I…Jungkook, I know you haven’t been truthful with me,” I said softly, my fingers smoothing against the back of his neck, playing idly with his hair. I avoided his eyes. “I know you haven’t been with me because you wanted to.”

“What…?” he asked, like the wind had been knocked out of him.

“I don’t want to ambush you,” I said, pain I didn’t know I had been harboring clear in my voice. “I just want an answer.”

He exhaled long and slow before taking my chin in his hand and forcing me to look him in the eye. “You’re right,” he said, scanning me. “I…I approached you with bad intentions. I was using you.”

I nodded. “I know,” I said.

He shut his eyes and rested his forehead against mine, skin hot like he was feverish. “But it’s different now. Everything…everything is different,” he said softly, breath tickling my cheeks. “I know it sounds cliche, but…it’s true.”

“When?” I asked, eyes still open and taking in his every feature. “When did it stop being a job?”

He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing, and finally met my eyes with a sincerity that stunned me. “When you showed up for our study date with a coffee for me.”

I stiffened, eyes blown wide. “What?” I asked. “Th-that long?”

He nodded. “That was when I realized I was compromised.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he said, so close now I contemplated just tipping my chin forward, pressing my lips against his. How plush and pillowy they looked…

But wouldn’t that be cruel? To kiss him and then ruin him?

“So you meant it?” I asked.

He sighed, his head falling forward to rest in the crook of my neck. Thank God, my opportunity had passed. His lips were now safely brushing against my clavicle. “I wish I didn’t,” he said. “But I meant it.”

“Why tell me now?” I asked. I needed answers before I lost the chance to ask.

His hands pulled me closer by the hips and he exhaled against me. “Because I couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

I nodded. “So it was serious to you. All along.”

“I didn’t want it to be…”

“Okay,” I said, slowly rubbing circles into his skin.

Before either of us could say something more, something we’d regret, a voice echoed over the PA system. “Attention valued guests, we request that you return to the grand ballroom for a few words from our esteemed speakers. We will begin in five minutes.”

Slowly, I pulled away from Jungkook’s chest and met his glassy eyes. Would he cry? After tonight, would I be the cause of his tears? Something stiff and heavy and icy cold settled in the pit of my stomach. Gently, I smoothed my hand against his cheek and gave him a smile.

“We should head back,” I said.

His shoulders bunched and he furrowed his brow. “Do we have to?” he asked, scanning me. “I…I could explain it all to you right now if you want. We could leave and-and go someplace. I could tell you everything.”

Temptation ached in my chest, beckoning me like a siren song. Was he telling the truth? Could we really leave this place where we didn’t belong, settle in, hold each other as he finally told me the truth? Could it be that simple?

Suddenly, my necklace felt like it was burning through my skin. I touched it with my index finger, my skin hot and my throat constricting with every second that passed. An eternity with every ticking second.

I took a deep breath, shutting my eyes, and took a single step back from Jungkook, letting my hands fall to my sides. “Let’s go back now,” I said, my voice thick, as I turned on my heel and bounded down the hall.

Jungkook caught up with me after a few paces and we’d silently entered the grand ballroom together. We’d spent the entirety of the first speech in silence, not even looking at one another. It felt as thought I’d rejected him. Like I’d acknowledged his honest, vulnerable appeals and cast them aside. And perhaps, in a way, I had. So I stood at his side, sobering up quickly as the speakers began droning on and on. Why Taehyung wanted me to bring Jungkook here was beyond me.

Jungkook leaned down and, with his breath warm in my ear, whispered, “I’m gonna use the restroom.”

I stiffened and turned, grabbing his arm and meeting him with wide eyes. “Right now?”

He furrowed his brow and scratched his neck. “Yeah?”

“Isn’t that…rude or something?” I asked, sweeping my gaze around the crowded, elegant room. All eyes were forward as a tech guru with a sizable online following gave a speech about the power of marketing and charity.

I let my tense eyes shift back to Jungkook, praying he wouldn’t feel my panic. “I…guess?” he said, confusion clear in his expression. He wasn’t convinced.

I exhaled, ready to continue standing by in silence, when the tech guru slowly exited the stage, bowing with a bright grin. As he stepped down the black stairs, someone passed by him. Likely the next speaker.

Quietly, I turned back to Jungkook. Perhaps half-truths were better here too. “Listen, I don’t know why, but we have to stay in here,” I said, meeting his eyes.

He cocked his head to the side, straining against my grip on his arm, and stepped closer. “What? Why?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Taehyung-,” I began, then shut my mouth. I wasn’t sure if implicating Taehyung was the right move. Surely, Jungkook would put two and two together once this ‘plan’ came to fruition. After all, it was Taehyung who had gotten us in.

But still…I couldn’t outright betray him.

“Taehyung?” he asked, glancing over my shoulder with bewilderment in his warm eyes.

I shook my head. “No, forget it. Go pee if you have to,” I said, releasing his arm with a defeated sigh.

“No,” he said, jerking his chin toward the stage behind me. “Up there.”

My heart kicked up and, without wasting a single second, I whipped around to find Taehyung approaching the microphone to uncertain applause. I heard mumblings about the room, asking who he was, hazarding guesses to his title, making idle conversation. I swallowed hard and watched with nerves alight as he adjusted the height of the mic stand to suit him. With a charming smile, he bowed to the crowd.

“What the hell…?” I wondered aloud as Jungkook took up my side again, clearly as stunned as I was.

“Did you know about this?” asked Jungkook, eyes locked on Taehyung with parted lips, awestruck.

I shook my head. “No,” I said. “He didn’t say anything about giving a speech.”

The two of us stood slack-jawed as Taehyung cleared his throat and the room descended into utter silence. I could hear my heart hammering in my chest, my pulse like rushing water in my ears. What exactly did he have planned?

“Hello,” he said, a simple greeting that echoed endlessly in the massive room, bouncing off the faulted ceilings. “My name is Kim Taehyung.”

Jungkook hummed. “He looks kinda cool,” he said with a chuckle.

I blinked, trying to sift through my thoughts. Jitters made my hands shake, my clutch banging against my thigh. “Uh-huh.”

Taehyung smiled once more at the crowd. “Pardon me if I seem a bit awkward up here,” he said, adjusting his lapel. “I’m not very keen on public speaking. Or…well, public in general.”

This elicited a round of laughter, the guests good-natured as they nursed their drinks or chewed on party snacks. “Wonder why they let him speak,” said Jungkook quietly.

Taehyung inhaled audibly, seeming to center himself with a breath, and lifted his eyes to lock on something in the crowd, probably a single tile on the floor or a panel on the front of the bar. “But tonight is a very momentous occasion. Ori Technologies has done what no tech company has been able to do in decades. They’ve disrupted a long-standing monopoly. And, while this accomplishment is commendable, it certainly paints a large target on the backs of the men and women who dedicated their lives to this company.”

I furrowed my brow. “This is weird,” I mused aloud and Jungkook nodded in agreement. “What kind of speech is this?”

Taehyung scanned the crowd before latching on to something different, and the way his expression shifted made a shiver crawl up my spine. I glanced toward Jungkook, ready to make another comment, but I noticed that his expression had gone darker now too. Was…was Taehyung looking at Jungkook?

“I’m…moved by the courage those spearheading this company have shown, and I’d like to use this opportunity to show some courage, myself,” he said. With a smile that looked a little sinister, Taehyung tightened his tie just slightly. “And so, I’m making my first ever public appearance.”

“What’s he talking about?” asked Jungkook, body hard, muscles tensed as if he were about to fight, eyes steadfast on Taehyung.

I shook my head. “I-I have no idea,” I said, a sinking feeling in my stomach.

Taehyung cleared his throat and gave a deep bow from the waist, eyes shut for a moment. Murmurs emerged around the crowd, all waiting with bated breath for whatever this speech would bring. Slowly, Taehyung stood upright once more and fussed with his cufflink before lacing his fingers before him with a smile.

“My name is Kim Taehyung,” he repeated, eyes flashing around the room before settling once more on Jungkook. “Although you all may know me better as Vante.”

[deathismyspiritanimal]

Just a short story!

So I finally got outta my writers block because I had this idea for your generic 'first words your soulmate says' au and it kinda took one or two turns on the plot but I still like it and I figured, might as well post it!^^

And this is, next to a drabble I made for my sister's birthday once, the shortest thing I've ever written.

Today was gonna be the day, I'd propose to my boyfriend of five years. Usually, when people meet their romantic soulmates, they marry them quite soon after, but I am quite the nervous gal. And yeah, it's still kind of weird for the woman to propose, Jake assured me it was fine and I should just go on and say when I'm ready. It's our meeting anniversary today, so it was perfect.

I looked back at the mark on my wrist, the most generic thing ever. 'Hello! How may I help you?', it said. Jake worked in a restaurant chain when I met him, so no wonder he said that.

Usually people are quite bold with what they choose to say, I used to just go out and about and shout 'Smooth like a spoon, born under the moon in the month of June', which is, admittedly, dumb but I made it up when I was like, seven, and I just wanted my soulmate to know it's me immediately. When I met Jake, though, I, for some reason, decided to just go with 'Hey, get me a strawberry milkshake, please?'.

You might ask yourself, Hana, how the actual chicken do you forget something that important? Well, kind, hypothetical reader, I don't know. I'm a dumbass I guess.

Well, anyway, I was just going to get some flowers, 'cause I figured, flowers are cool. So I went to the nearest flower shop. To buy flowers.

“Ducks.”, the woman behind the counter paused for a bit. “Sorry, so. How may I help you?”, she asked kindly and had a slight smirk.

'Ducks'? That's actually not too dumb.. No one would actually would be that uncreatively creative. I smiled.

“Yo, I reaaaaaally need help with flowers and I really don't know anything and what's the most romantic flower? I mean, sure, roses, but roses are sooooooo boring and I REALLY need to be extra today because I wanna propose to my boyfriend and I'm gonna be honest, I really don't want anything generic.”, I stated and walked up to her.

When I got closer, I saw the woman looked horrified. Like, wide eyed, color drained from her face, that kinda stuff, though she just nodded after a while.

“Are you okay?”, I asked, just a little concerned.

“Yeah, sorry, kinda spaced out there. So you said it's for a proposal so.. Congrats! And good luck.”, She began and I just smiled widely. “So, I believe a pink carnation and gerbera daisy bouquet would be a great bet!”, she continued on and showed pointed behind her to both kinds of flowers.

“That sounds amazing! And wow, these actually look really cute together! So.. You could do that, right?”, I asked unsure.

“Of course, darling, I'd never suggest something I'm unable to do. Would you like me to give you a call when it's ready or do you wanna stay here?”, she asked.

“Depending on how long it's gonna be..?”

“Well, that bouquet is not too hard, I also have no other orders for today and tomorrow either so I could begin right now. And, the length kinda depends on how complicated you want it. If you stay here, you can also help pick out the flowers. So basically, anywhere between ten and forty-five minutes.”

I blinked at her. Too much information for my two braincells.. “I'll stay!”, I stated excitedly. Everything needed to be perfect for this evening.

“Okay, great. My name's Veroníca, by the way.”, she introduced herself. “So, if you don't mind, I would need to ask you to step behind the counter with me so we can look at the actually pretty flowers.”

“Alright. And, nice to meet you, I'm Hana.”

“Oh, so you're the prettiest flower of them all, huh?”, she winked at me and chuckled.

I felt my face heat up slightly and a very girly chuckle left my lips. Oh hell nah, I'm gonna propose tonight. To my soulmate. Who I met five years ago. So shut your mouth, Hana. “Thanks, I guess?”

Veroníca shook her head. “Sorry, I like to flirt at any opportunity, maybe not really appropriate when looking for flowers to propose, huh?”

“It's fine, that was actually really damn good.”, I told her and we shared another chuckle.

Veroníca and I spent a long while bickering and laughing, picking the flowers and stuff. It felt really natural talking to her and she even gave me a few tips for the proposal. I left her a good tip and left my number behind goddammit if they were gonna have azaleas again I'd need Veroníca to make me a bouquet of them.

I decided to not bring Jake anywhere, I made food at home and set something up. When he came home, he seemed just a little overwhelmed at how fancy I looked and all.

“Babe! I'm ho...me..”, he stopped.

I just chuckled and gave him a peck on the cheek. “I'm glad you're home! I hope your hungry?”, I asked hopefully.

He just nodded.

“Then come on!”, I exclaimed and pulled him to the table.

We ate and chatted a lot, laughed and all that jazz you do at a date.

“As you know, we've known each other for exactly five years today. And, we've been together for almost as long..”, I chuckled in thought. “And, you know, it's crazy that, even though we both have so generic sentences on our wrists, we found each other..”

He looked at me attentively and seemed to know what was about to happen.

But it didn't.

As I looked at my wrist, something was wrong.

“Jake. There's a problem.”

He seemed alerted. “What is it, honey?”

I stayed quiet.

He looked at me.

“Ducks.”

“I'm sorry?”

“My wrist. It says ducks.”

“What.. What do you mean?”

I put my wrist basically in his face. “It says 'ducks'!”

At this point, my eyes were filled with tears. If Jake wasn't my soulmate after all, who-

Jake looked hurt. And as I thought my thought, he spoke it.

But I suddenly knew.

“Veroníca.”

A tear now left my eye.

Jake then proceeded to look down on his wrist. He stayed quiet for a bit.

“Mine changed, as well.”

“What does it say..?”

He blinked down at his wrist for a bit. “What is 'plexiglass is the most appreciative glass' supposed to mean?”, he asked frustratedly.

I couldn't help but snort at that.

Jake looked at me with a confused expression.

“C'mon, you gotta be real, that's hilarious.”

“Yeah, okay, agreed.”

My neck suddenly began to sting, which made me make a hissing sound and I put my hand up to it.

“What's wrong?”

“I think something bit my neck or something?”

“You want me to look?”

I just nodded.

He got up and brushed my hair away from my neck before letting out a chuckle. “'Hello! How may I help you?' it says..”

I sighed heavily. “Okay, Jake, I'mma be honest. I wanted to propose tonight. But guess we're supposed to be best friends after all, huh?”

“Seems like it.”

“I still love you though? I mean, I guess I do at least..”

“Maybe we don't know what love is, after all.”

“Maybe we don't..”

“But at least I don't have to feel about being lowkey turned on by Charlie, the new guy? We haven't talked yet but he's so... Hot?”, he chuckled lightly.

“Don't, when Veroníca flirted earlier I think I had some kinda gay panic? So like, my soulmate, who I REALLY hope is my romantic soulmate this time, is a girl anyway.”

“That's some coming out right there..”

[thetunewillcome]

[Fic] Empty and Desolate, The Air

Relationship: Aziraphale/Crowley

Rating: Mature (graphic descriptions of violence)

Important Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, South Downs, Language and Communication, T.S. Eliot-Inspired

Word Count: 3871

Summary: Ever a guardian, Aziraphale kept watch. Sliver-shafts of moonlight sliced ribbons across Crowley’s face. The emptiness of it unnerved the angel. Even in slumber, his expressive face had always told stories. Syllables shifted in the corners of his mouth; sentences found themselves punctuated with the movement of an eyebrow. Now, only still silence, even in sleep. Heavenly forces decide the best way to get their once-dutiful soldier back is to slaughter his only real reason for rebellion. Their attempt leaves Crowley wounded and voiceless. Aziraphale tries his best to heal him and accept the soundlessness of this new verse of their song.

[Read on AO3] or below (hidden under the cut b/c violence)

"Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,

Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not

Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither

Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,

Looking into the heart of light, the silence.

Oed' und leer das Meer."

- T.S. Eliot, The Wasteland

All was silent save for the language of the garden: birdsong and the buzzing of bees.

The blessed blade slid through skin and sinew, stilling as it settled inside his ribcage.  Searing pain burned in red-hot flashes across his chest.  Breath caught; lung collapsed.  Gritting his teeth against the gnawing heat of the metal, he squeezed his eyes shut, bowing his head in a silent refusal to give them the pleasure of hearing his torment, seeing his fear.  A disobedient, agonized grunt escaped his lips as the angel dragged the blade out, inch by inch, deliberately slow.  Warmth blossomed across his stomach.  Through slitted eyes, he watched his silver blood stain his shirt, drip from Sandalphon’s retreating hand.

Think of something, his mind pulsed.  Think of something.  Say something.  Do something.  Or else.   Weakly, he lifted his knees an inch from the soil, the start of an attempt to stand.  The metal shackles binding his hands behind his back scalded his wrists.  A hand  grabbed a fistful of his auburn hair, jerking his head up and back.  Golden eyes met lilac ones.

“Come, now,” Gabriel chuckled from where he stood behind him.  “You’re doubly trapped.  You’re not going anywhere.”  A pause as Sandalphon shifted closer and Gabriel said to him, “we need to get a move on, before we’re interrupted.”

Oh, you’ve got time, Crowley thought.  Aziraphale wouldn’t be back from the shops for hours.  Jaw clenched tightly, he glanced sideways at the empty patch of ground he had intended to fill with lavender that afternoon.  Infuriatingly fitting that his story would end here, in the garden he had so carefully tended for nearly forty years, behind the home they had come to cherish.  More so, even, than Eden, this place was their beginning; now, with one blind step across an invisible line, it would be his destruction and their end.

Gabriel spoke again to Crowley, voice full of arrogance and loathing.  “You fooled us back then, I’ll give you that, but look at you now.  I knew if we gave you time, let you play human in this stupid town for long enough, you’d let your guard down.  We’ve had that circle sitting out here for, oh, months now – concealed from demonic sight, of course – and you walked right into it.  So you will die, and Aziraphale will eventually forget why he turned away from us.  He will return where he belongs and he will fight for us again, in the new war to come.  In time, he won’t even remember you.”  Gabriel smiled, inverted in Crowley’s field of vision.

“Never,” Crowley choked out.  “He would never go back to –“  Something hot and wet pressed against his neck: the blade.  Instinctively, he jerked sideways and felt the edge cut a small track in his taught skin.

Gabriel’s grip on his hair tightened.  “Enough.  Time to die.”  His eyes fell shut, inner voice pleading with him to take action while the throbbing pain in his gut pulled his focus and slowed his thoughts.  Nothing came to mind but Aziraphale: the horror that would mar his lovely face when he discovered Crowley’s body, the crumble and collapse into grief, his blue-green eyes dulled under pooled tears.  Every speck of power Crowley possessed trembled uselessly just underneath his skin, detained by the shackles and the circle around him.  There was nothing he could do.

A tremor hummed through the air as the blade bit into his neck.  A breathy cry, foreign to his ears but coming from somewhere in him, penetrated his cotton-muffled consciousness.  Nails drew droplets of blood from the palms of his clenched fists.  Light was streaming in from somewhere to his right.  Metal cut deeper and his voice sputtered to silence.  All was blinding pain and light and quicksilver sticky warmth cascading down his chest, and then, a lightening.  His hair, released.  The blade, lifted.

Eyes flew open and took in the garden cast in brilliant white, a photo negative.  A hallucination, perhaps, as braincells starved and withered?  Or the light humans said they saw before death claimed them?  Air moved around him.  A flash: a lightning strike?  Head heavy, he folded forward, ink spreading across the edges of his vision.  One final fall, into darkness yet again.

Soft hands caught him: one cradling the back of his head, the other amplifying pain with firm pressure on his neck.  A burst of short-lived strength.  The circle had been broken.  The restraints tumbled from his wrists.  He was laid gently down in the cool embrace of fern and columbine.  White curls.  Bright, panicked eyes.  Aziraphale, he tried to say, run.  They want you back.  What are you doing wasting time on me, you perfect idiot?  Aziraphale, he tried to say, I love you.  I’m sorry.  But instead of words, a sickly, wet sound.

“Shh, don’t –  Don’t try to speak.”  Sweat and tears mixed on the angel’s face, and flecks of gold dotted his skin.  Fingers stroked his cheek.  His face was wet, too.  “I know it hurts and I – I am so sorry, dear, but I have to staunch the bleeding.”  More pressure.  Waves of agony behind his eyes.

“They’re gone now.  You’re safe.  You – oh,” and Aziraphale’s tender voice broke as his eyes swept over Crowley’s chest.  A hand found the gash in his stomach and pain bloomed there, too.  “I know it was holy metal, but – we have to try."  The angel's voice was an unsteady song, breathy and full of vibrato.  "Crowley, listen, with anything you have left, you need to try, okay?”  With a reassuring nod, Aziraphale closed his eyes.

Hazily, he lingered in the homecoming of Aziraphale's face before him, a sense of misplaced calm settling over his body.  It wouldn’t work – Angelic blades permanently injure occult entities deep beneath their corporations’ flesh. – but he would try, for him.  Crowley reached down into his core, desperately shoving pain aside, and found reserves of frantic energy.  Power surged through his veins.  Cells divided, mercurial blood replenishing.  It wasn’t a solution, but it would buy him time, and it was the best he could do.

Aziraphale’s warm energy flowed over his neck and ribcage.  The sharp stinging calmed slightly to a pulsing ache.  Weak and exhausted, Crowley watched Aziraphale concentrate, beautifully in his element, until the angel’s eyes reopened and fear took back its hold on his visage.  Shakily, the hand on his neck lifted.  Crowley read surprise and slight relief in the angel’s eyes.

“An improvement, certainly,” he said, trying to sound calm, though his breath came shallow and quick.  “Bandages, now.  Ready?”  A snap sounded in the distance; gauze wrapped tightly around his wounds, covering rows of stitches that had strung themselves through jagged skin.  “Much better.  You’ll be alright.”  You’ve always been a terrible liar, he thought.  Superficial patching was all their energy could do.  “Let’s get you inside.”

Tenderly, Aziraphale gathered him in his arms and lifted him.  Fresh pain burst forth as his body shifted.  He fought to keep heavy eyelids open and caught still images of the scene: evening primroses inching open for the night; hyacinths, named for the one whose blood first created them, dripping with silver; the smudged, broken edge of a devil’s trap in the dirt; a tree trunk sprayed with golden spatter.

At the last image, his eyes opened wide, mind sharpened with worry.  He ran a heavy hand over Aziraphale’s chest, earning him a concerned look.  An attempt to say Yours? required breath that wouldn’t come, and so he gestured vaguely at the tree and looked up into the angel’s pale face.

“Oh, darling,” and the hold on his body tightened, “it’s not mine.  Don’t worry.”  Eyes fell closed.  “Here, we’re almost there.”  The creaky hinges of their front door.  The click of the lock behind them.  The ten footfalls to their bedroom.  The soft give of their duvet.  Aziraphale’s presence began to draw back and Crowley shot out his hand, grabbing a wrist that froze at his touch.  “I’m not going anywhere, but I can’t let you–“  His voice tightened and he swallowed thickly.  “I’ll clean you up, change of clothes, okay?”

A snap, but nothing happened.  Aziraphale swayed on his feet, blinking.  “Shit,” he whispered, then recovered his soothing tone.  “Have to do it the human way, then.  But…”  Brows furrowed, he glanced at the bedroom door, then back down at Crowley.  “Well, in a moment, when you’re settled.”

His vision darkened, then returned as he felt the familiar pressure of the angel’s body on the mattress next to him.  Aziraphale moved cautiously, studying Crowley’s face as he settled down and slid fingers through rust-red hair.  Lips pressed a kiss to his sweat-slick forehead.

Sleep tempted him with escape, but as his eyes closed again, he heard a panicked “You –  Crowley?” and forced them back open.  “You need to stay awake.  It’s vitally important.”  Tears tumbled down Aziraphale’s face, and Crowley tried desperately to obey, but there were shadows curling in around the edges of his eyes.  More than anything, he wanted to speak, but their energy had only been enough to stop some of the bleeding, not repair deeper damage.  Thank you, he would have said.  Stay.  I’ll return.  Against his will, he slipped into sleep.

---

A sweet smell drifted into the cottage's studio on dreamy, heavy afternoon air.  Perched on a stool, Crowley glared at a canvas smeared with azure hues.  The paint was not behaving properly, and the whole piece was one more bad brushstroke away from spontaneous combustion when the sound of the door opening made him pause, paintbrush raised.  Aziraphale entered, and the sight of him spread a grin across Crowley’s face: he was dotted from head to toe in flour.

“That’s off to a beautiful start,” the angel said, words slowing as he took notice of Crowley’s expression.  “I like… What?”  A glance downward.  “Oh.”  A sheepish smile.  “I thought I’d try my hand at brioche.  The book made it look simple enough, but, well, I ran into some difficulty with the mixer, and then after it all, you’re expected to have the patience to wait for the dough to rise for hours before baking it…”

Grabbing hold of his hand, Crowley tugged Aziraphale closer to him and wiped flour from his cheek with a thumb.  “Couldn’t wait, could you?” he asked slyly, and guilt crossed the angel’s face.  “Well, it smells delicious.”  Leaning on the edge of the stool, he spread his legs wider and pulled Aziraphale forward by the hips until the space between them disappeared.  “Still, I thought patience was a virtue,” he murmured as he tilted his chin up and kissed Aziraphale’s lips.

“It is.”  Another kiss.  “But there’s no harm in speeding things along, either, sometimes.”

There was an absurd beauty in the realization that the angel before him could drown nations, burn sinful cities to the ground, plant dreams into the minds of men that would alter the course of human history, and yet, here he was, settled in South Downs with a demon, miracling dough to rise.  Crowley looked up at him as if he were the sun itself, wondering if Aziraphale had any idea of the limitlessness of his power.

As he had done countless times since the move, since the peaceful seclusion of the cottage had made it first safe to voice his ancient adoration, Crowley opened his mouth to say I love you, angel, but only heard a sickening sputter.  In horrified confusion, he pulled shaking hands away from Aziraphale’s hips and touched the ruin of his throat.  Where there had been blue paint on his fingertips, now, there was argent blood.  When he looked up from his hands, Aziraphale had disappeared and the stool was collapsing under him and he was falling, voiceless, back into the darkness of sleep.

---

The feeling of falling jolted him awake.  Gold eyes flew open and a second passed and then the pain rushed back to him all at once in a train-wreck of sensation.  Teeth ground.  Muscles seized.  Hands dug into the duvet.  Then Aziraphale’s hands were on him, warm and healing.  Dark circles had formed under bloodshot blue eyes, and his skin looked frighteningly pale in the half-light of the room.

Angelic energy smoothed the edges of the pain, but it still rang through him, the equivalent of covering one’s ears against a shrill alarm.  The hands withdrew and he watched Aziraphale wipe his face with a shirtsleeve.  He had no idea how long he had been asleep.

“You… you’re…”  Aziraphale, voice hushed and relieved, reached for words that unraveled on his tongue.  "I..."

Testing his body, Crowley managed a small breath in, all that his collapsed lung would allow, but the air died silently in his throat.  He raised his hand and mimed writing in mid-air.

“Oh!  Um, yes, hang on,” and Aziraphale grabbed a book and pen from the nightstand.  “Here,” he said as he held the pen out to Crowley, opened to a random page.  “Write in the margins.”

In jagged script, Crowley scrawled two words and tipped the book so Aziraphale could read them.  “Love you”

A stifled sob.  “I know.  And I love you.  You know that.  You're my world, my everything.”  Aziraphale’s thumb traced his jawline and Crowley leaned ever so slightly into the touch.

"They’re after you.   Go”

Shock and offense at the suggestion.  “No.  I won’t leave you, and you’re in no condition to be moved.  Don’t be absurd.”  A deep breath.  “They’re not a threat anymore.  Not for the time being, anyway.”

Crowley raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

For the first time in two days, Aziraphale looked away from Crowley, gaze hardening.  “I’m not exactly sure what happened.  It was all a blur.  My only concern was you.  Whatever I did to them, well, they deserved it, and I doubt they’ll be able to return.  At least, not soon.  But if they do, I’ll be right here” he said quietly, voice warming as he returned his focus to Crowley’s face, “and they won’t come near you again.”

"Should be dead”  To clarify, he added an “I” to the left of the phrase.

Aziraphale winced and exhaled slowly. “And yet, you’re not.  You’re here.  Perhaps I interrupted them before… Or… I don’t know…”  His voice grew high and tight.  “I’m not going to question it.  You can’t… because I couldn’t…”

The emotions battling on Aziraphale’s face became too much for his foggy mind to handle.  Crowley looked away and noticed his stained, torn clothes.  With a look of disgust, he gestured at them and the angel’s face twisted in guilt.  “Sorry.  Any ounce of energy that returns to me, I’ve routed right into healing you.  So I can’t miracle you clean, and I didn’t want to hurt you, doing it by hand.”  Not to mention he’d have to leave the room to get supplies, and he couldn’t pry himself away from Crowley’s side.

Crowley’s expression told him he was being ridiculous.  “Fine, if you feel up for it, I will.”  A small, weak nod.  “Okay, I’ll…”  Aziraphale stared at him as if worried he would disappear.  “I will be right back.”

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Crowley heard Aziraphale reenter the room, felt the gentle tug of fabric being removed from under him.  Like that magician’s trick, he mused, with the tablecloth and plates.  Except he was already shattered into sharp pieces.  Not much more damage could be done.

Wet cloth slid over skin, back and forth on silver stains.  Humans have been bathing bodies just like this in parlors and in morgues since their departure from the Garden.  Crowley had seen them do it, feeling like a voyeur in the face of their human grief every time.  He had heard them speak to the dead: apologies, confessions, questions hovering permanently in the air without answer.  Only silence from the dead, and now, from him.  What power lived in language, to prove I am here.  I can ask and answer.  Listen.  Under the reverent attention of his angel, he was lulled to sleep once more.

---

Ever a guardian, Aziraphale kept watch.  Sliver-shafts of moonlight sliced ribbons across Crowley’s face.  The emptiness in it unnerved the angel.  Even in slumber, his expressive face had always told stories.  Syllables shifted in the corners of his mouth; sentences found themselves punctuated with the movement of an eyebrow.  Now, only still silence.

Crowley’s presence had always felt thunderously loud to him.  Even in the early days, he would shatter Aziraphale’s peace with surprise greetings, bursting forth from a crowd or calling his name across a room.  Always a retort, always a bark of laughter or a groan of discontent.  Somehow, even when he listened, he listened with his whole body; Aziraphale could read volumes in the shifts of his feet and the tilt of his chin.  Sharing a home allowed him to hear new sounds he hadn’t been privy to before.  After a night of drinking, Crowley snored.  When concentrating in quiet spaces, he hummed to himself.  He shouted at sappy films and cursed at cooking mistakes and Aziraphale, who had always lived in lonesome quiet, had come to cherish every word.

Exhaustion ignited into rage.  They had no right to his voice, his life.  What did they even know of him?  Ancient questions?  Disobedient objections?  He was so much more: faltering bravado, endearing temper, sibilant begging, whispered affection, unwavering love.  His.  He was his.  And Aziraphale would do whatever needed to be done to keep him here.

Shifting into his true form that day had taken so much from him, and he had regretted it instantly upon realizing just how deeply they had injured Crowley.  Angelic energy took time to rebuild once depleted, and as it sparked and replenished in his core, he drained it into Crowley’s body, emptying himself again and again.  He hadn’t left the room for days, at least.  Dust had settled around them on the four-poster bed.

His mind wandered, recalling memories and verses to pass the time, but when it ventured near that afternoon in the garden, he stopped it.  He refused to consider what he had done to Gabriel, what it meant for him.  If Crowley’s life could only be purchased with Gabriel’s, if he had incurred a debt only repayable with his own Fall, he accepted those terms without hesitation.

Every instinct in him called for prayer, but his belief in a God who listens had withered half a century ago.  Still, he spoke.  It was a prayer, yes, but not to Her.  It started with an invocation, the one name in which he held unwavering faith.  “Crowley,” he breathed, lingering on the holy sound of his name.  “You’ve always been so strong.  Your will becomes reality here on Earth.  I’ve seen it happen.  Give it a try.  For me.  Forgive me for not being enough to heal you on my own.  Forgive me for needing you so selfishly.  You can save yourself, I know it.  You have the power, somewhere.  This can’t be it.  We’re meant to have forever.”  And ever.  Amen.

---

“Look like hell”

“Just the sight of you awake is lovely, my dear.”

“Not me.  You”

A shaky laugh.  “Haven’t exactly had the energy to keep up appearances, now.  So sorry.”  He had lost track of how much time he had spent lying quietly next to Crowley, watching, healing, hoping.

Crowley, propped upright now against the headboard and pillows, gave a fond smile and wrote “Standards?”

“Oh, stop,” Aziraphale chuckled as he unbuttoned Crowley’s pajama shirt.

Crowley’s physical pain was still present, but it had dulled significantly, and somehow, inconceivably, the invisible cancer of the blessed metal’s damage had ceased to spread.  It should have consumed him, and yet, it hadn’t.  They each had their separate theories – Aziraphale’s strength, Crowley’s willpower, the humanizing effects of isolation from above and below, the otherness of their own side – but neither would ever voice them.  Neither dared to question it.  And he was still far from out of the woods: he couldn’t even draw the breath required to ask for a compass.

“Focus, now.”  Aziraphale placed both hands on the bandage below Crowley’s left rib and closed his eyes.  Crowley did his part, meeting Aziraphale’s energy with the little of his own he had cultivated.

When they were both spent, Aziraphale leaned back, their shoulders touching.  Slowly, Crowley laced their fingers together.  His eyes were closed.  A scar ringed round his wrist, a souvenir of captivity.  The silence of the room pressed heavily on Aziraphale’s eardrums.  He wished for anything to shatter it: a word, a laugh, a breath, even, just the whisper of an inhale.  Nothing came.

He tried to be thankful for the silence.  After all, the air could be filled with angelic fury, with the sharp hissing of fiery weapons.  It could crackle with burning feathers.  It could carry a death rattle to his ears, bringing with it his ending, too.  The way things were headed, they still could communicate; it could have been much, much worse.  Aziraphale sat, warm palm pressed against Crowley’s cold one, and attempted to accept the soundlessness of this new verse of their song.

---

Eventually, Crowley urged him away from his post.

“Eat something”

“Shower”

“I’m fine”

"Get some fresh air”

“Please eat”

An irritated eye-roll when the angel insisted he wouldn’t miracle up food for himself.  “Pears are ripe on the trees.  Go”

Finally, he listened, disappearing for an hour here and there but always returning, a homing pigeon carrying stories and healing hands back again to Crowley’s quiet sanctuary.  One day, as he reluctantly walked down the hall, bedroom at his back, something stopped him.

Aziraphale had heard the first word ever born on a human tongue.  When Adam opened his mouth and began to name the creatures of the Garden and the Heavens, a strange and lovely music formed, so different from the celestial language of angels it defied comparison.  As Adam christened his wife, baptized his body – bone, flesh, rib – the young angel cherished each vibration.  How precious, the melodies of the human voice.  Out of that language, variations branched forth, harmonies.  Eventually, Babel brought discord, baffling and beautiful.  The early ages had rippled with vocal ringing, and as Aziraphale loved the humans, so he loved their languages.

But, oh, no word ever mattered more than this.  Its sandpaper sound was a shipwreck, dredged out of the deep, tempest-tossed nearly past recognition, but within its hull lay golden promise.  It was a name, just like the first.  Its syllables rose and broke over him, shattering months of silence and leaving him shaking in its wake.  “Aziraphale,” he heard.  A clipped song, a single note of adoration.  Spinning, he took in the impossible sight of Crowley leaning against the doorframe.  Carefully, carefully, with stunned and speechless gratitude, the angel wrapped him up in trembling arms.

Notes: It's not every day that you write something, go reading some of your favorite poems looking for inspiration for a title, and find lines that almost exactly describe what you've already written. (If I've been possessed by Mr. Eliot, I have absolutely no objections.)

The title comes from “Oed’ und leer das Meer” which means “empty and desolate the sea." Eliot borrowed the line from Tristan und Isolde.

Aziraphale’s prayer is very loosely based on the Lord’s Prayer.

[the-things-that-annoy-us-blog]

I think people do not fully appreciate uncles and aunts. You know... the people you leave your kids with most of the time? I mean, of course grandparents take the brunt of that duty, but c’mon, give us some credit, too!

Now, it’s not like I’m not glad to see my nephew or niece once in a while; see how they grew up, talk, yada yada yada. But man, let me tell you: this euphoria lasts for about two hours before your head starts to seriously hurt.

Just let me draw you a picture here, alright? Just a slight dip into my world of an aunt:

Head throbbing, you still read fairytales to the kids before they go to sleep. Three of those and not even the five-minutes ones, you know? No, you really do like your family, so you read for an hour and a half /straight/ (no pun intended, but come to think of it, all the fairytales feature straight people and that’s something that should definitely change; but back to the point).

The kids do not fall asleep even after that, but you’re so done - or overdone like a burned steak. You don’t go to sleep, though. Instead, you’re constantly checking on them if they did not fall off the bed, which:

I. they’re okay, but still not asleep

II. they are dead to the world, still on the bed

III. snoring like a bear on a verge of falling off the bed, hence you proceed to built a pillow fort or solve it in another way - as long as it will ensure the kids will not kill themselves in their sleep

IV. they start to kick the sheets off themselves as soon as their  unconsciousness realizes that you won’t let them kill themselves by falling off the bed, hence, let’s catch some cold instead, shall we?

V. reoccurence of either of the stages mentioned above

VI. you still cannot concentrate on your actual work you still have left to do, because you constantly check on the little beans

Then /finally/, their parents get back and you’re like "Awesome, now, I can do my /work/ (and what a joy, guys, right?), almost by midnight. So you load up your laptop to do the shit, but guess what? You’re capable of just staring at the screen, completely out of any wit or functioning brain (because the kids drained it to the last braincell).

Therefore, you don’t progress with your work even an inch, falling asleep instead. Is that the end? Hardly.

Waking up in the morning, your mind’s in shards, head thumping like it does after pulling an allnighter. You wouldn’t say no to at least one more sleep session, but you know that if you don’t want to get even more behind your work schedule (and with loud kids in the next room), there’s no chance of that happening.

What I’m trying to say here - there’s a reason why I don’t have kids (adopted or biologically mine, it does not matter). Yet, I basically still ocassionally have them, whether I want or not.

I know, guys. Kids are a joy in life and yada yada yada. But some of us are not meant to have them for a simple reason - we are not capable of working, with them around. Multitasking with a kid flying this or that way is a suicide for me. It’s either the kid or a complete mayhem. Why did my sibling had to have two such devils, I will never know. I feel doomed.

They are lovely, They are awesome. They are sparkling like Edward Cullen on a sunlight if that’s what you dig (I certainly do not). But only from afar or for the first few hours I get to take care of them.

I say, you had fun making them? Alright, cool. But also suffer the consequences, dammit. I did not get to have the fun part, why should I eat the shit part instead of you?

I am probably real terrible family member, but I cannot bring myself to care since THIS IS ME.

I still do love to read fairytales to the kids, though, because I know their parents don’t have time to do that and I do remember how much of a sucker I was for stories when I was a kid. I find it very important, hence, the hours I spend reading them fairytales are not wasted in my eyes. The problem is that I do not enjoy the catching-up I have to do whenever they visit.

Work piled up above a managable level. Tiredness. Headache. I am not built for kids - mine or someone elses. I simply am not. And it’s pretty presumptious to think all of us are capable of raising or taking care of little progeny’s while also managing to lead a functioning life. I would have to be a full-time parent. Period. There would be nothing else. It’s that bad. I ain’t afraid to state the truth about that. I am not a superhuman. Sorry to dissapoint, but not sorry at all. I am who I am.