#i've got this brilliant plan

[cescalovestowrite]

Odysseus advises king Tyndareus concerning Helen's suitors

Illustration by Howard Pyle

[arendaes]

Before Valentine's is over, @captastra tagged me in a post about this meiker and after seeing this post, I was inspired to make the OT3 in it. And then to make some other pairings as well. Since it's human only I had to get creative...

Ariadne, Daeran, and Woljif:

Other Owlcat Couples - Imogen and Jae, Elias and Ulbrig, and Vesper and Kalikke:

And some farming/life sim couples:

Not tagging anyone but if you want to do this then please do so I'd love to see them! (You can find the F/F version here and M/M version here)

[plushchimera]

still on semi-hiatus but doing some warm ups bc wtf even is my art process i don't remember

[lunaetis]

[ probably no writing today bc i'm catching up on the things on my watchlist. i'm going to be out during 31st & 1st and i'd already have to be back to work on the 2nd so i want to get as many things on my watchlist done as possible ! hope you guys are having a good day / night on your end ! ]

[isindismay]

I'm writing a sequel to what i think is one of my greatest (and most insane) fics ever, maybe this is why i feel like i am failing? Now i know what it's like to try to write a sequel to a great movie.

[jellogram]

This corpse poll blowing up has made this app unusable for me today but I'm okay with it because this is so fucking fun. Every time I refresh there's 20 more people writing heartfelt responses about death and grief and then a handful of freaks saying shit like "Dress me in a clown costume and dump me in a roadside ditch"

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [mlw][mdni][smidge of angst][boss/subordinate][no nudity][public sex][young cecil][standing sex][oral (f! receiving)][fingering][creampie][standing missionary][he's a lil' bit of a piner]

Cecil thumbs over the smooth surface of an aged picture, pulled out of the safe haven of his wallet. He feels the coolness of the image, weathered blue eyes lowering to his beaming face, dimples deep in his cheeks and the youth is so apparent. Beside him, you're wearing one of those childish plastic tiaras with fluff around the edges, arms crossed over your chest and pretty eyes narrowed into a scowl.

And Cecil swallows, a slender fingered hand moving to tug on the tie around his neck, loosening the loop until it hung lazily and his hand wraps around the crystal tumbler. He keeps his gaze on the picture, eyes softened uncharacteristically and heart panging with a sense of longing.

It's been at least 30 years.

30 years without hearing your snide remarks, without being told that he's a walking, talking advertisement for birth control, without being punched in the throat.

Cecil brings the glass to his lips, ice clinking around in the brown liquid, and he inhales sharply. The bittersweet scent clogging his mind for a minute and for once, he's not holding the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He simply holding your paperwork.

Cecil understood why you were always in such a bad mood. A permanent scowl etched onto your face, the way you'd rub at your temples and bark orders.

Assistant Deputy Director. That was your position.

Forced to do the work of those above you, and receive none of the credit. And Cecil's pure little heart couldn't help but pity you.

"I got that coffee you asked for." Cecil hums softly, setting the paper cup on your dimly lit desk, papers scattered and the sleeves of your shirt rolled up to your elbows, pens tossed haphazardly and you continue working.

"I didn't ask for coffee." You state, gaze remaining glued to the documents in front of you. Documents that were definitely above Cecil's pay grade but you couldn't be bothered to obscure them from his view. Not when he watches you with those pretty blue eyes, silently willing you to meet his gaze. Until you do.

"You didn't have to." He speaks softly and you let out a soft breath, fingers curling around the cup and bringing it towards your lips, palms heating up and you inhale the aroma. Strong and just the way you like it.

And you sigh.

"Oh, Cecilia. Where would I be without you?" You coo sweetly, before taking a sip. The coffee is scorching the inside of your mouth, but your training taught you to never show weakness so instead of 'hashafashasha'-ing your way into cooling the coffee, you simply swallow. Feeling the burn all the way down to your belly before setting the cup down.

"Was it hot?"

"Very."

Idle chatter flows like a river between the two of you, your hands continue to sift through the documents, signing, blacking out what needs to be erased and editting plans for various projects.

And Cecil hums quietly.

"You know, ma'am, I've never seen you do the birthday walk." He rests his chin in the palm of his hand, brilliant blue eyes trained on your features as

"My birthday's on a weekend."

"Which weekend?"

"That's classified." You dismiss him with ease, peeking up at him from beneath your brows and my God, do you wish you didn't.

Pretty blue eyes locked on you like you're the only thing in his world, lips looking so perfectly rosy, and blonde strands fall over his forehead, so messily majestic. And you swallow.

Before begrudgingly admitting the date.

"That's... Today." Blonde brows scrunch into a frown as he straightens up just a bit, his tie hanging limply down the front of where his shirt sits so snugly around his torso, tucked into the front of his pants and sleeves rolled up just enough to expose that classy wristwatch.

Gold. But it was too warm, in your opinion.

"What? No, that's crazy." Your sarcasm is layered on thick enough for him to know you're fucking with him, and if it isn't, the twitch of your lips give you away. And you let out a breath, before glancing at Cecil.

"If you sing, I'm calling you Cecilia for the rest of your life as well as making you clean latrines."

"I'm a high ranking agent."

"And you have arms and a nose. Essential for scrubbing shit stains from porcelain."

And Cecil grimaces. "Why do I need a nose for that?"

"I'd like for you to smell me abusing my power."

God. Cecil wishes he'd sang to you. He imagines the way your lips would've curled into a begrudging smile, the way the corners of your eyes would crinkle and the way your cheeks would flush, becoming heated.

He glances towards the framed picture that he usually keeps tucked in the locked compartment of his desk.

Aged and frayed, folds and disappeared pigment where the picture had been folded up so many times in so many different ways.

Flushed cheeks and hazy eyes stare back at him, kept pretty behind a glossy glass frame. And his fingers absentmindedly twist at the ring on his pinkie.

Your favourite metal, pretty and polished. Not a scuff in sight.

"This is ridiculous."

Carnival lights flicker in the emptiness of the night, the sounds of fun and laughter surrounding the two of you as you continue to walk between the various stands. A plethora of rides, of attractions, of snacks.

"If you can stop your complaining, miss, maybe you'll enjoy it." Cecil grumbles, before he feels the way your hand reaches for his, your pinkie wrapping around his so sweetly. And he glances down towards your interlocked hands.

"You look like the type of guy to get lost." You mumble. "Or touched."

Cecil can taste the cotton candy on his tongue, he can feel the warmth wrapping around his pinkie and he slumps into his seat, staring ahead into the emptiness of his office. He can hear the giggles that would slip past your lips whenever he'd lose at something.

He feets the lush grass beneath his shoes, he feels the cold breeze whipping at the back of his neck. And he swallows, bringing the Scotch back up to his lips, taking a mouthful.

"Win me a teddy bear."

You stare at Cecil with a blank, almost expressionless face. Watching him stare down at you with the sweetest expression and you let out a groan, handing your pretzel before you lick the sugary sweetness from your fingers.

And God, watching you lick your fingers felt like watching sin be born.

Your pink tongue dragging along the pads, lapping and sucking, until you deemed them clean enough and you stepped up.

Readying your eye at the scope, before aiming.

6 faux ducks in a row, and that gave Cecil the pick of the litter. And by natural instinct, he grabs the one that looks the most like you.

A frowning turtle.

"Doesn't it look like you?" Cecil hums, before angling the turtle towards you, allowing you a good look at the shoddy stitching and the mismatched cotton used for the body.

"Why d'you think it does?" You take another bire of your pretzel.

"Because you're turtle-y coming outta your shell."

Cecil smiles at the thought of how you turned to face him. So slowly.

Wind whipping at your hair, tresses framing your face so perfectly that he would've thought he was recalling painting, rather than a person. You were a sight for sore eyes.

The shitty joke had somehow managed to get you to let out a laugh. Melodious, sweet and so, so... Addictive. He'd instantly marked the sound of your laugh as his favourite sound. The cacophony of wheezes and breathless coughs had his heart clutching, even now.

And Cecil takes another swig.

This time, straight from the bottle.

"Shit..." Cecil's voice is breathy, lips pressed against your pulse, one of your thighs hiked around his hips. You remain pushed against the warping mirror, prisms of light dancing over your features and that goofy ass song that plays over the speakers is drowned out by your panted breaths. And he shudders when your manicured fingers sink into the golden strands at the nape of his neck.

His breaths are deep and shaky, hands grasping at your waist and thigh, anything to bring you closer to him.

Fuck, he has your picture tucked into his wallet already. He'd have to be fucking stupid to miss the signs you've been giving him all night.

Calling him 'Cecilia', telling him that he looks like a boyscout with the way his eyes twinkle so prettily at the different attractions. Not to mention the way you fingers slid between his when you pointed out the House of Mirrors.

Cecil's cock strains against the front of his slacks, his hips slotted between your thighs, and he shudders when he feels the way your nails scrape against his scalp. "Well shit..." He breathes out. "I like that..."

Cecil swallows, the back of his neck set aflame wth a deep blush, and he simply inhales through his nose.

And he's surrounded by silence. Delving deeper into memories that threaten to escape him with each visit.

Soon enough, Cecil found himself guiding your thigh to rest on one of his broad shoulders, meaty hands pawing at your thighs, lips pressing haphazard kisses along your hosiery-clad thighs, before he rips a hole into the nylon.

His knees dig into the cool linoleum tiles beneath him, but it does nothing to cool the flame that seems to be scorching just behind his flesh.

Cecil's hands paw at you, fingers tugging your panties to the side and his tongue drags through your sloppy folds, and he just loves the way your belly dips inward at the feel. And he groans. Your hand moves to rest on the crown of his head, nails scraping along his scalp, fingers disappearing between his blonde strands and you sigh.

Your breath stutters, head tipping back against the mirror, your bottom lip wedged between your teeth because sound travels. Especially when it's a high pitched moan because he has those perfect and pouty lips wrapped around your clit, sucking on it like it's a fucking treat.

This is definitely against the rules. This could be seen as an abuse of your power, but you can't really find the urge to give a shit. Not right now when his tongue's dipping into your spasming hole and definitely not when his nose is bumping at your clit so teasingly.

"Such a pretty pussy." He croons, diamond eyes glossy and chin coated in a slick sheen, and he slides one of his hands up your thigh, fingers tracing along your slit when his tongue goes back to lapping between your folds.

Your brain turns to a muddy puddle, threatening to leak out your ears when one of his long fingers are buried in you, all the way to the knuckle. And he curls the digit, a calloused fingertip presses against that gooey spot that makes your knees buckle.

"Holy sh-shit..." Your hands are cradling the back of your head, your lashes fluttering and your chest heaving, kiss swollen lips parted to let hot puffs of air escape your lungs And choked up throat.

Fingers fuck into your cunt, dragging against your insides with a skill that makes your toes curl in your heels, and you're so confused as to how you're even able to stand up.

Your body slumped and your breaths weak and whiny, staring down at him from below fluffy lashes.

There's something so earnest about the way he sucks at your cunt, lips finding purchase around your sloppy folds and eyes so glazed over, you're wondering if he's enjoying this more than you are.

His hips buck into nothing when you come. You spasm around his fingers, breathless gasps slipping from you with the ease that water slips through the cracks in stone.

And his free hand palms at his cock through his slacks, brows scrunching into a cute little frown before he pulls back, gossamers of your wetness clinging to his lips.

His eyes lower to where your slick drips down his palm and he licks his palm clean, pink tongue savouring the taste of you and he smears his saliva-coated palm along your cunt.

Before rising to his feet.

His breath stutters in his withered lungs, face burning a bright red at the memory. The dimness of his office is a weak consolidation, slumping back against Italian leather and he glances towards the ceiling.

He remembers the way you sighed when he pushed into you, clingy pussy immediately wrapping around him so snugly and he remembers the way your arms snaked around his neck.

And he takes another swig. The liquor burns on the way down but it does nothing to quell the fiery pit in his belly.

"Shit..." Cecil groans. "Too tight— m'not goin' anywhere, doll." He lets out a breathy laugh when he watches the way you hide your face in the curve of his neck, nails digging into his broad shoulders and you're barely able to stand up.

You're so warm, slick dripping down your thighs and soaking your pantyhose, your panties tugged to the side and your gooey walls fit him so snugly.

The sounds you make when his hips meet yours with each roll is downright nefarious. Breathing sweet sighs and moans into his ear, your nails leaving scratches along the back of his neck and your thigh hooked around him, bringing him closer.

He's not even pulling out properly, you won't let him. The blonde tufts of his happy trail grinds against your clit teasingly, the sensation making your lips part. Spit-slicked and rosy, and he can't not kiss you.

Cecil's lips press against yours with the kind of desperation no subordinate should have. Ever.

Tongue brushing against yours, and he's kissing you like he's trying to remember you forever. To remember the way you feel.

And he sighs into the kiss when you suck on his tongue.

Cecil's not looking down. He can't afford to. He doesn't wanna look at where your pretty cunt's wrapping around him like a fucking leash, where you're creaming around him and Cecil whines.

Panted breaths escape him and he hides his face in the crook of your neck, hands grasping the fat of your ass beneath your skirt, bringing you closer with each desperate fuck into you.

His flushed tip presses slick and messy kisses against your cervix, a perfect curve that hits that spongy spot with each sloppy thrust and he's damn near embarassed that he's rushing towards his orgasm with the speed of a freight train.

And he swallows. Hard.

"I can't pull out." He pants. "I just— I can't, I don't want to. Shit, 's so good..."

And he babbles. He's embarassed. But he's only been fantasizing about fucking you like this for the last 4 years.

Picturing how your tits would press against his chest in missionary, how he'd inhale that sweet perfume up close rather than just the ghost of it when you walk past him.

"Then don't."

Cecil takes a deep breath to clear his mind. He doesn't need to be painting the inside of his slacks with a load that's been aching to be emptied into you.

He glances longingly at the pictures of you. The expression on your face, the matching smiles you wore for the staff photos. And he glances at the ring on his finger, glinting in the light of his desk lamp.

"Keep this. In case I die." You hum softly, sliding one of your many rings onto his hand instead, picking his pinkie as the chosen digit.

You're supposed to go... Negotiate with some firebreather, Director's orders in hopes of assembling a team of heroes.

"You'll be fine." Cecil reassures, pressing a kiss against your palm, looking down at you with that adoring expression.

"Whatever, Cecilia."

He feels the way his throat burns at the memory. And he glances towards the watch on his wrist.

Roman numerals, silver with a black, leather strap. Worn and frayed, but still visibly well-maintained.

"Found this." Cecil stares down at the box in his hand. A sleek wristwatch, displayed on a tiny pillow. Silver, with black leather straps. And a barely visible 'C.S' engraved on the back.

And a tiny note.

'Always thought you'd look less faggy in silver.'

He remembers the way his body nearly went limp. The way his stomach dropped, the way his throat tightened and the burn that seemed to scorch the back of his eyes.

And Cecil glances towards the watch on his wrist, thumb brushing over the leather.

"You were right." He mumbles. "Silver looks better."

Taglist:

@lucky-beheaded 🌻

@tamaranblaze 🐭

@anesthesia-4rizzle 🎀

@feral010 ✨

@blckbarbiedoll 🌷: All (exc. Damian)

@allycat4458 🪻: All (exc. Kyle)

@custardpuddingprincess ⭐

@couldeatthatgirlforlunch 🦄

@theamazkngskye 🍄

@titchx0 🦆

@starski 🌃

@5lxt4u 🎻

@pariahsparadise 🏝��

@ilove-nsfw 🖇️

@milkstrawburie 🥛

@squigglewigglewoo 🪴

@hhjira 🌬️

@atanukileaf ☘️

@Calicocat-ina-tuxedo 🐱

@maliagurl 🐛

@munji-tunji 🦐

@ruu-bluu 💎

[witherby]

Heyyyyy *leans on expensive car* what are you cooking up for the next mer!reader part?😌

-🌭

Heyyy hotdog 😏 ur about to see it babycakes

Human!Damian x Mer!Reader

Part 8

Masterlist is Here!

It's a very grueling two days of monitoring for you in the med bay. You're kept sedated on a wet gurney so you can be examined for wounds, but there's nothing physically wrong with you. They poke and prod you, take your blood, and run test after test after test to see what could've made you turn so bad so quickly, but those results run clean too.

It's a psychosomatic effect, then. Something is distressing you so much that your body is responding to your mental state. When asked about it, Bruce just rubs his face exhaustedly asks the team to make a new care plan that involves Damian's involvement as much as possible.

When you're deemed healthy enough to return to your tank, they wean you off sedation and carefully deposit you back into the water with a special health monitoring cuff on your wrist.

While you were gone, your castle spire had the top half turned into a removable hideaway in case you got stuck again; it now clicks on and off from the bottom half, a little like a Lego, for your safety.

It takes you a day to fully shake the medicine off, so you spend most of it in a weird daze, but when full alertness returns to you, you pick at the bracelet a while, then tiredly float to the surface to receive breakfast from Jon. And Jon is there like normal, sitting on the lip of the tank with a smile, but he's not the one holding your bucket.

It's Damian.

Damian, who looks at you with wide eyes, like he can't believe you're here and you might vanish if he blinks. Damian, who stands there and stares like you're the most fascinating thing he's ever seen. Damian, who looks just as anxious as you feel. The bucket in his hands is trembling minutely.

It's Damian. He's here. He's here. He's here.

He just stares. You don't know what to do except stare back, locking onto those brilliant, emerald eyes you practically begged to see for weeks. The sudden, unadulterated attention from him makes something twist inside you, and you don't know if it's positive or negative.

Jon clears his throat and quietly calls your name. You glance at him.

"Feeling up for a meal? I've got a couple puzzles, too, if you want them. If you're still woozy from the meds, then that's okay too."

Damian seems to pull himself together and finally offers you the bucket. You hesitate just a moment more, then reach out and take it. The tips of your fingers just barely graze his.

You hold the food to your chest, staring at him. Damian stares back. A muscle in his jaw jumps, and he opens his mouth like he's about to speak.

You quickly turn away and drift a few feet from the tank's edge, starting to eat. His stuttered gasp tells you the message was well-received.

Jon sucks in a sympathetic breath through his teeth, reaching out and squeezing Damian's forearm. "Give 'em time," he whispers. "You've been away a while, y'know? I'd probably feel a little abandoned, too."

"It wasn't on purpose," Damian mutters, eyes burning. He fights it down, refusing to cry when there is nothing to cry about. His old position as primary caretaker was reinstated (albeit, Jon is secondary caretaker, now, but he'll take what he can get), he's no longer barred from seeing you, and he's got another chance to fix this companionship. He just needs you to give him the ability to act on this chance.

He needs to earn your trust again. He can do that. He will do that, no matter the cost.

--

You're not up for playtime that day, or the day after. When either one of your caretakers mentions getting into a wetsuit, you react unenthusiastically, so they stay out of the tank to respect your wishes.

Damian is visibly distressed by your refusal to engage with him. He uses your name, he offers you toys and treats, and only tries to call you Princess once before you release a low, threatening warble, and does not try again. If he was so upset by being ignored, then fair is fair. Maybe he shouldn't have done it to you. Prick.

The stinging in your chest at the sight of him doesn't get any better, but it also doesn't get any worse. According to your vitals you're stabilizing, but the beautiful florescence of your tail hasn't quite been restored ever since that fateful incident with Bruce pulling Damian away. The missing patches of scales have regrown by now, but your entire color palette seems overall paler. Less enthused and iridescent. Almost defeated, like you've settled into a life of complacency.

The routine adjusts, and you with it. You quietly accept food at mealtimes and half-heartedly engage with toys. During the tours, you go through the motions of swimming idly around and doing basic loops. You no longer press your body against the glass to stare at and admire all the guests. You no longer steal the buckets to make your caretakers dive in and retrieve them. You no longer chirp or chitter or trill.

It's killing Damian, the guilt threatening to swallow him whole. He's tried everything to get you back to how you used to be — old games, sitting and talking to you, even getting into the water to try and play hide and seek — but you are absolutely not interested. Nothing is working.

And when nothing works, he goes back to the basics. He reenters Bruce's office and takes out your files; he pours through them all, page by page, paragraph by paragraph, to scrape together any fleeting idea of how to bring your incredible spark back.

He's flipping through some documents detailing behavior in wild Mer pods when he finds his answer, and he knows what he needs to do.

Damian asks for an hour to speak to his dad. There's an entire myriad of questions thrown at him, most he can answer and some he can't. There's almost shouting, but Bruce manages to cool them both down again. There's a lot of negotiating, a lot of it, but finally, finally, he gets the green light. He leaves his father's office feeling more confident about you than he has in weeks, and it shows.

The following morning, when you drift to the surface to get breakfast, Jon is there with the bucket, and Damian is there with a rock. It's a small thing, barely the size of your palm, but it's beautifully painted. It's not one of the rocks you've had before, meaning he's not re-gifting you something you gifted him.

It's something he made. For you. He made a gift for you.

"Good morning," Damian says, and your eyes snap to his. "I've brought you this. I want...I wanted to express my..."

He sighs, brow furrowing. You tread the water patiently.

"I am sorry," he finally says. "I'm sorry I allowed my father to separate me from you. I'm sorry I started acting like you didn't exist. I was so angry to see Jon replace me that I feared you would not need me anymore."

Your expression doesn't change. Damian swallows thickly.

"Maybe my phrasing is poor. I don't want you to need me. I simply...I care about you a lot. And I did not think you cared as much, so I took to ignoring you almost entirely. But I thought about you all the time. I wondered if these imbeciles were cleaning your tank properly, or remembered that you don't like red snapper when they feed you, or if anyone was playing with you enough."

Damian inches a little closer to the edge of your tank. He holds the rock out to you. His hands are shaking.

"You don't trust me anymore. That's understandable, and a very logical move on your part. But I want to earn it back. I want to prove to you that I'm here to stay this time."

He leans over the edge a bit, eyes locked onto your own.

"I will do whatever it takes to ensure you don't feel alone again."

You pull your gaze away from his and move closer to examine the rock. The bright, rich colors and intricate patterns painted into it make something ease up in your chest. You feel like you can breathe just a little bit easier.

Your hands emerge from the water, rivulets trailing down your palms and wrists, and gently take the stone from him.

Damian's entire body relaxes, relief making a smile appear on his face.

It promptly vanishes, replaced by indignant sputtering when you spit a bunch of water at him. He coughs and wipes his face, then blinks to find you swimming to the bottom of your tank to find the best place to stick your present. You're moving so much faster, so much more energetically than you were before.

"There you are, Princess," Damian whispers into the water, grinning wide.

"...are they gonna come back up and eat?" Jon asks, still sitting with the bucket. "Cause...we can't re-refridgerate this with the other food. It'll have to get tossed."

[stxrvel]

intrusive (4)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader. content. THIS IS EDITED!! there are new scenes!! 16/9. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! sadness, lots of mixed feelings, self-hatred, flashbacks, flashbacks. a/n. hi guysssssssssss. its been a while, i know and im so sorry. i hope this chapter doesn't feel too rushed. truth be told, between life issues and that i've been having trouble with inspiration for scenes it took me a while to build this, but surprisingly i'm pleased with the result. now, where do you think we're going and what will we do from here on out?????? surprises come, surprises go. thank you all for your continued support!! i really appreciate the feedback from all of you and reading your comments makes my days. for those who are still here, thank you. see you next time!

series masterlist | bts masterlist | previous | next

There were too many loose ends to tie up. There were too many empty spaces, too many misunderstood moments that kept your hair standing on end every so often or every time you remembered. They were like gaps, things you didn't know how they had gotten there, how they had happened, or how someone else knew. And you were accumulating them, suspicious, somewhat delusional and paranoid if you asked anyone, but they were held in that space in the back of your head waiting for the right moment to come out.

Between moments of lucidity and memories of the past, there were many things you had superficially let slip by.

Yuna was in front of you, her brow furrowed in concentration and her eyes almost square from the amount of time she had already spent in front of the computer. You had been at it all day, so the moment your friend appeared like it was her own living room and everyone acted like it was nothing out of the ordinary, you just plopped down on the couch with a calm expression, waiting for the perfect moment to let certain things out, to ask certain questions.

There were moments of enlightenment, there were moments of brilliant discoveries. And that day you had discovered something you had forgotten because of the brevity of its recognition, but in retrospect it was something worth knowing, even if there were still too many things, more important things, of which you were ignorant. At that moment, all gathered in the living room of your parents' house, the most important thing was what was on your mind.

“Yuna.”

Your friend barely shook her head in acknowledgement of her name. Your parents were arranging the table in the middle of the couches to settle lunch, surely a big feast like every other day for the past few days and the only reason Seojun took virtual classes that day, and your brother was ogling the dishes with his mouth ajar. Eugh.

But none of them were paying too much attention. Food, social media, ordering, direct messaging, arranging the geometrically correct dishes… everyone had their heads in their own world, and that's why you could hear the moment your father's hair touched the ground when you asked:

“You were the one who set up my book booth at the last convention?”

Four pairs of eyes bore into you.

“What?”

You looked at her expectantly, not letting the mischief interfere with your plans.

“No…! I didn't-I mean, what are you talking about?”

Yuna let out a nervous laugh, just after correcting herself when she got a blunt look from your mother. Your father stood stiffly behind his wife, the frying pan in his hands wobbling so clearly that a few drops of the soup dripped onto the wood of the floor. Your mother leaned over, leaving the plate she was carrying on the table, sending Seojun a look that caused him to swallow his saliva sonorously.

The scene was so comical that you really had a hard time not bursting out laughing.

“It's just that when I talked to Sol this morning she commented something…”

You let the words hover in the air, straining them each time it came to one of them. Yuna straightened up, completely forgetting about the computer for a second, peeling her back off the couch where she was leaning on the floor. Your father snorted in surprise so hard that he was attacked by a cough and your mother had to take the frying pan away from him before he watered down all the soup from all the shaking. Seojun hid behind your mother's legs and you just plopped down on the couch, stretching your legs over the armrest, satisfied with their reactions.

“And what did she say to you, honey?”

Your mother was the most composed, finishing arranging the dishes around the pan while your father had run out to the living room for a glass of water. Among the foursome, your mother was the only one who truly knew what dissimulation meant. You had no doubt that her sisterhood with the others in the room would end once you told them you already knew everything.

“She told me she was afraid I hadn't been able to see what you had done for me,” you frowned looking up at the ceiling, looking genuinely confused. “And it was weird, because we were talking about the last convention.”

Yuna let out a laugh, incredulous.

“And why would you be talking about that with Sol?”

Putting the antics aside, you stood up on your forearms and glared at her.

“Why did you do that?”

“What did I do?”

“Sol told me it was your idea.”

“That's not true!”

“Ah…” you held a hand to your forehead, as if you had just remembered something important. Your gaze swept around the room and Seojun cringed when your eyes landed on him. “True. She said it had been your idea.”

Before Yuna could send a warning glance at your brother, Seojun raised his hand and pointed at your friend, exclaiming:

“It was her idea! It was all Yuna's idea! Tell her mom!”

The two aforementioned closed their eyes, taking a deep breath and bringing their fingers to the bridge of their noses. Their expressions of ennui were unmatched and promptly Seojun was cringing for a completely different reason.

“You're such a jerk,” Yuna mumbled, almost barking in the direction of the poor man seeking to escape his mother's lethal gaze. Instantly, your friend turned her gaze in your direction, meeting that amused look that curled her annoyance just for a millisecond. “I thought you'd be more upset.”

“I was,” you lifted a shoulder, leaning back against the back of the couch as you listened to the string of scoldings your mom was in between yelling and whispering to your brother. “But it's impossible not to see reason when you're talking to someone like Sol.

Yuna also nodded in consideration. It was something that, not just the two of you, but all of Sol's workers agreed with. Sol had a warmth about her, a homely feel to her that made you automatically trust her and take it for granted that, if she told you everything would work out, it was because it would; whether it was by chance of the universe or because she would see to it that it did.

“Then it was a good thing you heard it from her mouth and not your inept brother's,” Yuna sent her another withering glare and you couldn't help the smile that twitched your corners as you watched your mother move the bowl of tteokbokki away from her grasp. It was so funny to see that he didn't always get the baby of the house treatment for a change.

“Were you planning on taking that to your grave?”

Yuna turned, arching her eyebrows. With her lips set in a thin line, you knew she was thinking about choosing the right words to answer you, even though that thing they'd done had led directly to the fact that, at that moment, you'd been able to afford the luxury of asking for vacation for the first time and focusing on what you truly loved to do. Even if they had worked behind your back, the result had not been so fatal.

If you took a few unwanted people out of the equation, that is.

Your friend finally softened her gaze.

“No, I knew you'd find out at some point. From whoever's mouth. A secret can only be kept from so many people.” Yuna rolled her eyes, moving to listen to your father complain from the kitchen. “But I didn't think Sol would tell you so openly. Was it on purpose?”

“Yes. I think she was trying to convince me or make up for something. I'm not sure which.”

Yuna raised her eyebrows, cocking her head in tension for barely a second. If not for the years you'd known her, you probably would've interpreted her short-lived reaction as genuine curiosity, the desire for a tidbit of gossip. But your friend's tension was palpable and it was something that left you wondering a bit, especially when she didn't speak until your father returned to the kitchen.

“Honey, I think I'm going to get a sore throat.”

There were too many loose ends to tie up. There were too many empty spaces, too many misunderstood moments. There were too many things you were still ignorant of and had no idea about; things far beyond what was happening in the present.

There were things you still didn't understand, like why and how Jeon Jungkook, the country's most famous idol and probably one of the celebrities most likely to have easiest facial recognition on the street, had so stealthily stumbled upon your whereabouts or why he had acted as if seeing you again was a reunion with his lost puppy from years ago.

“Are you still upset, noona?”

Seojun watched you warily, your sidelong glance leading him to cower once more behind your father. With lunch settled and the tension gone (barely), you all had been able to enjoy an enjoyable moment. After all, the dense atmosphere that still lingered was only due to the fact that teasing Seojun was fun and more satisfying when you had no reason to do so.

It all came from a great consideration that your family, and even Sol, had for you, trying to support you however they could, even if you didn't even seek their help. As much as you wanted to (and didn't really want to) there wasn't much reason to get angry. Less so when the outcome, likewise, had been favorable.

“We should focus on what's important,” Yuna dipped her spoon into the almost non-existent conversation, finishing her meal and leaving the plate practically glistening, to which your mother was able to sketch a satisfied smile. “We have a meeting this afternoon.”

“Ah. Yes,” Seojun nodded, remembering his place as the second-in-command of the business, because you had actually been relieved of any position you might have held in your own business. “As the person in charge of the treasury of this company, I must admit that the decision made is the most appropriate and in our best interests.”

Yuna narrowed her eyes, seeming it was almost impossible for her to ignore your brother's annoying presence.

“What have you contributed to this business to call yourself the person in charge of the treasury?”

“I've done a lot for this project! Besides, you are focused on advertising. You should be in charge of the public relations department.”

“And I can't handle both?!”

“I set up all the lines of communication with the delivery people and organized the accounts with Dad!” Seojun pulled Dad's shirt collar, pulling him close to his face with a frown. Your dad only let him be, as he savored a wing. “You took charge of net with mom. We can't reverse charges now. Experience and reality speak for themselves.”

Yuna clicked her tongue, irritated.

“Whatever,” shaking her head, she flipped the computer on the table so Seojun and your parents could get a good look at the proposal you had accepted, after arduous study over the weekend as a family. “After a long board meeting, which stretched over the entire weekend, this was the accepted offer.”

You could almost see the zeros running in your brother's eyes, with a budding smile making its way across his face. Your parents looked pleased, proud. And Yuna kept that determined expression; she was really taking all this seriously and you didn't know yet how you could thank her for it.

“Ah…” your mother sighed, holding a hand to her chest. “It's finally happening.”

When she sent you that look with the sparkling eyes you couldn't help but shrink back on your spot on the floor.

“Mom, I think it's best we avoid getting too excited until we've signed.”

Your mother nodded, closing her eyes and breathing to keep her composure.

“Accepted the offer, we were summoned to their facility, which is where we will be heading after resting from this delicious lunch.” Yuna smiled radiantly in your mother's direction. Sometimes you wondered if she wasn't missed at home. But… no, she was much better off here.

“My children have to rest very well to make the best decisions at that meeting,” your mother nodded, stroking Yuna's hair superficially and getting up to pick up the dishes. Seojun got up to help her, but your father stopped him, keeping the warm smile on his face. Of all of them, your father was the most expressive, but you knew that at that moment he was holding back only because at the slightest he would burst into tears. And yes, with a simple glance in your direction, his eyes watered and he had to run away hugging the dishes against his chest.

Seojun sighed dramatically.

“I wish they had been this excited when I entered college.”

Yuna moved across the table, smacking him on the forehead that left him with an instant redness.

“What are you talking about, idiot? You celebrated all weekend.”

Seojun didn't respond, touching his forehead with a grimace. Yuna snorted, not believing your brother's audacity, and turned her focus back to the contents of the proposal you had received from Noble Publishing Apgujeong. You still remembered the screams that had echoed throughout the house when they found the letter from that publishing house in the mail, the most prestigious and probably the highest one could aspire to in the world of writing and for the purposes of editing and publishing. There wasn't a book published under that publishing house that wasn't a success, and that they had sought you out themselves was a great privilege.

“Speaking of celebrations,” Seojun took the floor again, when your parents had finished taking the dishes away and agreed that you would wash them all together before youo left for the publishing house, because nothing was good enough, ”I don't think we've had a moment to at least pop a champagne and celebrate this.”

Your parents remained thoughtful, but you were already shaking your head when Yuna spoke:

“It's true,” her frown said she couldn't believe they hadn't done it yet, but between so many chores, to-dos and new things you were discovering on this new path, you couldn't just take the luxury of doing nothing for a few hours. There was a lot to work on. “We should do it after the meeting. With the contract at home, it will be much better!”

Your father and Seojun cheered in agreement and your mother gave a few claps.

“You're working tomorrow, Yuna.”

“So what?” your friend frowned at you. “Do you think it'll be the first time I've gone to work with a hangover?”

Your mom's throat clearing startled her, and she quickly melted like pudding with a sheepish grin.

“But this time it will be for a good cause…and it won't happen again.”

Your mom nodded, not very convinced.

“Incidentally,” Yuna regained her posture, sending a glare at Seojun, ”we could have y/n finally watch the video reactions of her books.”

“You haven't seen them?” Seojun exclaimed and suddenly the four pairs of eyes felt very threatening.

“… no…”

“Mom?? Did you hear that?!”

“Sweetheart!” your father exclaimed, looking at you as if he had heard that you did something worthy of banishment. “Why haven't you seen the videos, don't you know the good things they say about you?”

“The compliments,” your mother nodded. “Almost the entire internet loves your books.”

“That's an exaggeration, mom…”

“How did you even avoid all that hype?” Seojun asked, leaning over the table. “Even Dad's TikTok wasn't spared, and he only watches National Geographic videos.”

“…I muffled a few words.”

A roar of incredulous refusals followed your words and promptly everyone was moving to corner you against the couch so you had no escape.

“There is no time to waste.” Seojun nodded in Yuna's direction and it offended you too much that the only times they agreed was to do something against you.

“Mrs. l/n, I think dessert will be popcorn,” Yuna moved her computer closer to the center of the table as Seojun settled in behind you, each of your parents on your sides as your friend opened the TikTok web app.

“Hey, no… no. I'm not ready to watch this. I'm not-”

“Nonsense, noona. Even better, this will give you a big confidence boost for the meeting this afternoon.”

You didn't believe Seojun at all. Your nerves were on edge as Yuna moved to sit next to your brother and the first words of the first video echoed in the living room:

“My honest opinion of the A Million Swords trilogy…”

-

“Do you think I might publish any of these one day?”

Your fingers drummed on the keyboard of the desktop computer, watching the letters spinning a story that no one yet knew. No one, except for you and Taehyung at that moment. His gaze was confused as his dark eyes hid behind the dark, unruly, damp locks of his hair. For a pool day, you couldn't have had a better time than writing parts of your still unfinished story, the one you used to run away to when you had a whole reality to mold in front of you. Maybe you should have paid a little more attention back then; attention to details, to gestures, to distances, to forced smiles; maybe if you had paid that kind of attention you would have been able to foresee everything that would happen later… maybe then it wouldn't have hurt so much.

But at that moment, at 14, you could only see with stars in your eyes the enormous possibility that you thought writing would open up for you; the world you were about to discover, much farther away than you thought.

That weekend the pool party was at your house. Jimin had brought a gigantic inflatable pool withJungkook and they all kept splashing water in each other's eyes in the backyard. In your prolonged absence, surely, Taehyung had ventured inside the house to the only place he would know you would be if it wasn't next to them.

“Do I think? I'm absolutely sure.”

Taehyung shook the droplets slipping from the ends of his hair all over your face.

“Tae!”

“Why are you doubting it?”

“I never said I was doubting it.”

Your friend took one of the armchairs that each of the boys had recast in your room, which no matter how much you pulled them out always ended up there again, to sit next to you and watch the unfinished paragraphs on the computer screen. There were four armchairs already gathering dust in the corner of the room that you still hadn't had the heart to take them out.

“Look at that,” the brown-haired man moved his face closer to the screen, splashing more water on you, with a mischievous grin. “It was desire that stirred me, far beyond the reach of reason or any cognitive faculty. In the depths of my being, I knew with unshakable certainty that I was right. Their gaze scrutinized my every expression, searching for ways to break me, while their fingers, far from innocent, accused me relentlessly. Yet, even as the weight of their scrutiny bore down on me, there was no realm, no dimension in this vast, boundless universe where I had not chosen him above all else. Not even as the streets ignited, the houses crumbled to ashes, and the roar of thunder drowned out the cries for mercy…who writes like that?”

“y/n!”

Your other two friends appeared, reveling in the unapproved reading of the first draft of your first novel, and you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

You moved quickly to press the off button and your friends barely let out a short laugh.

“Don't ever do that again.”

“Then don't ever doubt you again.”

“I wasn't doubting! It was just a question…”

“She just wants you to be honest, Tae.” Jimin entered the room, moving right behind his friend and flashing a smile that made your hair stand on end.

“Honest...?”

“Shut up, Jimin.”

The aforementioned barely let out a laugh, under the scrutinizing and confused expressions of his other two friends.

“What do you mean?” Jungkook spoke, trying to gain ground in that unfamiliar room, clasping his hands in front of him in nervousness. He didn't even understand why he was nervous, he just knew he didn't like the obfuscated expression on your face.

“Nothing, Junkookie, Jimin's just an idiot who only knows how to spout rubbish.”

“Rubbish? Where do you even get those words from?”

“I learned it yesterday in literature class!”

“Uh-huh…”

“Stop it, Jimin!”

-

He wasn't a person to be caught off guard. His cautious attitude was something he had developed over time; with the experience of going through and surviving difficult situations; with the toughness of making strong decisions and constantly bearing the burden of being at fault for their consequences.

So no, Min Yoongi took it upon himself to plan things around him so meticulously that every aspect of his life had a place and a time; an hour and a second.

A planning so perfect that at that moment it was slipping through his hands like sand. His friend… no, Dohyun could do nothing but rest his hands against his desk sending him an obfuscated look, trying to look almost as disgruntled as Yoongi was at what he had learned would happen in that office.

“Of all the things I thought you could tell me…” Choi Dohyun shook his head, and on his face Yoongi could tell there were no words that could qualify his surprise. But he was surprised too, to be honest. He didn't know how he had summoned the fortitude to move so quickly from across town, from his study, to arrive at Dohyun's office and blurt that out to his face as if it were any Tuesday afternoon, as if he were simply inviting him to dinner at his house. “I've never underestimated you, Yoongi-ah, but this…”

“Who contacted you?”

“Who contacted me?” Dohyun let out a laugh, which felt a little heavy to Yoongi as he shifted his weight on his feet. “What makes you think I can't recognize a good deal from a distance when I see one? They call me the Shark for a reason, don't you think? I smell business like they smell blood in the sea.”

Yoongi clasped his hands at his sides, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by Dohyun, who looked up and barely ran his tongue over his teeth before plopping back down on his ergonomic chair.

“The decision is already made,” was all he said to him, generating a flutter of emotions inside Yoongi.

“Who contacted you?” Yoongi insisted, feeling time slipping through his fingers. “How did you find out about… this?”

Dohyun let out a laugh, bordering on sarcasm and disbelief. Yoongi would've taken more time to think about it there, to ponder what he was doing, what his impulses were pushing him to do. But within the framework of his decisions and conflicting feelings, Yoongi had taken a path that he could no longer undo and the least he could do was avoid was to generate collateral damage to someone. Just for the chance to try, even though the probability of having the universe in his favor was microscopic, he decided not to give in to reason.

Maybe he would still be the villain in someone else's story, but in his conscience… maybe… maybe he was right and was looking for no way to excuse himself; to excuse things he could no longer change; to excuse behaviors he could no longer erase and decisions he could no longer undo.

Perhaps, too, it was the price he had to pay for what he had done. For what he had said; for what he had not said; for what he had done and what he had not done; for his action and his omission; for his perpetration and complicity. If Yoongi had known that time in his twenties that such a decision would have taken things so far, so close to the impossibility of healing, he surely would not have made it .

But to regret now, what good would it do him? To mutter apologies now, what good would it do him? To dig through the fibers of an unbridled heart, what good would it do him?

“Yoongi. I am the head of the largest publishing house in this country. If you thought I was going to see fluttering around the internet this opportunity in a million and as an entrepreneur and investor I wasn't going to take it, who are you taking me for?”

He should've dragged Namjoon away when he saw him in the parking lot, because business was his forte and not Yoongi's. Yoongi might as well cringe at Dohyun's words because how was he going to refute them. He had come with fortitude, yes. He had come with resolve and determination, yes; believing that this decision was the right thing to do, the least he could do right. And yet, at that crucial moment, with everything against him and the swords at his neck, Yoongi had his arms crossed again.

Maybe he should've dragged Namjoon along, but… how would he know if he was on his side?

“But don't worry. I'll try to keep you apart. You know I always separate personal matters from my work.”

Dohyun was a professional liar. If telling lies were a profession, Dohyun would quadruple the fortune he now boasts as the owner of the country's largest publishing house. Yoongi hated the way he covered up his poisonous words with honey, as if he couldn't see through the thin texture of the liquid how everything was corroding around him. And Dohyun was not his friend, if he wasn't sure before, he was now.

It's business, Namjoon would say, as rational and objective as ever; a businessman can't have someone around who attacks his vision, his business, that's an enemy.

Yoongi right now was a blob of green soup on Dohyun's pole, about to walk to an important meeting where he would close a million-dollar deal. His insignificance bordered on indescribability, but his diminutive presence was big enough to be considered a splinter in the foot.

The phone rang, breaking the tension in the atmosphere, and instead of answering it, Dohyun sent a glance toward the oak doors and then to Yoongi's limp body. Clasping his hands once again, it shook him inside to think that once again he allowed himself to be trampled. Once again, he was going to be the misfortune in someone's life.

“They're already here,” Dohyun almost muttered, an amused expression on his face. “You can leave now or you can stay and watch.”

Yoongi knew he'd be happy to have him there, watching him bite his tongue, trying to swallow his embarrassment. And wouldn't it be simpler to just leave, to brush against the fate he once let slip away as if it were something so trivial that it didn't tear a piece of his soul to even think about it; to brush against an opportunity he missed, selfish and presumptuous, as if he were the only one whose heart was beating with pain that day.

“I've never asked you for anything…”

“And neither have I,” Dohyun interrupted him, raising his gaze serenely, lifting his chin to acerbic dominance. “And all I'm asking you now is to stay out of my business.”

And Yoongi would've had to agree with Namjoon, because business and money definitely change a person. No one can rise to a high position, of Choi Dohyun's level, without having scored a big armory and a few degrees of tough personality willing to kill to get what they want.

“I received you out of courtesy. To Jin. But I won't tolerate another second of this.”

Dohyun mumbled, and the moment he brought the phone to his ear, Yoongi knew he had lost. Again.

“Hyung…” Yoongi closed his eyes, helplessness winning out over reason, the word sour in his mouth.

“No. I'm sorry, but no. It will happen. Just make your decision, I don't want my guests to wait too long.”

He didn't know if the grinding of his teeth was as loud as he heard it in his head. He didn't know if his behavior was over the top or understandable. He didn't know if he had a right to those emotions or if he had lost it more than ten years ago. Well, ten years in her head. He didn't know if he deserved that moment; to share that space and time and catch off guard someone who could become as cautious as he was now; because if Yoongi learned from anyone to be the way he was today, it was because of her.

He didn't know, in retrospect, if he ever made a good decision in his life.

-

i reeaally want to know your thoughts on this one!! re-edited!

tag: @rinkud @futuristicenemychaos @pastelpeachess @parapiop7 @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthings @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @saintomie @damn-u-min-yoongi @juju-227592@yoongznme @queenbloody @leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesworld @zippaur @v4ksk4tz @kookierry @idk179634 @canarystwin @elliott-calls @devilzliaison @butnotmontana @ismelllikechlorine247 @19yearoldjstryingtolivelife @thatgirliehan @yuuuumii @welcometomyworld13 @sugarbaby69x @whoa-jo @chaotickyrith @dreamerwasfound @darlingz99

[notapradagurl7]

Ties That Bind. Part Two.

Terry RichmondBillionaire! x Black Fem! Plus Size/Reader.

Summary: Planning your wedding with Terry was incredibly stressful. You had to manage missed calls from family, which you eventually had to block, you talked with your cousin and then Terry’s uninvited family showed up. Once you met them, things got chaotic, and Terry noticed that you were feeling overwhelmed, so he chose to help you cope with the stress in his own manner.

Word Count: 3,536k

Warnings: angst, smut, fluff, dark!Terry, toxic family drama, arranged marriage, fingering, protective!Terry, consensual for both parties, stressed out reader, Use of AAVE, oral sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, confession, violence, threats, Terry putting the his family in place, use of the n-word, Terry’s POV.

( Series Masterlist ) ( Part One. )

A/N: Here is part two and Terry’s POV is included, let me if you want to be added to the taglist, Don't forget to leave a like, comment & reblog to support, or you can always ask for a request, Enjoy! ❤️

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque

@playgurlxoxo @babybratzmaraj @becauseimswagman1

@superheroprincess22 @pocketsizedpanther @beenathembo @brattyfics

@hxneyclouds @yassbishimvintage

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @ovohanna24

@novahreign @writingsbytee @avoidthings @kimuzostar @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky @euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @miguelspvssy @liatreads @kaylaahisthebestest- @tforpresz @uniqueoutlierblog

@dxddykenn @dpennedit @secretlifeoofmarpessa

@westside-rot @mymindisneverhere

@mind-somewhere-else

@kindofaintrovert @aquarising03

@5starr-staciii @pickuptruck01 @henneseyhoe @irlvampfairy @browngirldominion

——————-

You.

Terry’s fingers fit seamlessly with yours as you stood together on the beach, where the dark sky transformed into brilliant shades of pink and orange. The orange-ish sun illuminated your dark brown skin and the glimmering ring on your finger, while the chilly waves lapped at your well-groomed feet, anchored in the sand.

Your eyes flickered toward the golden ring on Terry’s finger, you smiled at him.

The past few weeks were incredibly stressful; the colors were off, the caterers prepared steak instead of homemade pizza, which added to your frustration.

It was a series of mishaps from the wedding, but Terry was resolute in improving the situation, so he invited you to his private beach at his home close to Louisiana.

“You good, baby? Talk to me," Terry asked gently, turning to face you.

You sulked at the tall man dressed casually yet fashionably in sage green, which matched your own sage green dress and sandals.

As you turned to look at those green hazel-ish eyes that bore into your soul deep, feelings of anxiety and uncertainty began to invade your thoughts.

"Terry, it's been overwhelming lately, with everything that is going on in wedding, it's moving so fast, baby." You admitted with an unsure tone, your hands snaked to his muscular arms.

Your eyes looking into his eyes searching for clarity, and reassurance. His face softened at your expression, he pulled you close.

And you forgot to mention the multiple missed phone calls from your family about not being invited and calling you selfish, you were only close to your cousin Jayla. She was one of the only sane that you can talk to.

“It's okay, honestly I've been feeling overwhelmed too, my family called and said they are showing up without telling me shit,” admitted, his voice low and husky, his hand gently cupping your face.

Your phone buzzed, and you fished it out of your pocket. It was Jayla. Your thumb pressed the button and held it close to your ear. “Hello? They're doing what? How the fuck did they even get the address?”

The conversation concluded with the press of your thumb, your lips tight in frustration. Why on earth would they show up after you had severed ties and declared you didn't want to see them anymore?

No, no, not them. Was this punishment? Nope, no you're talking nonsense, you didn't deserve this. Nobody does.

"They're coming tomorrow, Terry. They're driving down from Chicago." You blurted out, shoving your phone in your purse.

His eyes hardened, a dangerous glint flickering in them. "They are?"

You nodded, "Jayla called, she said they wouldn't take no for an answer. They even booked a room at the hotel far away from your house."

Terry's jaw clenched, his grip on your face tightening slightly. "They think they can just show up uninvited? In my fucking house?"

You saw the anger simmering in his eyes, a primal instinct that made you both afraid and strangely aroused.

"I know, Terry. I tried to stop them, but they wouldn't listen."

Terry shook his head in disagreement, not wanting you to feel like it was your fault. He kissed your forehead lovingly and looked down at you in concern.

“It’s not your fault that all of this shit is happening, don't worry princess, I’ll handle them,” he reassured with a firm tone.

The two of you walked quickly back to his black Cadillac XTS hand-in-hand, you heard Terry’s breathing increase but then suddenly it stopped. You were getting worried about everything.

If there wasn't one thing, it's another thing after that.

You approached the vehicle, and he opened the door for you like the gentleman that he was, you settled in, and he gently closed it shut. He circled the car and got into the driver’s seat, closing the doors and then locking it.

Thankfully, the windows were tinted and you had some privacy. He turned to you, his voice low and seductive, "But first, let's forget about them for a while."

You nodded in agreement, your fingers gripped his chin and leaning in to the scent of his cologne, black cherry and sandalwood. Kissing his lips passionately before pulling away.

He pulled you closer, his hand slipping under your dress, tracing the curve of your hip. You shivered, a wave of heat washing over you. You climbed into the backseat with him quickly.

"Let's focus on us," he whispered, his lips grazing your ear.

He guided you towards the plush cushion, his hand firmly on your lower back, urging you to lay back. You obeyed, your heart pounding in your chest. “Good girl,” he praised.

Terry knelt in front of you, his eyes burning into yours with desire. He reached between your legs, and rolled your panties off with the flick of his wrist, his fingers sliding their way between your folds. “Mmm, I've been waiting to touch you gently,” he whispered, his tone deep with a hint of rasp.

“You don't have to be gentle, just touch me please,” You

You gasped, arching your back as his fingers began to go in and out of you, his touch sending shivers down your spine. Your essence trickles down to his wrist, making his black Rolex watch glisten, “Oh fuck..Terry…ugh,”

He looked down at you, and hovered over you, his eyes dark and intense. "Your pussy is already gripping my fingers, feel so good," he murmured, his voice rough yet audible.

Terry loved the feel of your pussy gripping his long thick fingers, he couldn't wait for his dick to be hugged so tightly, his bulge grew bigger and harder in his pants, he groaned raspily at the squelching sound, Terry desperately wanted to feel that love that he is feeling right now.

It was almost as if you felt the same energy from Terry, he was upset but he didn't want you stressed out about anything. You had to talk to him about it until his thumb flattened on your clit and thrust his fingers faster, “Ah! Oh my god! Terry!”

Your hands held on for dear life on the armrest of the seats, your hips rolling with that torturous pace, your walls clenching around his fingers, the metal his of gold ring inside you sent shivers through you, “Give me more of that good shit, doll,” he coaxed seductively.

His fingers curled at that sweet spot, you cried out wildly and clutched your breast in your hand, “F-fuckkk! Terry! More please! Baby!” You screamed loudly, he pecked your clit and then sucked your nipple roughly, tears falling down your cheeks.

Those green eyes of his watched your pretty face contort in pleasure, your essence wetten up his seats but he didn't care, it would get cleaned up anyway, his mouth sucked roughly around your areola, and his thumb flickered your clit, “This is all mine?” he asked.

“Yes, all yours..so gooddd,” you babbled with neediness, he continued to pleasure you, his fingers moving in a rhythmic pattern, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. His mouth trailed kissed along your dark brown skin, moving your box braids out of the way. Kissing your lips again.

"Terry," you moaned, your voice hitched and body twitched weakly. "I'm gonna—"

He silenced you with a kiss, his lips moving over yours with a possessive hunger. He continued to pleasure you, his tongue swirling with yours, his fingers hit that spot and curled up in a “come here” motion with quick precision. Biting down on his lush lips, making you cry out his name. “There you go, my beautiful wife,” he soothed with a devilish smirk.

He called you his wife, those words made you bust a nut quickly, your back arched over the seat and stretched out your feet.

Your essence poured onto his fingers, as you came undone, your body trembling beneath him. Terry watched with a smile pulled his fingers away, leaving a trail of moisture behind. He leaned back, his eyes filled with a primal satisfaction.

"That's it, baby, Let me see that beautiful face." he said, his voice husky, his hand gripping the back of your neck, pecking your lips passionately.

You opened your eyes, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Terry smiled, a slow smile that sent a shiver down your spine. Licking his fingers clean, he hummed softly, “You taste amazing,” he told you.

He leaned down and kissed you again, a long, slow kiss that tasted of salt and sweat, your essence.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good tonight," he whispered against your lips. "You won't be able to think about anything else."

You knew he meant it. Terry Richmond was a man of his word, and you were about to experience the full force of his desire.

Or were you? You had to face his family and your family at your house, tonight was gonna be very different and difficult.

The air hung thick with tension as you stepped into Terry’s family home, the cacophony of laughter and shouting nearly drowning out the thumping of your heart.

His family was a swirling storm of noise, each voice a stark contrast to the calm you'd found in his embrace just hours earlier.

Terry’s father, Theo, he stood there in a black suit beside his wife, and his dark brown eyes bore into you, his face twisted in anger, his slim loafers clicked on the marble floors. His light brown skin shone underneath the lights. He was 5’9.

Terry’s mother, Tiana stood in between his father and Tristan, her brown skin and dark brown eyes, dressed in a light purple dress and sandals on her feet. Standing at 5’5.

Tristian, he was slim yet not muscular like Terry, same complexion as his younger brother, his green eyes locked onto the woman who stood next to Terry,

As the man turned around, a loud voice boomed, “Terry, you decide to rush into the family business with this stranger? Let me guess she wants all our damn money?” It was his father, contempt dripping from every syllable.

“Don’t call her that. She’s not a stranger; she’s my fiancée,” Terry snapped, the deep timbre of his voice reverberating through the room like a storm brewing.

Your heart raced as his mother stepped in, her eyes pleading for peace. “Terry, Theo, please. This is about family.”

“He doesn’t get to dictate who I love!” he shouted, defiance etched on his face.

You felt out of place because of the volume getting louder and louder, you needed a place to mute

You glanced around, feeling the weight of their scrutiny, the judgment clouding the air until Terry’s mother’s eyes landed on you, as if she was calling out to you.

As you walked alongside Terry’s mother and pushed the doors open, the turmoil of their dispute faded into silence; their voices grew louder as you moved outside to the backyard, feeling the soft green grass beneath your sandals and a gentle breeze on your face.

You let out a trembling breath, feeling as if you could finally find peace.

“My apologies for the way that my husband was speaking toward you and the yelling doesn't help either," Terry's mother spoke up,

"I'm guessing that Terry and his dad never saw eye to eye, and Tristan was always the one to be the golden child?” You guessed in a soft voice, your heart still racing from the confrontation inside.

Tiana nodded, her expression softening. "You’re not wrong. Terry has always been different in a good way. He has this fire inside of him that scares Theo, and his father doesn’t appreciate that."

You glanced back toward the house, where the shadows of Terry’s family loomed large and menacing, their voices still echoing in your ears. "I just want to make this work, you know? I love him," you admitted, your voice softened.

Tiana studied you, her dark eyes searching for something. “And he feels the same way about you too, my dear. He loves fiercely, Terry told me about you on a phone call yesterday, he was determined to be yours,”

You appreciated her warmth, but the thought of Terry facing his family's wrath made your stomach twist. “I just don’t want to lose him.”

——————

Terry.

He stood in the main spacious living room of the house, his gaze narrowed in frustration. He felt the tension hanging heavy in the air, shifting from him and back to his father.

Theo’s harsh tone cut through the air like a knife. “You think you can just bring this girl into our lives without any consequences? You’re disrespecting everything we’ve built!”

“Don’t you think that the reason I joined this business and married Y/N is because it was my choice? I didn't do this shit for money or to get your attention?” Terry shot back, his voice filled with rage.

Theo shook his head from side to side in disapproval, crossing his arms, “Keyword you are her fiancé, you are not married yet, son,

Tristian stepped aside, giving his two-cent in the situation. But Terry interjected quickly, “From what I know, once we get married I’ll have the business,

“Terry, why can't you just admit and accept that I'm the one Dad’s gonna choose for the business hm? You're gonna take the easy way in by marrying a random bit—”

Terry's punch landed on Tristan's cheek, causing blood to ooze from his mouth and mark his light brown skin.

Tristian winced and swore in agony as he fell onto the white marble floor, sliding with a screech before his head collided with the wall, resulting in a loud thump.

“Don’t you ever talk about my wife like that, nigga,” Terry shouted with malice, shaking his hand to ease the pain after hissing.

He watched you stand frozen in the doorway, heart racing and pulse quickening as you processed the chaos unfolding in front of you.

The confidence you had felt moments ago was replaced by a surge of anxiety.

All eyes were on you walking back inside the house once the room fell silent.

“Get the fuck up, Tristan,” Terry growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t get to disrespect her in my house. Not now, not ever.”

Tristan scrambled backward, wiping blood from his mouth and staring at his brother with anger and disbelief. “You’re insane, Terry! Do you think you can just bring her into this family and everything will be fine? She’s just a distraction.”

You stepped forward, heart beating like a drum, ready to defend yourself. “You don't know shit about me, I'm not a distraction,” you retorted, your hand resting on your chest.

Terry was fatigued from constantly arguing with his father and brother; the back-and-forth was exhausting both mentally and physically.

If this pattern was going to continue every time they communicated, Terry knew he had to put a stop to it once and for all.

“Look, if you can't accept her then you can't accept me, you didn't do it when I was a kid, you're not invited to our wedding, just leave," Terry shot back.

The tension in the room escalated, and you could feel the unease in the air. You stood by Terry’s side and gripped his arm tight, “Terry why can't you reconcile with him,” you whispered, your eyes on him.

“I'm done playing nice, I can’t keep doing with him, Y/N, I know that I'm gonna run this business myself. You don't need to worry about me sweetheart," He reassured you with a kiss on your forehead.

Truth is, you were worried about Terry. You wondered if everything was going to be okay, doubt crept in again, You had to tell him.

“If that's what you want then throw it away, after everything I did for you, this is how you repay me?” Theo shot back, his eyes flickered toward the two of you.

“You chose Tristan and not me, all that does is drink, waste your money and give it back, but me, I did everything right and it still wasn’t enough for you,” Terry trailed off with anger, his eyes on his father.

Theo listened intently to every word that his son was saying to him, cutting him deep yet he still persisted. His eyes softened at Terry, feeling his heart break.

“Okay, okay, you're right about that, Tristan used to be the golden child but he wasn't like you, I didn't want you to suffer like I did in the business, I'm sorry Terry,” Theo apologized with a strong tone.

Terry’s eyes widened slightly at what his father was saying, that was the first time he apologized.

“D-dad, you don't mean it—” Tristian spoke up until Theo interjected quickly by holding his hand up.

“I do mean that shit, Tristian, you're not good for the company, Terry, if you ever want to talk again then let me know,” Theo told him, turning his head to the side.

Once his family left out of the house, locking the door behind himself. You stood there with a saddened expression. He hugged his mother goodbye.

The two of you entered the bedroom, he sat down on the edge of the bed. You walked toward him and your hands rested on his shoulders with his hands on your thighs, bringing you closer to him. Leaning close between your breasts, relishing in your warmth.

“Terry, before we go to sleep, I've been having doubts lately baby, family is important to me but it feels like we’re standing at the edge of a cliff. I love you, I do, but all this drama…it’s heavy. I don’t want to be the reason you lose your family, but I also can’t let them disrespect me and us,” you confessed, your voice trembling slightly as you looked into his intense green eyes.

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to relieve the tension that had been building for weeks. “I get it, I really do. I love you more, I’m not trying to put you in the middle of this. But my family…they don’t deserve you. They don’t see you the way I do.”

Your head tilted with a slow shake, “Your mother accepted me and that's enough but, Terry, I just…I don’t want you to have to choose between me and them. That’s not fair,”

You wanted to believe him, but the weight of his family’s disdain felt like a noose tightening around your throat. Your grip tightens on his shoulders, bringing him closer.

He stood, moving closer until the space between you vanished. His arms wrapped around your waist. “Listen to me, Y/N. You are my world. I don’t care if they accept you or not. You’re not just some girl I’m marrying. You’re my future. My wife. The mother of my kids. They’ll have to deal with that.”

You looked up at him with a small smile, his words brought comfort to you, but still, there was your family coming for you. Ugh, you'd almost forget about them.

“And you know that my family is coming here too but they don't know where you live, we have to face them too, shit,” you retorted with a eye roll.

“I'll protect you, defend you with my life from them, you don't owe them shit, sweetie, I faced my family and I face yours too,” Terry replied with a head shake, reassurance in his tone.

“Thanks for everything, my love, Come here,” You whispered seductively, moving your finger in a ‘come here’ motion.

After that, the two of you kissed passionately, making love for the rest of the night. Knowing that it wouldn't mend anything but it felt right, you wanted to feel every inch of him. Eventually, everything will fall into place for both of you.

—————-

[brujaluas]

What will your reputation be like in the future?

pile 1

Now, at the present moment, you may be going through many things, from the present moment to the future where people will see your reputation, it will be like this, from now on you can face many things, it will be a blessed path but at the same time quite sacrificial, you will study a lot, work a lot, spend days and days on this, losing sleep with ideas, with planning, with studies, with work, distancing yourself and not even communicating with people close to you anymore and instead having connections with people far away, networking, and all your effort will bear fruit. Your reputation will be interesting. People will see you as a hard-working person who deserved everything you got. If you receive recognition, whether through college, work, fame, I don't know, some way of showing it, people will see it and think that you deserved it, that you suffered a lot to build your own path and that you deserve it. You will have many connections that people will also recognize as the work you did. You have a very bright energy. People recognize your efforts and think your work is beautiful. Your recognition is brilliant.

pile 2

You will have an intense and peculiar beginning, very eccentric. It's as if there are many people around you and they are people with very bad energy, low vibration. It may also be the case of having a lot of competition in an environment and this makes everything very strange, but you will become a leader and lead everything and all these people. If a group planned to harm you in some way, fly away and turn it around and when they see it, it will be too late because you have taken the reins of the situation and are giving the orders. You may be leaving a toxic environment or a toxic relationship with someone and you are in a hurry about it. It reminds me of a very special song for me, by Florence called Dog Days Are Over. It gave space for your liberation. You led, but this also cost me a lot of wear and tear on your part and you want to get out of it as quickly as possible and you will. Wow, you're going to have an intensely beautiful turning point, it's like you've entered another world, something as bright and sweet, refreshing and calm as a summer breeze in Italy. You will be part of a very interesting process that you really want to be a part of. You can build something, some may have a restaurant, you will recover your roots and energies and rescue a self that you didn't even think existed anymore or a self from past lives. I've talked a lot, but I had to do, apologize. Your reputation will be controversial. Some people will initially find you very clayey, aggressive, stormy, but you will have a change and many people, let me explain, it's as if in one place you were seen that way, and you will literally have a change of place and in this other place people will see you as someone at peace, kind, hard-working, you are the kind of person that people gather at home with on the weekends with children and pets.

pile 3

Your destiny may be to be recognized by your family. You may have a beautiful family, the kind we dream of having, lots of children. Your reputation is that of someone who never seems to be alone, always doing something with someone. If you don't want to have children, I imagine you as Santa Claus, a kind and sweet person who likes to see good people like children happy. You can work with children, and they will feel comfortable with you, just like we like the good old man, Santa Claus. You may feel overwhelmed with so much energy and may at some point be far away. People will miss you, but you will withdraw for a while and be in the company of just one person, it could be your best friend, sibling or spouse. People see you as someone very romantic, affectionate, a very sweet brotherly figure that people like to have the attention of nurturing by your side, confortable, you give a lot of comfort for people.

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Hope for Christmas

Spill it, Buck," Maddie said.

"Well, you know how I've always kind of been a go big or go home guy?" Buck asked.

"Yes, I have met you," Maddie said dryly.

"Well, I kind of bought Tommy's Christmas present before the breakup, and it's non-refundable, so I was thinking I could gift it to you and Chim."

"What's the gift?" Maddie asked, curiosity piqued.

"Uh, an all-inclusive vacation to Cabo..." Buck's voice trailed off, waiting for her reaction.

"Buck," Maddie said, her voice softening.

Buck took a deep breath. "It was going to be perfect. I'd planned everything - private villa, sunset dinners, couples' massage. I talked to his captain and arranged his schedule. I wanted it to be this big, romantic gesture that showed Tommy how serious I was about us."

"Call him," Maddie said.

"What?" Buck said, confusion evident in his tone.

"Call him," Maddie repeated, simple and direct.

"Mads. I can't do that. We broke up. He dumped me," Buck said, his voice heavy with hurt.

"So? It was meant to be a gift, right? You don't have to do all the romantic stuff, but you still like each other, right?" Maddie said, her tone practical and hopeful.

"No, Maddie," Buck said quietly. "I don't just like him. I love him. I am in love with him."

Maddie's expression softened. "So call him. Not to get back together. Just...as friends. As people who care about each other."

Buck hesitated, his fingers already unconsciously tracing the outline of his phone in his pocket. "What would I even say?"

"Hey, I bought this trip before we broke up. Want a free vacation?" Maddie suggested with a hint of a smile.

"That's your brilliant plan?" Buck raised an eyebrow.

"Sometimes the simplest approach works best," she said. "You're overthinking it. Just reach out."

Buck took a deep breath. His hand shook slightly as he picked up the phone.

"It's ringing," Buck whispered, his voice barely audible. Maddie gave him a thumbs up and silently slipped away.

"Go for Kinard," Tommy answered, his tone professional and guarded.

"Hey...hey...uh, Tommy. It's Evan Buckley," Buck stammered, each word feeling like it was being pulled from him.

Tommy tried to laugh, but it was unnatural sounding, his discomfort apparent even over the phone."Well hello, Evan Buckley. This is a surprise. What can I do for you?"

"Well uh..." Buck took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "It's Christmas and I got you a gift before we broke up. And I want to give it to you but it's complicated."

"Complicated how?" Tommy asked curiously.

"Well...I kind of got you a trip to Cabo...with me...and well it's non-refundable and I know you have the time off because I kind of arranged it with your captain back in November before well...you know. So the trip is yours if you want it. You can take anyone you want-" Buck rambled, the words tumbling out in a nervous rush.

"Buck, wow, that's so thoughtful," Tommy said, genuine surprise softening his previously guarded tone.

"Yeah well...you deserve it," Buck said softly.

"Come with me?" Tommy asked.

"Are you sure? That could be weird," Buck responded, uncertainty threading through his words.

"I still want you in my life, Buck," Tommy said.

"On one condition..." Buck said, a hint of playfulness emerging.

"What's that?" Tommy asked.

"Never call me Buck again," he replied, a hint of a laugh threading through words that were undeniably serious.

"I promise, Evan," Tommy said, his voice sincere.

"Well, I guess we're going on vacation," Buck replied, the words full of nervous energy catching in his throat.

"Yeah, I guess we are," Tommy said, his tone a vulnerable mix of cautious optimism and uncertainty.

[greenplumbboblover]

[WIP] Lyralei's Pose addon - Part 2

(See previous post: Click me!)

First things first, MASSIVE thanks to @thesweetsimmer111 for all the help to make this work better and sharing her knowledge on Track masks with me (and the world!)

👀 Better Look at (with reactions!)

Maybe it’s just me, but I used to get endlessly frustrated when Sims wouldn’t properly turn their heads to face an item. So, I set out on a little mission to make their head movements more natural! Unfortunately, that didn’t go as planned—turns out EA’s code for the “Look At” feature is completely deprecated and no longer functional.

Knowing I couldn’t just code a fix, I had to explore other approaches. That’s when @thesweetsimmer111 came up with a brilliant solution: blending left, right, up, and down poses to create a more convincing look-at effect! 🎉

(See: Post)

What's different?

Here's the original pose, without Look at turned on....

On the left, we got VA's original look at.

On the right is what Savanita and I came up with! :)

don’t want to make it seem like the original Look At feature was awful—it actually works pretty well in some cases! For example, in this pose, if the plant were on the other side, the difference wouldn’t be that noticeable since her head is already tilted slightly. 😊

(Same layout again: Left = VA's, Right = Me and Savanita's approach)

Plus, maybe you do want something more subtle, then VA's Look at is great!

Anyways! Of course, I couldn't stop there! Now, your sim has a few options of turning towards the object:

(Note, this list will get 10x cooler in the next feature ;D)

This list is what the "trackmasks" are. :)

Okay, let's give "Eyes Only" a try. So, we expect Morgana to ONLY look at the plant, with her eyes.

(Left is before using look at, Right is with look at, and one up for fun-cies)

And, to please @nocturnalazure's wishes, yep! It now accepts Facial Expressions! :D

(I never would've thought I would see Evil Morgana lmao)

🎭Blending Poses/Reactions

After Savanita's amazing idea of using Track Masks, I found out that I can apply that same technique on, well, poses! And this is a feature I'm SUPER proud of (And honestly, it's taken me an entire week to get working 🙃)

First things first, when we choose the interaction, we will first be greeted by our "trackmask" list with all the selections on it

So, I made a few examples to show of what you could do, but in all fairness, it's endless!

Here I chose the option "Both Arms".

Here I chose "Head And Neck". Look! She even has the expression! (Don't worry though, i also have an expression-less version in the making ;))

What about... Animations?!

While blending poses has the ability to also type in your pose names by name, rather than list, you can also use EA's!

The list is pretty long ( believe 200 entries?) but here is a sneak peek:

Though, as far as I've been able to tell, EA reactions aren't as flexible, where I can tell it to only use the arms, or the eyes. Instead, we got these options:

So, unless I found a way to get around it, this is the only way to do it.

But without further ado....

Here I used the same pose(left) as the last 2 pictures, but with "OverlayHead". And chose "Boo"

(I just realised it looks like she is about to get hit by a ball lol)

🕰️ History List

The Add-on now remembers your pose history!

Whether you’re a dedicated “Pose by Name” user or prefer the simplicity of “Show by List”, both options now display your pose history for quick reference.

Note: Each Sim has their own individual history list. This means you’ll only see the pose history for Sim X when clicking on them, and not for Sim Y.

📓What's up next?

Adding all the trackmask. (I still need add the hands and legs ones)

Adding an in-game Category maker, so you don't have to edit the XML. It will mean you need to replace the XML file in S3PE yourself. But I can always make a quick How-To for guidance 😉

(Note to self) Optimize the Categorisation code. It's currently taking 1 minute up from the loading screen 😬)

Fixing some minor bugs where Look at will still turn the sim's head back to it's original position.

Fixing some issues where Blending poses with certain track masks aren't working well or at all.

Fixing an issue where the dialogs can crash the whole game (woops!)

Sooo, I think a release date is pretty soon! I think within a week :)

Any VA Addon Bug Fixes?

Of course! It's the mod that inspired me to make stories, and even get to make this mod! I couldn't just... leave it to collect dust while it's other child mod is getting all the attention. :p

Changelog:

There is now an interaction that uses both look at & reaction simultaneously. (In case you don't want to use my look at interaction).

Fixed an issue where reactions would sometimes or never show on the sim.

Fixed an issue where using "Random Quick Poses" would occasionally show a breathing sim, doing nothing.

Fixed an issue where certain poses get called twice, making it harder to keep reactions or even look at history data.

Some minor code changes that aren't worth mentioning honestly.

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | 11.5

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 0.8k

—chapter content/warnings: not much!! something a lil more tame lol, prob one of the 0.5s that takes place right after the chapter beforehand, i promise there is no ill intention behind what's happening here - they're both equally torn about everything as san's good friends/colleagues

namjoon: you got a minute to meet up today? sorry for the last minute request but it's kinda urgent.

jongho: sure. i'm wrapping up. can meet you in the next 15 mins?

namjoon: i'll come to you.

jongho: alright then, boss.

Jongho continues typing away at his desk, responding to all the emails that came in today while he was off doing interviews for the new open faculty role in the electrical engineering department. He makes a mental note to submit his review sheet for the first round of interviewees and to review the applications for the next round tomorrow. He doesn't realize how quick 15 minutes flies by until Namjoon is swinging his door open mid-email. He continues to type away, but his eyes shift to Namjoon's figure as he fixes his blazer and takes a seat with a loud sigh.

"Long day?" Jongho cracks a small smile, typing up the last few details before sending it off and shifting his attention to Namjoon in front of him.

"Kinda." He nods towards his computer. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt or delay you from leaving."

"All good. Didn't really have plans, anyway. What's up? You seem a little flustered."

"Well, catching Yunho, Iseul and San arguing in a conference room wasn't exactly on my agenda for today."

"What?" Jongho cocks his head back a bit in disbelief, brows tightly knitted together as he tries to make sense of what he just heard. San had been giving him a bit of the story here and there and knowing Iseul, he wasn't exactly surprised this is how things were playing out.

He's just not sure why Iseul thinks it's her business to air this all out.

"You tell me."

"As much as I would love to help, I honestly have no idea what's going on.”

"Jongho."

"What? You know how Iseul is. She somehow still thinks she has a grip on San even after they've divorced and gone through all of that. Can't stand her, if you ask me."

"You don't have to tell me twice. But, why? Why is this a thing right now?"

"Beats me." Jongho tries to brush it off even though he can see the look on Namjoon's face, his eyes trying to study him like a damn book. He hates being in the middle because as much as he loves and supports his bestfriend, he also has the utmost respect for Namjoon and knows the guy will always be on their side regardless.

"That's the first in a very long time that I've seen San react that way at the happy hour event."

"Okay, to be fair, the guy was getting super disrespectful. I think any of us would've reacted in one way or another."

"Right, I agree. But, I know there's a story behind it. I know his anger was fueled by something else." Jongho sees the way Namjoon is going about this. He's prying for the answers he already knows, but he needs the confirmation and Jongho can give him that. 

It's just a matter of when.

"What if it was just a bad day?"

"Okay, you know what?" Joon leans onto the arm rest of the chair and gives him a look. "I'm just gonna go headfirst with it." Jongho cocks a brow up. "Is there something going on with San and his rotation student? Y/N specifically." He sighs.

"I figured."

"No, you knew." Namjoon chuckles a bit.

"I don't know. I really can't tell you because I don't know anything." Jongho says he knows nothing when he knows everything.

"Jongho." Joon repeats.

"Joon, swear." He says, even though he tries to sit as still as possible. Good thing Namjoon can't read his mind right now.

It started gradually before it took off completely. Jongho knows about the last minute meetings San has had to take, Jongho has seen the subtle glances, the subtle actions, the mood changes when you're around. Jongho remembers seeing you slip out of his hotel room very early that morning during the NAS conference. Jongho remembers seeing the polaroid slightly tip out of the wallet case mid-breakfast and seeing a tiny slip of your face in his peripherals. San quickly adjusted the polaroid and continued on like nothing, wishing for the best with that one.

And he doesn't have to be told to know you've been over multiple times. All the calls that have gone curt and short, the distraction easily laced in San's voice on the other line. He remembers the faint trace of your perfume in his home, the little post-it notes you've left on San's office desk.

Good thing Namjoon can't read his mind right now.

Cause, yes.

"I can hear your thoughts."

Well, shit.

"I don't know what to say."

"I need you to tell me yes or no, that's all. I need to make sure I'm going about this correctly even though I heard a lot today alone." Jongho sighs and sees how torn Namjoon is. They both are. They obviously want what's best for San, and they both want him to be happy. He is deserving of good, genuine love. He is deserving of genuine happiness because he always rides for the people he loves, goes the extra mile for them. He acknowledges and learns from his mistakes, he apologizes when he knows he's at fault.

He's deserving of all good.

So, they both hate that it has to come to this because it's not even you that's the problem. It's the situation, and they both don't know how to approach it with enough sensitivity and care.

Even though it's good to San, it doesn't necessarily mean it could be good for San.

"Yes."

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme @wyrated

[stargildedskies]

I saw your dilf Veritas post and listen I had to hop in cause I am so damn hungry for this man istg

Anyway, I don't think I've seen anything in regards to the moment when Veritas loses his cool for maybe even the first time in his life. And that's the birth of his child. He has knowledge on birth and all about it but with that comes the knowledge about all that could go wrong and bro is stressing 🥲 he wants his beloved partner and his precious baby safe and sound and healthy. He also hates to see his partner in so much discomfort throughout all this

I have failed my fellow HSR cuties bc I have been HOARDING some delicious content in my drafts while waiting for the hyperfixation to return. Everyone thank @delirious-donna for pinging my last brain cell and reminding me that hoyoverse still exists 🙂‍↕️💕

Anywho..... Back to our scheduled simping!

Veritas is the man who always has a logical plan or a well-thought-out answer to everything. He is aloof at most times, able to step away from any situation happening in front of him so that he may analyze and produce the best course of action. He prides himself on his ability to organize his thoughts and process his feelings according to logic, oftentimes being the only person to take charge during emergencies. That is, until you wake up in the dead of night to find that your bedsheets are.... strangely damp? Oh shit.

Being the chronic over-planner, Veritas had your due date neatly penciled into his calendar for precisely two weeks from now, so when you tapped at his shoulder rather urgently, he was decently confused. "My darling, I know cravings are intense, but eating at this time of-"

You cut through his raspy, sleepy drawl- the same one you'd heard groaning obscenities against the shell of your ear as his son was conceived-" Veritas, the baby is coming."

His head twitched, raising off the pillow as if he needed both ears to hear what you were saying, "I, I apologize, but it sounded li-"

"Veritas. Get the bag. Our son is coming."

For the first time since you'd met the man, you swear that you can hear the subtle clicking of Veritas Ratio's mind running as he processes a set of data. During that particularly pregnant (ha) pause, you heard one distinct tick as he registered the condition of the bedding, and then the father of your child was immediately out of bed vaulting across the room.

A choice string of vehemently hushed obscenities falls from his lips as he snarls in frustration at all the extra fucking buckles on his goddamn pants that he's never noticed before and-

"Dear, just keep your sweatpants on. Just find a shirt and some shoes first, and then grab pants and shoes for me."

Your clear voice stops his thoughts on a dime. Of course, How had he not thought of that? His beloved wife was so brilliant.

For the first time in his entire life, Veritas's brain was simply on overdrive. His carefully separated thoughts and feelings were clashing with no intention of stopping, leaving the man on autopilot. If it were any other situation, you'd have been amused.

Veritas's mind snapped back to normal after you winced from a contraction as he helped you with your shoes. Knowing that you were in distress gave his mind the kick it needed to prioritize correctly again, and he got you to the hospital in record time.

Originally, you had planned to go to the hospital that was further away- the one Ratio didn't lecture at daily- but now that didn't seem like a possibility. Getting you comfortable as quickly as he could won by a mile in Ratio's list of priorities, so many heads turned in the Emergency Department as they suddenly heard their strictest professor's voice at three in the morning. Some twitched in their chairs, fully convinced they were in the throes of a nightmare as the widely respected, widely feared Doctor Veritas Ratio strode toward them at a breakneck pace in his pajamas.

"Mywifeishereandsheneedstobetakenuptoaroomimmediately."

The doctors glance at each other. From the sea of confused faces, that didn't make sense to anybody. "uh- sir?"

"My wife. Is here. She needs a room. Now." Veritas annunciated his words very slowly as if they were the densest people on the planet, which meant that he actually managed to speak his sentence at a somewhat normal pace.

As if to drive the point home, the nurse Veritas had left to gather your things and bring you in suddenly appeared, quickly wheeling you into the room. The staff paled as they noticed you groan softly in pain, one arm draped protectively over your heavily pregnant belly.

The medical team whisks you away to a delivery room, and Veritas is quickly thrown into an unfamiliar world. The man used to having decisive answers is sat squarely in a chair next to his wife's bedside, grasping her hand tightly as she cries out in pain. He can't stop thinking about all of the variables, all of the things that could go wrong- the way your face is scrunched up in agony- the knowledge that he's about to meet his son.

The thoughts continue on a revolving loop of horror and wonder until a shrill little cry pierces the air, and Veritas Ratio snaps to attention to meet his son for the first time.

[bookished]

( a collection of fun and adventurous dialogue prompts. adjust phrasing as necessary.) feel free to make edits to better suit your muse, but please don’t edit or add on to the original post <𝟑 if you like, please consider supporting me through tips, it's highly appreciated.

"Want to try sneaking into the movie theater?"

"There's this exclusive sky bar on the top floor. I bet if we act confident enough, we could just walk right in. Ready to blend in with the high rollers?"

"You know the 'Staff Only' areas in aquariums always look so intriguing. I've got an idea involving lab coats and clipboards. Interested?"

"There's a secret passage in this art gallery that leads to a hidden exhibit. I overheard the curator talking about it. Shall we go exploring?"

"I've always wanted to see a movie from the theater's projection room. I've got a friend who works here – you get what I mean?"

"So, that exclusive restaurant is fully booked for months, but I may have 'borrowed' a couple of names from the reservation list. Feeling adventurous?"

"The old amusement park's been closed for years, but I know a way in. Imagine having all those rides to ourselves under the moonlight."

"I heard there's an underground speakeasy in this library. Apparently, you need to whisper a password to the librarian. Wanna try our luck?"

"Remember that fancy pool party we weren't invited to? I've got two waiter uniforms and a brilliant plan. You in?"

"There's a secret rooftop garden on top of that skyscraper. I bet we could talk our way past security if we pretend to be lost interns."

"I know this sounds crazy, but I found a hidden door behind the museum. Want to see where it leads after closing time?"

"The local TV station does live broadcasts from that studio. I bet with the right timing, we could sneak onto a set during a commercial break. Ready for your 15 seconds of fame?"

"I discovered a hidden hot spring in the woods just outside town. It's a bit of a hike, but imagine a midnight dip under the stars."

"There's a secret room in the library that's usually locked. I copied the key while volunteering. Want to see what forbidden books they're hiding?"

"Remember that fancy cooking class that was full? Well, I may have found a way for us to observe from the kitchen's back entrance. Hungry for some culinary espionage?"

"I know how to get onto the roof of the tallest building downtown. The view of the sunset from up there is incredible. Shall we?"

"There's a masquerade ball at the governor's mansion tonight. I've got two masks and a wild idea. Care to crash a high-society party?"

"My friend works at the zoo and says we could help feed the penguins after closing time. Interested in a secret animal encounter?"

"I heard this old theater is supposedly haunted. Want to sneak in after hours and do some ghost hunting?"

"There's a secret beach hidden behind those cliffs. The catch? We'll have to climb down a rope ladder to reach it. You up for it?"

"I found an old map of the city's underground tunnels. Fancy a subterranean adventure date?"