#if there was ever a piece that was entirely within my comfort zone

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ I Will Follow You Into The Dark ♡

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!felix x fem!reader

♡ Genre: cotton candy fluff

♡ Summary: After a long night filled with tough emotions, an early morning bubble bath cuddled up with your boyfriend while he tells you a story is the perfect thing to ease your mind.

♡ Word Count: 1.2k-ish

♡ Warnings: It's briefly mentioned that the reader has gone through trauma in the past that led to a breakdown. You're in a bathtub together so, ya know, no clothes. You get a little flirty. Kissing. Mention of a snake bite in the story he tells you.

♡ A/N: Tonight was another "let's be all in my feelings night" so, as always, please hop into the feels with me and partake in some fluffy sweet comfort.

It’s early enough in the morning when you slip into a warm bubble bath with Felix that it feels like you’re the last two people on Earth. The small window above the vintage clawfoot tub is cracked, allowing birdsong to float freely into the room on the coattails of a crisp autumn breeze. As you curl up between his legs, your head tucked comfortably under his chin, he brings his arms around to embrace you.

Lilac blossom scented bubbles cling to his arms, dripping down your chest and shoulders to rejoin the others that float atop the water. You haven’t turned the lights on yet, leaving you tucked in the shadows, partially hidden from the sliver of light that breaks through the pleated cotton curtains. What little light that does reach you soaks your skin in rich amber. “The sunlight,” he says, “Makes you look sweet.”

You look up at him, smiling soft as autumn leaves falling from trees when you realize he’s been staring at you this entire time. “It makes me look sweet?” “Yeah, like honey. I could just eat you up.” Kisses rain down on you, a tender yet ruthless attack that has Felix holding you still as his lips jump from your cheek to your neck to your shoulder and back to your cheek again.

It tickles something fierce, leaving you unable to do much else besides kick your feet and giggle. Water splashes onto the marbled tile floor, clusters of bubbles sailing across puddles like ships out at sea. Felix couldn’t care less about causing a small flood, every bit of his focus is on you. He only stops when he’s satisfied, kissing your cheek one last time for good measure just when you think he’s done.

Together you gradually settle into a space of quiet tranquility. There’s no awkwardness. No underlying pressure to do or say anything in particular. You’re here in this moment together. Just the two of you. Your love for each other prominent enough in its essence that words aren’t necessary. But even in the comfort of his arms, emotions from last night linger within you.

Your trauma, you do what you can to manage it, but sometimes it comes back to haunt you. When it does it clings to you like sticky pink bubblegum on a hot summer day. Last night was one of those times. You felt lost, fully incapable of holding yourself together, so you came to Felix. The safest place you’ve ever known for your broken pieces. There’s so much distance now between the brokenness that consumed you last night and the peace you feel this morning.

A distance that grows wider and wider the longer you’re with him. “No matter what you do,” he’d whispered only a few hours ago, cuddled up behind you on his couch, “I’ll always be in awe of you.” He meant it then and, watching you zone out playing with the bubbles, he hopes that, even in your daze, you know he means it now. That he’ll mean it forever.

Felix takes your hand, placing his fingers in the spaces between yours just as the universe intended, “Hey.” “Hi,” you say, sensing almost immediately that he wants to do something—anything—to ease your pain, “I could use a story.” “Ooh, a story. What kind of story?” You pet his cheek, closing your eyes in preparation for the full ASMR experience of listening to him speak. “Dealer’s choice. I’m just here to listen.”

He pokes his lips out, pushing air from one puffed up cheek to the other as the gears turn in his brain. “I’ve got one. Okay, so, there’s this story Hyunjin taught me about. A myth actually.” “Mythology. Sexy.” you tease, lightly running a nail down the side of his neck. Felix shivers when you hit that one spot that always gets him. He tilts his head to whisper in your ear, “Did you want a story or something more...active? Cause if you keep doing that—” 

One of his hands glides down your right thigh, sending the shivers from his own body straight through yours. “Fine, I’ll behave,” you pout, “Continue.” You don’t clarify what to continue. Rubbing your thigh? Telling the story? He chooses both. You’re nearly glowing, clearly pleased with his decision. And so he begins—

“There’s this ancient Greek myth about Apollo’s son Orpheus who fell in love with this really gorgeous woman named Eurydice. It was love at first sight. He saw her and just knew she was who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.” 

“How romantic,” you sigh, eyes still closed, blissfully unaware of the adoration in his eyes when he speaks. He just knew. 

“Very much so,” he agrees, continuing the story, “So Orpheus and Eurydice. They were married shortly after they met. Not everyone supported it but they loved each other. That was all that mattered. And they were happy. At least until Eurydice died. There are lots of different versions of how she died. Most commonly it’s a snake bite though.” 

Felix bites your cheek a little, hissing like the cutest snake on the planet. If this is the snake bite that ends you, you’ll take it. 

“Losing her…he wasn’t able to accept it. So, with the gods’ protection, he traveled to Hades to bring her back. Once he reached the underworld he played a song for Hades that was so beautiful he was offered a deal. Eurydice could return to the world of the living but she couldn’t walk out by his side. She had to walk out behind him in her spirit form, only becoming human again when she stepped into the light. And if he looked back—” 

You open your eyes, dramatically clutching your hand to your chest, “If he looked back what?” Felix runs a finger across your neck, sticking his tongue out in his best attempt to mimic a corpse. “Dead for good. Lost forever.” “Let me guess. He looked back, didn't he?” “That’s right my smart little cookie."

"The closer they got to the world of the living, the lighter her footsteps became. He started to doubt she was following him so when they were only a few feet from the surface he looked back just in time to see the face of his love as she disappeared into the darkness.” 

Readjusting yourself in the tub, you turn to face him, your face near enough to his that the air you breathe out is what he breathes in. “If it were me would you look back?” “No,” he answers without hesitation. “Because you trust me?” He leans in closer so that his words are spoken directly onto your lips, “Because I’d never take that deal. We come out of the dark together or not at all.”

It steals your breath away to hear such a heartfelt answer. To feel him spell it out across your lips. Felix kisses you, his arms closing back around you as he fills your hollow lungs with the passion laced air of his own. It’s enough to make you cry, that he loves you so completely.

If you hadn’t woken up and asked him to take this bath with you. If you wanted to lay in bed all day with the curtains closed and the lights out. He would’ve stayed there with you in the darkness. In the underworld. Playing songs of devotion not for the pity of Hades but for the love of you, his Eurydice, until you could return to the light.

Together or not at all...

[poeedamerons]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to five other writers! 💗

To be honest, I cherish everything I’ve written because each piece represents a part of my journey as a writer and offers a glimpse into who I was at the time of writing. I truly enjoy revisiting them from time to time. However, my absolute favorites—and there are quite a few—are:

Baby, you're the only one I'm coming for – This was the first smut I ever wrote, and I had so much fun exploring their dynamics. It holds a special place for being such a milestone in my writing journey.

I can't believe you let him down (but the proof is in the way he hurts) – This was the first truly different piece I wrote, as it wasn’t about my OTP from that show. I ended up writing so much! Back then, 5k words felt like an enormous feat, especially considering I was juggling an 8-hour job. The story just kind of wrote itself, and it only took me about two days to finish.

Me? I will fall in love with you every single day – This story is so sweet and stands out because it pushed me beyond my comfort zone. It features Michael waking up and coming to terms with being in the hospital—something that, at the time, felt really challenging to write. For some reason, it even inspired me to write another amnesia fic for a different fandom! Knowing this story is a favorite within its fandom makes me so proud. I still remember being in a Discord for this fandom and seeing people I admired praise it. They didn’t even realize I was the author because my AO3 and Discord usernames were different—it’s such a cherished memory.

Busco en la memoria una señal (diga que no me olvidarás) – Another amnesia fic and also a fandom-favorite. It’s such a sweet story, and I had a blast developing the plot. I even included a nod to another fanfiction by a well-known author I admire, and she loved it, which made the experience even more special.

May you rise (may we burn) – This is, without a doubt, my all-time favorite. It’s the most different thing I’ve ever written and felt like a significant step forward in my writing skills. It’s also unique within the fandom—at least for Lucemond—because it’s written entirely from a dragon’s POV. That made it feel like such an accomplishment and a true turning point for me as a writer.

Inside of us (a wild thing) – I have to include this one, even though I’m still struggling to finish it. This was my first fic after almost three years, and I was definitely rusty. It’s set in a more medieval universe, which was a significant challenge for me since I’d only ever attempted a historical setting once before. What makes it so special, though, is that the entire plot is infused with all my personal favorite kinks, making the process uniquely enjoyable despite the obstacles.

[mudhamster]

CHWHWN: 31. December - " an ear / advice "

It was quite late already and Izuku was struggling with unknown amounts of cloth, wrapped in layers, and time was running out in the narrow space of the bathroom.

"Ready?" Kacchan's voice sounded muffled through the raffia of the bathroom door and still, Izuku flinched. He was nervous. On a scale of 1-10, an honest 100. Never before had he had such high quality material on his body as he did at this moment. On top of that, he smelled exactly like Kacchan. His sleeves, his collar, everything. 

"In a minute!" he squeaked back, trying to tie the knot the way Masaru had shown him yesterday - when impatience in person pushed open the bathroom door and Izuku's head shot up - and his breath caught in his throat. 

"What's taking so long - what?" hissed Katsuki and stopped in the doorway when he saw Izuku's expression. Izuku blinked, momentarily awestruck. He knew Kacchan in his hero costume. In a suit. In sports clothes or swimming trunks. But the sight of his body in that sleek, handsome look left him speechless. He recognized the same handwriting in the design of the fabric, the thin orange-red seams, the silver accents and the detailed embroidery. Only the cranes had given way to delicate explosions and aesthetic fire patterns. They did something to Katsuki's eyes that made a warm wave of affection slosh around in Izuku's stomach. Two small black hairclips were stuck into the blond strands behind his ears.

"What's wrong? Is there shit on my face?"

Only when he raised his head, did he see Izuku shaking his head, also dressed in velvet and silk, with a belt that was completely twisted.

"Incompetent as always, huh?" 

He stepped into the bathroom, inevitably in Izuku's comfort zone, and reached around him to twist the belt properly.

"Kacchan," Izuku breathed against his shoulder, bending back enough to face him again and whispering under his breath, "You're gorgeous."

Time froze, as did Katsuki's hands on Izuku's hips. 

The bathroom was small and Izuku's eyes unintentionally wandered to the mirror next to them. 

His cheeks immediately flushed when he got the split-second image that the hands on his belt and his bent posture could also stand for something else entirely. It looked as if Kacchan was only centimeters away from kissing him.

But as if he had heard his thoughts, Kacchan only pulled hard on the belt once, inadvertently bringing Izuku a step closer to him, before he expertly rewound the knot and stepped back. 

Unseen steam shot out of Izuku's green curls as Katsuki also brought the rest of the kimono into place. 

"I-"

"Is it true that you didn't want to go to the shrine this year?"

Katsuki furrowed his brow, distracted from his original thought, and backed away slightly.

"Hm," he muttered and Izuku also took a step back until he bumped into the sink, "Why?"

"Since I drew the first horoscope, it always came true within one year."

Izuku raised his eyebrows, baffled by the thought that Kacchan actually believed in things like horoscopes or New Year's oracles. 

"Really?"

He didn't know much about such things. Neither he nor his mother had ever drawn oracles. If he was honest, he had too much respect for them, or maybe he was afraid of drawing something bad. So he had kept his hands off from the beginning. He and his mother had been content to say their prayers, leave a small donation, and then stroll through the crowds after dropping off their elderly companion on a park bench with a hot drink. 

"Yes."

Kacchan held the door open for him and they walked down the dark hallway side by side.

"But not the last one?" he questioned, slipping on his shoes. 

On the lamp-lit porch, Katsuki hesitated for a moment and pulled a crumpled piece of paper from a deep pocket of his kimono, holding it up to the light with a pout.

"No," he said quietly, "and I didn't want to get a new one while I still had this one."

The note was folded several times making it impossible to read what it said, so Izuku asked, "What does it say?"

Instead of answering, Katsuki tapped the note on the tip of his nose and put it away.

"None of your business."

But Izuku, gripped by curiosity, couldn't help but ask further: "But – but we're going? Has something changed? Has it finally come true?"

The wind came up and made a small wind chime sound in the neighbors' garden. The air already smelled of candles and the sweet smells of the New Year. 

A car horn broke the peaceful atmosphere and Izuku spun around with one hand raised in a small wave and jumped down the next three steps at once. It seemed as if Mitsuki's patience had run out. Katsuki caught up with him immediately, footsteps crunching in the snow as he replied cryptically, "Feels like it, yeah."

They made it to the car, and even though Izuku was still full of questions, Kacchan was immediately wrapped up in a fiery conversation with his mother, so Izuku began to wonder about the oracle. And the small piece of paper he had in his breast pocket. The last piece of the calendar, the 24th. It weighed what felt like 170 kilos and was placed right above his heart.

Today was New Year's Eve. 

At midnight, the 24th would burn if Kacchan wouldn't do something. And that was in just over two hours.

The way was long even by car. There were countless people on the streets and they were forced to park the car a little further down the mountain and take the steep path to the shrine on the hill with everyone else. No problem for Izuku nor Katsuki, but strangely enough, about halfway up, a problem for his parents' stamina. 

"We'll go up ahead," their son announced harshly before grabbing Izuku's elbow and leading him further to the side, onto the uneven part of the road where they could make faster progress. He was obviously in a hurry, so no one objected. Izuku turned for a last wave and noticed Mitsuki's impish smile. 

She wasn't out of breath at all.

Arriving at the top of the shrine, time flew by as quickly as dozens of beaming faces and Izuku almost bit his tongue to keep from asking for the two remaining notes when he realized that the new year would start in less than an hour. 

They had been at the altar, had knelt down to pray and Izuku had picked up an oracle that he would not open until the old year was finally over. Which was precisely the reason why he was getting more and more antsy.

But then: "Deku".

Suddenly, he was pulled away from the street, up two small wooden stairs to an empty place with several small lanterns, and Katsuki took off his thin gloves and blew warm air into his fingers. Then he pulled something out of his pocket and lifted it into the warm light. It was even smaller than the folded oracle note, but Izuku only realized what was going on when he heard the words "an ear" being read aloud. Kacchan did it. He used the first of the two remaining notes. To the sound of the shrine chimes. Over the murmur of prayers. NOW. BEFORE THE END OF THE YEAR.

"God. …fuck. Fuck." Izuku was still struggling with where to put himself or his hands or his thoughts in general as he watched Kacchan who was obviously struggling with himself. 

"I'm 10 seconds away from chickening out," he finally admitted, his lips pressed together.

"You would never do that," Izuku replied immediately, terribly nervous at the thought that Kacchan would actually open the last notes. He had expected it. But somehow, he did not. 

"No. No, not really. But I .... fuck." And then he chuckled weakly and pushed a hand deep into his hair. 

"Okay. I interpret that," Katsuki waved the note in front of Izuku's nose until his eyes crossed briefly, "to mean that I can tell you something that stays between us. Right?" 

Izuku's heart melted into a heart-shaped puddle when he saw the vulnerability in Kacchan's eyes. His eyebrows had knitted together, the tiny wrinkle of worry between them that he saw less often these days than All-Might in his filled shape.

He felt like he'd been dumped on a beach seconds before a tsunami was about to crash in and tear him apart.  His ears tingled. He could feel the thin line between them more clearly than ever, for they were seconds away from crossing it or breaking apart.

"Yes," he nodded, unable to take his eyes off Katsuki for even a blink, "but I - "

"How much longer do I have?"

"What?"

"Until midnight, Izuku. Until New Year."

"Oh - no idea?" he replied hastily, "30 seconds?"

"Okay, listen carefully. I'm only going to say this once," Katsuki raised his head to the sky, pursed his lips and crumpled the note into a fist before he whispered to the clouds, "I have a serious thing for... that boy."

Izuku watched as Kacchan swallowed hard, his eyes still on the sky, "A cute one, with ... ugh. Green hair. Freckles. Shitty style... the loser who made me a calander this year, and fuck if that wasn't the bravest shit ever."

Izuku stared at him, mouth agape, as if Katsuki was the most precious creature in the universe. Snow blew into his mouth. He didn't notice.

Somewhere in the distance, the last, loudest chimes of the year began, and Katsuki almost let the second note slip from his fingers as he tried to smooth it out: "So, um, yeah. Advice, Deku. How do I ask him out?"

"Ugh," Izuku trembled as goose bumps spread all over his body as he too pulled out the last piece of paper and held it out to Katsuki, "You should check out 24."

He could feel his heart beating in his throat when Kacchan just stood there for a long time without moving. But eventually, he took the paper and carefully unfolded it.

Izuku sent his last prayer of the year while Katsuki took a deep breath.

"Please ignore it if you feel uncomfortable," Katsuki read, "But I'd like to give you a -" he unrolled the paper even more and continued reading, his voice suddenly cracking and hoarse, "A ... a kiss, if you want one."

People passed around them. The final gong sounded and the crowd began to cheer, while Izuku's entire focus was on the boy in front of him. Again, he did not move. But suddenly, he bit his lower lip so forcefully that Izuku dropped one of his own gloves in shock. Surely, nobody who was happy looked like that?

"Kacchan, oh my God, you don't have to...!"

The first rocket of the new year exploded with colorful sparks above their heads. 

"Now."

More explosions crackled through the night sky and Izuku breathed out a soft "What?" in disbelief.

Had he heard wrong? No. 

"I want one. Now."

"For the new year?"

"Exactly." Katsuki waved the note excessively, "and I want you to give it to me. Now."

"I never thought we'd get this far," Izuku choked out, tongue heavy and eyes moist with disbelief and hope, "I wanted to woo you with sweetness, but this - I never thought I'd make it - I...?"

They looked at each other. 

"You have. If you don't chicken out now. Just like all the other moments before."

"What moments?"

More and more sparklers lit up the snow on the other side of the street and Izuku cast a glance over until Katsuki continued to speak. 

"Use your brain, Deku. As soon as I made the slightest move, your signals were so... so damn irritating. Suddenly no answers, running away, lying..."

Well, Izuku had heard enough. Enough of confusing signals and implications. This would be a straightforward matter. Determined, he stepped forward and reached for Kacchan's collar to drag him down a bit. Katsuki immediately followed the demanding yank and their lips met after the tiniest second of hesitation, just as a particularly violent explosion showered them with golden sparks. The tingle of the century shook his whole body, from the top of his head to the cold toes in his red sneakers.

It was perfect. There was nothing more romantic than kissing in the colorful glow of dying sparks.  It took his breath away.

Izuku, totally high, totally overwhelmed, backed away a little when he felt an arm trying to wrap itself around his middle. This was way too close to his dreams. Kacchan would never kiss him, would he? Not on Christmas and especially not on New Year's Eve! There was a tradition that people kissed at midnight, "more," Kacchan's growl interrupted his thoughts. His lips tingled as warm breath slid over them, and Kacchan's cold nose slid along his, and he kissed the corner of his mouth lightly, "one more."

His lips were easily captured, their mouths like freshly activated magnets, and his eyes fell shut in surrender. 

"T-take as much as you need," he said between kisses that went that perfect little bit deeper each time.

"I'll take what you want to give."

"Everything then."

Kacchan grinned against his mouth, "Sounds like it all worked out pretty well after all," and slipped his old oracle note into Izuku's fingers as he interlocked their hands and pushed him out of the crowd, into the lantern-lit darkness of the night beside the shrine.

"Won't you get a new one?" breathed Izuku, his other hand deep in the black velvet of Kacchan's kimono collar.

"Nah, got everything I ever wanted."

With that said, he kissed Izuku even harder than before, declaring in his own way, that they were starting their new year with a pretty deep level of connection.

[athenaholmesartistsguild]

Back to the Major Arcana featuring Haruka!

This was an interesting card to work on! I'd watched a video going a bit more in depth on color theory so I tried to work some of the things I learned into this piece!

I didn't want this post to be too long so I have some more design notes on this card's Patreon post. You can read those and download a High res version of this card for free! It was also available 2 days early for Patrons just a quick mention

Interpretations are below the cut:

In the pursuit of understanding the self, the Hermit has elected to remove themselves from their outside world. At this point in the Hermit's life, others' opinions and thoughts are too overpowering and make it difficult to decide what they truly want.

Whether this be metaphorical or literal, the occasional period of self-isolation can be very beneficial, especially if you've felt like you've been doing certain actions that aren't aligned with who you truly are. It's important to note that this isolation period should not last forever. The Hermit is aware that their solitude is not permanent and chooses to make the most of their time.

While alone, the Hermit can focus inward: their thoughts, their desires, and what they believe is right or wrong. Away from the public, the Hermit aims to define who they are. Their values, the direction they wish to take their life, things that only they can decide for themselves.

When the Hermit appears in a reading, they're urging you to consider your recent actions and whether they were what you truly wish you'd done. What pressures are causing you to act a certain way? Do you wish you'd done something differently?

Perhaps a period of withdrawal would be beneficial to finding the answers to these questions.

Reversed, we see a Hermit that's isolating for more harmful reasons. When faced with the outside world, it can sometimes be tempting to disappear into oneself. The unknown is scary and it's human nature to try and avoid it at all costs.

While there may be times when you simply aren't ready to step out of your comfort zone (as doing so can do more harm than good), a reversed Hermit in a reading suggests that maybe it's time to begin the transition back to the outside world. This can be done as gradually as you like, but try to make those decisions based on what feels most aligned to your inner self. Simply asking that part of you for guidance will oftentimes give you the answer you need.

The main theme of the reversed Hermit is someone who's acting in ways that just don't feel right. Whether due to fear or outside pressure or any other myriad of reasons, a reversed Hermit feels like they're not being authentically themselves. Even if they're not conscious of it, there's a nagging feeling in the back of their mind telling them something needs to change.

What actions can you take to feel more like yourself? How do you define yourself in the first place? Are there any voices around you (or within) that are leading you astray?

Haruka's arc in Yakuza 5 is such an interesting one and it's been stuck in my brain ever since I first played it.

For almost her entire section, Haruka's living her life for other people.

She feels pressured to become an idol in the first place because Kiryu informs her that the orphanage is struggling financially. She allows herself to be completely isolated from her family in the hope that she can create a better life for her siblings.

She becomes closer to Mirei and then feels obligated to help her surrogate mother figure relive the glory that was stolen from her. Even after Mirei dies, Haruka feels obligated to join an idol group with the girls that made her life hell during the Princess League.

Through the whole game, there's this theme of following your dreams and doing what you feel is necessary to achieve them, and then you have Haruka.

She insists being an idol is what she really wants, but the whole time it really doesn't seem that way at all. It seems like she's just being shuffled around any way the adults in her life see fit.

Until...

At the very end of the game, she sees Kiryu, the man that raised her for almost a decade of her life, her father, and she can't keep pretending.

She never wanted to be an idol. She never wanted to be so thoroughly separated from her family. She wants to go home.

And here we see the Hermit turn from a reversal to upright. Haruka's isolation from her home taught her that pushing away her desires to live for others is painful and depressing and the exact opposite of how she wants to live her life. She refuses to be a pawn in the Idol industry and in Mirei's own agenda (even if Haruka cared about her).

It's Haruka's turn to figure out what she dreams of and how she'll achieve those dreams.

[dragongutsixofficial]

for oc ask game 3, 15 and 24?

Thanks for the ask, my friend !^^

3- Biggest self-insert OC ?

Oooh that is a tricky question. I have so many OCs from so many fandoms and even some who are not tied to any existing piece of media !^^

I have to say though, probably the ice mage I played (and still do sometimes !) with my sister after we got The Best Videogame Ever: Dragon Quest IX: Sentinels of the Starry Skies. She holds within her characterization a lot of who I was as a young kid- some of which I'd like to get back. I was so confident as a kid, it's pretty incredible !

I can also tell you about the biggest fail to make a self-insert OC: Siyn Eisner, my beloved Bylethsona. The idea behind her creation was simple: I wanted an avatar who would represent me as a player the same way people created their Linksonas. At first, she was just an idea in the back of my mind, and not very developed- and that's the way she stayed until I started a fe3h roleplay with my dear friend.

And Sothis be damned, Siyn went way out of my control. She became her own, beautiful character. Of course, there are always things that she gets from me: but no more or less than any other OC of mine. And she inspired me in turn !

In general though, every OC of mine has some elements of my personality woven into theirs, even if I don't do it consciously. For instance, with my new Seven of Hearts OCs (OCs I created for a future webcomic, hopefully):

Heilig (he/him) is sarcastic and drags his feet. He doesn't do well when he's taken out of his comfort zone and hates taking risks. He sticks by the rules and is a bit tunnel-visionned. That's how I can be sometimes: and while there's nothing wrong with it, it can quickly become unhealthy: his character arc will partially be around him learning how to take a chill pill.

Keuse (she/her), Heilig's little sister, has more of that rebellious streak: but most of all, she wants the best for her brother and he wants the best for her. She wants him to understand that although she might be younger, it's just as much her responsibility to protect him in her eyes. I'm a younger sibling who wants my sister to know I'll always be here to protect her, just as she does me.

Same goes for Camille (he/she), who has that very naive side to him, and who definitely has undiagnozed ADHD. And so it is for every one of my OCs !

14- How many projects do you have going on right now? Are there any that you doubt you’ll ever finish?

HahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAA-

When I received your ask I was like, "No prob, Imma make a google sheet and write everything down" and that's why I took some time to answer your ask. I have already given up on that. I don't even know where to start. I have so many WIPs. So many animatics living rent-free in my head. Some of which I am sure will never get done.

For instance, when the live-action version of The Little Mermaid came out, I was incredibly hyped by the new version of Part of your World and for weeks I was like, "I'M GONNA DRAW AN ANIMATIC OF A MERMAID TRANSMASC BYLETH WITH THIS SO BAD" and... yeah i'm still at the first frame.

I am pretty confident about finishing my first fic published on AO3 though, which I had given up on after one(1) chapter. But I got inspired by amazing writers @paracosmicat & @ninadove to pick it up again and I've entirely rewritten the first chapter + written two more chapters already (none of which are posted yet because I'd like to get ahead this time). I'm a lot happier with this version !^^ It's a fanfic delving into the dynamics of Edelgard/Zagreus (from Hades), which should eventually turn into a series exploring the Edelgard/Byleht/Zagreus/Thanatos polycule.

3- Do you have/want a career in your medium ? If not, what do you do/want to do instead ?

Drawing, as you will have noticed, is my passion and really the main way I get the wormbrains out. And if I don't draw for a while I will just want to bang my head against a wall repeatedly. So I definitely want a career in it. Being a video game designer would be a dream job.

For circumstances out of my control, I'm studying something else at the moment. On a good note, I just got out of two years of a formation which made me absolutely miserable and barely left me any time to draw !!! So there's that. But I do fully intend on finding a way to work in the art field someday ! >=D

[maple-writes]

WHG 20 - The Train Ride

WHG tag list: @concealeddarkness13 @ratracechronicler @pen-of-roses @grailfish @forthesanityofsome @pied-piper-of-hamlet (let me know if I forgot anyone! and no pressure)

Featuring @concealeddarkness13 's Ares!

--

They must have thought I wasn’t the kind to cause trouble because they dropped me off inside our district’s train section and left. I wasn’t sure they’d even locked the door behind them, closing it without any hint of a click or mechanisms whirring within. It seemed they’d taken me as the kind to not try and escape, and they were right. 

The carpet, plush and soft, sunk under my footsteps as I wandered down the length of the main cabin. Tables were set along the sides with trays of pastries, appetizers, and food I’d never seen before in my life and couldn’t begin to decipher. The carpet and soft couches muffled the clink of fine ceramic plates as I gingerly picked one up. It was about time for lunch anyway. If they were going to pull me from my life and send me to die, I might as well enjoy whatever fancy dishes they laid out for me. I’d had enough time to starve later. 

I picked one of almost everything I could fit on the plate and took a seat at the table next to even more platters. The tables were all polished, solid wood intricately carved with designs circling the outer edges. I didn’t want to think about how much each would have cost.  

The cushions on the chairs weren’t even that comfortable. They looked fancy, all silken with embroidered patterns but not enough to actually cushion a seat. Better than standing though. I picked at the most familiar of the samples, what looked like a lemon tart with a too-perfect swirl of whipped cream. The whipped cream could have been better, but the lemon curd itself was sweet and tangy, and I wished I had tasted it sooner so I could find out who catered it and I could have... 

I could have suggested them for Striker’s wedding.  

Not anymore.  

On top of everything, I was going to miss his wedding. I could only hope I didn’t ruin that for him too.  

The train door opened, and two peacekeepers dumped the pheonix girl into the car, shutting and locking the door quickly behind her. She shot them a glare before collapsing into one of the over-stuffed armchairs. 

“This sucks, doesn’t it?” 

She didn’t sound out of the ordinary, but something... There was still something I couldn’t put my finger on that wasn’t quite right.   

I nodded though, because she was right. “Yeah, sure does.” Between picking up what looked like a miniature quiche, I watched her as she sat. Nothing looked out of place, but something, almost like a whisper, seemed to drift outwards from her. “The peacekeepers don’t seem to like you very much do they?” 

She gets up just enough to stretch and reach a strawberry tart from the table before sinking back down into her chair. “I was one of them, so I guess I pissed them off.” She took a bite, and then another, hardly finishing before casually adding, “Not to mention I could kill them all in an instant.” 

“Oh.” I blinked, catching myself a second before choking on what was left of a chocolate brownie. “You look young for a peacekeeper, what made you leave?” I didn’t want to know whether she had been exaggerating or not about killing them all, but a gnawing hunch told me she wasn’t. It would be too much of a coincidence, her claim, transformation, and the way the whirring of the engines seemed almost to form words just barely incomprehensible ever since she had arrived.  

“They’re bastards who want to use me.” She leaned over again, snatching a poppyseed loaf and stuffing the entire piece in her mouth. “What about you?” Her words muffled until she swallowed. “How’d you get roped into this? I kind of zoned out during the reaping.” 

I shrugged. Doubtful she really zoned out, she seemed pretty zoned in during it. “Honestly it’s already hard to remember for me too. Guess I’m just unlucky though.” It was easier than having to recount everything. Easier to pretend I’d forgotten the heat and the strain and the fear and the look in Dylan’s eyes, in Striker’s, Argent.... I swallowed and looked up at her. “What was that all about, anyway, the transformation you did back there?” 

She shifted, eyes falling to her hands. “Its this magic they gave me. I thought it was to get revenge on someone who caused my district to be destroyed and everyone I love to be killed, but they were lying to me. They want me to be some kind of fucked up vessel for a fucked up god.” 

Oh. I sat up and leaned in just a little. Now this was starting to make sense. “Can you tell me more about this god?” 

She grimaced. “They’re this creepy, perfectly preserved corpse the Capitol found deep underground, and now they’re talking in my head.” 

That would explain the near-whispers, sub-audible even from across the table. I frowned. Something speaking within a person, wasn’t usually a good sign. Especially not if the host described them the way she did. “Do you feel it’s attached to you somehow?” 

She frowned, leaning away. “I don’t know. I know the magic I have is theirs and the Capitol were using my ability to use it as the gauge of whether I could become a good vessel or not.” 

I stepped back. She’d probably had enough people pushing her around today if the peacekeepers were any indication. I crouched down, closer to her eye level. “Is it distressing?”  

She nodded. “They always talk to me. And they give me nightmares.” 

There must have been some part, something that had taken root inside her for this god to be able to affect her so closely. Either nightmares or hearing it taunt her alone might not have met the criteria for something like possession, but both… And the intention to take her as a vessel… It wasn’t a situation that would get better on it’s own. 

“Do you want me to try and get rid of it?” 

She blinked, watching me as if seeing me for the first time. “You can?” 

“Well, I can’t promise anything but I can try.” I smiled. She didn’t need to know that I had never really dealt with a god before, but here, on a one-way train ride, what was there to lose? “I’m an exorcist, so if it’s anything like a possession I might be able to help. My name is Asher, by the way.” 

“I’m Ares.” She, Ares, frowned, tilting her head. “Sorry. But yes, please. I want this bastard gone.” 

I nodded. This was something I could do. Even if I’d left nothing but mourning at home, maybe I could help at least one more person before I died. “I’ll give it a shot. Does it know I’m going to do this, or will it be surprised?” 

“They’re laughing at you, so I guess they do.” 

“Probably not a good sign…” There were red flags I should be heeding. The being was a god. I hadn’t spent nearly enough time evaluating the situation, evaluating what I was dealing with. I didn’t know what a god really was. This being thought I was laughable and they may be right. 

Ares sighed. “Probably not, so if you don’t want to risk it, I understand.” 

I shrugged, leaning in closer. “Something else will probably kill me later if this doesn’t so I might as well.” It might even be better, to die here where everyone at home wouldn’t have to see it happen. “Hold still please.” 

I reached forward, fingers brushing over her collar bone. Something shifted, fluid and molasses-like and snaked around her bones and blood tight but— 

I caught an edge and closed my fist. It pulled but didn’t give, clinging tight, tight and lodged deep inside, spread through bone and muscle and blood.  

Child of a demon loud, echoing, louder than the traink louder than the reaping speakers, what do you hope to achieve in fighting against a god? 

I snarled, head buzzing and ears ringing, but quickly found a grin tugging at my face. Did they think they could phase me? That I didn’t know exactly what I was? That it would be so easy? “Why, are you afraid I might win?”  

This is just one portion of my consciousness. Even if you succeed in this, you won’t kill me, child. 

“I don’t need to,” I tightened my grip, knuckles white as my heart beat and beat and beat. The god, the being, it burned hot and sharp through my palm and up my arm and into my blood as my heart beat and and my ears rang and my lungs burned.  

I lurched forward, jaws parted and my teeth sharp, “I will be there to tear you once again from flesh and bone.” I’d taken worse. I’d killed worse. My arm shook, my heart skipped, my veins burned as magic, whatever magic this god held raced through Ares to me, faster, sharper, louder.  

She’s mine. Nothing you can do will stop that. Her soul will be destroyed no matter what. 

I growled, looming over her, teeth hovering over my shaking hand, the god thrashing and clinging tight to whatever it could. My hand ached, the skin burned, but I had it. I had it in my grip. I had it and it didn’t know what it was up against.  

“Do you think I’m so easily discouraged?”  

You’re a feeble mortal. You can’t win, child. 

Ares said something but I couldn’t hear her. Couldn’t hear her over the voice of the god booming in my head, ringing loud in my ears, the pounding of my heart beating against my ribs in haphazard desperation to keep going, to beat and beat and beat again and again.  

My face wrenched and I curled my hand. “You don’t know anything about me, do you?” 

The god waved for just a second and I pulled, tearing it, severing it from the roots it laid through her body, cells, marrow and bones and deeper. I ducked down, snapping it in my jaws with a crack that ran up into my skull. Fire coated my mouth, my throat, as I swallowed, hunched over with eyes shut tight and sweat dripping down my neck.  

My heart skipped, thumping wrong and hard and it was gone. 

I lay on the carpet, plush and soft on my back. My chest heaved and my lungs ached as I fought for air, my heart racing fast, too fast in my ears. Shivers ran up and down my skin and I stared wide eyed at the ceiling. Ares moved in the corner of my eyes, and her mouth moved but all I could hear was the sharp ring in my ears drowning out all but my own heart. 

With a shaking hand I offered her a weak thumbs up.  

The heat faded, evaporated with the sweat coating my skin and seeping away into the carpet and away into the body of the train. The ringing faded, slowly, until the gentle hum of the train tracks returned and my heart remembered it’s rhythm. My head spun as I sat up braced on shaking arms. My stomach turned and my vision wavered just a moment.  

“Did I get it all?” My own voice sounded far away.  

“I can’t feel them.” Ares paused, then grinned. “I don’t have my magic anymore! They’re gone!” 

“Oh good.” I smiled a little, half laughing, half coughing. “Not sure I could do that again for a while at least.” It’d been a long time since something sent me straight to the ground like this.  

Ares shrunk back. “I’m sorry. Please don’t do that again for me. I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

“Hm?” I twisted, spine cracking as I moved. Right. If I felt this way, it probably looked a lot worse. “Oh no, don’t worry about it. I probably should have warned you that it can sometimes look pretty rough.” Usually though there weren’t gods, and they didn’t cling quite so hard or hold such wild, hardly restrained magic. “I’ll admit that was… hard, but I’ll be alright.”  

I’d done worse, all things considered.  

“I’m sorry. But thank you. Primary was terrible.” 

So that was their name. Should have asked if they had a name before starting. Ginger would have my head for that one. I pushed up off the ground, wincing as nausea coiled in my stomach and rose just shy of too high. My head floated as I sunk into one of the couches, limbs heavy rock. 

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Seemed pretty condescending.” 

“They made me dream of them killing me over and over.” Ares mumbled, almost too quiet for me to hear, everything dampened and muffled.  

I let my eyes wander up to the ceiling and glaze over. “You must be pretty tough then, to endure that so long and not give in.”  

“They’re so fucking greedy.” A plate, or maybe a knife, clinked as Ares probably found another snack. “They’ve been alive for thousands of years and they want to cut mine off when I haven’t even experienced two decades? Fucking rude.” 

Putting it lightly. “What a bastard. I’m honestly surprised they didn’t go after me when they had the chance. For some reason it seems they’re dead set on you in particular.” If they really were looking for a body to steal anyway, without some extra motivation that maybe Even Ares didn’t realize. 

“I heard the Capitol gave a lot of people the magic, and everyone failed at being able to be a vessel except me.” 

I frowned. This being tried to take others and couldn’t take hold, but passed up a half occupied vessel? “Strange. Most beings seem to know I should be easy to take a hold of and try and possess me, so it’s odd that a being looking for a mortal body to use didn’t jump on that.”  They were a god though. “Unless they knew better I guess.” They might have been smarter than I thought. 

Ares frowned, looking over at me in the corner of my vision. “What do you mean, they knew better?” 

I couldn’t help but smile. “Might have known better than to assume I wouldn’t know how to resist.” Maybe they knew I was more than I appeared. “Hard to tell though.”  

“How… Would you resist?” Ares blinked. “I don’t know anything about that.” 

“There are a few ways to do it, blocking a spirit or demon or being from taking over your body. Sometimes it’s easiest when you’re just starting out to focus on specific parts instead of everything at once.” I sat up a little bit, wincing at the stiffness in my back and the heaviness tugging at my eyes. “For example, if you’re not able to keep control over everything try and focus on limbs and try to do the opposite of what you will be compelled to do. Like if it tries to throw a punch make a point of holding you arm behind you. Even if it takes over your voice and you say things that should never be said, if you can keep control over some other part of your body and minimize the damage you’re in a better place than if not.” I leaned back again, fighting against letting my eyes fall shut. “Of course, its easier said than done.”  

She blinked again, as if she’d never thought it was possible. “Wow. That’s cool! They haven’t tried to take control, I don’t know if they can, but that’s good advice.” 

“It helps to be confident, which you already seem to be.” This time I failed to keep my eyes closed, sliding shut as the fuzzy drift of sleep started to creep into my head. “And if you’re not lie so they don’t hear it from you that you aren’t.” 

“I’ve already been talking shit to them, so I’ve got that down.” 

Sounded about right for her. I gave her another thumbs up, thoughts slowing faster than I could catch them. The overstuffed couch drew me further in, and I wasn’t sure if Ares said anything else as sleep caught me, lulled by the low rumble of the train and the drain on my body.  

[fineartsjournal]

213341 Art Studio IIIA ⋆ Week 1 - Project Outline

Semester one was my space to toy around with facets of the artform, presenting methodology first, contextualization taking a backseat to the abstract. This semester will see me place deeper intent within this process but retaining the creative actions of sample ‘plundering’ as my avenue for messaging.

In the first semester of 2023, a perverse interest into the oversaturated visual culture of YouTube ‘thumbnails’ leant itself to a series of satirical response pieces, which soon transitioned into a general commentary on modernised visual culture by the second semester. The culmination of this was in the BRAZEN FUCK OBJECT (and children), a lumpy, three-legged sculptural beast of cardboard, spotted mass; a texturally overwhelming amalgamation of all things accelerated and visual – warped beyond recognition into an alien presence.

My work this year, while taking a step back from the distinctly visual – spiritually picks up where the concept was left off, now borrowing from, and rearranging the ever-growing expanses of man-made sound into something of a shattered, mosaic replica. Much the same in the world of music as with visual culture, the accelerating catalogue of past creation poses new challenges for the future. Specific movements are harder to pin down, motives see a greater focus on profitability than practicality, speed and quantity are key to material success. The capitalistic, slow death of the artisan permeates both years of study as such, and much as stripping away and re-meshing visible pieces of online culture bore a dystopian parody of what seems to come, to undergo a similar conceptual action in the collage of music is to bear fruit of similar flavor.

Last semester saw me tucked away at home, accessibly experimenting within the limited capabilities of a YouTube player and Audacity, a free sound-editing software. A CD player paired with bargain-bin CDs put the actions of transforming source material to the forefront. However, the overarching intention was to utilize what I aimed to be the workhorse of this year’s projects – a vintage Boss SP-202 sampler, purchased from eBay back in February. While a small, ‘lo-fi’ piece of machinery, it brings with it a method of creating deeply rooted into the mana and artistic history of plunderphonics. As much a plaything as an instrument, my (later than expected) use of the machine was a step outside my comfort zone, but the break has given me some time to familiarize myself; to which I’ll be making much greater use of it throughout this semester.

With the actions of sampling established, from here I can use sampling as a tool for remembrance, reconstruction, and illustration. Being from 1998, the SP-202 has 2MB of internal memory. But what I can evoke from using it fits on so much more.

With the imperative to find a group for an eventual joint exhibition later-on, fellow artists Olivia, Ruby and Steevee were on radar, with our works each following a method-focused, anectodally-driven interpretation of past media.

Anya was initially in our group too, but split off not long after.

We jointly created a group chat, as well as a Google Slides document for compiling notes. This was my moodboard going in:

From left to right, these interests are: My SP-202 sampler, a materially stripped-back approach to making (exemplified by Alan Vega from the band Suicide), Age of Empires - a game I have fond childhood memories for, the concept of nostalgia (or generally making fun of it), the album Replica by Oneohtrix Point Never, and Super Mario 64. More on that.

Over the past two months, I’ve had rough plans (and a little bit of working) towards a sample-based album entirely composed of audio taken from Super Mario 64.

When it comes to online sentiments, nostalgia is a driving factor to defining the now; and the associations of a ‘then’ manifest in cultural snippets (samples?), or as is often the case, specific published forms of media seeing a resurgence through childhood re-ignition.

This can be a means towards many things - a sentimental return to an old enjoyment, a reconnection with a newfound audience to share it with, and new media produced in admiration of such. 

It makes money, too. Pokemon and McDonald’s as brands are fully immersed in the value that nostalgia plays in securing a loyal audience, with the latter being a chilling example of how brand recognition can be ensnared in those valuable childhood experiences, to where you’ve guaranteed lifelong loyalty from the customer.

Video games are just one of many, many avenues for nostalgia to run free among a user base, in this case, perhaps a little more prone to bigotry. Indeed a familiar anecdote found in fan base communities of the ‘old being better than the new’ can turn concerning when faced with any degree of social progress within and around the game since.

Super Mario 64, like numerous other ‘childhood greats’ in the video game sphere, saw a return to popularity in the late 2010s, its every element picked apart by a now-adult audience, keen to re-immerse into naive wonder. 

I’m no different, my work leans into the growing concept of ‘liminality’ (concurrent with a return to remembered spaces of any kind). The game was released seven years before I was even born, and it’d be another nine until I would play it. Well, the 2004 remake, that was, but I begged my parents for the Nintendo 64 console so I could play the original. It never happened, but for a while I made sure I learned as much as I possibly could about it. To this day I’ve never played the original, and any nostalgia I have is as an outsider, absorbing an experience second-hand from YouTube gameplays. 

Perhaps this distance contributes to a somewhat aloof sound I’ve adopted in the audio portions I’ve pieced together so far, and of a general message to ‘go outside’. Now that I find myself in a group exploring similar concepts, I’m presented with the opportunity to resume work on the project, now with the grounding of research, plenty of written references, and bouncing off the exhibiting ideas of the others in the group.

The SP202 - a self-proclaimed sampling ‘workhorse’ for last semester’s work (which in fact only saw limited use from May onwards) will be returning, now with extra practice and me NOT nearly burning the house down with an incorrect adaptor. The Plunderphonical Chronicle will also return, picking up right where I left off, with the late 90s-present still yet to be covered. Stay tuned!

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

I surprisingly had less time over the 'holidays' to work on my music than I do in Semester 2, but what I was able to make, mainly came from sessions with Audacity, as well as the SP-202.

The goal was clear, to compose ENTIRELY from music samples, with not a finger to a keyboard note. Note the lack of a detailed categorization with these, I have no idea in which order I made them...

My pride and joy from these sessions would have to be "GETUP", a 1-minute house loop that uses 7 samples and took 2 hours to make!!

Samples used:

Jammin Gerald - Pump that shit

LVL1 - GOBL1N

Stock fire alarm sound

Jimmy D - Rescue Me (Imagination)

First Patrol - Get Up (Have Some Fun Tonight) (Acapella)

Shante - Big Mama (Acapella)

Fatboy Slim - Gangsta Trippin

There's a couple more, but Tumblr has an Audio upload limit.

[zutarabender]

@zutaraweek 2022 day 6 - Closeness. Read on AO3

---

"When I was little, I dreamed of marrying someone with black hair and golden eyes."

Bedtime conversations were Katara's favorite moment of the day. They were even better when they were on vacation in Ember Island. She was cozily snuggled in bed against Zuko, drunk on their closeness, with the sea breeze blowing through the open window and caressing them both.

Zuko seemed to share her glee, because he chuckled. When he spoke, his tone didn't carry nearly the amount of feigned indignation that he wished it did.

"So that's all I am to you. Black hair and golden eyes."

"You're also the ruler of a nation, the most handsome man I've ever met, and a Firebender..." Katara trailed off as an amusing thought caught up to her. "I imagined my partner in life would be a Waterbender. That one I got wrong."

"Well, I... I never thought too much about it." Zuko frowned. "I never thought I'd get to make that kind of choice for myself. It's not really how things were ever done here."

"I thought about it so much, even though I didn't have many options, really. That's part of why I wanted to go to the North Pole so badly." She shifted, pulling slightly away so she could look Zuko in the eye. When it was the two of them, just like this, Katara could say words no one else should ever hear. "I didn't really belong back home. My own brother treated my bending like it was some sort of cursed witchcraft or sorcery before... well. I needed to get out."

"I'm glad we both did, in a way." He placed his hand on her cheek, his gaze full of affection. "It led me to you."

Katara turned slightly to kiss the palm of his hand. She loved him so deeply that her body couldn't contain it.

"I'm so grateful that this is how things turned out," she whispered. "I feel like a spirit must be watching over me and blessing me with good fortune. Perhaps the Blue Spirit," she added cheekily, but then his grin mirrored hers.

"Isn't the Spirit of the Yang-hui River in your debt?"

"I never told you about that."

Zuko smiled wider, but didn't reveal much else. Aang or Sokka must have told him. Perhaps Toph, who had been trying to get them together since her seismic sense clued her in. While she never intended to keep it a secret, it wasn't exactly the sort of thing that came up in general conversation.

"The very land of this nation owes you so much, Katara," he said. "I don't know how to even begin to repay you in the name of the Fire Nation."

"Oh, leave duty and honor out of this bed, Zuko. There are no debts between us. Right now, we're just two people who love each other doing their best."

Zuko's eyebrows shot up.

"You said love." It sounded almost like a question, making Katara giggle.

"What, am I wrong?"

Zuko answered her question before putting it into words, holding her closer and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"No," he said softly. "Not at all."

[shywhumpauthor]

YOU!! Can u do a whumper-to-whumpee prompt where they’re rlly vulnerable? Pls and tank ya.

ME!! I can!!

Just a heads up, this is a lot darker than what I usually write. Playing with my comfort zone a bit, testing the waters of my squicks and stuff.

For the sake of keeping things from being confusing, I’ll state this beforehand. “Whumper” is ex Whumper turned Whumpee. “Whumpee” is ex Whumpee turned Whumper. The names are the same for the roles BEFORE the dynamic shift

Cw: gore, hand whump, mentioned murder, dark themes, refusal to eat, starvation, thoughts about death/wanting to die (not really in a suicidal way, more so a “put out of misery” way, amputation, gore, blood, torture, restraints, sadistic whumper, mentioned eye/mouth whump, a little bit of pet whump towards the end, rough wound care, abuse

Everything in Whumper’s body hurt.

Their ribs seemed to crack with each breath, bruised sides screaming with every shallow inhale, lungs burning as they carefully exhaled. Their sternum was on fire, a cold flame crackling in the pit of their chest, searing anything and everything within proximity. Their stomach cramped with the pain of hunger, which at first they had found to be the most unbearable of it all, but as the days in captivity stretched to weeks, with only a few scattered, intermittent meals to sustain them, they had grown used to that ache. Any food Whumpee seemed to spare them was never enough, not to even begin to tame the hunger. Each bite only ever left them feeling more empty than before, to the point where it had once driven them to stop eating entirely. It wasn’t like they could manage to keep much down anyways. Whumpee had put a quick end to that, however, if Whumper wasn’t going to eat by themself, they’d have to settle for having the food shoved down their throat.

“You’re not getting away from me that easily,” was what they had said, their voice more a snarl than words. “You try anything like that again, I swear to hell and back I won’t be as kind as now.”

At one point, Whumper would have scoffed. They would have come up with some snarky response about how their little bitch had grown to be so rude and demanding, which certainly would have earned them another slap but they would just laugh. Make some comment on how weak Whumpee was, even after all that time. Still pathetic, just as always. They would have delighted at how red Whumpee’s face got, how mad those few little words made them. That even though Whumper was now the one in chains, it was clear who still had control.

That Whumper had died a thousand times. They had been tortured, torn apart piece by piece until nothing remained but a broken, shivering shell of what they once were.

Whumper had long since given up on the hope of death. That was one mercy Whumper had always extended, whether it be intentional or not. The concept of life had always been so easy to slip from their grasp, out of their control. It was inevitable, in most cases. Sometimes they would try to delay it, drag it out until they found themself content and finally allowed their subject to release into the glassy-eyes void. A look Whumper had grown to adore, the way their lips would slowly turn blue, the way the colors faded from their features until they were nothing but cold, dead husks. They would also grant life, if their toy would so wish. If by the time they were finished, they were still managing to drag in ragged breath after breath. Once Whumper released them, they were free. If they could make it to civilization, to the nearest town from the cabin Whumper spent their life within, they would no longer be pursued. It was pathetic, and yet, every time. The way their eyes would flicker with the first sparks of hope they had seen in months—at least for those still left with eyes. The way they would stumble, or in most cases crawl across the porch Whumper dumped them on, dragging themselves with a sudden energy.

It never lasted long. As far as Whumper knew, none of them had ever made it further than a mile.

Whumpee wasn’t like that, though. Oh god, if Whumper had known, they would have killed them that first night in the alley. They did not give that kind of pity. No. From the very first day, Whumpee had made it clear. Death would not be an escape, and Whumpee would guarantee that.

The torture was agonizing and slow, drawn out across days, weeks. Whumpee would always be sure to clean the wounds afterwards, whether that mean hosing Whumper down with the frigid water in the back yard, or dripping some alcohol directly into the gashes. Even the smallest wounds for bandaged, but Whumpee never seemed to spare the expense for traditional gauze or wraps. Duct tape wrapped over the lacerations, which would only rip open the scabs when Whumpee deemed it was time for the dressings to be changed. Whenever Whumper began to think that maybe, just maybe, they were lightening up, Whumpee would walk in the next day with some horrible new tool, worse than anything Whumper had ever used.

Whumper shuddered from where they lay, every part of their body aching worst than the last. Their entire body went rigid as they heard the terrible click, the one they had grown to absolutely dread.

They couldn’t bring themself to do anything more than crack open their eyes, well, at least one of them. The other was nearly swollen shut, nearly the entire half of their face swallowed with an ugly bruise. They could only watch as the heavy pair of boots descended down the steps to the basement.

“Rise and shine, buttercup!” Whumpee’s voice was light and bubbly, in the poor filtered light that streamed through the grimy windows, Whumper could just see the smile on their face. They held something in their hands, but from the height which they stood. Whumper couldn’t make out quite what it was. “I’ve got a surprise for you, come on, sit up.”

Whumper let out a shaky breath, their gaze falling to the concrete ground just inches away, eyes beginning to burn as tears quickly welled. Usually they were good with not crying—they knew it only made Whumpee mad. They didn’t deserve to cry, not after everything they’ve done.

But god, they were just so tired. Yesterday had been brutal in a thousand different ways, they were sure they wouldn’t have been able to sit up if they tried. The shackles wound tightly around their wrists, only a few inches of chain between the loop drilled into the floor didn’t allow for much room to move, either.

“Did you not hear me?” Whumpee’s boots stopped less than a foot from their face. So close Whumper could see the old splatters of blood that covered the dark leather. They could practically feel it slamming against their face, like it had countless times before. Crushing their nose and loosening a few teeth as the sole caught them square in the jaw, knocking them so hard they would see stars. “I said sit up.”

Whumper let their eyes slip closed as a rough cough seized their chest, pain like a thousand searing knives tearing through all the abused muscles in their sides. Something hot and sticky dripped from the corner of their mouth, painting their lips with a coppery taste.

From above them, Whumpee sighed, just barely audible as Whumper finally slumped back, cheek pressing to the cold ground.

Whumpee crouched down, setting what they held down next to them. A strong scent invaded Whumper’s senses, for a moment all they could comprehend was the overwhelming presence of food. Not the oatmeal rice mush they were used to having shoved down their throat, but actual food. Chicken and cut potatoes and some vegetable that Whumper couldn’t quite make out through their distorted sight. For a moment, they felt like they were going to be sick at just the sight, the tug of hunger in their gut nearly making them gag. They slowly raised their gaze to Whumpee’s face, searching for the signs of a trick. They were taunting them, of course. This was a cruel game, a joke. Putting food just in front of them, but never allowing them to eat it. It wasn’t the first time Whumpee had done something like that.

“Caretaker says I ought’a go easier on you,” Whumpee muttered, rocking back on their heels as they pulled something small from their back pocket. “They’re worried you’re gonna keel over if I don’t start takin’ better care of you, said if I didn’t start doin’ nothing, they would. And we can’t have that now, nope. Believe me, I don’t like it either.”

Caretaker. The name rung faintly in Whumper’s mind, but there was nothing that came up besides a distant feel of familiarity. A terrible cold jolted up their arms as Whumpee twisted the metal between their fingers, picking up Whumper’s wrists and fitting the small rusted key into the lock. A moment later, the shackles fell with a small clatter to the ground, and Whumpee let go of Whumper’s wrist, letting it drop to the ground. They didn’t make any effort to move, but their breath hitched slightly, letting Whumpee know they were at least a little aware of what was happening.

“Shit, you stink,” Whumpee moved back slightly, their face scrunching as they wrinkled their nose. “Guess you’re due for a bath. Whatever, now just eat.”

A moment later Whumpee straightened up, looking down at their past abuser with an expression somewhere between a scowl and disgusted pity. They bit the inside of their cheek, watching as Whumper’s fingers twitched, the remaining ones. Their left hand with only three, the right with four. The marred areas still fresh and pink.

A pinprick of emotion splintered through Whumpee’s mind as they looked down at their own hands. A few scars, a few burns, all long healed, but nothing like Whumper’s.

“I’m not done with you,” They muttered, shoving their hands into their jacket’s pocket. They weren’t sure if Whumper could comprehend what they were saying. “So don’t go thinking that, alright? This’s just for a little bit.”

Whumpee stepped back, twisting the key between their fingers as they made their way over to the stairs.

“I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to have a pet, ‘specially after everything you’ve taught me. We’ll see how much I can really break you then.”

[lu-twilights-pup]

Idk if im doing this right apologizes if I'm not. I saw you were open for lu x reader and was wondering if you'd be open for a nightmare comfort with wars or twilight?

Howdy! And yes i would be!

I wasn't sure who was comforting who, but im gonna take a wild guess that its the boys comforting the reader!

i also haven't written publicly in a hot minute so please bare with me!!

shout out to my bestie for proof reading!

tw: gender neutral reader/angst/hurt comfort

---------

Twilight

Second watch wasn't something that Twilight thought he would ever truly get used to. Though better than the first watch, it always felt as if he was being shaken from the very edge of useful rest, and called to his post. Attempting to wash the lull of sleep from his eyes and body with a cool wave of hyper vigilance. Lest he nod off, a rare occurrence, the snoring of his sky born ancestor was a good wake up call. 

However he would continue to bite the bullet for the sake of the others who were much less restful than he was. A quick glance around the camp served as proof. 

The vet laid on his side, clutching the traveler's sleeve in his sleep like he was to vanish before dawn. The traveler seems none the wiser to the vice, curled into Legend with his back to the fire. 

Warriors lay on his stomach in his bed roll, the very light sleeper, somehow still asleep as Wind star-fished over him and Wild. The latter was in the fetal position, though his sleep seemed rather undisturbed. 

Sky was as dead to the world around him, the only proof of his life were the rather boisterous snores escaping him every few minutes.

 The old man sat up against a tree. Sword sat across his lap, eyes closed. Asleep? Farore if Twilight knows. 

Then there was you. Most nights you lay in the odd mess of limbs that made up Warriors and the sailor, however tonight you seemed to have sat yourself a bit off to the side. Your back faced the poked over fire, your entire being tucked tightly into your bed roll. 

As if on cue, a small noise sounded in the distance. Freezing with a hand on his sword, and waiting for the sound to repeat, he zoned in on you, or at least your direction. After another few moments of listening intently to make sure it was you and not something in the distance he had to scout for, he was satisfied.  

But no, it was you. The noise is barely noticeable, but your movement throughout your bed roll was definitely seen. He figured maybe you were just having trouble sleeping, which was nothing new to any of them, but you almost sounded pained. Abandoning his post on the other side of camp, Twilight inched through the campsite, towards you. 

As he got closer it was more obvious that you were in fact, asleep.  A nightmare plaguing your mind as you toss and turn. 

“Mmn…no.” You whined into your bed roll, your face morphed into a scowl. A thin layer of sweat covered your face. “Please...no.....help..”

A deep frown sprouted along his features. He partially hesitated in waking you up, hoping it would pass, but within minutes it seemed to worsen. You were now all but screaming in your sleep.

“(Name)!” he shook you lightly, but you didn't budge. You continued to vaguely yell at an unseen foe, whipping your head side to side and pushing your arms outward. 

“(Name), ‘ey wake up! (Name)!” He whispered hastily and shook a bit harder. You woke with a shout, bolting up right and clawing at his hand that had been on your shoulder. As he pulled it away, a radiant fear flowed from you in waves, nearly palpable. You locked eyes with one another, him wide with concern, yours with pure adrenaline based fear, a deer and a wolf, something beyond a stand off. 

“I-...you were-..” You trailed off, straining on a sob. “There was an ambush- and they- we-We did have help- and- and- everyone was gone- and i couldn't-” The words poured out of your mouth like a leaking pipe. The world spun as you tried to piece together what had happened. The nightmare had been so vivid you could still feel the dull ache of a phantom injury at your side.

Twilight shushed you delicately. 

“....eath…..he….re you ok…” He voice sounded distant to the thumping in your ears. Was he talking to you? Wait, why were your breathing so heavy? His voice seemed to come forward more,

“Breathe, can ye breathe for me, (Name)?” He asked barely above a whisper. You weren't quite sure if you actually heard him or if it was just a reflex to relax after waking to find your nightmare nothing but a dream. 

“There ye go, in and out, just like that.”  Remaining focused on you, and doing his best to come off small and calm, as not to frighten you further. After several minutes of breathing, you seemed to calm down a bit more. The glossy look in your eyes diminished and was replaced with grief filled exhaustion. 

“Can I touch ye?” He asked hesitantly, knowing well that not everyone took too well to touching during panic. You nodded weakly, and that was all the warning you got before being engulfed by the rancher. 

It took a moment's notice to pinpoint the feeling of his pelt falling over your shoulders, shielding you from the waking world. Soothing circles were being rubbed into your back as you sat. The sound of your travel mates asleep around you, the warmth of the arms around you, the weight of the head settled on top of yours slowed the burning of your lungs clawing for more oxygen than they could handle. That odd tell-tale hum of magic under his skin that was so rightfully him, fell in line with his heart beat. 

“E’ryone ‘s alright. I promise was jus’ a bad dream. We’re all okay, see, can ‘ear Sky star’n earthquakes.” He whispered, the aforementioned, proceeded to let out an outlandishly loud snore. You both giggled at your brother in arms.

Twilight didn't ask you what had happened, he wouldn't force you to talk unless you wanted to. He pulled you into his side as he adjusted his sitting position. Now facing the other side of camp, your head pulled into his chest, he resumed his watch. The weight of his hand on your head, and arm around your shoulders was enough for you to close your eyes. 

“I gotcha love, don’ ye worry bout it.” Was the last thing you heard that night.

---------

Warriors

It was very rare that the Chain landed in a town with an inn big enough for all of them. It was even more rare that the inn had enough rooms that they didn't have to pair off. 

This was not one of these occurrences. Though Warriors will take to pairing off with one other member for the night rather than being smothered into mother nature's dirt mattress by Wind and Wild. He could practically feel the rock jabbing him in the lower back through the night just thinking about it.

All in all the night was quiet enough, you and him moved about the room in your respective nightly routines as moon’s light slowly crept through the window. 

Now Warriors wouldn't call himself a truthfully light sleeper, he was a fast riser, but not very easy to wake. That being said, the fact that he woke in the dead of night without rhyme or reason was alarming. He didn't feel that slithering feeling in his chest, wrapping around his lungs and coiling underneath his sternum that he had become accustomed to when he thought there was a threat nearby. There was no burning in his throat as he held his breath to listen out for the sound of hurried footsteps and breaking branches. They were in the inn—they were safe. The door was locked, the window was cracked the same way that it was before they blew out the candle across the room. A cursory scan of the room revealed nothing out of place. Nothing other than you. 

You were no longer laid peacefully under your covers, ignorant to the world outside the realm of your own dreams. You were now sat up in the inn bed, back against the wall, curled in on yourself. You arms wrapped around you so tightly Warriors was sure if he looked closer your knuckles would be white. Head in your arms, shaking like a small animal in a blizzard. 

He could faintly hear the hiccuping sobs you were holding back as you tried ever so hard to disappear into yourself. A wet heave raking through you as you shudder in your spot.

“(Name)?” He uttered barely above a whisper. You had apparently not heard him move from his bead and across the room. Jutting up to look at him, and instantly regretted it as you saw his face contort into that of horror. 

Your eyes were puffy and your face was runny. You looked absolutely wrecked. The look in your eyes was that of a child who had been caught after they broke something. His eyes washed over you with that look for a fraction of a second before blooming into a face full of concern. 

“(Name), are you alright?” He kept his quiet tone, worried that anything above that would make the situation worse. “(Name), dear, can you hear me?”  That had jump-started something in you.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine!” You barely smiled, frantically wiping your face. “Go b-” You took a wavering breath, “Go back to bed Wars, I'm okay.” He could see the tears still sitting at the edge of your eyes, fighting every power in the room not to fall. He didn’t move. His eyes stayed focused on you, but not harsh. Warriors studied your face for a few moments, the only sound in the room was the creaking of the open window in the breeze. 

“A nightmare?” He asked you, firm and positive in his inquiry. The flinch you gave as you glanced past him at the door was enough of an answer. His body seemed to lose some of the rigged seriousness it had a moment ago as he let out a breath. Rising from the edge of your bed, you had figured that he was to leave you be as you asked. 

A pillow hit your face instead. Once you had a grip on it to pull it away, you saw Warriors standing over you, blanket in one hand, the other hand still attached to the offending object. You stared at each other for a moment, you feared he was kicking you out of the room. Your crying had woken him up, and a captain that didn't get at least some sleep was an enemy to all.

“Move over.” Was all he had said. 

“Wha-” 

“Move over.” he repeated again. 

“Warriors, pl-” You tried once more.

“Move. Over.” He didn't whisper this time. Spoken in his full voice, in a tone he reserved for those in the group who were being scolded. He was not asking. 

The captain at least gave you a moment to collect yourself, and scooch over at your own pace before regally flopping on to the open spot of the bed. The blanket he brought with him easily crossed over both of you. The sudden weight of an arm over your waist hits you like moblin club. Being pulled into his embrace, arms closed around you, and breath in your hair, the damn snapped. 

“I didn't mean to wake you up.” You mumbled through a hiccup. One hand clamped over your mouth to silence the on wail, the other locking onto his nightshirt. “I just- i thought- i thought there was- you were all-'' You shook in his arms as your crying and heaving picked up once more. Warrior's hand found his way through your hair and he pulled you flush into him. He rubbed your back as he allowed you to work through your small panic attack. A small tune flowed from him as he wearily hummed into your hair. 

The sound of his heart beat flush against your ear, stealing your attention. 

He was here. He was alive. If you listened closely you could hear the other night owls of the group mulling about their rooms next door. 

Your hiccups slowed down as your tears dried into his nightshirt. It had felt like hours of you laying beside him, hands through your hair, and melody sweeping your body. He didn't utter a word, and you had given up on trying to explain yourself. As the time passed you began to lose the ever waging war to sleep. 

“It's okay.” He hummed as you dozed, unaware you were still relatively awake.

“I’m right here, and I'm not going anywhere.” 

---------

Thank you so much for reading!!!! Have an awesome day/afternoon/night!!

[kanencrow]

What If: You Were Once a Resident in The Combat Zone - Fallout 4 | Headcanon

(First ever post on here. Hope you enjoy!)

(Also have a couple of these headcanon's/scenarios sitting idly in my google docs, so mine as well post them out into the open, even though Fallout 4 isn't talked about as much anymore.)

SUMMARY: How would Piper, Cait, and Curie react to you coming from the Combat Zone as a previous resident?

NOTE: You’re not considered the Sole Survivor in this particular scenario. Thought I would point that out, considering there's talks of them at some point throughout this post.

WARNINGS: Talks of captivity, malnourishment, violence, blood, injuries, killing.

WORD COUNT: 1029

CAIT

Well, it’s clear that with Cait, she would already know that about you. Nonetheless, you and her, in both your times of being there, related a lot in regards to the treatment you each got from the raiders who went there to bet on fights and get drunk. You and her would find yourselves often giving one another pieces of gauze, bandages, or even stitching needles after your own personal fights that you both reluctantly took part in. That was really the only bit of engagement you had with her, but you were still known in the green eyes of the red-headed woman. 

When the Sole Survivor came in and ransacked the Combat Zone, killing every single raider they saw, you felt a twinkle of hope spark within your chest. Although, when Tommy eagerly pushed you and Cait into the care of the Vault Dweller, neither of you were all too overjoyed about it. However, you couldn’t lie and say that you hated the change of pace. Maybe, with Sole coming in and bringing you into their fold, your usual life of dread and abuse would finally come to an end and instead make a 180 into happiness and contentment with your red-headed Irish friend. 

Even after getting out of there, away from all the hurt and pain you experienced, you’d still have moments where you’d get flashbacks of your time there. The same went with Cait as well, and that was really how you and her ended up becoming extremely close to one another. Using each other as a means of comfort, even though doing so was a difficult task for both of you, since neither one of you were entirely used to giving or receiving affection. Still, you and the Irish lass managed. Now, after years of being away from that dreaded place, you and her are able to talk about it without getting too choked up on the haunting memories it gave the both of you.

CURIE

Curie found out, only because of the fact that a settler you were walking past pointed at you and mentioned something about you being a “brawler from that place where all the raiders went to watch fights.” She noticed how you visibly stuttered in your step, your eyes widening a little and your fingers balling up into a tight fist, but then you quickly relaxed when you remembered that the French medic was right beside you. You let out a quick breath, glanced her way out of the corner of your eye, and without any utterance, moved forward once more, all while the woman gazed at you with clear worry in her kind-hearted eyes.

Not being completely used to feelings and comprehending them, she didn’t fully understand how to act or react to the way you responded to the random settlers' words. She was left pondering silently for the entirety of that day while you did your business in your own form of silence. Eventually, the both of you settled down in a local town, and you used some caps to buy a room in their hotel for the night. You expected to go straight to bed and sleep off the bleeding memories that you thought had since been patched up, but when an accented gentle call of your name filled your ears, you felt yourself almost crumble, already knowing that the synth was about to question you on what had happened earlier in the day.

“Mon amour? May I inquire about something?” 

You didn’t really want to talk about your time in the Combat Zone, but Curie showed that she cared, and you found yourself turning around and sinking down onto the edge of the bed as you did so. Your back slumped, your hands folded together tightly, and you breathed in deeply before looking up at her and nodding your head faintly. She began to ask about what you dreaded, slowly inching towards you until she herself moved to sit down right beside you on the bed. The night was spent with you telling her your story, of your time in that dreaded place, and it ended with you in her arms after having cried a million tears. 

PIPER

You had managed to escape the Combat Zone, actually. So, Piper found you when you were at your lowest, which would certainly be an interesting story to tell if someone were to ask how you and the journalist met. You were bleeding, bruised, and extremely hurt. Exhaustion was the special guest that came with those ailments, so when you managed to spot the red leather coat of the hazel-eyed woman, you felt a twinge of relief soar through your body. Of course, she was quick to see you, too, and being the selfless woman that she is, she quickly came to your aid. Asking if you were alright definitely didn’t come out of her mouth, because she was way more worried about whether or not you were going to die.

Panicked curses were the main thing you heard.

Luckily, Diamond City was relatively close. It was a hike, that was for sure, but she still managed to get you there. You were light as was, considering you had been enslaved in a building that resided in a desolate town for years. Malnourishment was bound to happen, and so it did. It benefited her in getting you help, but it was still terrible that that even happened to you in the first place. She couldn’t help but sympathize. And that concern was really the main thing that created a close, tight-knit relationship between the two of you. 

After you got better, and even as you got better, Piper would often greet you in your own personal abode that the city offered you for free, considering your circumstances. Right off the bat, she couldn’t help but voice her distaste for the men and women in the Combat Zone, and when she noticed you visibly flinch at the remembrance of the establishment, she immediately stopped talking about it and conversed with you about something more lighthearted. After that, she barely ever brought that part of your past up, and she became very protective over you, even though she knew you could probably handle yourself.

[extravaguk]

sweets&ink

part of my opposites attract! series. 

ksj / knj / myg / jhs / pjm / kth 

pairing: tattooartist&tattoed!jungkook x baker!reader

summary: jungkook was everything you feared but exactly what you needed to heal your broken heart.

wordcount: 5k

genre: fluff - angst - smut (s2l!au)

rated: m (?

warnings: some cursing, mentions of past abusive/toxic relationships/trauma that might be triggering, a lil of making love at the end. it’s overall just suuper fluffy, trust me. jungkook is a s i m p. we love that for him! slow burrrnnnn.  

Jungkook knows it was love at first sight, but doesn's know how to really explain it.

He knew from the moment he entered the small shop, pastel green walls welcoming him  replete of sugary treats, a sweet and heavenly scent engulfing him as soon as he stepped a foot inside.  With a new found sense of calmness and serenity within he hadn't experienced in a long time, he searched for deserts of his liking, mouth watering while assessing the many options of baked goods available and bright colored frostings stealing his attention.

"Hi. How may I help you?"

Then he looked up and found you. It wasn't easy to appreciate your whole appearence with the counter hiding the lower half of your body, but it was enough for Jungkook to think to himself that he had never seen a prettier girl in hiis entire life. And that's when he knew it. Any type of movement in his surroundings coming to a halt, his heart skipping a beat, his favourite song playing inside his head. And that particular sensation. The same one that had made him feel so at ease since he found your bakery. For a moment he thought his doe eyes might have actually turned into heart eyes until you raised your eyebrows, a concerned expression replacing your previous warm smile. 

Blinking his eyes and clearing his throat, coming down from cloud nine into the real world, he stuttered his order as best as he coud manage, heart pounding inside his chest and later feeling mortified for not being able to pronounce "gingernap cookies" correctly. 

At first he kind of hated Seokjin for blackmailing him into going to his favourite bakery to buy his favourite cookies (Jungkook really should've known better than accidentally spill ink all over Jin's new script), but when he comes back home with a goofy smile on his face and dreams of your face, he makes sure to text him he'll go get his cookies anytime he wants.

But Jungkook is a masochist apparently. 

Because a week after your first encounter he realizes that not being able to get his mind off a girl he's literally only seen once in his entire life is not exactly normal. Not for anyone, but especially not for him. Realizes that the way he embarrassed himself in front of you and probably looked like a bluberring mess (or a creepy weirdo who had never interacted with any woman before) is not reason enough to not keep wanting to try again. And the way you just giggled at him and simply shook your head as you wrapped the ginger cookies he had asked for in a pretty packaging has kept him aching for more. 

So he comes once a week now. Still as nervous as the first day, but content to see that your face seems to light up at the sight of him stepping through the door the same way his does. He likes to see you in your cute pastel dresses, and if he didn't know better he'd think you were just trying to keep up with the bakery's aesthetic. But the more he frequents your shop, the more he realizes you're exactly like the treats you bake. He likes how your vividly honeyed persona contrasts with his darker and reserved one. Likes how you're all colors of the rainbow and he's just a scale of greys.

They are small interactions. Just courtesy and cordial exchange of words everytime he visits. He doesn't even know your name and you don't even know his, but sometimes he asks how was your weekend and sometimes you ask how many people had he inked that week. Sometimes he tells you how pretty you look, and sometimes you blush in response. Sometimes you add an extra macaron in his order and sometimes he debates on whether or not he should write down his number on a napkin and slide in right on the countertop before he waves goodbye. 

And although Jungkook has never been one to shy away from women, he feels a certain way he can't exactly pinpoint. A way that makes his confidence falter and leaves him feeling like a little kid who's afraid to confess to the girl he likes. Because as cliché as it sounds, you're not like any other girls he's ever met. You don't feel like any other girl he's ever met. Not the older than him, tattoed and pierced type of girl he's accustomed to; not the type of girl that's addicted to trouble and believe him (maybe even hoped) to be something he's not. So it takes a while for him to summon up enough bravery and determination. It takes weeks of pining and overthinking, and a single push from Yoongi ('stop being a fucking pussy and just do it') to ask you to have coffee with him.

"I... I'm sorry. I can't."

And it only takes those words leaving your mouth to shatter his heart into pieces. 

 It's fine though, he told you and himself. He wasn't going to be one of those guys who believed the 'friendzone' was an actual thing and tried his best to not make you feel uncomfortable, really tried his best to erase the guilt across your face as you rejected him.  So he scratched the back of his head and mustered up a big smile before leaving the shop with a bag full of cupcakes and an unsettled stomach.

Letting out a deep breath you didn't even know you were containing, you observe as the handsome stranger exits the shop. Running a hand through your hair before gripping the counter with your hands, you try to steady the heavy throbbing insde your chest. 

The boy in question had been unknowingly tormenting you and flooding your mind with thoughts of him for almost two months now. That day you first had spotted him eyeing the desserts in display in amazement and then you in the very same way. It was sudden and precipitated, but it had almost made your head spin, something you hadn't felt in a long time unexplainable tugging at your insides. 

You had kept your cool as best as you could, as best as you had taught yourself in the past. Wrapped those cookies he had asked and then waved goodbye, hoping under your breath he wouldn't come back but silently wishind he would. But then he did. He came back once. And then again. And again, and before you realized he had become a frequent costumer. Trying whatever treats you'd recommended him, creating small talk, sending friendly smiles here and then. 

You had learned to expect him at the very same time, the very same day of the week; had learned to manage the fluttering in your tummy and the reddish warmth spreading through your cheeks whenever the eye contact was prolongued. Everything was innocent, it was brief and, most importanly, it never went beyond, even if sometimes you hoped it did.

However, after all these years, there was still something you hadn't learned to control yet. And as he spoke, clearly nervous, hesitant and clearly out of his comfort zone, wondering out loud if he could ever treat you to a coffee sometime, your body shut down. The fondness and excitement you had been harboring over the last few weeks quickly replaced by that which made you want to recoil, made you want to back to your well to let its darkness and loneliness envelop you.

That horrible and ugly wave of crippling fear and axiety all mixed together; a little monster that you had successfully concealed, now displaying its ears in warning and the same smile that had been haunting you for years, now advising you, reminding you and most of all, threatening you, to go back to your own comfort zone. And so, powerless, there was nothing else you could really to but to comply, muttering an apology and a rejection that probably pained you more than it pained the boy in front of you.

You knew you did the right thing, but it definitely didn't feel like it. 

Especially a week later, as you expected his arrival- as always, ready with a tray full of fresh baked scones you had particularly made just for him, but were left severely disappointed when time passed and he was nowhere to be seen. Or two weeks later, after spending an extra hour making cake pops that you had specifically designed with him in mind (covered in dark chocolate and white sprinkles), only to realize it was closing time and that he never even showed up.

 To say you were bummed was an understatement. You knew you always looked forward to him coming in every week to grace your day with a smile and a polite talk, but you didn't come to terms with how much you would miss it until now. So three weeks later, you still bake with him in mind, trying not to lose hope but still chastising yourself for not being brave enough and accepting his offer. It was just a coffee date, for God's sake, not a marriage proposal! Trying to busy your mind with work and customers coming in and out, even if your eyes dart in anticipation everytime you hear the door swinging. 

When hours pass and the sun hides to make room for the moon and stars into the sky, you look at the clock and, with a defeated sigh, finish cleaning and tidying around the shop. But before you can gather your things, the door swings open and there stands the stranger you had been praying to see again. 

"Am I too late?" he asks, and you don't exactly know but can tell his words hold a double meaning. You smile, a genuine smile, because he looks bashful with a hand scratching the back of his head like he had done the last time you saw him, and because there's a warm sensation spreading through your chest, like your heart is smiling for you. 

"I was about to close, but I can make an exception." you accomplish to say and surprisingly don't sound as nervous as you feel. He mirrors your smile as he walks closer to the counter. "So, what would you like?" 

That takes him by surprise because he really had nothing in mind when he decided to come here and now he feels like an idiot. 

"Uh, um... I would like... maybe cupcakes?" he sounds like an idiot too. But you nod and smile at him and start gathering his cupcakes into a polka dot cardboard box.

"You missed the cake pops I made last week." you say, trying to keep your voice in check as he hands you his credit car. "I think you would've liked them."

"Ah, sorry... Work has been really hectic." and even if it's true, it's also true the fact that he chickened out and was frightened to face you again. He likes how even when you're alluding to his absence, there's not a malicious tone behind your words. He likes how you're still smiling at him even after he's been acting like a pussy for two weeks. But that's why he's here. "I also would like to apologize for... you know. I didn't-...If I made you feel uncomfortable, I'm really sorry."

With your eyebrows raised, your smile dissipates. "What? No, you didn't do anything wrong, really. It's not- It's not that. I just...can't." you stumble through words, trying to explain how much you actually wanted to go to that coffee date, to get to know his name and more of himself, but unavailable to. You can feel it again. The same anguish that always seem to creep up on you and numbs you altogheter. But him, worriedly sensing your distress, waves his hands in front of him.

"No, no. It's fine, you don't have to explain anything! It's alright!" his smile seems to soothe you and you return his smile in gratitude. "Anyways, I'll... I'll get going. See you next week?"

You nod, anticipation already making its way into you. "See you next week." and then he takes the box filled with cupcakes and says goodbye. Before he can open the door though, a tingle of impulsivity and fearlesness makes you say:

"I'm _____, by the way."

He pauses, clearly taken aback.

"Jungkook."

Jungkook hasn't stopped repeating your name in his head ever since you gave it to him, grinning like a fool and thinking about how good it sounds next to his. He hasn't stopped frequenting your bakery either and has lost count on how much money he's spent on muffins and whatever else you sell. He doesn't care though. All he cares about is how much likes seeing you even if it's only for fifteen minutes in your floral dresses, and as long as you keep looking like you're glad to see him every time, then he's fine. 

He's more than fine. He feels amazing. Sings tunes while he works on customers, feels his creativity flowing more than ever and he feels whole. It still baffles him how a minimun interaction with you once a week can make him feel on top of the world. 

He's got a bouquet of white and pink lillies next time he visits, so sappy and romantic he doesn't even recognize himself. He doesn't tell you he googled their meaning and his mind instantly associated them with you. Purity is exactly what he thinks of you and admiration is exactly how he feels about you. Hands it to you and the surprised look on your face and the spreading of pink all over your cheeks makes his heart burst. You thank him and he tells you he didn't know what your favourite flower is. You answer it's carnations. He writes it down somewhere in his mind, for next time. And then you're the one surprising him.

"Would you like to have coffee sometime?" 

There's uncertainty in your voice that doesn't go unnoticed by him, and for a moment he thinks he's dreaming. He's cool with what he's got right now with you, but you repeating his words back to him makes him feel euphoric, like he can't believe it. He knows he looks dumb, the way he's looking at you. 

Completely dumbfounded. He stutters like the first same he met you, but he says yes (omits the part where he tells you he could almost die). You exchange number in each other's phones with shaky hands, set the day and hour, and then wave each other goodbye. 

You instantly regret it as you watch him leave. Keep regretting it the following days. That voice in your head telling you 'it'll happen again', telling you fairytales didn't exist and this most likely wasn't one, even if it felt like it was, suffocating you like it had done many times before. Screwing with your head until you consider canceling. 

But you power through it, like you had taught yourself to do. This time it's harder though. Because this time there's a new romantic interest at hand, one that's making you feel things you buried a long time ago and made you swear to yourself you'd be smarter and stronger than any man could. 

It's Hoseok's encouraging words that help ease the panic. It was also Hoseok's words who encouraged you to ask Jungkook out. Said you deserved something good for once and that you couldn't close yourself to love your entire life. 

Thought it was time for you to write a new chapter after a rather sad one. 

So on Saturday, Jungkook insists on picking you up and it already feels like too much for you. Especially when he shows up with a bouquet of carnations in his hand and a smile that takes your breath away and definitely doesn't help to ease your nerves. 

Takes him by surprised how pretty you look.  maybe because it's the first time he's seen you out of your shop and even though you're still loyal to your clothing style, he still fumbles with his words like an idiot to try to express how beautiful you look. Seeing he's as much of a mess as you settles you a little bit. Then he takes you to a cute café that almost makes you laugh, because seeing him, inked arms and piercings and a closet that consisted mainly of black oversized t-shirts and pants in such a bright environment reminds you of the first time he entered your shop. 

You're surprised to see how well the conversation rolls, how easy it is to talk to him beyond the usual brief interactions you two have. You like how he makes you laugh and how he seems to love hearing it. You like how his attention is solely focused on you, even if his gaze on yours sometimes feels too intense and his overall character intimidates you. You like how soft spoken he is, how careful he is with words and the sound of his voice. Sounds like a lullaby without melody. 

And when the date is over, he drives you home, walks you to your door and respectfully wishes you a good night. You kiss him on the cheek spontaniously before hiding the embarrassment on your face and stepping inside your home. You miss the way he stays at your doorstep for a whole minute before getting in his car and driving himself home. You also miss how peacefully he sleeps that night, dreaming of cupcakes and you. You don't miss the heart emoji he sends you before going to bed, making yours quiver.

You're glad you didn't cancel, and now you're sure you don't regret it at all

It goes on. The dates, getting to know each other more and more, Jungkook's visits to your shop and spending way too much money on sweets and carnations, the butterflies in your stomach everytime he's near and the birth of something inside of you that's starting to make you feel alive after feeling dead for so long. 

It's still new, still wholesome, moves in slow motion. You're glad Jungkook doesn't push, doesn't ask for anything, never demands more than a kiss on the cheek everytime he drops you off. He is nothing like he looks like, you realized that right away.

But with every brand new beginning that requires feelings like this, especially as unique and exceptional as the ones Jungkook is causing within you, comes the evil monster trying to scare you off, to make you back off and remind you that not everything that shines is gold. The voice inside your head that keeps bewitching you back into a dark room, reminder in your head everytime that one day Jungkook will want more. He'll want more and you might not be ready to give it to him. 

A voice that keeps resonating and has kept you unmoving for the past few years and now is making you feel more frightened than ever. 

You've been more quite than usual and Jungkook can tell something is not quite right. It's a friday night, and after having dinner that he insisted on paying, he decided this time to drive you away, to a secluded space somewhere where you both can appreciate the city lights on the hood of his car. He can tell, so he asks you, but you give a vague answer. He wants to ask again, but he's afraid of overstepping your boundaries. He wants to get to know you in every level, want's to scratch the surface until he can see everything. He wants to learn you inch by inch. Wants to love every part you bare to him, because he's sure he will. 

"My ex partner was abusive."

You finally say with a voice that's not entirely yours, and it doesn't feel real. Doesn't feel real to say out loud and letting the words sink in. It's taken all this time of excusing behaviors that were not excusable, trying to make light of a situation that wasn't and blaming yourself for things that you were not to blame for. Jungkook stays silent, but his attention immediately focused on you as soon as you spoke. Eyes slightly wide and mouth starting to open as if to speak himself. But you go on.

"Not physically." you swallow a lump in your throat. "Sometimes he would throw things at me, but they didn't always land. Or... one time he pushed me while we were arguing. Never raised his hand at me though. It was mostly psychological and emotional. He was extremely jealous and possesive. Didn't like me hanging with my friends, would never bring me to hang out with him and his friends. Though I' was cheating on him with anyone. The cashier at the supermarket, a randome dude on the street that simply looked at me. Anyone." tears prickle your eyes, but you'd learned to hold them back.

"He would always get mad at me. Would already wake up angry and take it out on me. Without reason. Would always blame me for everything. He would get mad, insult me, call me any terrible name you can imagine, tell me I wasn't worth shit. That I wasn’t worth living.Then he would punch the wall, or break whatever was in sight. Everytime, I told him I was terrified of him. Would cry in a corner and beg him to stop. Sometimes he would just laugh at me for it." you sniff, still looking straight at the city lights, and trying to keep a composed tone throughout. You had grown up a lot since then, and you knew Jungkook deserved to know you. He deserved to understand. 

"Then he would calm down, apologize while he cried and promised he loved me and would change. He never did. It took me a long time to finally walk away, but the demons still haunt me to this day. You," you choke, because comparing your ex to the guy currently sitting next to you was like day and night, like heaven and hell. "You make me feel things I've never felt before. I always felt like asking for respect was asking for too much. And then here you come, like a knight on shining armour ready to sweep me off my feet. It felt like a dream. Still does..."

Jungkook's hands are balled into tight fists, his whole body rigid as he listened to you. His own heart breaking, like he could feel himself inside you and experiencing your own heartbreak. His blood's boiling, jaw so tight and eyes blinking. Pushing down his anger, because this is about you not him, he lets his body relax before sliding your hand in yours. 

"I like you so much,_____, it literally kills me at night how much. Not as much as hearing all of this, though. From the moment I saw you, I was whipped. I wanted and still want to give everything I can to see that smile of yours. It's me the one who can't believe you're paying me any attention at all." you're still not looking at him, but he still sighs in relief when your lips quirk up. "Just having you here next to me and letting me take you out on dates is more than enough for me. Whatever you give me, whatever your terms are, I'm content with that. You're healing, and while you do, I'll be right here."

You look at him now, not bothering to hide the tears streaming down your face anymore.

"What if I never heal completely?" there's fear in your voice as your eyes meet his, but just the dark brown in his gaze help you feel secure, less worried about the future and more serene about the now.

"I'll still be here."

It doesn't take long for you to call it love.  

Not when Jungkook keeps proving himself to be so different and so special. Not when his gestures never cease to make you feel so special, so worthy of recieving and sharing love. Because Jungkook makes you feel invincible, makes you feel one in a million. 

"What to you even see in me? We're like, polar opposites." you ask him one day. And it's true, you are. So different from each other, yet the same. He laughs in disbelief, shaking his head, still holding your hand in your doorstep about to kiss your cheek goodnight. 

"I see everything." he simply says, eyes boring into yours in adoration. "I see the sun, and the moon, the stars, the entire galaxy when I'm with you." your heart clenches as he interlaces his fingers with yours. "Before I met you, I felt like I was blind. Like I was lost and was looking for an exit that I couldn't find. But then I saw you, in your little bakery, with your cute dresses and those eyes, and it was like my eyes opened for the first time. Everything made sense. Everything has been filled with so many colors ever sinc-" 

You shut him with your lips on top of his, emotions pulling at your heartstrings the same way you pull him down by the neck. He takes a few seconds to respond, but then this hands are dropping to your waist, their warmth immediately spreading through your skin against the chilly night.

"Would you like to come in?" you whisper, breath fanning over his lips. He nods, hurriedly, and he knows he looks like a damn idiot for the hundredth time, but he doesn't care. Because coming in doesn't only mean stepping in your home. Coming in means you're letting him in. Means you trust him, means you want him there, means you're allowing him inside your heart. 

Again, Jungkook doesn't expect nor demands much. Your presence is everything he needs. You kissing him is like winning the lottery to him. Like completing a marathon, like climbing the Everest, like getting his first tattoo. Kissing you is sweet, fills him with something strong that makes him feel on drugs, like nothing matters but you and him. Like nothing has ever mattered to neither of you. 

So it's you who leads him to your room, it's you who straddles his thighs and pushes his hair back as his hands carress your sides. It's nothing fiery. It's slow, tentative, and full of care. Of lingering touches, low sighs against each other's mouths. 

It's you who reaches inside his shirt, hand sneaking past the hem of the fabric and trembling cold fingers coming in contact with firm skin. It's also you who asks for more with a small roll of your hips. It's you who asks him to take his shirt off. It's him who complies. Still tells you you don't have to, you tell him you want to. 

It's you who asks him to touch you. He's scared like he's never been, because you're you, and you're so perfect and everything he's ever wanted and suddenly he's afraid of you're too good for him. Jungkook only wants to make you happy, never wants to see you cry, just wants to treat you the way you deserve. 

It's you who begs.

It's you who tells him you need him. Need him take care of you, need him to show you much you're worth, need him to help you write a new chapter, probably even a new book where you're both the main characters and nobody else has ever existed. You say it with tears in your eyes, and he's quick to kiss them away, tongue entangling with yours. He's quick to undress you as well, with hands that still ask for permission even after you've granted it already. Hands and lips that are also quick and eager to learn your body, to find every mole in your skin as he lays you back to look at you in admiration. He keeps kissing you. From head to toe, muttering praise, making sure every 'beautiful' and 'gorgeous' and 'perfect' that leave his lips stay fire engraved in your being forever. 

He first makes you cum with careful fingers and skilled tongue, thighs wrapped aro around his head, eyes still looking for yours as his hands keep your body still and yours crumple the sheets beneath. Tells you how good you taste, how long he's been dying to have you like this. Tells you this you his favourite sight as he kisses his way up. 

You beg him again, asking him to please, please, fill you up. He groans against your mouth and he tells you again, you don't have to. He says he's happy like this. Repeats he's in no rush and just wants to please you and make you feel good. That it's about you, and will always be about you. You beg him again, and again and again, enticing him with a trail of wet kisses down his neck, up to his eralobe. You whisper there, tell him you need him to fill you with his cock so bad. His whole body goes rigid as your legs wrap around him, legs pulling him closer to where you want him, his erection grazing your entrance and his teeth nibble your lower lip. 

Jungkook doesn't move for a while, eyes closed shut, jaw clenched and head buried in your neck. He doesn't move because his mind is somewhere else keeping him stagnant, pussy wrapping around him so good and wet and tight he's about to bust. Takes a while for him to move, but when he does he makes sure to grip your thighs around him, keeping you close, never wanting to let go as he tells you you were made just for him. Just for him. Tells you how good you feel. He tells you he loves you. Kisses your lips as you sob, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. He tells you he loves you. Tells you he'll love you forever and will always keep you safe and happy. 

You're crying now, cheeks wet and he stops for a moment to look at you, concern written all over his face as his hands craddle yours, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. "We can stop, baby." You shake your head no. Pull him back into another kiss, urging him to go on. You tell him you love this, love him so much. That it's a good thing. That they are happy tears. That you've never been happier. And then his hips start moving again, your words egging him own, soft whimpers and sobs leaving each other's throats until you cum at the same time. 

He then removes himself from you, rolling onto your side but he's quick to pull your body close, arms wrapping around you and lips kissing away the wet stains on your cheeks. 

It doesn't take long for you to know Jungkook would be the healthy forever and after you had always dreamed of.

[taetaespeaches]

“Are you sure you want to take a nap right now, Dear?”

jimin x reader (oc) genre: smut; fluff word count: 3.5K

a/n: hi lovelies!! This is a week late but I hope you all enjoy it. Jimin is just full of surprises and very much in love with Dear/reader. And the feeling is mututal. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :))

Arriving at your empty apartment after a long day and knowing Jimin would not be joining you later that night was, well, shitty. Everything was so quiet. Dragging your feet to your bedroom with a huff, you eyed the plush bear sitting on the bed.

Jimin had given you the stuffed animal early on in your relationship and it served as a decent cuddle buddy during your boyfriend’s long tours. But it wasn’t Jimin.

Tours were never easy, especially for you and Jimin. A history of insecurities following you both had riddled your minds with doubt in the past, even leading to a temporary separation. However, this tour, though difficult and lonely as always, you both felt more secure.

Communication was consistent between you, allowing you both to address any fears or anxieties as they happened. Though he was miles and miles away, he felt close. You could breathe this time around.

But fuck, you missed your boyfriend.

Stepping out of your work clothes, you slipped on one of Jimin’s t-shirts. It was losing his scent, but if you focused enough, you could still smell the man on the clothing. Walking to the bed, you tapped on the phone screen to check the time. 5:34 pm. Pouting, you mentally counted the hours until your scheduled facetime call with the man would commence. What were you meantd to do with the remaining three hours and twenty-sex minutes?

The group’s tour was coming to a close soon- just a couple more weeks. He was in Japan before the last week of shows started, filming a few things in the meantime. At least with him being just on the other side of the Sea of Japan you were existing under the same position of the sun. Time zones get confusing when he’s traveling nonstop.

Lying across the bed, you held your phone out in front of you as you went to shoot your boyfriend a text.

You: You better be taking care of yourself, my love. I’m gonna take a nap, I’ll text when I wake up. I love you. Can’t wait to see your face in a bit!

Locking the phone, you set it aside on the comforter, grabbing the little bear to cuddle up next to as you tried to get comfy. Definitely not Jimin, you thought. You weren’t sure if you would get any sleep, but it would pass the time. As the end of tour neared, the days became longer.

Absentmindedly, your eyes closed as you tried to lose yourself in slumber, you spun the promise ring that was situated on your finger. It was just a simple piece of jewelry, but its presence on your body served as a reminder of the promise you and Jimin made to each other.

A promise to wait for one another when he was away; a promise that feelings would never lessen through the distance; a promise to trust each other and the relationship, to communicate, to not lose a fight with personal insecurities. A promise that he would always return home. Home to you.

As you opened your eyes to look at the ring, spotting the little PJM engraved on it, a light smile graced your features. Your relationship with Jimin had always been complicated, ever since the start. The obvious attraction was pushed aside for two whole years as you tried to find yourself so you could be your best, for you and for him. But he waited. He cherished your friendship instead, giving you the best of him every single day.

It was hard not to allow the few months you had difficulties as a couple to taint the entire union. Both of you, dealing with your own insecurities, had been pulling away because you thought that was what the other person wanted, only to later find out you both wanted to be closer. Always responding to each other but never communicating. Tours were scary. It had brought out the worst in you both before, but you refused to let it happen again. As he was away, you would always be there waiting for him. Just as he had waited for you years earlier.

You found that physical distance was much easier to combat than emotional distance. You could handle the miles, because you knew he was never really very far. And he’d always return home.

Lost in memories of your relationship, appreciating every challenge as they got you to this point of security, you were suddenly ripped from your thoughts by unexpected disruptions coming from your front door. There was no knocking, but it sounded as though the barrier had been breached.

Heart racing, you sat up in the bed, listening as quiet footsteps approached the bedroom. Reaching for your phone, you prepared to dial for help when suddenly your name was called out, just before the door opened to reveal him. Stunning as ever, smiling brightly, tired eyes only adding to his cuddly presentation, slim fitting sweatpants hugging his legs as the top half was shrouded in a baggy sweatshirt.

“Jimin,” you breathed out, tears instantly filling your eyes.

“Are you sure you want to take a nap right now, Dear?” He teased, that mischievous grin greeting your orbs as a smile curved on your lips.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked him in disbelief as you leaped off the bed, Jimin rushing to you with open arms, both of your smiles bright, expressing nothing but pure love and joy. Your bodies crashed into each other less than gracefully, your arms wrapping around the back of his neck as his own secured around your waist, pulling you impossibly close to him.

The first thing to hit your senses was the feel of him. The man buried his face in your hair as you nuzzled yours against his neck, the warmth of him filling you with comfort. You could feel his heart beating through his chest, melting into the pulses of your own. It was amazing how much a person could feel like home. The second was his scent. The one that was fading on the very shirt you wore. The fragrance, so distinctly Jimin, could make you cry if you focused on it for too long.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered in relief. Relief to have you back in his arms, to not be oceans or continents away. Tightening your grip around him, you didn’t respond, not trusting your voice as tears dropped onto the clothing covering his shoulder.

You didn’t know how long you stood there like that in your bedroom, holding onto each other for the first time in months, simply feeling one another’s physical existence. You missed existing with him. The weight of the ring was pale in comparison to having him in your arms, his body joined with yours.

Eventually, you pulled away just enough to be able to bring your hands to the sides of his face, holding him there so you could appreciate his features up close.

“Oh, Dear, don’t cry,” he cooed, his mouth forming into that smile you adored so much.

“But I missed you too,” you finally replied, a light breathy laugh leaving your lips at his chuckle that left his pretty lips and greeted your ears. And just like that, those pretty lips were on yours, kissing you needily, passionately, wantingly. The meeting was hot, burning almost. It was controlled but fervent in how his lips caressed your own, the man trying to express every bit of emotion he felt for you through the action.

His hands slid under the bottom of your shirt, his shirt, the man smirking against your mouth.

“Is this mine?” He teased, you smiling as you shook your head at his sudden cockiness.  

“Shut up,” you told him, reattaching your mouth to his, his tongue instantly meeting with yours. You relished in the taste of him. No promise ring or facetime call could ever fully take the place of the reality of this man. When his hands folded over the hem of the top adorning your frame, you instantly raised your arms above your head, allowing him to pull it from your body needily, his lips only leaving yours long enough to tug the clothing over your head. His hands slid up the exposed skin of your sides, reaching the curves of your breasts, the man sucking in a breath of air at their bareness.

Lightly clamping your teeth on the plumpness of his bottom lip as he pulled away, your eyes met his dark ones as his tongue ran over his lip. Breaking eye contact, he glanced down at your chest, a smirk curving on his mouth as you returned the expression with a warm smile.

“Fuck,” he breathed out in a whisper, you chuckling as you ran a hand through his soft hair at the back of his head. “Always fucking braless,” he lightheartedly complained as though your tendency to exist in a free state caused him such anguish. Giggling at him, he smiled lovingly.

Within an instant, he was pressing hot kisses to your collarbones, working his way to your chest. Arching your back, you pressed your chest toward him, the man greedily taking one of your nipples into his mouth. At the moan that left your lips, he began backing you up towards the bed, pushing you onto it as soon as your legs met the edge of the mattress.

Looking up at him, you watched as he pulled the sweatshirt from his body, fluffing his hair, making him look both adorably disheveled and sexily undone. Next came his pants, the man wasting no time in removing his clothing so he could finally be with you.

As he removed his underwear, you eyed his body appreciatively, drinking in every inch of skin upon him. Every muscle, every pore, every blemish, every bit of flesh, you craved for it. You wanted him.

Jimin quickly grabbed a condom from the bedside table drawer, smiling when he saw they were exactly as he left them. It had been too long. Turning to face you, he let out a breath of disbelief as you slid your own panties down your legs. Reaching for him, your hand gripped the bare skin of his upper thigh, tugging for him to meet you on the bed. However, the man resisted, instead dropping to his knees as he began placing sweet, gentle kisses to your knees, trailing them along the insides of your thighs.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watched him near your center with hooded eyes that stared your body down.

“Chim,” you breathed out as he left a chaste kiss to you.

“Shh,” he smirked. “Let me love you the way I’ve been craving.”

The words elicited a moan from you as you dropped your back to the bed, allowing him to show you just how much he missed you.

Jimin was very attentive. So in tune with your body, he read each moan and gesture from you like it was a manual, responding to each reaction perfectly as he programmed it all into his mind to bring you the utmost pleasure. With his skills, along with the fact that you hadn’t been touched by him in months, it didn’t take long for you to come crashing into your first orgasm, the man shooting you a stunning smile as he crawled up your body, an aura of pride enveloping him, making him all the more sexy.

“I would say don’t get cocky but you’ve earned it,” you joked and complimented through your breathlessness, just before Jimin’s lips greeted yours once again, the comment causing him to smile into the kiss.

“I really missed you,” he mumbled against your mouth, you pouting at the confession, your hands squeezing at his hips.

“Don’t leave again,” you teasingly begged, Jimin smiling almost bashfully while he sat up on his knees to situate the condom onto himself. Lowering his frame to yours once again, he kissed your nose sweetly, a soft smile gracing your features as you looked into his eyes.

“I love you so much,” he admitted just before pecking your lips. “So much.”

“I love you,” you told him as he guided himself into you, your arms gripping onto his back as he stilled for a moment, allowing himself to get used to the overwhelming feeling of you before moving. “So so much,” you damn near whimpered, your lips just barely brushing against his.

The man brushed the hair out of your face just before he kissed you hungrily, caging your body between his arms as he began dragging his hips, hitting deep within you and eliciting a moan into his mouth.

“Shit,” he breathed out, breaking the kiss, his exhale shaky as he brought his mouth to the side of your face, kissing your cheek as he continued his movements, allowing you to feel all of him. “I could never forget how you feel but fuck it almost feels like the first time,” he confessed in a hushed voice near your ear, a small chuckle attached to the words. Giggling in response, you dug your fingertips into the muscles on his back.

“I know,” you agreed simply, bringing your mouth to his shoulder as you bit him lightly, the man breathily laughing at the action, turning toward you to meet your gaze.

“I don’t know how you’re home right now, but I’m so glad you are,” you told him softly, the man smiling happily.

“Me too,” he responded just as you clenched around him, nearing your high. “Grip me like that again and I’m not gonna last.”

“Good,” you grinned, the man chuckling as he kissed you again. Resting his forehead against your own, he squeezed his eyes shut as he continued rolling his hips against yours, your skin becoming dewey in the heat of the moment.

Jimin reveled in the feeling of your body underneath his own, your chest rubbing against his, your hips bumping against his own as you lifted them off the mattress in an attempt to have more of him. The man moved his hand down to your hip, holding you down with a smirk on his lips as your leg wrapped around his own, digging your heel into his thigh as you desperately chased your approaching high.

“So close,” you moaned, Jimin whining near your ear, his tone breathy, a bit of strain withheld in his vocal cords as he attempted to hold off on cumming just yet.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He asked, almost pleading for mercy, the words followed by a sexy whimper.

Pressing kisses against the side of his face in response, the man turned so his mouth fell on your own, the meeting messy, full of teeth and moans as he reached his high just before you.

It felt as though you were floating as Jimin kissed down your jaw, leaving wet marks across your neck. The man began trailing his lips across your shoulder and down your bicep just before you wrapped your arms around his head. Nuzzling his face against your chest, he closed his eyes, settling into the feeling of your frame, both of you breathless and content.

At some point, Jimin rolled off of you, both of you lying face to face on your sides. Sharing in the intimacy of being together, sweet kisses were passed back and forth, both of you relishing in the touches granted upon each other’s skin.

Few words were spoken between you, but rather you simply existed within each other’s presence. Eventually, you found yourselves cuddled up with Jimin behind you, spooning your nude body, his hand intertwined with your own in front of your chest.

His fingertips were toying with the metal band of your promise ring as your eyes locked on the identical jewelry positioned on his own finger.

This is home.

You weren’t sure when you and Jimin dozed off, nor how long it had been, but you could feel the rumbling of the man’s stomach when you awoke. He probably hadn’t eaten since very early that day. Jimin’s arm was still draped over your hip, his chest pressed snugly against your back. You were tempted to ignore the man’s hunger, as well as your own, and stay in his embrace for longer. But your desire to nurture him won out as you very carefully lifted his arm from your body, crawling away from him as quietly as you could as to not disturb his sleep.

Grabbing the sweatshirt he arrived home in, you slipped it over your head, fitting it onto your body before grabbing a pair of underwear from your dresser. Tiptoeing out of the room, you made your way to the kitchen to prepare food for the man sleeping in your bed.

You didn’t get very far into the cooking, however, before Jimin’s voice cut through the quiet of the apartment.

“You’re such a little clothing thief,” he playfully complained as he entered the kitchen where you were stood in front of the stove. Turning to face him, you were happy to find that his upper body was bare, his lower half covered with the same sweatpants as earlier, the clothing hugging his hips just right. Giggling, you open your arms for him, the man walking right into them, wrapping his own limbs around the back of your head as yours snaked around his waist.

“It smells like you,” you defended, the man smiling against your cheek just before pressing a kiss to the spot.  

“What are you making?” He asked, peering around your body to see the boiling noodles.

“Just some ramen,” you told him, placing a kiss on his neck. “Thought you might wake up a little hungry.”

“Thank you,” he grinned, turning his head back to be face to face with you. The man nudged your nose with his own causing you to scrunch yours in response. “I’m starving,” he chuckled, a smile stretching across your own face.

“Yeah I know, you woke me up,” you teased, gesturing down to his belly, the man giggling just as you kissed him softly. “Can you grab some bowls?”

The man wordlessly answered by detaching himself from you, retrieving some bowls, along with utensils. He stood close by as you transferred the noodles to the bowls, trying to get away with placing more noodles into the bowl that you handed Jimin, only to be met with a knowing scoff. You both moved to the island where you seated yourselves, facing one another, your knees brushing his own, his hand taking solace on your bare thigh.

“How was tour?” You asked him excitedly just as he scooped some of his noodles from his bowl to your own, making a point to ensure you ate just as much as him. Rolling your eyes at the action, he smiled proudly. “And how the hell are you here right now?”

“Magic,” he teased, you sighing, Jimin giggling as he dropped his head toward his chest. Looking up at you with his stunning smile and warm eyes, he bit his bottom lip just slightly. “I just wanted to surprise you,” he told you. “We still have a couple shows in Japan next week, that was true,” he interjected in a playful, unnecessary defense. “So I’ll have to leave in a few days just for a week but-”

“Wait, you don’t have to film stuff this week?” You questioned, watching as Jimin shook his head.

“No, that was all an elaborate lie to surprise you,” he grinned, almost guiltily as you gasped.

“What the fuck?” You expressed your confusion. “Is everyone in on this then because Tae even said you guys are filming this week, and all the girls-”

“I told you it was elaborate,” he interrupted you.

“You’re insane,” you told him in shock. “Amazingly, wonderfully insane.”

Bringing his face to yours, pressing a series of kisses to your cheek, you couldn’t help but smile and let out a breathy laugh. “I just love you,” he defended his actions. “I am amazingly, wonderfully, insanely in love with you.”

“I’m really happy you’re here,” you told him sincerely.  

“Me too, Dear,” he rested his forehead against yours. As a pout positioned itself on your lips, he pulled away from you to look at your expression. “What’s that face for?” He smiled affectionately.

Giggling at yourself, you shook your head. “Nothing, I just like you.”

The man’s smile widened even more as he looked to his bowl, scooping up a bunch of noodles and shoving them into his mouth. “The feeling is mutual,” he mumbled through his mouthful of food, you laughing wholeheartedly at him.

Sitting with Jimin, eating ramen, you could not be happier that he was home. He told you stories about tour that you had already heard through a screen, and you told him all about the happenings at your work that he had also already heard. And he acted as if your stories were as exciting as his own, or maybe he really found them to be as interesting.

It was easy and comfortable and you were both in bliss just simply being together. It had been months since you got to exist with him. And existing with him, well, that was your favorite thing about existing at all.

[thoughtdump]

No one fought for me.

Through all my childhood anxiety, repressed trauma & subsequent teenage depression, my mom is the only one who I can even say tried. But even still, no matter how much I love my mom dearly & how her support did help in certain ways, it wasn’t the full help I needed. She still missed & misses things & I still don’t feel comfortable talking about the deep stuff because I know she’ll just make it too emotional. Or who knows, may even downplay it.

I needed HELP, not just “support”. I needed someone to hold my hand while I tried new things. There is nothing wrong with that yet I was made to feel like I was a hanger-on who “needed to learn to do things by myself”, as if I wasn’t literally ≈14, ≈10 years deep into a full anxiety disorder. My entire childhood & teens were laced in mental illness & all the sociological, psychological & biological effects that come with it. I lost my teenage years to a disorder & now I’m a lost 20 something year old with nothing to show & who can never get those years back.

The reason why a disorder is different than normal human emotion is because it DOES hinder your life. If my behaviors made sense or if I was emotionally capable of doing things without any help then it wouldn’t be anxiety disorder! The issues the adults in my life when I was below 18 saw as problems were the exact things that should’ve made them validate me. How are you gonna tell me that I’m overly sensitive or overreacting or taking it personally when ok… maybe yeah! Because THAT is anxiety disorder! You’re literally the school psychologist or guidance counselor, you should know this!!

& I’m mad that I’m still mad about this in my 20’s. I’m mad that I’m in my 20’s & I might as well be 15 still in a lot of ways. I’m mad no one saw me. I’m mad nobody helped me. How was I, a child, a teen, supposed to get myself out? I tried. I sat in my room for hours, for years researching psychology trying to put the pieces together. I read other people’s posts about their struggles so that I could feel less alone. I tried my best to make small steps to get better, to not be so anxious all the time & yet it always fell apart because it might as well have been the blind leading the blind. My anxiety can’t get me out of my anxiety. How was I supposed to do it all by myself? & how dare you make me feel like I was a bother. I & anyone else who just needed someone to help them do things one or two times was/is NOT asking for too much. You don’t expect someone with a broken leg to drive themselves to the hospital, so why would you expect someone with debilitating mental illness to get better if the only thing beside them is what made them this way in the first place? You don’t expect children to just know how to read simply because you know how to read. They need the help, they need to be taught, they need the progress to be reinforced a few times before they can do it on their own.

I’m mad that no one fought for me. & I mean really fought for me. No one saw me recoiling into myself, falling back into my bad habits of isolation & staying within my comfort zone & helped me out of it. I got a hell of a lot of “you have potential” with no one ever showing me it. No one ever fighting for me & saying I was worth it. That I should keep fighting for myself. They just let me quit. & although I am a supporter of “quit when something doesn’t suit you” or “quit if it’s too much” & although I’m glad my parents weren’t pressure type parents, I wish that they didn’t let me give up so easily sometimes. It just makes me feel like they saw me giving up as a “good, one less thing for us to do” & it makes me feel like no one actually thought I had the skill to be great anyway. & sure, that may not be the truth but it’s how I feel & that’s valid. No one thinks about how their words & actions affect others & I’m sick of it.

I had so much potential. I could’ve been so great & now I’m in my early 20’s, 20 years deep into my anxiety disorder & depression & whatever else came with it, unable to find a way out. I have no talents to focus on, growing up working class doesn’t give you opportunities or access, I can’t even drive because I have such bad driving anxiety & no one fucking cares. Just the simple act of someone letting me carpool would’ve helped me out a lot but no, it’s a huge fucking bother to help people through their problems even just a little bit. I’m not saying people are obligated but to be honest, family sort of is sometimes. Friends, no but family? If it’s something you know I can’t help, that you know eats me up, that I hate myself for, the least you could do is do ONE thing to help me through my struggles. Especially when I show up for everyone else in the ways that I can, BECAUSE I feel so fucking guilty.

I just wanted to be something & now it’s too late.

[lonely-lost-soul]

First Lady of the Court

(Wilbur Soot X Reader) 

    Eyes fluttering open, you came face to face with the eyes of the president of L’manburg, his dark brown eyes were full of tender affection. A smile spread across your lips at the sight and his fingers brushed your hair off your face. Your hand came up to hold his as you nuzzled your face against his palm. You watched the British boy’s face turn a bright red at the sight he let out a strangled sound. 

   “Good morning to you too Mr. President.” A giggle spilled from your lips as Wilbur pulled his hand away. 

   “Good morning my lovely first lady.” He cleared his throat, putting a hand over his mouth, “did you sleep okay?”

Stretching your arms above your head you nodded, you ruffled your (h/c) hair. 

   “Slept like a baby. How about you? Are you nervous for you and Tommy today?” You sat upon your elbows as he looked at you thoughtfully. 

   “Hm... telling you would be spoiling the fun now wouldn’t it?” Wilbur mused, giving you a cheeky smile. 

   “Boo unfair, I deserve to know I am the first lady after all.” You scoffed pouting at your lover. 

A lover is such a weird term to describe what you had with one Wilbur Soot. When L’manburg was founded and the presidency appointed to him you had agreed to take up the position of the first lady. Wilbur was ecstatic to hear you agree to the position after all, all he wanted was to ‘rule’ L’manburg by your side. To be more specific one of your duties was to love and care for the current president, be their pillar of sanity if the job became too overwhelming or stressful. Another job that fell within your duties was to keep the people happy and share their stresses with the president in hopes you could convince him to listen to the people. Luckily with Wilburs reign, there wasn’t many complaints you had to share with him, and on the rare occasion that there were any he was willing to listen and come up with a plan. All you wanted was to give the citizens of L’manburg the best life possible, and you knew Wilbur ultimately wants the same. 

Wilbur and you decided to embrace it the romantic assumptions that came with you being the first lady, solely for political reasons, that’s what he always wanted to stress. However, he always said it a bit franticly with a blush across his face and while flapping hands. You couldn’t help but snicker every time he did it, you would simply nod and say of course but those ‘political reasons’ never justified why he insisted you two sleep in the same bed. You didn’t mind, as long as it made Wilbur happy, you’ve always loved him and you had a feeling he felt the same without saying it. 

   “Yeah, I know you are. Even so you still have to find out like everyone else, plus there are always last-minute calculations that need to be taken into account. Especially since someone got bots to vote for them.” He rolled his eyes clicking his tongue in distaste. 

    “Oh we have drama, we love tea.” You teased swinging your legs over the bed and Wilbur followed your movements. 

   “You have such a way with words.”

   “Says the man who agreed with a sixteen year old to name his campaign POG2020.” 

   “It’s a good name!” Wilbur tried to defend and you just snickered in response he glared at you grabbing his L’manburg hat and placing it on his head. 

    “Yes, Wilby of course it is.” He moved back towards the bed and wrapped his arms around your waist placing his chin on your head. “Hey off, off! You’re messing up my hair!” You could practically feel Wilbur’s smile as he let out a little hum,

   “Hm no I don’t think so, after all, I don’t think I can mess up your hair more than it already is.”   

   “OKAY RUDE!” You squawked swatting at the hands around your waist already done with him today. “I’m telling you right now you keep this up and I’ll be rooting for someone else to win.” 

    “How fucking dare you.” Wilbur gasped dramatically falling back on the bed as you turned to stick your tongue out at him. 

   “You deserve it, now get dressed we have an election to get ready for you dork.” 

    “Do you need any help with that-” A pillow was thrown in his face and he laughed cheerfully, “-point taken!” You both went to your separate bathrooms to get ready for the day. You had chosen a nice black skirt that was very professional looking and went down to just under your knees. The shirt you’ve chosen was a nice (f/c) blouse with a L’manburg pin, pinned onto the front pocket. Bending over you slipped on black heels, you just wanted to try to reach Wilbur’s height so you didn’t look so atrocious standing beside him on the podium. You quickly ran a brush/comb through your hair just to make it look presentable, looking in the mirror you finger gunned at yourself and smirked. 

    “Looking good.” You beamed happily before stepping out of the bathroom, Wilbur was already standing in the bedroom looking over what seemed to be some stuff around the election. “Wow, Wilby. You clean up nice.” Wilbur looked up from over his book and a bright flush came across his face when he took in your outfit. 

    “I- Ugh- thank you- you too!” He squeaked pupils dilating a little as he took a step back as you got closer. You moved quicker than him though and reached out to fix the collar of his shirt. Smiling a little at his reaction you straightened out said collar and placed your hands on his chest. 

    “You’re gonna do amazing today darling.” Your voice soothed and he seemed to relax under your hands, “Whether you win or not, you were the best choice for L’manburg’s first president. I mean that.” You looked up at him through your eyelashes, as your doe eyes stared up at him Wilbur felt like he lost his last life and went up to heaven.  

He brought his hand up to your cheek and cupped it gently, his thumb brushing across it in soft movements. “Thank you (y/n) that means the entire world to me. Truly you don’t know how happy I am to hear that from you.” You smiled and pressed a kiss to his palm and he sighed happily at the small gesture shared between the two of you. 

    “I’m going to need to go find Tubbo and Tommy,” Wilbur whispered to you after a few more moments of comfortable silence. “But I don’t wanna leave you…”

     “I’ll either be here  or at the podium, go converse with your brothers.” You smiled softly stepping away from him and crossing your arms. He gave you one last look eyeing you up and down before giving you a tight hug once more. 

     “You look really beautiful by the way! See you later!” He said quickly before scurrying out of the room, you blinked a few times before heat rose into your cheeks. You let out your strangled sound slapping both of your hands to your cheeks, 

‘He can’t just say that and run away the bastard!’ 

---

Stepping up to the podium you greeted everyone who was there early, and where greeted by you got a few teasing whistles from Quackity. 

      “You certainly clean up nice Ms. First Lady.~” He mused winking at you and you fondly rolled your eyes knowing that was Quackity being himself. 

      “Thank you very much I don’t look like his often so drink it up.” You teased as he laughed. 

      “I know I will sweetcheeks.” Schlatt mused appearing from besides Quackity once again that earned the duo another eye roll. “Hey come on now what’s with that look? Just what did I do to deserve that? After all, I’m going to be your new president, you’re gonna have to treat me with more respect.” An arm wrapped around your waist as he pulled you close, he smirked down at you and you frowned. Before you could protest the statement, Schlatt made a startled noise as Tommy seemingly came out of nowhere and pushed him away from you by the horns. “Hey Hey hey! Watch it, kid, this face is a money maker!” 

      “There’s no way in hell you’re gonna be the new president of L’manburg!” The young teen shrieked standing in front of you as if to guard you against the goat-man. 

      “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, you think you have a better chance at winning than me?” Schlatt laughed loudly in Tommy’s face, “Hell even the broad has a better chance at winning than you and Wilbur and she’s not even fucking running!” 

       “Lay off him Schlatt.” You placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder to calm the angry boy down. “Let’s not start a fight, that’s the last thing we need right now.” Tommy looked like he didn’t want to listen to you but shut up as soon as Wilbur came up to stand on the podium. Tommy fumbled to do a little salute and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly at his almost desperate antics to please Wilbur. 

        “Thanks for trying to prevent another full-out fight darling.” He mused looking at you and you smiled. 

        “It’s my job, after all, that is what I’m here for.” You shot back with a smile going to take your seat behind the group that was already up on the podium. Wilbur smiled softly at you before clearing his throat and addressing the crowd, welcoming everyone here for the first-ever L’manburg election. You sat there watching him give his speech with power and grace and your face softened immensely. In your opinion there was no way that he could lose this election, he was the only one for the job no questions asked. You only zoned back in when you heard Tommy’s loud shriek of shock, you blinked your (e/c) eyes and whipped your head around did you seriously miss the announcement of who won the election? God, you were a dumb broad. You felt someone grab your arm and you turned to face them it was the worried face of Wilbur, 

      “Come on darling.” He spoke softly “We should move to the crowd. Let Schlatt give his speech in peace.”

       “Schlatt won?” You choked out your eyes bugging out of your head.

       “You bet your ass I did sweet-cheeks!” He laughed looking down at you, “Wilbur surprisingly enough I’m going to have to ask you to remove your hands from MY new first lady.” Schlatt had a wicked smirk on his face as he held out his hand to Wilbur who’s jaw dropped in shock. “What? Why do you look so surprised? You picked a looker Wilby,” He mocked with a wave of his hand “(Y/n)’s a fine piece of ass I’m going to let her continue to serve. Come on ova here.” Schlatt motioned for you to come over with his finger, you shakily stood up from your seat. Wilbur grip on your arm tightened as he ground his teeth, you turned to look at him and he looked devastated. 

      “Darling you don’t have to agree to this-” 

      “It’s my duty Wilby…” You murmured slipping your arm out of his hold and holding it to your heart. With careful steps you made your way over to Schlatts side, once more you felt his hand slide around your waist and pull you flush against him. He tilted his head a little so his horns rested lightly on your head. You watched Wilbur and Tommy descend the podium and sit within the audience down below, neither would look at you and you knew why...but you also felt a little hurt at that fact. You were just as upset about this as they were, they had to know that right? 

You heard Schlatt clear his throat and grab the microphone. 

      "That was pretty easy. And you know what I said, the day I got unbanned from the DreamSMP, and the day I said I was running... an election that I won by the way? I said; "Things are gonna change". I looked every citizen of L'Manberg in the eyes and I said; "You listen to me... this place will be a lot different tomorrow." Let's start making it happen. My first decree, as the president of L'Manberg- the EMPEROR! of this great country-! Is to REVOKE the citizenship of WilburSoot, and TommyInnit! Get 'em outta here! Get 'em outta here! You're no longer welcome!" Your blood froze in your veins and your jaw dropped, finally Wilbur and Tommy locked eyes with you. 

      “Schlatt no you can’t do that to them! Tommy’s a kid-”

      “Trust me (y/n) and just shut up for a minute.” 

‘Run.’ You felt yourself mouth as Tommy and Wilbur turned heel and ran from L’manburg, a city that they founded was just ripped right out from under them. You only felt Schlatt’s grip on you tighten as he looked down at you and almost as if he was speaking to your soul he addressed what has left of the crowd again. 

      "Oh, it was so easy! Until further notice... WilburSoot and TommyInnit are merely a memory of L'Manberg. A relic- A relic of the past. A reminder, of the darkest era this country, has ever seen- and I guarantee you all; dear citizens... Tonight, that changes. We are entering into a new period of L'Mangerg- a period, of prosperity! of strength! of unity." He finally pushed you aside and Quackity caught your stumble and held you up in place, you were a little thankful considering you felt like falling onto your knees. “Tubbo- where's Tubbo? where's Tubbo?”

     “I'm right here…” His meek voice wobbles from the crowd. 

     “Schlatt…” You warned trying to sound stronger than you felt.

     “Jesus, do you ever shut up?” He laughed “Is this what Wilbur had to deal with? Jesus you’re lucky you’re smoking hot sweetcheeks.” You grit your teeth and glared at him through narrowed lids, “Kidding kidding! I can appreciate a broad who’s got a brain on her makes it much more fun. Anyway, Tubbo- get- get up here! Get up here on my podium!”

    “Uh- uh…” The young hybrid stuttered hesitantly looking back and forth between the podium and where Tommy and Wilbur once stood.

    “C'mon Tobbo, you're the Secretary of State.”

    “Wait- what- Okay... Wa- I'm Secreta- am I?” 

     “Yeah I think- I think that's... I think he's always been that, I don't know…right?” He looked over at you and you gave a nod in confirmation. He’s trying to pit Tubbo and Tommy against one another the cheeky bastard.

     “Uh, yeah... yeah that's- I didn't know I got to keep-”

     “Well, I'm not gonna fire you! I mean you're Tubbo! What- am I gonna fire Tubbo?”

     “Uh... okay.”

    “Tubbo get- Tubbo get up here. Now.”  Schlatts voice boomed over the crowd another wicked smirk spreading across his cheeks as he looked down at his citizens. The horns only made him look more devilish and menacing to everyone looking up at him. 

    “uh- okay, I'm on my way, I'm on my way, I'm on my way!” Tubbo sputtered out hesitantly, unsure of what the right call was to go with Tommy or stay here with Schlatt. 

    “I don't think he wants the job!” Quackity mocked a grin matching Schlatts spread across his cheeks. You frowned up at him in disappointment, 

    “It’s okay Tubbo I’m here…” You murmured under your breath.

    “Get up here now!”

    “I do want the job! I'm on my way- I'm on my way- I'm on my way!” He sputtered walking up to the podium. You heard Eret scold him softly and some others match their distaste, you swore you heard Tommy in the crowd. “I need to... I'm on my way- I'm on my way- I'm on my way, President. I'm on my way- I'm on my way- I'm on my-” 

    “Ah Tubbo, so good to see you.” Schlatt pursed his lips an arm going around Tubbo’s shoulders like they’ve been best buddies for years. Tubbo made a weak sound of acknowledgment at the greeting. “Yes sir, there he is.”

   “Good day Mr. President.”

   “I love this guy!” Schlatt exclaimed with a loud cheer and Tubbo took a small step away from him. 

   “Okay... Schlatt...?”

   “Ohh my very own Tubbo... Tubbo. As my Secretary of State- as my right-hand man; of L'Manberg... I need you to do something for me Tubbo.” Your eyes narrowed into slits but you bit your tongue if anything you can work from the inside you, try to keep Schlatt reigned in the best you could. 

  “What Mr. President...?”

  “I need you... to find Tommy. And I need you... to show him the door.” Schlatt emphasized slicing his thumb across his neck in a beheading motion, Tubbo paled considerably at the implication. Finally finding your voice you couldn’t help but snarl, 

  “He’s a child Schlatt you can’t go around ordering a child to slaughter another child that’s insane!” You came up and grabbed his arm giving it a sharp tug,

   “I can do whatever I want! Wanna know why? It’s because I’m the president.” He only ruffled your hair with a mocking coo. “Quackity you take her back to her room, then come back home we got some walls to tear down.” You made a distressed sound as you were dragged away, Tubbo said your name with the same amount of distress. You hoped Tommy and Wilbur made their great escape and didn’t have to see the destruction of the walls, fuck this is one hundred percent the worst-case scenario. 

    “Quackity you’re hurting my arm.” You gave a soft murmur and his grip on it significantly loosened, he looked a tad bit guilty. “It’s okay.” You assured you couldn’t blame him for it, he was always kind to you before this which was what also made it so downright confusing. A plan was already trying to brew in the back of your mind, keep relationships with the citizens high even at the cost of yourself, in the end, they might be the only ones to have your back. There was suddenly a lot of yelling and shouting you saw a blur of pink burst past you followed my more of Jschlatt’s guards, Quackity pretty much abandoned you and joined the chase. 

     “Tehcnoblade!” He shouted out “Where the fuck did he come from?” 

Blinking in surprise as you were left abandoned, ‘what the fuck is a Technoblade?’ You glanced over at the retreating figures and you could’ve sworn you saw a glistening golden crown. A figure slammed into your side and you stumbled backward a few steps, looking down you noticed Tubbo clinging tightly to your middle. 

     “(Y/n)! What’re we gonna do?” He looked up at your eyes full of fear and you frowned, this child just got out of one war and it will be potentially thrown into another. “What if Wilbur and Tommy don’t talk to us again? I can’t kill Tommy!” 

     “Hey, hey, hey.” You shushed softly running a hand through his hair careful of the tiny horns growing on his head. “Take a deep breath for me Tubbo, in for five then out for five okay? That’s it you’re doing great sweetie.” You watched for a bit as Tubbo followed your instructions and after he calmed down a little bit you knelt to his height. “We are going to help them, they’ll need some men on the inside and that’s just what we’re going to be.” 

    “You think that’ll work?” 

    “If they’ll have us yes, I think it will work. You’ll probably be able to sneak away much easier than I’ll be able to do you think you’ll be able to handle that?” He nodded vigorously at your words, determination seemed to radiate off of him in waves. Now all that was left was to find a way to contact Wilbur and Tommy, wherever they ran off too.

~~~

I had this in my google docs for a while so I figured I’d post it to give you guys some more food. Under the Floorboards pt. III is in the works have no fear!

[happytroopers]

Sick days // Hunter x reader

My google history search after this: what do they call toilets in Star Wars? Star Wars rabies?

Summary: I would do anything for Hunter, even take care of him when he has food poisoning. I saw a sick day prompt list and didn't end up using anything but it inspired this cluster fuck

TW: throwing up, alcohol mention but no use, bad writing I just love him ok

"Hey, have you seen Hunter? I need him to sign off on some damage reports." You announced as you entered the cockpit of the ship as it barreled through hyperspace, throwing a pointed look at Wrecker who was the main reason for most of aforementioned damage reports.The other members of Clone Force 99 made some sort of acknowledgment of your existence. Wrecker grinned obliviously at you as continued doing bicep curls with a GONK droid while Tech made brief eye contact with you before going back to some sort of machinery he’d dissected. Crosshair was the only one to actually somewhat answer your question, giving you a sassily quirked eyebrow and motioning down with his toothpick. "I’m assuming that super vague motion would mean he’s in the cargo hold?" You pressed but you had already turned around to go find the sergeant. "Should we tell ‘er?" You heard Wrecker ask but when no one answered him, you assumed things would be fine. Besides after almost a year with the Bad Batch, you’d walked in on them in all sorts of compromising moments. Nothing would surprise you anymore.

After popping down the ladder into the cargo bay, you did a cursory sweep. Crosshairs rifle was disassembled on a crate for cleaning, more of Tech’s mechanical experiments in a heap by the bay doors, your own trunk of belonging… but no sign of Hunter. "Hunter? Are you down here?" You poked a little further into the sleeping quarters, like any room that housed four soldiers who didn’t know how to mop, the smell chased you right back out. Shaking your head you thought to yourself, That should be considered a hazard zone. You paused by the fresher to listen for water running but heard nothing, which officially meant Hunter hadn’t been anywhere you checked, Hell, did he jump out of an airlock? Just as you were about to give up, you heard an awful noise come from the fresher. Like a bantha dying in a fire. Did some animal stow away? Absentmindedly you considered getting Wrecker to handle it- the last thing you needed was contracting some planet-specific strain of rabies. But then you considered that in the process, Wrecker would probably destroy the entire bathroom. And then everyone would be without a bathroom for the next two days… and that could get ugly. Then the noise came again, bringing you out of your mental debate. With a heavy sigh, you decided you’d have to check it out yourself. So, after pulling a random tool off your belt, you let the door slide open. To your surprise, Hunter was the first thing you saw, bent at the waist over the vac tube, bracing himself with one shaking arm against the durasteel wall. His helmet was discarded carelessly two feet closer to the entrance, and the enhanced trooper was heaving breaths, looking rather haggard. Almost stupidly the first thing that came out of your mouth was, "Oh my God, did the animal do this to you?" Hunter actually startled, which had never happened before. He was impossible to sneak up on, it was his whole thing. When he did look up at you, he looked confused, among other things. His skin pallor was four shades lighter than it was supposed to be, slightly greenish gray, and dew dropped with sweat. "Animal? What animal?" "The animal that made that-" You cut yourself off suddenly feeling dumb, now lamely dropping your defense tool. Then the disbelief, "Oh my- that noise was you?" He didn’t get the chance to answer again, instead turning his head back towards the vac tube to wretch again. Now with that information, the haggard appearance made more sense. "Hunter… you look like shit." You scolded, hesitantly moving closer, “Like, legitimately corpse like.” The sergeant coughed a bit before throwing you glare, “Thank you, (Y/L/N), that’s very helpful. Did you need something?” Damage reports long forgotten, you ignored the question instead more concerned with the trooper in front of you, “Why the hell are you standing like that? What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?”

Hunter was confused with this sudden line of questioning, turning his head to gag a little bit but this time he kept it under control to answer you, “Clones don’t get sick.”

“So this is normal for you?” You snarked right back, “Here, try kneeling, it won’t take as much of a toll on your body like that.”

At first he didn’t listen to you, just when the ship hit a patch of turbulence it triggered another wave which forced him to a knee. Then it hit you, clones don’t get sick, they’re engineered with near perfect immune systems.

“You’ve never been sick before have you?” You whispered sympathetically, he legitimately didn’t know how to handle being sick. Frowning, worried welled up in your stomach. It was almost painful to watch the man be so sick, after all how many times had he saved you or helped you out of a tight spot, so you looked away until he quieted again. This time he took a minute to catch his breath so you took some liberties.

“First, let’s get your hair off your neck and face. You’ll feel less gross.” You promised, going behind him to gently scrape his long hair into a makeshift bun and tie it off with a spare hair tie.

“What are you doing?”  He croaked, but didn’t pull away from your hands.

“Taking care of you, now shut up and let me.” While your voice was still kind, you were just stern enough not to argue with you, “Now, lean up.”

You didn’t wait for him to follow the orders, instead you started unfastening pieces of armor on his arms before moving on to the chest and torso pieces. Moments later he was able to move a little freer and his armor from the waist up was neatly stacked to you right.

“There, that should help with the overheating.” You announced, not mentioned how he couldn’t bend over properly with a piece of plastoid against his abdomen. You gave him another once over, he was taking deep breaths with his eyes closed, little baby hairs already escaping your rather pitiful man bun situation. You’d never seen him so vulnerable.

“So clones don’t get sick, why are you throwing up like my roommate after her twenty first birthday?” You asked quietly, gently moving the stray bits of his forehead.

“Would you believe that I ate an expired meal ration?” He asked with enough doubt in your voice that you immediately shook your head.

“You’re not that stupid Hunter.”

“I lost a bet with Crosshair and had to eat part of the Yalbec stinger. Tech did say it was a delicacy on some planets.” He sighed, dry heaving again.

“I also remember him saying it was mildly poisonous to humans.” You reminded him, going past him to the shelves that held shower things. Reaching into your own caddy, you produced a rag before wetting it in the sink.

“Yeah, I lost the bet before he enlightened us.” Hunter admitted, visibly relaxing when you put the cold rag on his neck before sliding into a sitting position next to him, “How do you know all this stuff?”

“Well, us normies get sick a lot.” You teased, laughing when you caught the disgusted look on his face, “But, I learned most of this stuff taking care of my hungover friends.”

“Oh, just your friends?” It was Hunter’s turn to sass you, but you just rolled your eyes. The two of you fell into a halfway comfortable silence, so you took your data pad to do a little research on Yalbec poisoning.

“You don’t have to stay for this?” Hunter reminded you, using the back of his hand to wipe sweat off his forehead. When you looked back over to him, he was staring at you. Even when puking, his eyes could stare straight through you. Hurriedly, you dropped your gaze back to your data pad.

“Well, you spend all your time taking care of them,” you motioned up towards the cockpit, “And me. So someone has to look out for you when you need it, you don’t have to suffer alone.”

His eyes softened as he relaxed slightly, you were glad to see his coloring was already getting better. But after a few moments, even the softness of his stare brought a flush to your cheeks so you just cleared your throat, “Well, the good news is that the holonet says someone of your size and weight will be fine. Symptoms should pass within twelve hours at the most, and it’s already been five.”

“Thank you, (Y/N).”

Your head snapped back up, he rarely ever called you by your first name. Somehow it almost felt intimate.

“Of course, Hunter.”

You scooted a little closer so that your knees would touch. Closer than you had ever been to him, but he didn’t scoot away. You smiled at the small contact, shaking your head.

“Can I impart on you a bit of civilian wisdom?” You asked teasingly, not even waiting him to nod. You took the rag off his neck and used it to dab sweat off his forehead, “Don’t eat random things on a dare, especially things you cut off foreign animals.”

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance.”