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torukmaktoskxawng · 1 year

Text

our paths crossing

Pairing: Tsu’tey x Avatar!Reader + Adopted!Spider

Summary: Tsu’tey is given a second chance at life, but not even Eywa could convince him to accept it.

Word Count: 9k+

Warnings: single mom power, generational trauma, parental manipulation (tsu’tey’s parents suck), fluff

Na'vi words used: pa'li - direhorse, nivi - hammock, olo'eyktan - clan leader, ikran - mountain banshee, Iknimaya - Rite of Passage, marui - home, oel ngati kameie - I See you, taronyutsyìp - little hunter, teylupil prrnen - teylu face baby, niktsyey - food/leaf wrap, tsaheylu - bond, sa'nok - mother, Uniltaron - Dream Hunt, irayo - thank you, tawtute - human, tswin - queue braid, maitan - my son, sa'sem - parents, taronyu - hunter, tsahik - spiritual leader, tsakarem - tsahik in training, meresh'ti cau'pla - banshee catcher

A/N: This was heavily inspired by other Tsu’tey works written by @simps256 @byunpum @shu-box-puns and @little-box-of-autism on Tumblr, and @ AlexiHollis on Ao3

~~~~~~~~~

PANDORA, 2154+

Everything is connected, one way or another. From the tiny stem of a plant, to the pa'li that steps on it, and to the ginormous tree looming over it. Pandora is made up of various different sizes of networks, from microscopic to gigantic. Some are easier to see than others. The network of tree branches and roots is clearly visible, but there are small ones, not physically distinct, and Eywa can see it all as clear as day.

The same goes for two souls. When two Na'vi-- when two souls mate, they are mated for life. It won't matter if they met when they were children or if their paths meet when they are old and wrinkled. Two souls are still two souls, meant for each other no matter how or when they meet.

Tsu'tey, like all Na'vi, believed this to be true. Sylwanin was the soul meant for him, ever since they were children. However, Eywa had other plans in mind for the young couple and destiny tragically separated them, forever shattering their former entwined paths. Later in life, Tsu'tey finally accepted that all things happen for a reason, and perhaps in another life, Sylwanin would have been his mate. But in this life, Eywa protects the balance of it all and in order for Jake Sully to one day arrive and save this beautiful world, beautiful souls like Sylwanin would have to be sacrificed. Tsu'tey came to terms with this one day, weeks after the battle against the Sky People.

He had plenty of time to think about many things, lying in his nivi and resting from his injuries. As Toruk Makto, Jake happily took temporary command of the Omatikaya clan whilst their olo'eyktan healed from his wounds. It would be a long journey for Tsu'tey, but those who respect him and call him 'brother' were just happy he survived that fall and all those gunshots. At first, he was not as happy or even relieved. Why would Eywa deny him the chance to see Sylwanin again? As he took time to heal, he eventually mourned properly for the first time in years and was able to heal mentally as well as physically. Tsu'tey had finally managed to let his young love go, may she rest in peace.

In return for his loyalty and devotion, Eywa rewarded her olo'eyktan with a gift fit for a good man. However, it would be years before he graciously accepted it.

Tsu'tey was always aware of the other sky demons possessing Na'vi bodies. He had seen many over the years, especially when he was just a student in Grace Augustine's school. He had always found them strange and ugly and didn't hesitate to let Jake know how he felt about his appearance. Jake never took it to heart and eventually learned to laugh at such comments. Tsu'tey grimaced, almost hating the fact that Jake was getting used to him. The other dreamwalkers --"Avatars, brother, they're called avatars,"-- never really got used to him but they greatly respected him, especially after Tsu'tey allowed them to live among the Omatikaya once the rest of the Sky People were sent off-world. He had accepted these 'scientists' and 'avatars' into his village, much to Toruk Makto's influence, and so therefore, over time, Tsu'tey began to treat them all as part of the People-- his people.

As he accepted the sky demons, he also began to learn their names. One of which he was always aware of but had never bothered to learn her name.

Y/n was an avatar driver and a scientist. Even though she hadn't been on Pandora for long, she had been allowed to visit Hometree several times before its destruction, always tagging along when either Grace or Norm Spellman visited. She was part of the young group of scientists who had received an avatar before the battle against the Sky People that actively cut off the scientists' funding to make more, therefore she would be one of the last of them, as would Norm and Jake. In many ways, it was like watching the end of a species that would cease to exist once the avatars all died out. That is until children like Kiri and Lo'ak were born.

By the time Neytiri bore Jake their first son and had adopted Grace's daughter born of mysterious circumstances, Tsu'tey had begun to notice that Y/n was not just a random avatar who opted to stay on Pandora. She had also opted into becoming a mother.

It was safe to say Tsu'tey didn't know of Spider's existence firmly because the baby wasn't old enough to wear a mask and exo-pack yet, therefore he had never visited the village. It wasn't until the fierce olo'eyktan followed Jake to the functional biolab of Hell's Gate one day did he finally meet the next generation of Sky People. At first, Spider was strange to him. With a full head of yellow curls, pink skin, and a gummy smile, Tsu'tey gained enough willpower not to verbally comment about how the sky demons' offspring were even uglier than the avatars. Jake had asked him to be civil prior to this meeting, so he indulged his brother out of respect for Toruk Makto.

If Y/n had seen how put-off Tsu'tey was by her son, she didn't mention it. In fact, she barely acknowledged the clan leader, instead devoting her time to making sure her adventurous toddler didn't get into any trouble. Much to all the scientists' dismay, the child had learned to run before he could walk, therefore the attempts to baby-proof the whole place had been frantic and half-assed at best. But wherever Spider ran, Y/n was not too far behind him, always making a game of the chase and making the toddler laugh until his sides hurt.

From what Tsu'tey had learned, Spider is not Y/n's child by blood. The baby had been left behind when the Sky People left, too young for space travel. Everyone was positive that his biological mother was killed during the Battle of the Hallelujah Mountains, and as for his father... from vague descriptions, Tsu'tey had gathered who the man was and decided not to ask any further. Now, in replace of Spider's biological parents came Y/n. Even though the scientists were all more than happy to help raise the kid together as a village, Y/n had become his sole guardian, claiming that Spider should always have that one person to rely on before all others. She had gone on record stating that the boy needs a mother before a village and he shouldn't be treated as an object or a pet the Sky People pass around. No one questioned her, especially when shown how everything she does she does it for the boy and not for her own selfish needs. The scientists all proudly took the roles of aunts and uncles to the boy, but by all rights except blood, Y/n was Spider's mother. She fed and bathed the baby, clothed him, nurtured him, and sang songs to get him to sleep. Sure, she would let the other scientists help with Spider if she needed to take her avatar out for a drive, but she was determined to be Spider's family when no one had formally stepped up.

Even though he didn't realize it back then, Tsu'tey had come to greatly admire Y/n for her sacrifice and determination to raise a child all on her own. She didn't expect anyone to help and she took motherhood in stride. She acted as if she was always meant to be a mother and she had been waiting for this moment her whole life. After first meeting Spider, Tsu'tey wouldn't visit Hell's Gate for some time and didn't often think about the human child or his mother. It would be years before Tsu'tey is reacquainted with them, their paths crossing once more, and only because Spider was finally old enough to wear a mask.

PANDORA, 2163

Spider was nine years old when he first donned a breathing mask and ventured out into the vast world of Pandora, leaving the square walls of the biolab behind him. The scientists had made it into a whole celebration like it was his birthday, providing gifts of Na'vi-make and even a cake before he got too antsy and was ready to go outside. His mother was equally excited for him. Dawning her avatar, Y/n brought Spider outside after triple-checking that his mask was firmly in place. She first let the boy wander into the treeline a little bit to get the feeling of grass beneath his feet and let him try to climb the trees like the little spider monkey he was named after. He had struggled to climb the first couple of tries but managed to get the hang of it before Y/n took him on a ride aboard her ikran that she had tamed only a few years prior.

While Norm was able to gain a banshee not long after the war, Y/n had decided to wait out her training to become a Na'vi warrior due to raising a human child who couldn't go everywhere with her. Once Spider was old enough not to need his mother every minute of the day, she finally felt comfortable with occasionally leaving Hell's Gate and learning the ways of the Omatikaya. The start of her Iknimaya went smoothly due to the number of teachers she had, and eventually, she came home flying her very own ikran. Spider squealed and laughed from his bedroom window at the sight of the creature, already in love as if his mother had just brought a stray cat home. Y/n immediately sat her son down to gently let him know that an ikran is not a pet and demands respect and space. However, the ikran appeared more than happy to act like the family pet, curiously watching Spider from behind the window and resting right underneath said window whenever the creature wasn't out flying.

And when Spider was finally allowed to go outside, the boy and ikran finally got to officially meet. It was like watching a rescued animal find its forever home. Immediately cozying up and trusting the nine-year-old, the ikran allowed Spider to hug its whole face in his arms while jumping up and down happily. With excitement, Spider begged his mother to take him on a ride and finally, he got to learn what it was like to fly.

Y/n immediately flew Spider to the village so he can lay eyes on all the Na'vi for the first time. The People were happy to greet the child after hearing so many stories from his mother. The Omatikaya had grown to love Y/n and the other scientists as part of the People once they had begun to learn the Na'vi way and tame their own banshees, so when the Na'vi were finally introduced to Spider, it was like meeting the first grandbaby of the family! Everyone wanted to hold Spider due to the fascination of the fact he was still so small at his age, and the kid happily ate up all the attention. Through his excitement, he kept jumping between languages when speaking, but most of the Omatikaya were able to grasp the boy's words with ease and would respond in kind. Eventually, Y/n managed to bring her kid to the Sully marui without too many people resisting, and so Spider got to meet his best friends for the first time.

Jake and Neytiri excitedly welcomed Spider, hugging him and dragging him inside like he was a nephew who had been far away from home for far too long. Y/n followed them into the home, smiling fondly as Spider was introduced to Neteyam, Kiri, and Lo'ak. All three Sully kids were very bug-eyed and curious about this new friend. And for the first time since arriving in the village, Spider was suddenly shy with all the attention he was getting. He ran back to Y/n and hid behind her legs, nervously holding her tail while peeking at the kids behind his mask. The adults all laughed while the Sully kids continued to ask Spider questions until finally, he got comfortable enough to come out of hiding. Y/n and Spider stayed for dinner that evening after the kids begged their parents to let them stay so Spider could play. Once they got over poking and prodding Spider with interest, the two Na'vi boys and girl kept dragging him everywhere, frantically wanting to show him all their toys and favorite hiding spots, acting like he was leaving forever the moment he and Y/n would eventually step out of their home. The adults calmly remind the children that now that Spider is big enough to wear a mask, both he and Y/n would be coming back to the village as many times as they want, but that didn't convince the kids to slow down.

Tsu'tey was invited to dinner as well, but due to his responsibilities, he arrived late and could only stay for a little while. Y/n happily greeted him like an old friend -they had only met a few times over the years-, pressing her fingers to her forehead and lowering them in his direction, "Olo'eyktan. Oel ngati kameie."

Tsu'tey gestured in response out of respect but otherwise said nothing. Had he still been younger and just a warrior, Tsu'tey would've been able to help mentor Y/n during her Iknimaya trials. But due to being olo'eyktan now, he had to hand down those responsibilities to someone who had the time to do so, therefore his meetings with Y/n were far, and few in-between. As she was training, there were communal dinners where both parties were cordial to one another, entertaining small talk but otherwise keeping their respective distance. Y/n had become closer to Jake, Neytiri, and their growing family, therefore she and Tsu'tey saw each other more than usual but still in passing, like two ships in the night. Tsu'tey was like a teacher and an uncle to the Sully children, while Y/n was becoming to be a friend of the family. Now that Spider was in the picture, Tsu'tey had a feeling he had not seen the last of the mother and son.

If everyone thought Spider was shy meeting the Sully kids, they had not seen Spider meeting Tsu'tey. The boy immediately straightened his back and froze like a deer in headlights. Despite being shy and refusing to say a word, the human child looked at Tsu'tey in awe of him, recognizing his station as the clan leader of the Omatikaya. Y/n laughed and gathered her son up in her arms when he couldn't move, facing Tsu'tey so both Na'vi man and human child could get a better look at each other, "Spider, this is Tsu'tey te Rongloa Ateyo'itan. You've met before, but you were too little to remember. He is olo'eyktan. Do you remember what we say when greeting someone new?"

Under Tsu'tey's stare, Spider's hand shook as he brought his tiny fingers to the top brim of his breathing mask before lowering it in the Na'vi man's direction, speaking just above a whisper, "O-- Oel ngati kameie..."

The marui is silent and the boy waits with bated breath. To Spider's credit and everyone's amazement, Tsu'tey thinly smiled and made the same hand movement back to the child, "You speak very good, taronyutsyìp. Your mother and other caretakers have taught you well."

Spider's frozen shock had broken in exchange for a large, beaming wide smile, staring at Tsu'tey as if the man had just handed him the world. Y/n smiled at her adorable son's reaction and gratefully nodded to Tsu'tey before the moment was broken by none other than Jake's teasing, "How come you weren't complimenting me when I was learning, brother?"

"Because you were a teylupil prrnen who had to hold Neytiri's hand every step of the way," Tsu'tey was quick to respond but made sure to only speak in a hushed voice which only the adults could hear.

Neytiri playfully scolded Tsu'tey for his language and shoved a small niktsyey into his hands before he could leave, all the children confused as to why both Jake and Y/n were laughing to the point they had missed Tsu'tey sneaking out of the pod.

~~~~~~~~~

That was indeed, not the last time Tsu'tey would see Y/n and Spider. The next time they visited the village was a week later, and Tsu'tey wasn't even aware of their presence until his evening tasks were disrupted by a small force running into his legs and hugging them tightly. Startled into looking down, Tsu'tey found Little Spider, not even standing up to the height of the chief's knees, clinging to his strong blue legs for dear life while beaming up at him through his mask. Spider laughed due to Tsu'tey's reaction and paid no mind to his mother when she finally arrived. Tsu'tey didn't even notice Y/n until she stood in front of him, looking guilty and apologetic.

"Forgive me, ma olo'eyktan. He didn't want to go home until he got to see you."

Her ears pinned back against her head, tail drooping as she stared anxiously at the usually fierce and stone-faced clan leader. She looked tired, likely from a long day of following her child everywhere while he went on these new, exciting adventures around the village and surrounding forest. Y/n had volunteered to take Spider and the Sully kids to the nearby river so they could play and let off some steam. Jake and Neytiri had gratefully accepted the offer, ready to have some time away from their children for the first time in years. One look at the female avatar and Tsu'tey could tell just how drained she had been from watching all four children who barely grasp the idea of being 'careful.'

Years later, Tsu'tey will not be able to recall what came over him, but in a split-second decision, he bent down and scooped the little human boy into his arms, much to Spider's delight who squealed and laughed happily. To no one's surprise, the pink-skinned child was lighter than a basket of banana fruit and didn't struggle when Tsu'tey lifted him up over his head until the boy was sitting on his strong, broad shoulders. Spider dutifully grabbed onto Tsu'tey's braids to stay upright, eyes widening in joy and wonderment as he looked around, seeing the world from a new height that Spider could only dream of.

Tsu'tey made no sound to acknowledge his decision, despite already clocking a few bystanders who had stopped to stare at their olo'eyktan in shock before he turned to Y/n, speaking as blunt and firm as always, "He has seen me. Now let's get him to your ikran."

Initially surprised, Y/n could only nod and obediently led the Na'vi man in the direction of the claimed ikran rookery. They walked in silence apart from Spider's ramblings, beaming and waving down at all the Na'vi they passed by. Tsu'tey stubbornly ignores the stares, keeping his head held high and his gaze ahead of him, still exuding the confident, proud walk of a chief without ever acknowledging the sky demon child sitting up on his shoulders. Spider wasn't bothered by his silence, still babbling about all the things he did today and excitedly exclaiming how he couldn't wait until next time. They finally walk up to Y/n's ikran and without a word, she formed tsaheylu and expertly hopped up into her saddle, bending down to accept Spider from Tsu'tey once the man plucked the kid from his shoulders. Taking this time to admire the handiwork Y/n put into making her ikran's saddle as she secured her son in front of her, Tsu'tey nearly made a fool of himself by staring and immediately shook out of his thoughts.

"Now, boy," Tus'tey spoke carefully, lowering his voice so as not to startle the child as he stepped away from the banshee, eyeing Spider with a stern expression, "Be good for your sa'nok the rest of the night. Do not give her trouble and do as your told."

"Yes, sir!" Spider puffed out his chest and dutifully nodded, excited to follow an order straight from the Omatikaya's olo'eyktan.

Y/n huffed in amusement before flashing Tsu'tey a small smile of gratitude, "Thank you, Tsu'tey."

"Get some rest, my friend," Tsu'tey firmly nods back, "That's an order."

To his internal surprise, Y/n laughs, and even though he was confused, Spider laughed with her. Tsu'tey didn't react to their laughter, every muscle in his face coming together to keep as firm and as serious as he could manage. He wasn't sure when was the last time a woman laughed at something he said. Normally, no one laughed at Tsu'tey, believing he was too serious and he was taken as seriously as one could manage. It wasn't as though he was trying to be funny, but it was like Y/n could see something behind his eyes that told her that at this very moment, she didn't have to treat him as the clan leader. Perhaps it was the way he called her 'friend' that made her realize that she didn't have to be so formal around him. Either way, he didn't plan on correcting her manners.

Tsu'tey couldn't remember when they eventually flew away, back to Hell's Gate. He could only remember standing there like an idiot even after the mother and son were out of sight, their gentle, sweet laughter still echoing in his ears.

~~~~~~~~~

It became a sort of tradition. After a long day of being in the village, Spider would always escape his mother and run to Tsu'tey every time she told her son it was time to go home. After the first three times he did this, both Tsu'tey and Y/n just silently agreed to go along with it and indulge the child in his little tradition. Every evening Y/n and Spider were visiting the clan, the olo'eyktan could count on the young boy to find him like clockwork, then Tsu'tey will, again, lift Spider up onto his shoulders and follow Y/n back to her ikran.

Tsu'tey noticed that the mother and child were visiting the village more and more and he chalked it up to be because Neytiri had just announced that she was pregnant again. Everyone was ecstatic, especially the children. Knowing that a new baby was on the way, Spider could be spotted around the Sully marui almost every single day. The kid was in awe at the idea of meeting someone who was finally going to be smaller than him, at least for a little while. He also fully ramped the other Sully kids up, getting them to be excited for another little sibling, especially Lo'ak, who was ready to finally be a big brother instead of the youngest.

As tradition goes, the People would gift the expecting parents food and necessities in preparation for the unborn child. It was a good way to help Jake and Neytiri focus on their growing family and pay more attention to their three children instead of worrying about getting much-needed supplies ready for the baby. After Y/n explained this tradition to her son, Spider was determined to also present a gift to Jake and Neytiri, and who else could possibly help him with that but none other than Tsu'tey?

The olo'eyktan helps the boy, despite the nagging voice in the back of his head, and tries his best to help when he has the time. If Tsu'tey is not making his usual errands, he can be found with the human boy who practically drags him through the forest, looking for appropriate items to gift the Sullys. Y/n usually goes with them, never too far from her son, therefore she finds herself in Tsu'tey's company more than she ever has in all the years she's known him. And he doesn't appear bothered by it. In fact, he inwardly looks forward to these small adventures, feeling like a young warrior again who could freely leave the village without too many responsibilities weighing down his shoulders. Either Spider blindly takes the two adults through the trees without any idea of where he was heading, or he lets Tsu'tey take the lead, always excited for where the chief will take them now. The three of them do this for an entire week until Spider presents Neytiri with a beautiful bracelet with six, various different colors of beads to represent how many people will soon be in her family. Neytiri's smile was like starlight, so wide and emotional as she pulls the small boy into her arms, kissing the glass of his mask as tears stream down her cheeks. After Spider asks her why she was crying, she was quick to reassure him that they were happy tears and tells him how much she loved his gift, all the while Tsu'tey and Y/n are standing off to the side, fondly watching this scene take place.

It was an eye-opening moment for the usually fierce, stone-faced olo'eyktan. He had been standing so close to Y/n, closer than he had ever allowed himself to be with anyone, while they both watched Spider beam up at Neytiri and happily ramble about his adventures while finding the perfect beads for his bracelet. As the child explained that Tsu'tey and Y/n always went with him, even Neytiri looked surprised, glancing up at the two other adults with her ears flicking with interest. Tsu'tey swallowed and stood firm, trying not to appear nervous under the Na'vi woman's gaze.

Neither Spider nor Y/n noticed this brief interaction as the boy finally turns back to his mother and the olo'eyktan, remembering their presence and running toward them, cheering, "She liked it! She liked it!"

"I can see that," Y/n smiled, giggling as she bent down to receive Spider, picking him up in her arms without a sweat. Normally, it's a struggle in her human body to lift him up as he continues to grow, but as an avatar, it's like holding a three-year-old again. Oh, how she missed those days.

Still in Y/n's arms, Spider reaches for Tsu'tey, making grabby hands at the man who stood close enough for the boy to touch him. Tsu'tey nearly froze under the boy's attention, his own tongue betraying him when he couldn't find anything to say. It was too domestic, watching the way Spider looked for approval from both Y/n and Tsu'tey. Watching as both Spider's and Y/n's eyes land on him nearly takes his breath away, as if seeing the pair of them through rose-tinted glasses for the first time. And while standing so close, Tsu'tey can almost pretend, just for a moment, that Spider was not just any child, but his, the child wanting to share the events of his day as he had run to both Tsu'tey and his mother like they came as a pair, not just one or the other.

This was the first time Tsu'tey ever realized the gift Eywa was offering to him, but at the time was too cowardly to accept it. Taking one last look at the way Spider leaned his soft pink head on Y/n's blue shoulder, Tsu'tey looked away, purposely engraving the sight of those two small brown and gold pairs of eyes staring questionably up at him.

Even though there was no need to go out into the forest anymore, Tsu'tey still insisted on taking the mother and son out on adventures under the guise that it was time Spider learned how to gather and forage. Tsu'tey firmly stated that the boy needed to recognize certain plants before he could ever learn to become a hunter. Spider perked up at this idea, cheering and running to Neteyam, Kiri, and Lo'ak to brag about his upcoming lessons. Y/n appeared hesitant at first -call it a mother's concern- but eventually accepted the idea, happily tagging along so she could witness her son's first lesson.

One lesson became two, then three, then four, five, and six. Eventually, Tsu'tey had lost count of the number of days he had squeezed in time to teach Spider the ways of the Na'vi. It had been weeks, easily, and he had no intention of stopping. He was exhausted between his usual duties and his newly acquired student, but Tsu'tey would only have to look as far as Spider and Y/n's smiles to think it was all worth it.

Before he knew it, Y/n had fully completed her Iknimaya. After surviving the Uniltaron, she was painted and born a second time as one of the People. The whole clan was happy for her, and even Tsu'tey bore a small but genuine smile as he stood before her as her olo'eyktan and welcomed her into the Omatikaya clan, placing his arms on her shoulders as everyone else followed suit, creating an overflowing circle of Na'vi all around her.

With Y/n being recognized as a member of the clan, Tsu'tey feels a small barrier break between them. Something unspoken had come to light and before he could argue with himself, Tsu'tey had done something he hadn't done in a while.

His carving skills needed improvement after so many years of nonuse, but it was still a talent he possessed. The next time he spotted Y/n and Spider in the village, he boldly approached them without a second thought. Spider saw him first and excitedly ran to Tsu'tey, hugging his legs until the olo'eyktan crouched down to his height. Y/n walked up to them just as Tsu'tey held out his hand to the boy, "For you, Spider."

Spider greedily held out both of his hands with wide, bewildered eyes just as Tsu'tey handed him a simple but perfectly carved wooden pa'li toy. Spider initially stood there, shocked, staring down at the toy while Tsu'tey began to shuffle uncomfortably on his heels, "I understand if you think you are too big for toys--"

His backtracking was quickly interrupted by Spider lunging at him, throwing his little arms around the man's neck before practically squeezing the air out of him. Tsu'tey let out a gust of wind at the impact, unaware that the kid had that much strength in such a small body. It took a moment, but eventually, Tsu'tey began to awkwardly pat the boy on the back while Spider continued to hug fiercely.

Y/n was biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling and was failing miserably, the smile stretching far enough to make her facial muscles hurt. Tsu'tey bravely peered up at her and offered his best, closed-mouth smirk, despite still awkwardly holding the child in his arms. Y/n took a deep breath and was able to rein in the smile until it was small and gentle, clearing her throat to get her son's attention, "What do you say, Spider?"

"Thank you. Irayo, " Spider whispered into Tsu'tey's ear before finally pulling away, clutching the pa'li toy in one hand while his mother took the other. Slowly, they both walk away but would occasionally look back at Tsu'tey with those sweet, dazzling smiles that make Tsu'tey feel as though he had just lifted a mountain that was in the mother and son's path. After they disappeared into the crowd, he finally stood back up, stubbornly ignoring all the stares the scene no doubt caused before going about his day as normally as he could.

Once almost every week, Tsu'tey would have something new to offer Spider. It could be a toy, small bracelets, armbands, or even Na'vi child-sized clothes, Tsu'tey would make them all for the small human child. Spider's personal favorite was the small bow, already strung up and carved to his tiny size with equally small, harmless arrows. Over time, Spider was becoming more accustomed to Na'vi culture and started to wear his hair in beads and braids and continuously wore a loincloth. The Sully kids were eager to help Spider form his new style but it wasn't hard to get the supplies, seeing as though Tsu'tey had already provided Spider with everything he needed to complete the look. Each gift was more thoughtful and appreciative than the last, and each time, seeing the look on both mother and child's faces made Tsu'tey feel a thousand times lighter.

He thought he was being subtle, but that was far from the truth. Nearly everyone could see it apart from himself. He knew he had been a fool to believe otherwise when he was abruptly visited by his parents, cornering him in his own marui.

"What is this about you courting a demon?" His mother, Artsut, sternly asked.

"I am not courting anyone." He easily answered without hesitation.

"That is not what we heard. The People say their olo'eyktan has taken a liking to the dreamwalker they call Y/n and her demon child."

"Is that truly what the People say, Mother? Or is it just you?" Tsu'tey accused, eyes narrowed on her, "From what I have seen, the People love Y/n and Spider."

"Spider?" His father, Ateyo, repeated the name on his tongue and screwed up his nose, "What a strange name."

"This is not acceptable," Artsut shook her head, "You should have taken Saeyla as your mate when you had the chance. At least she is one of the People and she would have accepted you."

Tsu'tey nodded in agreement, but kept his face impassive, "Yes. She would have. But I will not have her and she will not have me. She is mated with Ka'ani now."

"You should have chosen her the moment Neytiri ran off to mate with a tawtute."

His eyes darken a shade of color and his parents are quickly reminded that they spoke to the olo'eyktan, one of said tawtute's strongest allies who was quick to defend Jake Sully after years of friendship, "You will not address Toruk Makto in such a way. And I do not want you to ever speak of Y/n as if she is not Omatikaya. She has learned our ways and had successfully completed her Iknimaya. In time, her son will follow her footsteps."

The sneer on his mother's face was potent as ever, "Do you actually believe that a sky demon can complete the task of becoming a warrior when he doesn't even have a tswin? Even if he were to be accepted as one of the People, he will struggle all his life and suffer without the means of bonding with the Forest, the animals, or even other Na'vi! You are olo'eyktan and your duty to the People also involves having heirs to succeed you! Raising this human child alongside this dreamwalker will end your line!"

Her voice had only ever risen higher until his father gently placed a withered hand on her shoulder. Artsut immediately silences herself while Ateyo turns to Tsu'tey, "Maitan. Tell us the truth. Are you courting this woman?"

Tsu'tey grits his teeth, staring both of them down, "I am not."

The words are bitter on his tongue, distasteful. What he would give to say otherwise and make his parents flinch as if in pain. His mother shook her head, her tone quieter but still accusatory, "Others have seen you gift the child many things. Do you think we are blind and deaf? We hear whispers, Tsu'tey. We hear that to win Y/n's heart is to dote on her son. You may not be courting the woman with gifts for her, but you are courting her with gifts for her son."

The marui grew in unpalpable silence. Tsu'tey remained quiet, unable to deny it, but kept his gaze sharp and locked onto Ateyo and Artsut. Ever since he became Eytukan's heir as olo'eyktan, he had learned to stop listening to his parents constantly whispering in his ears. He had quickly realized how poisonous they were, hungry for power, believing they know the will of Eywa better than anyone, even Mo'at. He had thought he had fed their thirst for power after becoming olo'eyktan, but that still wasn't good enough for them. For years now, they have shaped Tsu'tey's younger brother, Arvok, into their preferred image now that their golden son had chosen his own path without their consent. Tsu'tey wished his brother had learned to stop leading by their influence and start forming his own future, but has been unable to advise Arvok to do so, given how busy he is as the clan leader. On top of growing up in Tsu'tey's shadow until recent years, Arvok has no part of himself that their parents didn't twist and manipulate. Arvok was no longer his own person and it broke Tsu'tey's heart to watch from a distance, unable to save his brother from himself.

A wave of guilt washes over Tsu'tey but he strongly holds firm, blatantly refusing to let his emotions show, let alone in front of his sa'sem. He regrets not taking Arvok under his wing. He regrets taking time to be with Y/n and Spider and none to be with his own flesh and blood. Perhaps a small part of himself believed he could help his brother if he could help someone as hopeless as Spider, someone who couldn't truly become one of the People, just like his parents said--

'No. That is not you talking. Already they are trying to spin their words to make it sound like your own. Do not let them poison you.'

His own thoughts drown out all the doubt and regret and so Tsu'tey shakes his head to be rid of them with a deep, dark snarl, baring his fangs at his mother and father, "You forget yourselves. You forget your place. You are right about one thing. I am olo'eyktan, and I don't take orders from you. I will never listen to you or agree with you because every word that falls from your mouth is like a sharp blade in my ears. Your ways are of the past when I, your chief, aim toward the future. By the laws of our people, Y/n is taronyu, and Spider is her son. That is enough for me, and I order you to keep whatever you have to say about that woman and her child to yourselves from now on."

~~~~~~~~~

Despite holding firm against Ateyo and Artsut, Tsu'tey couldn't help but feel sour for the rest of the week about what was said in the confinements of that room. Their lecture plus Eytukan's teachings continued to ring in his ears, unable to let him rest. They were right that as olo'eyktan, it was his duty to find a proper heir to take his place and guide the People after he is gone. He could sire an heir or choose one from the clan, but he must choose wisely, nevertheless.

For years, Tsu'tey never worried about heirs. He was openly adamant in wishing Jake Sully to take his place should something untimely happen to him. Toruk Makto had sons and a daughter with possibly another on the way. At the very least, Jake's line of succession was secure if he was olo'eyktan.

But Tsu'tey was alone.

It didn't help that as olo'eyktan, he was still in need of a mate who would one day become tsahik. Mo'at has made it very clear to him, "I am not getting any younger. I will need at least three seasons to train a woman before she can become tsahik."

Neytiri was no longer tsakarem due to choosing Jake as her mate, and while Kiri was a good option for Mo'at to take under her wing, the young girl was still too young to worry about such responsibility. Tsu'tey was positive that Mo'at would rather have her granddaughter become tsahik over whoever he chose as a mate, but he was positive it was due to favoritism. Mo'at would rather teach family over a stranger, and Tsu'tey couldn't blame her for that. Her own legacy was shattered due to losing her first daughter and becoming estranged from the other, neither of who was capable of becoming tsahik like their mother one day.

The harsh reminder of Sylwanin made Tsu'tey's stomach clench with guilt and despair. He had moved past her death years ago, but at the idea of him finally moving on, the phantom pain returned to make him feel regret all over again.

She was meant to be his mate for life, and this all felt as though he was betraying her.

Tsu'tey let his feet take them to a destination, and they end up leading him to the Sully marui. Inside, Neytiri was alone since Jake decided to take the kids fishing with Spider and Y/n, her baby bump becoming more visible by the day. Looking up and recognizing Tsu'tey, she only held his gaze with a smug, all-knowing expression.

He scowled while walking further into the home, sitting across from her, "I assume you heard the rumors."

She shrugged, smirking, "I think everyone has heard or seen something or other. The question is whether or not it's true."

The man hesitates, unable to form the proper words he wanted to say. Here sat his young love's sister, someone who would know better than anyone how he feels because she suffers the same pain and loss every day. And yet... like Sylwanin, he felt as though he was betraying Neytiri as well, "I... I don't know."

Her gaze narrows at him, surprised and under scrutiny, "You don't know?"

"I thought I did," Tsu'tey confessed, his eyes only gazing at the small fire between them, "I was ready to take and bring both of them into my care."

"Then what's stopping you?" She carefully watches him as they sat in silence, letting it linger and simmer like the meat she had just hung over the fire. When Tsu'tey had yet to look up, Neytiri had discovered the answer on her own, "Sylwanin?"

Solemnly, he nods, "We were promised to each other. It is a promise meant forever."

Her posture relaxes, relenting whatever tease she planned on dishing him out in exchange for pity. Her words were gentle as she spoke, forlorn and sympathetic, "You were not mated yet, Tsu'tey, and it was many, many years ago. You are allowed to grieve, mourn, and miss my sister. But I think she would understand if you had fallen for someone else."

Leaning forward to the best of her ability in her condition, she reaches and grabs tightly onto Tsu'tey's hand. Finally, once his eyes met hers, Neytiri whispered, "She wouldn't want you to be alone forever."

She lets him think about what she said, turning back to the food she was preparing in silence. Neytiri lets Tsu'tey hide away in her home, stewing with his thoughts as the village moves on about their day around them. Before eclipse could even make an appearance, Jake and Y/n return with the children from their fishing trip. Looking up, both Neytiri and Tsu'tey take note of how exhausted all the kids look, especially Spider, who was passed out cold in Jake's arms alongside Kiri.

Jake smiles at his wife before turning to Tsu'tey to properly greet him, "Brother. I'd offer you my arm, but I kinda got my hands full."

"So I see," Tsu'tey huffed, slightly amused at the sight before his gaze flicks over to the woman standing beside Jake, "And how are you, Y/n?"

She appeared startled at the question being directed at her, but quickly covered it up with a soft smile, nodding down to Tsu'tey, "I'm alright, ma olo'eyktan. Thank you."

Neytiri smirked, sparing one glance up at her husband before pretending to absentmindedly hum in thought, "Perhaps if you leave us Spider's spare mask, Y/n, you could leave him here for tonight and have at least a few hours to yourself?"

Both Neteyam and Lo'ak are suddenly wide awake, ears perking up at the mother's intention. Y/n paused, about to open her mouth when Jake beat her to it, "That's not a bad idea. He's already asleep and there isn't a reason to wake him," the female avatar turned to the male one, who's quick to reassure her, "I promise he'll be in good hands. And the kids would love to wake up in the morning to find Spider still here."

Again, the concern Y/n displayed on her face was about to voice her answer before Neteyam spoke up, keeping his voice sweet and soft, "Please, Aunt Y/n? Can Spider stay here tonight?"

Lo'ak chimed in, too, albiet a bit louder, "Can we have a sleepover? Pleeeaase?"

All the adults present quickly shushed the young boy when Kiri and Spider squirmed in their sleep but everyone relaxed when the sleeping children eventually settled back down. Jake moves further into the marui to gently place them down on the mats while Y/n turned around only to be met with two round pairs of pleading gold eyes staring up at her, both Neteyam and Lo'ak poking their bottom lips out for added measure.

Y/n snorts, playfully rolling her eyes, "Well, who could say 'no' to those charming little faces?"

Both the boys silently cheer and run in the direction of the other two sleeping children, anxious to join the growing cuddle pile. Y/n watches them go with amusement before she hands Neytiri the spare mask she always kept hooked around the belt of her cargo shorts, "I'll be back for him early in the morning."

"No need to rush," Neytiri smiled with assurance, "Just stop by for breakfast and you can take him home after."

Jake then proceeds to hand the single mother a throat mic and earpiece, "Just in case we need to contact you or you just wanna talk to him."

Y/n visibly relaxed a little at the lengths both Jake and Neytiri were going just to make her feel comfortable leaving her son with them. She dutifully nods and clips on the throat mic as Tsu'tey stands to meet her, the olo'eyktan tilting his head to the marui exit, "Let's get you to your ikran."

If she found his offer unexpected, she didn't show it and followed Tsu'tey out of the marui, unaware of the knowing look Neytiri was watching them leave with. Once they disappeared, Jake turned to his mate with a confused expression, "What was that about?"

Neytiri's eyes shine with a mischievous gleam behind those golden orbs, "With any luck, by the end of the night, Spider will officially have a father and we will have our future tsahik."

~~~~~~~~~

Tsu'tey and Y/n mostly walked in silence back to her ikran, the beauty of the night slowly making itself known as eclipse finally arrives. Over the years, Y/n was used to how intense and silent Tsu'tey could be and no longer found these quiet interactions awkward. If anything, the silence was actually comforting.

They approach her ikran and Y/n busies herself by tending to the banshee, comforting the creature when it squawks indignant and trying to look occupied to calm her own nerves. It was possible her ikran could sense said nerves and continued to act belligerent. Eventually, Y/n turned back to the olo'eyktan and nods in gratitude, "Thank you, Tsu'tey. I'll be back again in the morning."

He only nods and so Y/n took it as a sign to take her leave as the silence lingers. Double-checking the straps of her ikran's harness, she swung her leg over the creature and grabbed her queue braid--

"Y/n..."

She looked up, "Yes?"

Concern clouded her mind as Tsu'tey's eyes briefly look away, unable to meet her gaze. His ears flick at the same speed as his eyes, betraying him of his nerves as he spoke, "Do you wish to be courted?"

Befuddled, her eyes narrow cautiously, tilting her head with curiosity. Perhaps she heard him wrong, "What?"

He took a deep breath to steady himself, straightening up to be the taller more regal olo'eyktan she had come to know him. His voice is suddenly more confident and formal as he finally looks up at her, "It would be a great honor, Y/n of the Sky People and of the Omatikaya, if you would allow me to officially court you."

Y/n could initially do nothing but sit there on the back of her ikran, frozen and dumbfounded. The silence that was once so normal and comfortable between them was now intense and tightly wound like a meresh'ti cau'pla. As the avatar woman replayed his words back in her head, she couldn't depict anything else from the proposal other than one singular word, "'Officially?'"

Tsu'tey nods while further explaining, "It was not my intention to let you believe I was only tending to your boy in the hopes of courting you, nor do I wish for you to believe that I expect something from you in exchange for training your son. Spider is a spirited child and he is lucky to have a wonderful woman for his mother. You and your son have shown me what it would look like to be a part of your family and now that I have a taste of it, I want to know more. I wish to court you not just in the hopes of being your mate, but one day-- if you and the boy will have me, I want Spider to one day look up to me as his father."

The confession was something Y/n wouldn't have expected in a million years. It wasn't as though she believed Tsu'tey to be too proud, but as the clan leader he had a reputation to uphold and a responsibility regarding the wellbeing of his people. Immediately her thoughts turned to what other Na'vi might think about their olo'eyktan taking a sky demon as his mate, someone who can walk in two bodies instead of one, an alien whose species would do unspeakable things to cheat death and go against everything Eywa stood for. She never took herself to be an insecure person, but Y/n couldn't help the fear she felt when thinking about what the Na'vi people might think about her son if she decides to allow Tsu'tey to adopt him. Sure, the Omatikaya act as though they love Spider now, but what about when they learn that their olo'eyktan's legacy depends on a boy born from the Sky People?

Despite her fears, she couldn't help but think about how much happier Spider has been around Tsu'tey and the village. Y/n thought about how the boy would suddenly become sad upon returning to the biolab and leaving his friends behind, or how when he adamantly talked, it was only about the Na'vi and the Sully kids and of course whatever Tsu'tey had taught him that day. Though Y/n and the other scientists have tried to teach Spider the ways of the Sky People with the proper education and history of their culture, the kid doesn't want anything to do with Earth and tends to stick with whatever he had learned from the Omatikaya. Over time, Y/n had told the other scientists to give it up, coming to terms that Spider didn't want to learn about where he came from, only about the home he had now and the friends he had gained. Y/n couldn't blame him. Tsu'tey was a better teacher than even Max or Norm when it came to the topics Spider wanted to actually learn about. Tsu'tey was patient but firm. Informative but vigor. On one hand, he would make sure Spider listened and held onto every word he said, but on the other, he was a good listener and would praise Spider for every achievement made in his lessons. Y/n remembered watching them with fondness, amused and delighted by their interactions. As often as she sees her son and the olo'eyktan together, the more she, too wished to see what would happen if she allowed herself to feel something for that man. The man who opened his arms out to selected Sky People, allowing them into his village. The man who took Spider under his wing despite the fact the boy was human and treated him with kindness and respect even though he didn't have to. Tsu'tey has every reason to hate the Sky People and the face Spider wears, but he doesn't, and what Y/n initially thought she felt was admiration for Tsu'tey was actually a growing love for him and his character.

But she had stamped down her feelings because she was afraid of getting Spider's hopes up. She couldn't afford to disappoint her son when he already adores Tsu'tey to no end. When Y/n opened her mouth, she whispered her own confession to the olo'eyktan anxiously waiting for an answer, "... He already does."

She watches as his eyes widen before she made the decision to hop back down from her banshee, closing in the gap between them as she took the necessary steps to stand right before Tsu'tey. She watched his eyes for a moment, looking for something, likely making sure he wasn't joking despite knowing he was the last person on this planet who would. She hadn't realized they were standing so close until she felt the warm air of his breath softly fanning her face, causing her to blink rapidly and clear her throat when her skin began to prickle into a soft blush. Ignoring her brief fluster, she allowed herself to slowly, cautiously lean forward and felt relief when Tsu'tey did as well. Their foreheads faintly touch until their movements became bolder, pressing closer until they were sharing the same tight space and combating the tense air between them. Leaning into him further, Y/n closed her eyes and basked in his embrace, "You really want this?"

His shaky exhale hits her face, her eyelashes briefly twitching but otherwise remaining closed as if afraid to open and see his expression. Tsu'tey's voice was less confident now and more breathless, unable to take in a full gulp of air in this woman's presence. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the closeness, even if only for tonight, he didn't care if it was selfish. He gently gripped her arm as he whispered, wanting to pull her even closer to him than possible, "Yes. By Eywa, yes."

Her lips twitched into a smile at the same time her heart lept in joy, "I accept your proposal."

Faintly patting his chest, she then pulled away, both of them opening their eyes and smiling shyly at one another. Y/n blindly backs away to reach her ikran, unwilling to look away until the last second, "I'll see you in the morning."

~~~~~~~~~

Also heavily inspired by illustrations called ‘our paths crossing’ by kening zhu

Lemme know if you would like a Part 2! I was hoping to write more for this but it was starting to get long, so you decide if it should continue! Also leave a request in my inbox but be sure to check up on the rules first. Thank you!

#tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey imagine #avatar tsu'tey #tsu'tey #tsutey #tsutey imagine #tsutey x reader #tsu'tey fic #tsu'tey fanfiction #tsutey fic #tsutey fanfiction #avatar #avatar 2009 #avatar imagine #atwow imagine #atwow #avatar 2 imagine #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water

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Nothing Like Some Neighborly Love

Part 1 - Series Masterlist

Pairing: no outbreak!Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: Goodbye New York, hello Austin! - After a split from your ex, you're in dire need of a fresh scenery. Texas seems to provide just that. Your grandmother, fresh out of a hip surgery and in need of assistance, is happy to have you move in with her as a solution for both of your predicaments. Ever the hands-on person that she is, she also seems to want to rectify your fresh singleness, and she knows just the guy...

Word Count: ~4500 words

Warnings: mentions of a manipulating ex, mentions of cheating, mentions of a surgery, age gap (reader is early 30s, Joel is an unspecified amount (~10-15 years) older than her)

Your arrival in Austin, Texas is anything but spectacular. Besides your bags being some of the first to appear at baggage claim absolutely nothing out-of-the-ordinary happens - it's about as normal as a Monday-morning flight can be.

Not for you, though. Today marks the first day of your new life.

No big deal.

Except it's a huge deal. With every inch that you put between yourself and your old life in New York, you feel your shoulders relaxing a bit more and the tight-knit knot in your chest loosening.

Finally, at long last, you're free.

Free of the asshole that, up until a couple of months ago, was your boyfriend, your roommate, your co-worker.

Your lying, manipulating source of self-doubt, tears and misery.

Good fucking riddance.

"Oh honey, c'mere you!" Your grandmother pulls you into a surprisingly tight hug. For a lady who had hip surgery just two days ago, she seems to be at the top of her game.

"Gammy," you smile and return her embrace, even if not as forcefully. Strong arms or not, she did just come out of the hospital. Better to be a little more careful.

"Come in, come in! Let's get you out of that heat." Your grandma shuffles out of the door and down the hallway with the help of her rollator. You step into the house after her, dragging your two suitcases behind you.

Everything looks just like you remember. The beige carpet that flows from the hallway into the open living room and up the stairs, the brown tiles of the kitchen area, the light flowery wallpaper on the walls - as far as you can tell, not a single thing has changed. It even smells the same, like fresh laundry and soap and a faint hint of your grandmother's perfume.

You can't imagine a more comforting scenery after everything you've been through.

"How was your flight, honey? And do you want anythin' to drink?"

If it wasn't for the rollator, it'd be hard to tell that your grandmother just had a major surgery. She's already bustling about in the kitchen when you enter the open living and dining area, moving at the same speed you've always known her to. Watching your grandmother at work is like watching a busy bee, always doing something, fingers always moving. It goes without saying that your grandmother is not a woman known for sitting still or taking a break.

You already know her answer, but you have to ask anyway. "Gammy, shouldn't you be resting?"

"Restin', restin'. I hear that damn word one more time, I'm gon' have a fit!" She drops two ice cubes of frozen iced tea into each cup, then adds a lemon slice. "Doctor's said I'm s'posed to be movin'." The ice cubes clink and crackle when she pours fresh iced tea on top. "You told me to follow them orders!" Your grandma shakes the big spoon your way accusingly and you can't help but grin at the image.

"That's true, I did. I also said I'd move here to help you, grandma."

"Honey, if I can't pour no more damned iced tea, I want you to put me in my grave. Until then, I'll pour my own drinks. Now get on over here n' take those glasses over to the couch, will ya?"

You do as you're told and sit down next to your grandmother on the couch, making sure to use coasters for your drinks. Glass rings on the furniture did not go over well in this house.

"See? I can ask for help just fine." Your grandmother winks at you and then clinks her glass against yours. "Cheers, baby. Now tell me, how was your flight?"

"It was fine. Boring, uneventful. Just how I like my flights to be." A sip of your glass floods your mouth with the taste of your childhood summers, sweet and lemony and filled with your grandmother's love to the brim. There's no other iced tea quite like it.

"Good, good. And how are you doin', baby? Hm?" Her hand squeezes your thigh as her eyes roam over your face. You know the look: it's the look of scrutiny, the same one she uses any time she wants to get the truth out of someone. You've seen it being given to your mother, your father, your grandfather, even neighbors. You yourself have been at the receiving end of it a few times in your life. The result is always the same - the truth. Your grandmother is not a woman that's lied to.

"Honestly? I feel like a massive weight has been lifted off my shoulders." You sigh, both for effect and because it's true. Setting foot onto Texas soil was already liberating, but sitting in your grandmother's living room has you relaxing more and more by the minute. "I'm just so glad to be here. This couldn't have come at a better moment. Not saying I'm happy you had to get hip surgery, you know, but I'm just glad it all worked out with you needing help and me needing a new place to figure out where to go from here."

You squeeze your grandma's hand on your thigh and she puts hers right on top, squeezing you back. "Oh, hush. Y'know you're welcome here anytime, and I'd much rather have you here t' help me out than some stranger comin' into my house every single day."

Despite your circumstances, you can't deny how lucky the timing of it all has been. Your relationship had been crumbling for months and it seemed like no matter what you did, all your efforts were in vein and largely not reciprocated. To make matters worse, your job was suffering under the pressure of your dissolving relationship as well. You and your boyfriend worked at the same elementary school, you being a teacher and him being the principal, and while sharing a workplace and commute had been something out of a dream come true for the first two years together, it quickly posed a problem when your first problems emerged.

The final nail in the coffin came in the form of him being the nail and the coffin being his secretary. It was so cliché that you didn't know whether to laugh or cry when you first found out. In the end, you did neither, just packed your things and left. That part was easy, with a circle of friends who offered up their couches and open ears immediately. The work part? Not so much. By now you'd say that working under your ex while another woman was actually under him was the worst part of your final months in New York.

You needed to get out. You were already out of your joined flat, the job was the next thing to go. Then your grandmother mentioned she'd need to get surgery on her hip and just hated the idea of having a stranger coming to her house every single day to help her with her day-to-day errands.

The plan basically wrote itself.

Your grandma was delighted by the idea of you moving you here. A temporary arrangement until she's all healed up and you have figured out where to go from here. It's basically a two-birds-with-one-stone situation.

After you've finished your iced tea, your grandmother insists on showing you around the house. "Gammy, come on, you really should sit down, at least a little," you try to convince her, but she's not having any of it. "I know it looks like it hasn't changed much, but I've had some things done since you were here last. Now you'll wanna know where everything is if you wanna help, right?"

You don't even bother contradicting her and she pulls herself up by the handles of her rollator with a triumphant look.

The first room you tackle is right by the entrance, opposite of the guest bathroom. It used to be your grandfather's office, but you're surprised to find it all turned around, now with a bed in the middle of it and an assortment of bedroom furniture to go with it.

"This is my new haven, at least for now." Grammy shuffles into the room and carefully plops her behind down on the raised bed. "Got help from a neighbor a street over. Nice young fella, handsome too." She shoots you a meaningful glance that you decide to ignore. "Him and his brother got some of the stuff from upstairs down here. I got this bed on loan just until I can get back into my old chambers upstairs. Doc said the stairs shouldn't be an issue, but I just wanted to make sure." A few approving pats on the mattress.

"I'm impressed, Grammy. I'd have thought you'd force yourself up the stairs every single night, no matter what. I'm glad you're cutting yourself some slack somewhere." You know your grandma appreciates your candor, but you also know how hard this situation is on her mentally. She has always been an active woman and being physically impaired can't be easy for her. You press a soft kiss to her forehead to emphasize your praise.

"Yeah yeah," she grumbles but then still squeezes your arm. "C'mon now. I wanna show you the upstairs."

The changes upstairs are less drastic, but still noticeable.

For one thing, the master bedroom is full of your grandfather's old files, various stacks piled around the room. It's a temporary set-up that you mean to sort through in your upcoming weeks here, a thank you for letting you stay and your way of chipping in, as your grandmother refuses to accept any kind of rent or payment in general for your stay.

Your own bedroom has also received a slight makeover. Previously a guest room that served as storage for when no guests were in town, the room used to be somewhat cramped, yet still cozy. You've always slept in this room and never minded the wild assortment of furniture and various gadgets, but your grandmother went all out in preparation for your visit and had all of the "junk" removed and stored in the garage downstairs. Now, on top of new furniture, the walls sport a fresh paintjob and the closet is completely empty, waiting to be filled with your own clothes and belongings.

"Grandma, you shouldn't have!," you exclaim but can't hide the excitement in your eyes as you take in your new four walls. The twin bed got exchanged for a queen, which, now that everything is stored downstairs, comfortably fits against the back wall under the window. Despite your solo-self, it comes with a nightstand on each side, matching the color of the dresser to the right and the desk tucked into the corner next to the door. Ever the prepared host, your grandma has already put a small bouquet on one of the nightstands and fresh sheets on the bed.

You spin around and bury your grandmother in a tight hug, suddenly overwhelmed by the love that clearly went into the preparation of your arrival. "You're the best," you whisper against her neck as a couple of tears spill from your eyes.

There's no place you'd rather be.

Your spend your first few days in Austin getting reacquainted with the city. As a child, you'd come here for every single summer break, so you know your way around the neighborhood well enough, but a lot has changed since you strolled around the streets in your dungarees and pigtails. Mostly it's just different shops or a new building here and there, but the neighbors have changed too. You're sad to find out that one of your favorite neighbors, an old man named George who grew the sweetest strawberries in his front yard, passed away just a couple of weeks ago. Another couple two houses down, whose daughter you used to play with on your childhood visits, has moved away to the north. The list of changes is long, but besides old George's death, there's nothing too drastic.

Just as expected (and hoped for), you have no time to dwell on your recent split. With the way the relationship went for the past years, you kind of checked out of it mentally a long time ago, but finding out about the affair still kicked you in the guts. Luckily, you're too busy to get lose yourself in a thought spiral about it, all thanks to your grandmother who is keeping you fresh on your toes.

Being the busy woman that she is, she has a whole list of errands for the week, consisting of groceries, check-ups and social calls. You keep thinking that if it wasn't for her rollator and her slower, slight wobbly walk, you'd hardly know the woman was operated on just days ago, and you're not alone. The same sentiment is expressed to you wherever the two of you go, your grandmother being a well-known and respected woman in her neighborhood.

On Saturday, just five days after your arrival, you take her to the local church. Despite not being big on faith, she has been a member of the volunteer group of the church for decades, and a cherished one at that. The moment you push her wheelchair through the door, other volunteers rush over and swarm your grandmother with questions about her well-being. Grammy makes a point of saying there's no need for the fuss, but you can tell that she's touched by the community's care for her.

The meeting discusses the idea of a block party that's been floating around for some time now, but was never realized.

"Lottie, do you even think you could handle it, being in recovery and all?," an elderly man asks directed at your grandmother. The look she shoots him in response drains some color in his face, and some other members at the table laugh. "I'm insulted you'd even ask, Frank," your grandmother replies with a hint of sourness in her voice, but then her smile grows wide and there's a mischievous spark in her eyes that puts you on high alert. You know that look. Your grandmother is up to something.

"Much as I hate to admit it though, you might be right. I'm not at the top of my game, no denying that. However, that's where my lovely granddaughter comes into play!" All eyes swivel around to you, including your grandmother's, the mischievous sparkle present as ever.

Uh oh.

"As many of you already know, my granddaughter has temporarily moved in with me to help me out during my recovery, gracious soul that she is." Gracious soul? Grammy is laying it on thick. You cock your head slightly to the side with raised eyebrows, all while maintaining a smile on your face. What are you doing? Your grandmother reads the silent question in your facial features but offers no explanation, her smile just turns more sweetly. "As a teacher, she has her fair share of experience with organizing events. Ain't that so, sweetheart?"

"I mean, I've organized two talent shows, but that was in collab-," you begin, still unsure of where this is going, but Grammy cuts you off.

"See? She's perfect. I'm sure she can fill my shoes just fine, and I'll still be there behind the scenes anyway."

Before you can utter another word, you are crowned as head of the block party planning committee. As soon as the decision is made, the group gets down to business and starts mapping out a rough draft. Besides the obvious cake buffet, whipped up and provided by members of the volunteer committee, the only other safe participant is the church's kids group, who, according to pastor William, plan to host a lemonade stand. By the end of the meeting, you have an extensive list of possible collaborators to hit up. As head of the committee, it falls in your jurisdiction to get local business on board.

"Alright, that looks like a solid list. I trust Lottie's granddaughter will do a fine job of getting lots of business on board." Pastor William smiles warmly at you and you can't help but feel like he's already forgotten your name again. Then again, he's got a big flock. Can't blame him if he doesn't remember every single sheep by name.

"And we've got Anne, Derrick and Kirsten for decorating, as well as our kids group. That just leaves the question of construction. Who's gonna supply us with stalls or booths? Any ideas, folks?"

"I'm sure Joel Miller would be happy to chip in. Him n' his brother got that construction business, remember? Sweet boys. Helped me set up my lil' hospital ward situation I got back at home," your grandma chirps up, and suddenly, you understand the mischievous twinkle in her eye.

What an elaborate and canny way to set you up. Wow.

You bite on your lip to hide the grin that threatens to spill across your face, keeping your laughter inside until after the meeting. Once you bring it up in the car back home, Grammy plays the innocent act. "I got no idea what you're talkin' about, honey. Just suggested a guy I know that does good work and has a good heart."

"Right, because especially the good heart is extremely relevant when it comes to building things," you chuckle.

"Sure it is, if it's volunteer work. And I'm tellin' you. That Joel, he's got a heart of gold."

You can sense the way your grandmother's eyes are boring into the side of your skull, but you keep your gaze focused on the road ahead of you.

Heart of gold or not, you're nowhere near ready to be dating again.

"Yeah, come on in, Lottie said you'd swing by."

It's late in the evening and his porch light hums above the two of you, casting a golden light on your silhouettes and long shadows on the ground. The fly screen creaks as Joel Miller holds it open for you. You shimmy past him with a small smile, tugging your folder of papers to your chest so they don't rub against him.

Joel's house smells like wood chips, old leather and something distinctly 'homey' that you can't quite put a finger on, but makes you feel very at ease. The scent engulfs you as you step into the house, briefly interrupted by smell of him, a mix of soap and aftershave and just the tiniest tinge of sweat.

It's an intoxicating combination.

So much so that for the briefest moment, you have the instinct to lean a step back and sniff him, but you catch yourself before you embarrass yourself.

"Kitchen's down there. Got a table and everything for your paper collection." Joel motions down the hallway with a quick and friendly wink at you. You follow his direction wordlessly and sit at the aforementioned table, feeling the tips of your ears growing slightly red.

Your grandma wasn't kidding when she said he's handsome.

You'd chalked it up to her trying to set you up, talking him up the same way elderly ladies tend to talk about men that are younger than them. 'Handsome' and 'smart-looking' are standards in that vocabulary box. You couldn't have known that this time, the description would be right on point.

"Want one?" Joel's got his head in the fridge, holding out a cold beer to you over his shoulder.

"Sure, thanks." Usually you're not so tight-lipped. In fact, you've probably talked more in the past few days than you do in a normal school week, and that's saying something. Going around town and chatting up local businesses about participating in your block party had your mouth going at a hundred miles per hour, figuratively speaking. Between speaking to people in person and confirming spots via your cell-phone, it has been a couple of very word-filled days.

And yet, now that you're with another potential 'client' you have to recruit for your endeavor, your speech well seems to have dried up.

It could have something to do with the fact that visually, Joel Miller is exactly your type. Besides his physique - tan biceps visibly stretching under a tight t-shirt that might be a size too small for him - he's got warm, brown eyes with laugh crinkles around them and a head full of salt-and-pepper hair that pairs beautifully with his scruffy-looking beard. By the looks of it, he has ten, maybe fifteen years on you.

Not really an issue for you.

Your ex, cursed be his name, was a chunk older than you too. It was just the type of man you drifted towards, the kind that's a bit ahead of you in time. In your experience, it pays off maturity wise in a way that men your age just can't compete in, even if your last boyfriend wasn't the best example.

Older men just have a grip on you you can't explain, nor deny.

"So." Joel sets the two bottles of beer down on the table, then slides onto the chair across from you. "What can I do for ya? Lottie said somethin' 'bout you guys needin' somethin' built?"

He screws the caps off of both bottles, then slides one over to you. "Cheers." Your bottles clink together and you take a few chugs, grateful for the liquid running down your dry throat. Whether that's from all your talking or a physical reaction to Joel, you don't know, and you're not sure you want to find out.

"Yeah, that's right," you finally say when you put your beer down half empty. Joel glances at your bottle with one raised eyebrow and half a grin on his lips, but doesn't say anything and instead motions for you to go on. "It's for the church's block party. The volunteer group, which my grandmother is a part of, is putting it together. It's supposed to be this come-together opportunity, get-to-know-your-neighbors kind of thing. I've been going around the past couple of days, seeing who wants to join and maybe offer a booth or a stall."

"Looks like you were quite successful with that." He nods at the wild stack of papers in front of you, post-its sticking out left and right and scribbles all over. You laugh and shuffle through the papers.

"It looks more than it is, but yeah, lots of people want to join, thankfully. Now that's where you come in." You pull out a numbered list and slide it over to him.

"This is everyone that wants to join. Problem is, we don't have enough booths for everyone."

Joel skims over the list, then whistles. "Phew. That's a bunch. How many of them you got stalls for?"

You pause long enough for Joel to look up from the list and notice you biting on your lip. "Umh. None of them?" Your grin is awkward and apologetic at the same time. Joel stares at you for a second, a dumbfounded expression on his face, then breaks out into a bellowing laughter. It's warm and deep and infectious and has the corners of your lips rising into a genuine grin.

"Oh, you're somethin'," he says breathlessly when he recovers from his laughing fit. "I can definitely see the relation to Lottie."

You shrug apologetically again and bite down on your bottom lip, the grin still lingering on your face. "What can I say? Persuasion runs strongly in this family."

"That so?" Joel leans back in his chair and puts his arms behind his head. Before you can help it, your gaze flickers across his across his arms, from his prominent biceps all the way down to where his torso meet his jeans. You look away quickly, but get the feeling Joel caught your stare by his smug grin. "I ain't said yes yet."

He does say yes. You come home giddy, excited by your success of rounding up participants for the block party and flustered from your hour at Joel's house.

It didn't take him long to officially agree, though you had no doubt that he would.

You also have no doubt that Joel Miller has been flirting with you.

There is even less doubt that you liked it.

You surprised yourself. By the time you wrapped your first meeting up, you asked for his number so you could reach him in case of changes or the like. Though the block party really was the main reason you required his number, you couldn't deny finding a little bit of joy in the idea of having his number in your phone. He had smiled all smugly too when you'd asked, his brows wiggling suggestively for just a second before he reached for the pen in your hand and scribbled his number down on one of your papers. "There you go, darlin'," he'd said, and you had to fight the urge very hard to bite your bottom lip at the mention of the endearing term.

It only occurs to you now that your grandma probably already has his number and you asking for his number could have come across as you flirting.

Oh.

"Honey, that you?," your grandma hollers out of the living room when you enter her home.

"Yeah Gammy, it's me," you call back and set your papers down on the side table near the front door.

"How'd it go?"

You tell her about your meeting with Joel in the most nonchalant way possible while you help her chop up veggies for dinner. She listens intently and is delighted that Joel has agreed to build the booths, but doesn't seem surprised by it either. Once you're finished with your summary, she gives you that inquisitorial look again.

"So?"

"So what, Gammy?"

"Don't fool me, honey. What'd you think?"

You keep your eyes focused on the carrot your peeling, determined not to meet her gaze. You just know she'd read everything in your eyes.

"Yeah, he's a nice man," you say, but she just tsks at you and swats your arm with her cooking spoon.

"You know damn well that's not what I asked."

"What do you want to hear then?"

The lack of reply makes you look up. Grammy is staring at you with an anything-but-pleased look on her face.

"What!," you exclaim defensively. Her response comes paired with another whack of her spoon. "He's a good man! You should give him a chance."

"Oh my god, Gammy. He has a kid." You groan, but pictures of Joel's biceps dance across the back of your mind.

"So? You're thirty-two, old enough to be a mom. 'Sides, I ain't tellin' you to marry the man, I'm just sayin' go out, have some fun."

"Oh well, in that case. If I'm not supposed to marry him."

You giggle and jump away when the spoon launches for you a third time, only narrowly missing you by a few inches.

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cathrrrine · 9 months

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Perfect / Love Won’t Die

Dominick “Sonny” Carisi x Reader • Law and Order SVU • Domestic Fluff, AFAB!Reader

Summary: Sonny happily holds the bouquet of flowers he bought for his girlfriend only for her to open the door and start crying. He immediately panics, but soon finds himself amused when she reveals the true reason for her tears. AO3

A/N: I’ve never posted any of my SVU imagines, but I had to with this one :) Happy 2024! My resolution is to post more of my work so I’m digging through all my drafts and posting them lol. Enjoy husband material Carisi <3

In all the six months you had been dating Sonny, there were never many problems that couldn’t be resolved with a simple conversation or a hug and a kiss on the cheek. As far as Sonny was concerned, it was the perfect relationship. He had gotten to know all your little habits; likes and dislikes, pet peeves, niche obsessions. Six months wasn’t exactly a super long time but it wasn’t short either. After only half a year of dating each other, he’d confidently testify that he had fallen in love with you deeply, enough to want to spend the rest of his life with you. He was happy to get married, have babies, grow old together…the whole shebang.

Things were going steady with you. He couldn’t imagine himself being with anybody else, and he was over the moon to know that you felt the samw way. Long late-night conversations about the future the two of you dreamed of revealed that you wanted him to be a part of it as much as he wanted you. Sure, Sonny was aware of how much of a (hopeless) romantic he could be sometimes, but that was in the past, and all of those relationships weren’t with the right people. His sisters had been talking his ear off ever since high school, warning him about women that would only break his heart. It made him wince just to think about all the red flags they ticked off angrily; gold-diggers, manipulators, emotionally unstable women, emotionally unavailable women…and the likes of it. That and their own broken-heart experiences that prompted very fuelled lectures of examples of men Sonny shouldn’t follow always rang in his mind, even until now.

He’d also been made well aware of how right they were about his exes with a bunch of ‘I told you so’s’ and narrowed eyes, but those relationships were in the past and he was much, much younger (and dumber) than he is now. He only had a couple of serious relationships in his adulthood, which ended up not being the right fit for either parties. Then, his love life got buried under the heavy, heavy load of police work and law school and he never found the time to make himself available in the dating pool. He was always too tired, too beat, too mentally drained. It was never a priority.

Then everything came to a stop and his whole world wouldn’t do anything but revolve around you. Sonny was smitten, like a lovesick puppy who got shot by cupid’s nuclear-powered bazooka as fate would have it.

He never felt this way about anyone in his life before, it was a feeling he relished in and was adamant on not letting go.

You were perfect.

Obviously, you had your flaws, but all only human, none of them fatal. Like how you had a habit of ordering too much food but he ends up being the one to finish it up when you realised your eyes had been bigger than your appetite — but he didn’t mind that at all, in fact he secretly loved being able to feast like a King — or how sometimes, you would arrive 10 minutes late to your dates on one of your busiest weeks, which he never complained about because he had his fair share of being unpunctual as well. Plus, you always made it up to him one way or another.

You were absolutely perfect, inside and out. Sonny thanked God everyday for sending a woman as smart, beautiful and kind as you his way. He’s never felt so lucky.

Sonny knew and loved everything about you, down to your weirdest quirks. If there was a Jeopardy! game where the topic was You, he’d be waving around his trophy like a mad man. What you didn’t tell him, he learned. It was the same way you got to know him. The two of you were always honest with each other, trust being the pillar of your relationship, it was why you got along so well. You knew how to make him happy, as he did for you.

So, why is it that you were crying as he handed you a bouquet of your favourite flowers as soon as you opened the door to your apartment?

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” His sweet smile dropped to a concerned frown, uncomfortable and nervous at your sudden reaction.

There you were in front of him, dressed in your most comfortable pair of pyjama pants and an oversized tee that he was sure once belonged to him, messy hair up that he found extremely adorable. Nothing seemed out of place, except for the fact that…well, you were crying.

He always brought you flowers. Was he late? He glanced at the clock on your wall. No…was it something he said? Something he did? Something…he totally forgot about?

“Nothing- no, everything’s fine, nothing’s wrong.” You sniffed, hugging the fresh bouquet close to your chest, dipping your nose into the floral fragrance to smell it only to find that the tears had triggered an onslaught of snot. That only made you cry more.

The bubble of nerves in Sonny’s chest was bursting at this point, he was almost worried he was having a heart attack. “Doll, you’re crying, something’s wrong.”

He held out an arm to pull you into a hug and you eagerly sunk into his embrace. You buried your face into the fabric of his suit jacket, breathing in what you could of his faded perfume. His calloused hands stroked your hair, softly caressing your head as he cradled it. He gently peeled you off of him to get a better look of your face, now red and eyes puffy from sobbing.

He held your cheeks between his palms and you pouted, looking up at him with sad doe-like eyes, and if that didn’t break his heart that he must not have one because the look on your face was shattering him in every possible way right now. One of his thumbs swiped a fresh tear off your cheek, he felt you nuzzle into his hand.

The tall blond gently led you to your couch and set the flowers down on the coffee table before cuddling up with you close to his chest. You wrapped your arms around him desperately, wanting nothing more than to be absolutely engulfed by everything Sonny — scent, skin and biceps.

“You’re killing me sweetheart, you gotta tell me what’s gotten you all upset like this.” You felt him kiss the top of your head and love bloomed in your chest immediately. “Come on, doll, what’s up?”

You sighed, big and loud, huffing away all the choked up tears with one big breath. “I swear it’s nothing. I’m so stupid.”

He was quiet for a while until you felt his voice vibrate from his chest again, “Was it…me? Did I do something wrong?”

You whipped your head to look at him, only to be greeted with a very worried expression.

Oh, Sonny. Oh, sweet heavenly innocent Sonny. How could you not love this man with every fibre of your being when he’s got that look in his eyes? The one where his pupils are so dilated, you could see your reflection in his big, blue puppy eyes.

How could you have been so careless?! Of course he’d think you were crying because of him, the sweet stupid man — God, you loved him so much. The thought only made you more emotional…and just like that the waterworks came rushing back in.

“Oh, God, Sonny-“ you hiccuped, pulling yourself away from him to put your face in your hands. “I��m so sorry- it’s not your fault at all,”

The lovesick, worried-sick man shot up next to you to pull you into his arms once again, stomach churning at the wave of emotions you were going through. He couldn’t even detective his way through this, his mind going haywire with every sniff that came from you.

“Then what is it?” He tried to keep the panic out of his voice, “Did something happen at work? Is it that asshole again?”

With what he dealt with at his job, it wasn’t out of the question for his mind to be going down that dark path, but he shoved his anger and panic down to focus on your well-being, remaining rational until you were calm.

That made you shoot up to look at him again, words tumbling out of your mouth hurriedly to curb his worries. “No, no! I’m okay, I’m absolutely fine, Todd — that ass — didn’t do anything to me, I promise you, I swear to God. And it’s not you, it’s not anything even remotely related to anything sane at all. I don’t even know why I’m getting all worked up over a bunch of random things, it’s just so—“

“Doll.” Your boyfriend’s voice pulled you out of your rambling. The loving concern that radiated off of him was enough to bring you back to your senses. Gently, he asked again. “What is it?”

You melted immediately, both embarrassed and exhausted from all the sobbing you had been doing. “I’m on my period.”

Oh.

Oh!

“I know, I’m not usually this emotionally affected but my hormones are all over the place and my TV decided to autoplay The Notebook, now I’m a mess.” You sniffed. “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have seen me like this, much less deal with me.”

It was only then that the detective noticed the TV screen, paused on Ryan Gosling’s frowning face.

He tried to stifle his amusement, but it came out in a fit of giggles, much to your dismay.

“It’s not funny.” You pouted.

“I just— I thought—“ His laughter consumed him, shoulders shaking as he held up his palms to his face and ran his fingers through his hair, uncaring of how it would mess it up. Sonny leaned back into the couch and continued to laugh with his hands over his face.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was so quiet it came out like a squeak, ashamed of how you cried like a baby in front of him. Although the two of you spent plenty times over at each other’s places and hanging out with each other, over the six months he knew you, you never had your hormones hit you this hard. It wasn’t uncommon to you, but it wasn’t a regular occurrence either, and it certainly wasn’t an event Sonny had the pleasure of experiencing…until today.

“It’s okay if you’d prefer to be at your own place right now, I totally get it. I won’t be offended in the least, okay? I’ll call you in the morning.” Some men in the past have been weirded out when this happened to you, so you weren’t lying when you said you wouldn’t be offended — it was ‘your fault’ anyway, that was what you had grown accustomed to.

But Sonny, the ever-loving and understanding guy, did not share the same view. Of course not! Raised-with-sisters, loves-his-mother, thoroughly Italian, good-Catholic-man-who-respects-women Sonny, would never in a million years ever even think about being upset with you just because your period messed with your emotions. And that’s why you weren’t sure why you were so surprised when he responded to your offer with a kiss.

This was Sonny. He would never think lowly of you because of something you couldn’t control.

“That’s crazy talk, doll.” He mumbled into the kiss, smiling as he continued to love on your lips. “I’d never leave you alone like this.”

You pulled away a bit to properly look at his face, “Really?”

This was the man your heart belonged to. You don’t know how you didn’t explode when he gave you the most charming smile that ever graced his lips.

“Really.”

Everything you were worried about solved itself into place, like sentient puzzle pieces figuring themselves out with confidence.

“You’re too good for me.”

Unabashedly, you continued to make out with your boyfriend on your couch, a newfound appreciation driving you mad with love.

“I’m only for you, babe. Don’t need anyone or anything else but you.”

———

Now that the two of you were freshened up and settled down with mugs of hot cocoa in your hands, you and Sonny were much more at ease.

There was nothing better to Sonny than to be cuddled up with his girlfriend with her head laying on his chest. You practically clung to the arm draped over your shoulder, making a nest out of his bicep for your face — which reminded him of a koala bear, but he kept that thought to himself. He was so comfortable, so happy that this was his life. His nose pressed against your hair, the scent of your shampoo reminding him of a holiday well-spent together in Mexico. Deja Vu hit him the minute he kissed your head, laughing through his nose when he remembered the events that happened just a few hours prior.

“Hey,” he nudged you with the arm you were glued to. You pulled your focus from the movie you were watching — a comedy, nothing that would make the ‘bloody demon hormones possess me’ as you put it — and raised your eyebrows curiously in response. “I’m just wonderin’…”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you cry when I gave you the flowers?”

You groaned, still somewhat embarrassed at the flurry of emotions you attacked the innocent man with. But you humoured the question anyway, “I opened the door and you were standing there, so handsome and so sickeningly charming, holding up flowers that you brought for me. You should be worried if I didn’t cry.”

“Wow,” he whistled. “I’m really that handsome, huh?”

You playfully hit him in the chest with your fist as you resumed your initial position, “Shut up.” A smirk managed to rip it’s way through your lips. “But mostly, I was crying because I was so sad that the flowers were going to die. I don’t know, just weird how my brain works on my period.”

It was a nonchalant mention, nothing big to you, but it stuck to his mind. Flowers dying made you upset. How precious was that? He catalogued the thought, filing it away for the future. The inkling of humour tempted him, though.

“So, not so much on the handsome part?”

You snorted, “Eh, I’ll give it a 60/40.”

“It should be in the news or something. ‘Guy So Handsome, Makes A Grown Woman Cry’” he gestured in the air as if there was a banner.

“How about, ‘Girl So Hormonal, Makes A Grown Man Cry With Her’?”

“Psh, I didn’t cry.”

“You so were.”

“Was not.”

You laughed, thinking he’d given it up when the sound of the movie began to fade into your hearing again.

“You should come over the precinct, tell the guys how I can make the ladies cry just by showing up at their door.”

He wore that goofy, toothy grin you were so accustomed to whenever he was joking around.

You rolled your eyes. Then decided to mess with him. “Excuse me? Ladies? Plural?”

The grin immediately wiped off of his face. “No- I meant lady, as in singular.”

“Mhmm.”

“I mean— no, that’s not what—“

“Sure, Son.” The monotonous voice you used made him sweat.

“You know you’re the only gal for me! I was just joking…hey, baby, come on, look at me…”

———

Months passed by and relationship milestones came and went. You finally met his family on month eight, and him yours. Month ten, you got a promotion at work and thankfully — not by your doing — Todd left the company. Sonny and the rest of the SVU team made a breakthrough on a case, you met his coworkers you heard so much about for the first time when he brought you along for their celebratory dinner. He was teased relentlessly for ‘keeping such a wonderful woman from us all this time’. You enjoyed the camaraderie that they shared with each other, and felt like you won a prize when they extended it to you.

Time passed by you so fast that you barely noticed it was almost a full year since you and Sonny made it official.

The day of your anniversary, he made reservations for the two of you at a fancy restaurant — Italian, of course. You reminisced the journey of your relationship together over some fine dining and a delightful bottle of wine. The ambiance, mixed with the light-headed feeling from one too many glasses of wine, only made the love you had for Sonny so much more emphasised. It was a dream, to be loved by such an amazing man, to have found your soulmate. If you weren’t at such busy points of your career, you’d literally have his babies right then and there. A couple of mini Sonny’s would do the world good, you pondered. Unbeknownst to you, the subject of your thoughts was thinking the exact same thing, only he was dreaming up a babble of mini You’s instead.

Sonny and you walked home together — he had basically moved into your apartment by now, he was finding it harder and harder to be separated from you at night. Having you next to him made him sleep better, and just generally being around you made him feel better — the two of you never made his move-in an official thing, but there was no need to. It was almost like you shared a telepathic connection. Although, Sonny being Sonny, will make the moving in an official thing whether you needed to or not. Maybe into an actual house, with a backyard and a huge kitchen and a family to raise in to make it a home. One day. Maybe even tomorrow. He’d do anything, anytime with you.

“Got you something, by the way.” He grinned, keys jangling on the doorknob as he swung it open for you.

“Sonny, you didn’t have to.” You blushed. One year together and he still had that effect on you.

“Well, I wanted to.”

While you were taking off your shoes, he used it as a distraction to take it out of the hiding spot he so carefully planned — his height being an advantage to said plan — and waddled over in his socks to where you were sitting on the couch, handing it to you once he was sat as well.

It was a daintily patterned gift bag, not too big and not too small either, with a card attached to it on the front. You carefully removed it to read his words in neat handwriting.

Happy 1 year anniversary, doll. I love you so much. You make me the luckiest man alive. My love for you will never die.

You wanted to cry, so touched by his short but undeniably sweet words. He saw how your bottom lip jutted out, the way it usually did when emotions got the best of you, and smiled to himself with a bit of pride in getting his words right.

Slowly, you pried the top of the bag open, only discovering a plastic dome. “Careful.” Your boyfriend noted.

You wondered what it was, going over all the possibilities in your head as you took it out of the bag; lava lamp, necklace, tiny bottle, lantern…only to gasp when you saw what it really was inside.

A small sphere-shaped cactus with a crown of pink flowers, placed inside a white ceramic pot with the words, ‘My love for you will never die’ engraved in cursive writing around it.

Ahhhh, here come the waterworks.

“Sonny,” your eyebrows scrunched up, lips fully pouting now. “This is the sweetest fucking gift ever.”

Your use of words didn’t go unnoticed by the smiling man, earning you a chuckle out of him. “I remember the time you cried when I brought you flowers, and you told me it was because you were sad ‘bout them dying…it’s cheesy, I know. Corny, a bit. But I thought you’d like it.”

The rising inflection of his voice gave away his nerves, but you were quick to make your appreciation known. “I do, I do! It’s just the most beautiful and thoughtful gift anyone’s ever given me. Thank you, baby. I’m- Aw…“

You choked up and he took that as his cue to pull you into his arms, careful to set the prickly plant down so you wouldn’t accidentally get hurt.

“It’s true though, my love will never die. You’re stuck with me for as long as you want me.”

“You know I’m shit at keeping plants alive, Son!” You couldn’t help the wavering in your voice, “Oh, but this is just so, so sweet. You’re just too cute for your own good.”

“Well, I was cute enough for you to accept the babbling guy who asked you out a year ago.” The giggling that followed made his blue eyes seem brighter.

“Yeah, I couldn’t say no to that face.”

You took the comfortable silence that ensued as a segue to your own offering to him, “Speaking of this cactus being put at the risk of dying, I’m gonna have to appoint someone to remind me it needs water every now and then.”

“I’m assuming that would be me?”

“Yup.” You shifted around to look through your purse. “So, I was thinking…”

Sonny narrowed his eyes at you, “Thinking…?”

You held out your palm and reached out for his, dropping a familiar weight into his hands. As soon as you pulled your hands away, the object revealed itself to be a single silver key with a brown leather strap keychain attached to the ring, ‘Det. Carisi’ engraved on one side and ‘Sonny’ on the other.

He looked up at you, meeting eager eyes that matched his own. You were practically bouncing with giddiness, excited to reach yet another milestone.

“Move in with me? Officially?”

God, you were so perfect.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

#sonny carisi #law and order svu #peter scanavino #dominick carisi #dominick sonny carisi #detective carisi #law and order svu imagine #sonny carisi x reader #carisi imagine #carisi x you #period fic

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imaginesig · 9 months

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“If they call me a slut, you know it might be worth if for once”

Lewis Hamilton x singer!reader

SMAU

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, user1, y/nhq, and 402,038 others

yourusername: my muse <3

tagged lewishamilton

lewishamilton its an honor love

user1 when will I find someone to call me love

lando.jpg your own jpg account when??

yourusername I'll stick to my day job

user2 anybody else bothered by how quickly she goes from man to man

user3 right? like I swear she's had about 7 "muses" in the past 3 years

user4 she's literally done nothing wrong?? how dare a women date more than 1 person in her life??

carlossainz55 so new music when?

Charles_leclerc the Ferrari playlist needs an update

yourusername update loading 🔄

user5 oh please be a new album!!

lewishamilton

liked by roscoovescoco, yourusername, user6, and 183,829 others

lewishamilton: race weekend with my loves

tagged: mercadesamgf1, roscoelovescoco, yourusername

landonorris interesting order

yourusername we all know Roscoe is the real star here

roscoelovescoco listen to the lady 🙌

mercadesmhf1 we love having the Hamilton family in the paddock

yourusername ahhh love to be there!!

lewishamilton 💚

georgerussell63 always a good time with these two in the house

yourusername ahhhh Georgie 🫶🫶

user1 "Georgie" 🥹😭

tmz_offical

liked by user9, user1, user3, and 937,273 others

tmz_offical: just days after the end of the season, f1 driver Lewis Hamilton is spotted out with young girlfriend Y/n L/n. The couple is notorious for keeping their privacy, making paparazzi pictures a rare instance. Click the link in our bio to see what else was taken during their night out on the town.

tagged lewishamilton, yourusername

user1 no wonder they keep private, I would too if ended up trapped in a relationship with a slut like her

user2 didn't she and Dylan O'Brian break up right before they got together? Didn't think he rebound guy would last this long

user3 I could never imagine dating someone that much older than me

user4 fr someone tell her to take it down a notch, her sluttiness is showing

User8 the one sided hate is mid boggling

user5 the negativity is DEFINING

user6 right, y'all can't stand to see a women happy, healthy, and unbothered

y/nupdates

liked by lewishamilton, user5, user9, and 749,934 more

y/nupdates: Y/n seen outside the studio with her producer after radio silence all winter!!

tagged yourusername

user1 she's cooking

user2 she's entering her reputation era I can feel it

user3 fr, after that one tmz post blows up and her comments are flooded with negativity, she locked herself away with her love, and is now seen for the first time in awhile leaving the studio

user4 I CANT HANDLE THIS RN

user5 not the slut trying for a comeback

user6 how about you lead by example? Leave and don't come back 🫶

user8 you know the records gonna slap when @/producer sprinkled her magic

user9 I need them and Taylor+Jack to release something

yourusername

liked by user5, lewishamilton, y/nhq, and 394,028 others

yourusername: "Slut!" out now on all streaming platforms!! The rest of the album, "Amor Omnia Vincit" out this Friday!

when I originally sat down to create this new album I didn't image I'd write half the songs that made the final cut, but I did. This has been a very therapeutic experience for me.

Thank you to this album, my amazing team, and my lovely muse for keeping me going in the difficult time <3

tagged: y/nhq

lewishamilton you are so Shawn Hunter coded

lewishamilton I love you dear

yourusername I love you too darling

user1 they are so domestic I'm crying 🤭😭

user2 lets all start a thread of our fav lyrics from "Slut!"

user3 "if I'm all dressed up, they might as well be looking at us" WE KNOW THIS COUPLE ALWAYS BRING FIRE FITS

user4 very obvious but "if they call me a slut, you know it might be worth it for once," just hits so hard, like this is an issue she's dealt with for so long but Lewis makes it all better bc their relationship trumps everything

user5 piggy backing off of @/user4 's reasoning, "the sticks and stones they throw froze mid air"

user6 "IN A WORLD OF BOYS HES A GENTLEMAN" 🔛🔝

user7 I'm still not very her admitting that all the negavity around her dating has affected her so bad that she told Lewis "I said it might blow up in your pretty face"

scuderiaferarri we will not apologize for the people we'll become when this drops ‼️

Charles_leclerc we've always been #1 y/n stans

lewishamilton you red fuckers can take two steps back that's my title

carlossainz55 I thought you were her muse?

lewishamilton I'm both

user8 ok possessive king

youruserame for me and me only 🥰

lewishamilton

liked by georgerussell64, your username, user1, and 789,739 others

lewishamilton: SO, SO, SO PROUD OF YOU LOVE!! Watching you work through a rough patch with such grace was beautiful. Thank you for allowing me to be apart of it and listen to these songs+more. I'll be your muse forever if you'll have me <3

tagged yourusername, y/nhq

yourusername forever and always <3

lewishamilton <3

user1 that water look very ~aquamarine~ to anyone

user2 he def knew what he was doing

lewishamilton I had a message to send 🤷🏾‍♂️

user2 LMAOOO HES SO PETTY

yourusername sassy man epidemic isn't a joke

user3 I love that she left like people wanted and wrote a whole song to shut down the hater but also put her and Lewis's relationship on the pedestal it deserves

producer such a sweet album!! Some of the best love songs out there!!

Charles_leclerc Vigilante Shit is my new pre-prix anthem

yourusername watch out @/maxverstappen1

maxverstappen this is where the dutch anthem falls silent 😔

carlossainz55 wasn't ready for Dress

yourusername but...

carlossainz55 its my fav

user4 I love that lewis posted for the whole album when Y/n didn't, but she's replying to comments in his section when he isn't

user5 they really are made for each other huh

roscoelovescoco amazing work mom!!

user5 I will never get over the mom

yourusername

liked by landonorris, Charles_leclerc, user5, and 937,039 others

yourusername: surprise!! Since this album taught me what it was like to write and create in such an intamate space with very few people/outide influence I wanted to celebrate it with 3 small shows in Monaco, London, and Ottawa!

tickets on sale at 12 pm eastern this friday, see ya then ;)

tagged y/nhq

landonorris do friends get discounts??

yourusername everyone on the grid plus any serious significant others get VIP entry courtesy of me and my team 💖😘

y/nhq we'll be reaching out soon to select the show

lilymhe you don't understand how excited this makes me!!

yourusername well I couldn’t celebrate without my girls (and their men too ig 🙄🤚)

oscarpiastri thanks a lot y/n

alexalbon anybody else feeling loved??

lewishamilton completely 🫶

user1 this will start world war 3 I can feel it

user2 this is the eras tour all over again

user3 except that was selling stadiums, these are small venues

user4 any f1 driver want to link up for a show?? you'll never have to speak to me ever again

user5 I regret to inform you babe, but I think this is the reason she said serious significant others...

user6 official tour soon?? Please mother??

yourusername oh so very soon...

lewishamilton

liked by your username, georgerussel64, landonorris, and 379,268 others

lewishamilton "got lovestruck went straight to my head" <3

tagged yourusername

user1 crying throwing up

user2 quoting her song?? that's about him?? I'll be resting my eyes on the highway if anybody needs me

user3 my toaster looks like a fun bath bomb

yourusername "got lovesick all over my bed" <3

landonorris beautiful show, beautiful couple 🧡

yourusername 🧡

scuderiaferrari maybe we're colorblind but that doesn't look like Mercedes green

mercadesamgf1 watch your back

georgerussell64 👀

georgerussell64 slayed so hard

yourusername an honor from the meme king?? I'm not worthy

yourusername

liked by Charles_leclerc, user9, lewishamilton, and 930,393 others

yourusername thank you to everyone who came out to a show this weekend!! I had a blast sining new stuff, covers, and old pieces with you all- the love I experienced was unreal!! I cannot wait to see what happens in the future 💖

To all those close to me, our relationships mean the absolute world!! Special love to Lewis who held my hand through my darkest time, showed me what a true relationship was, and gave me a perfect little boy (I love you Roscoe). Darling, its been a wonderful experience being with you <3

tagged y/nhq, landojpg

lewishamilton love you so much angel <3

georgerussell64 definitely gave me and Carmen the night of our lives!!

alexalbon the show was so amazing I almost forgot you flirted with my gf in the invitation

yourusername stay mad

lilymhe 🥵

Roscoelovescoco can I come next time??

yourusername I'll see what I can do...

landjpg thank you for photo creddits and well as the opportunity to photograph these unique shows

yourusername you didn't not dissapoint 👏👏 thank you for doing it

Charles_leclerc I had an amazing time!!!

carlossainze55 you should hear him try to speak, voice complelty gone

yourusername that's the kind of energy we all need

comments have been limited

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton smau #Lewis Hamilton x reader #mercades imagine #mercades x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 imagines #formula 1 imagines #roscoe hamilton

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roosterforme · 7 months

Text

Beer Boy and Sugar: The Second Lost Year (Bradley Bradshaw x Reader)

Part of the Lost Years series for Beer Boy and Sugar

Warnings: language, longing, angst (series fits chronologically between Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time)

Banner by @mak-32

Year Two

Bradley dropped down on his bed and started to untie his boots while Nat looked around at everything on his desk. They were both about to start flying solo now, and it was such a relief that she was advancing in the program with him. It brought him a little bit of joy every time they left the others in the dust.

"I always liked this thing," she remarked, poking his Navy desk lamp as he set his boots under his bed. "You said it was your dad's, right?"

"Yeah. Makes it vintage," he replied with a grin as he lounged back on his pillows, already thinking about dinner in the mess hall. It was hot as hell outside, especially by Rhode Island standards, and it made him miss Virginia a little bit. "Are you ready for dinner?"

She groaned. "It's too hot to go outside and walk all the way to get food. Your air conditioner works better than mine, too. Can't we just stay in here?"

His stomach growled as he said, "All I got is some protein bars and instant mac and cheese. And I'm starving."

Nat started to poke at the book he was currently reading as she said, "I'll order us a pizza."

This was something he'd never get used to, even though he considered her his best friend. She always seemed to have money from her parents, and he had basically nothing. But she continually offered to share her food with him. Bradley wasn't exactly sure what he brought to this friendship, but she seemed to enjoy having him around, so he didn't bring it up.

"Fine," he agreed.

This seemed to make her happy as she fished her phone out of her pocket. "You want your usual topping choice?"

Bradley froze with his fingers pushed back in his messy hair. At first, he always ordered his pizza that way, because that's how you liked it. Now Nat thought it was his preference. But maybe it actually was?

"Yeah," he replied softly. "Please."

Then he listened to her call it in while his thoughts drifted back to Virginia. He hadn't seen or heard from you in fourteen months, but he'd thought about you every single day. It hurt a little less now, but all the feelings were still there. He still looked at all the pictures he had saved on his phone. He thought about you when he touched himself. He still hadn't slept with anyone else since you.

"Why would you keep a differential equations notebook from UVA?" Nat mused, but he was barely listening to her as he thought about your body curled up against his while you wore his Grateful Dead shirt. "Did you even take advanced math?"

When he finally registered what she said, he sat up in his bed and saw her holding your purple notebook. The one with all the doodles and love notes in the margins, and he felt like he was back in the study room with you on his lap. The breath was knocked from his lugs as a sheet of loose, folded paper fell onto her lap, and she picked it up and started to read it out loud.

"Dear Beer Boy,

I'm bored in my calculus lecture, and I just started thinking about your bedroom door. It's still the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life. Maybe you and I could wait until the middle of the night when all of your fraternity brothers are asleep and sneak out into the hallway and-"

Bradley lunged out of bed and grabbed the note from her hand before she could see the rest. "What the fuck, Nat? That's personal!"

Her dark brown eyes were as wide as saucers as she said, "That was from her."

He knew she was kind of mystified by you, given that he only shared details of the happiest months of his adult life sparingly. She always asked for more information when he mentioned you, always wanted to know more. But Bradley felt like the magic would wear off the more he talked about you, so he always kept it brief. He also knew he wasn't going to get away with saying nothing right now.

"Yeah," he grunted, taking the purple notebook from her hands and returning the folded note to the back pages. The sight of your handwriting filled him with a deep need for you. "And this was her notebook."

Nat's voice was gentle, as if she was trying not to spook him when she asked, "Why did she like your door so much?"

Bradley closed his eyes and laughed quietly. "I painted over all the other girls' names and phone numbers. For her. Or for myself. I don't really know anymore."

Now her eyes were narrowed when he looked at her again. "'All the other girls'. Holy shit, Bradshaw. Were you some sort of fuckboy in college?"

He leaned back against his pillows again as he groaned, "Basically." He didn't really like thinking about it, because that hadn't been him for a long time now. "Before Sugar."

She took her phone out again, and Bradley desperately wished the pizza would arrive so this conversation could end. But Nat asked, "What was her last name again? I want to know exactly what she looks like."

He whispered the word, loving the feel of it on his tongue as he took his own phone out. He located the picture of him with his arm around your shoulders that Dev took the week before graduation. Your smile was too pretty, and your face was too perfect. There was a reason he had to limit himself, and the onslaught of feelings was proof of why: He wasn't over you yet.

"Here," he muttered, stretching his arm out to hand his phone to Nat, but she gasped as she looked at her own phone.

"She's gorgeous. I found her Instagram account."

"You did?" he asked, launching himself off of the bed and forcefully switching phones with her. She gasped again as she looked at the photo on his phone, but Bradley was too busy staring at the tiny thumbnail of your smiling face. Your account was set to private, but this photo must have been more recent. Your hair was styled differently, and the only thing he could process was that he felt relieved you were posing alone instead of with some other guy. He didn't want to have to put a face to that.

He thought about taking a screenshot and texting it to himself, but he couldn't. He wouldn't. And when Nat asked if he wanted her to send you a friend request, he said absolutely not. "You think I want her to know I still think about her every day? No."

Then she said, "But maybe she still thinks about you."

Bradley didn't see how that was a possibility.

The pizza finally arrived just then, and Nat stood to go get it. She gave him a cautious hug and said, "I think she would be proud of you." She left him alone with both phones in his hands, and somehow he knew it would be easier to talk about you now if he wanted to.

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

It was mind blowing. Three months ago, Chicago was freezing cold and practically encased in ice. Now it was blazing hot to the point that you couldn't get any relief unless you were inside your dorm room. It was Friday, thank goodness. Everyone in your graduate studies group wanted to go out for deep dish pizza tonight, and you had to figure out a way to stop sweating long enough to actually get dressed in something other than the shorts and tank you were wearing now.

You groaned as you carried your computer and textbooks across campus in your backpack. You had the highest grades out of all of the math graduate students, but you still took everything with you everywhere in case you had some extra time to study. But you should have left everything in your room instead on this sweltering day.

The quad was packed with tables and students participating in a career fair, but for some reason, this was where Jared asked you to meet up. Four dates with him, and you still weren't convinced it was a good idea to take things out of the friend zone. Four dates, and you still didn't really want to do anything besides kiss him. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with him, he just wasn't exactly right.

"Hey!"

As soon as you heard Jared calling out for you, your initial reaction was to hide. You were absolutely going to have to tell him you didn't want to see him anymore, and it mostly made you mad that it would probably disrupt your friend group.

"Hi," you replied as he squeezed through the crowd to get to you. And then he slipped his sweaty hand in yours, and you actually cringed. Why wasn't this what you wanted? After nearly a year, he wore you down enough that you gave it a try, but this was decidedly bad. Especially since you could picture exactly what you did want.

When you looked up at Jared's face, your gaze drifted to your left. You gasped and dropped his hand immediately. There were recruiters from the Navy. They were wearing flight suits. You caught a glimpse of wavy brown hair and a flash of dark eyes, and you were off.

Jared was calling after you as you fought through the crowd, catching glimpses here and there of broad shoulders and a handsome smile. Oh my god, he was here. Somehow, he was here. Like he'd just climbed out of your dreams and into the University of Chicago campus.

"Bradley!"

Your voice rang out, but he didn't fully turn your way. You rushed a little faster, no longer caring if you knocked someone into one of the tables.

"Bradley!"

But you stumbled as you reached the recruiters, and your smile evaporated from your lips. Tears stung at your eyes as he turned to face you, leaving your heart filled with disappointment.

"Hey, there. I'm Lieutenant Chapman," he said with a grin, and you honestly didn't know how you could have been mistaken. His eyes were hazel, and his hair was too curly, and now you were standing there feeling like you'd just broken your own heart all over again. The disappointment could smother you if you let it.

You nodded and turned away as sweat dripped down your chest and an awful feeling settled into your stomach. You made your way back through the crowd at a much slower pace with no real desire to talk to Jared, but you reached him all too soon.

"What happened?" he asked, grabbing your hand again.

You looked at the ground and tried to hide your tears as he squeezed your hand tighter. "Sorry. I thought I saw an old friend."

He just made an impatient noise and asked, "You ready to go get changed and grab some pizza with everyone else? I thought we could ditch them early and maybe go back to my room and watch a movie? And like hang out... on my bed?"

His voice was distressingly hopeful. You wanted to say no. You knew you should. But you kept your eyes fixed on the ground as you said, "Sounds good," with almost no conviction. You wanted to get past this, so you needed to actually start trying.

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

Make it stop hurting. Or don't. I don't know. They must both already know they belong together. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the rest of this series!

@beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger @cherrycola27 @sorchathered @mamachasesmayhem @attapullman @bobgasm @desert-fern @startrekfangirl2233 @shanimallina87 @sylviebell @wkndwlff @horseslovers2016 @sadpetalsstuff @schoollover @jessicab1991 @lex-winchester @bellaireland1981 @sagittarius-flowerchild @marvelouslyme96 @trickphotography2 @goldenseresinretriever @rascallyrascals @auroracaroline @nerdgirljen @redbarn1995 @theweekndhistorybook @averyhotchner @moon42flight @eli2447 @lyn-js @na-ta-sh-aa @mygyn @je-suis-prest-rachel @kcloveswrestling @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @callsign-magnolia @eternalsams @lynnestra44 @shinzowosasageyoooo @tgmreader @princessofglitterland @backupbrii @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @averyhotchner @hookslove1592 @callsigns-haze

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personasintro · 1 year

Text

Mutual Help | #34

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mature content

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 14.6k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢

"Jungkook!" It's like the sweetest melody to him, to hear her angelic voice as she falls apart underneath him and his fingers, his lips preparing kisses on her neck to coax her through an orgasm.

He pulls out his fingers out of her heat, wiping them against his sweatpants as he watches her chest heave with quickened pace. Kiko's eyes open as she smiles at Jungkook, sitting up before she delivers a kiss to his lips.

"I love you," she whispers, looking into his doe eyes while he stares at her as if he hasn't just fingered her.

He wasn't planning any of this. It happened naturally, just two of them cuddling on Jungkook's bed while they talked about their day. It started with a kiss and none of them told the other to stop. He doesn't regret it and is happy that no dark thoughts erupted in his mind while he kept his attention on the woman in front of him – his girlfriend.

It's no lie he was scared whenever they'd become more intimate, wondering if he's going to think about someone else touching her. But as soon as his lips met hers, he couldn't think about anything else but the desperation and love he feels for her. Maybe she doesn't deserve him, like you said and deep down Jungkook knows that too, but heart wants what it wants. He doesn't want to spend the rest of his life and their relationship analyzing all the things they're doing and keep happening between them.

"We don't have to go any further, if you're not ready."

Jungkook doesn't realize he's slightly frowning, letting her hands caress his chest. Embarrassingly but quite naturally, his hardened dick draws too much attention, something that's been caused by him being so close to her. Jungkook is a man, that much is certain and understandable, so it's only reasonable for him to pop up a boner. He's got his own needs and to be honest, jerking off in the shower is becoming boring and not enough.

"Are you ready?" Caring as always, Jungkook asks her as his brown eyes flicker to her own as she sucks in breath, growing emotional at how good of a man he is.

"Yes," she simply says, even though there are thousands of words she'd rather say. "But this is mostly about you, Kookie. We can wait." she smiles at him, giving him that bit of courage in case he's contemplating whether to say yes or no.

And he doesn't understand it. He doesn't understand how such a sweet girl full of love and compassion when it comes to everyone around her, especially when it comes to Jungkook, could've hurt him so much.

Jungkook asked for time and Kiko fully respects it, never doing the first move for them to grow closer like they used to be. She doesn't want to do anything Jungkook might be uncomfortable with and she'll give him as much time as he needs. No matter how much she wants to go back to how they were. And it took a long time for her to realize that maybe they will never be like they used to be.

"I don't wanna wait," he says softly, cupping her hands that are placed over his chest, stealing a kiss from her. "I wanna move further, be closer to you." he says once he slightly pulls away.

He hears her gasp, tears pooling in her eyes as she kisses him again. She reaches for his sweatpants, already ready to cup his hardened length but he shakes his head, detaching their mouths. He's met with her scared eyes, scared because she thinks she did something wrong or maybe misread the situation. Jungkook sees that and rushes to explain himself.

"I just want to feel you. I can't wait." he murmurs against her mouth, noticing how she nods and helps him undress himself.

Jungkook has always had a very fit body, has maintained it with diets and by him spending his free time in the gym, working out whenever he had the time. But ever since she had the opportunity to see him like this, Jungkook's body gained more muscles and a couple of tattoos. Seeing her gulping at the sight of his abs, he grows more confident and even smirks down at her as he takes off all of his clothes.

The couple keeps kissing, Kiko's hands touching Jungkook's body like it's the first time she ever gets to do it. When she sneakily wraps her hand around his length, he's losing it already reaching for his nightstand. She doesn't question his choice, completely understanding it by more than one reason. Jungkook notices the guilt on her face, knowing exactly why she's reacting like that. Their relationship had been so close, full of trust that they'd go bare a few times. They both would get tested every few months, just to be sure and Kiko's been taking birth control since she was a teen. The level of trust they had with each other was specimen. To see him reaching out for a condom box, even though she knows he was surely intimate with you too, reminds her that some things really changed. But can she blame him or be shocked? No. She's not. More like disappointed with herself.

"I love you." she reminds him as she watches him roll the condom down his length, his dark eyes glancing at her as he smiles.

He hovers over her, one arm holding himself not to crash her while the other one goes down to his length. "I love you too." he tells her, kissing her as he slowly enters her.

It's unbelievable how all the memories and bad feelings are gone, and all he can remember are the good times when they were connected like this countless times, proving their young love.

"Miss, with all due respect, I don't think you should drive right now." The paramedic tells you for the third time, the poor guy growing impatient and maybe slightly annoyed by your stubbornness. The other man, the driver, sitting in the driver's seat lets out a sigh behind you but decides to stay quiet. All he does is react with annoyed sighs. Asshole.

"But I'm fine," you almost whine, heart still beating from the fact you had a car accident but luckily haven't harmed anyone else. However, you're glad you're alive and made it out with a wound to your temple which isn't that bad. It hurts but not to the point you couldn't handle it. You just hit it pretty hard and it caused a small cut to pierce your skin. Luckily, there are no stitches needed.

He gently taps the bandaid that secures your wound causing you to hiss, ignoring the knowing look from the middle aged man.

By the time you've realized you're alive and very much lucky that your car didn't collide with someone else's, somebody already called an ambulance. Apparently, they have to check you even though you assured them you're fine but the blood slowly dripping down your cheek said otherwise. It's just blood, you naively thought but then agreed to let them examine you. You don't want to risk anything, but you don't think it's that serious to the point you couldn't drive. And you're lucky there hasn't been a need to call the police, since this hasn't been a fender bender situation.

"It's just a small wound." you tell him, looking at your car that's parked on the side of the road, almost mockingly staring at you while you're sitting in the ambulance.

"Yes, but you hit your head pretty hard and some symptoms of something more serious can show later. I don't advise you to drive. Look, we can get your car towed. You said it yourself that you panicked because you were shocked," Fuck you and your big mouth. In your defense, there wasn't much that you could've said instead. "I advise you to call someone to pick you up. Do you have someone you could call to come get you?"

Sighing, somewhere in the corner of your freaking stubbornness, you know the man is probably right. He has no reason to lie to you and fake his worry about you. He's a professional, probably experienced and seen countless similar situations like this one. However, you do think he's making a big deal out of this. You've been barely harmed and you haven't harmed anyone, nor damaged your car. For the sake of yourself, and maybe the fact this man has warm eyes but looks stern and is probably thinking you're some dumbass, you don't even tell him that the reason you panicked is not just the driver's fault who was stopping at a red light at the last chance. You don't mention you mainly panicked because you know your car is old and you don't feel so safe in it anymore. This, what just happened is totally your fault and you don't need anyone else to scold you for that, when you're already doing that for yourself.

"But what about my car?" you pathetically ask, trying to give him a reason to let you be and don't worry about you.

"We'll get it towed to your address. Your car is gonna be completely fine." he assures you, earning another sigh of desperation as you hug your jacket closer to yourself.

The first person that comes to your mind to save your ass is Jungkook, of course. Not only because he's usually the one getting you out of trouble (not that you get into trouble often), but he's also the only person that is probably very much awake and not getting ready for bed.

Who else would you call? Taehyung? He's probably asleep and he doesn't even own a car. Jimin is a person you can rely on, he's the actual definition of sweetheart and would come whenever you'd ask him to. But it's Monday and he works in an office, and he usually works overtime a lot. And he's too worried for his own good, you don't need him to panic as soon as you explain what happened to you. Jungkook will surely freak out too, you know how he gets whenever the subject is about you and your safety. But right now, he's the only logical solution and you're more leaning towards him, knowing that after all he's been the first person to come to your mind.

So you pull out your phone, glancing at the paramedic that tries to hide his relief of you listening to him. You purse your lips, knowing shit is about to go down once Jungkook picks up the phone. But he doesn't respond at the first try, your free hand rubbing your unharmed temple as you dial his phone number again.

This is why you didn't want to call anyone, you're just burdening someone's Monday.

Jungkook feels like a teen again. Almost as if he just lost his virginity and can brag to his friends about it, not that he has ever done that in the first place. Nor is he the type to brag about such an intimate thing to his friends. He used to be the shy type, not joining whenever the topic of girls swallowed the group of his teen friends.

This is not some kind of accomplishment but he can't help how content he feels right now. The moment they just shared was so beautiful, like all the times they made love. Jungkook has forgiven her a long time ago but to have it confirmed that he hasn't felt any bitter feelings during it, makes his heart more at ease. It has been such a special and emotional moment between the couple, only they can understand it. The sex full of tears, cries of pleasure and love, along with emotions.

His smile beams as he walks out of the bathroom, drying off his hair with a small white towel. The sound of Kiko continuing to shower in peace can be heard from the distance, until Jungkook's phone starts vibrating on the nightstand. His brows plunge into a frown in confusion, wondering who's calling this late. He walks up to it, towel still securely wrapped around his lower waist as he sees your name flashing on the screen. Along with the flower emoji you insisted on because apparently, you're a 'delicate flower' as you called yourself.

He chuckles at the memory and you without you even knowing, reaching for his phone as he doesn't hesitate to take the call.

"What's up, delicate flower?" he jokes, throwing the small towel he used for his hair over his shoulder.

"Hey, Kook," He hears you sigh, his grin dropping slightly. "Where are you?"

He's confused by the sudden question, but answers nevertheless. "Home."

"I'm sorry to bother you this late, but could you please come and pick me up?" you ask, somehow sounding pressured and tired at the same time, which only worries him more. You wouldn't call him and ask such a thing if it was something stupid. It's only after your questions he hears distant cars and Seoul's busy traffic.

"What happened? Are you okay?" he asks, already sounding alarmed. "Is it your car?"

"Yeah, something like that." The sigh leaves your mouth again, his head snapping to Kiko who walks into his bedroom already dressed in pajamas. She's smiling but once she sees Jungkook's widened eyes and features twisted in a worry, she stops and looks just as alarmed.

"Send me the address. I'll be there as soon as possible." he tells you, hearing you thanking him before you end the call.

"What happened?" Kiko asks, Jungkook already rushing towards the drawer he keeps his shirt on as he starts putting more clothes on.

"I don't know, I think Y/N is in trouble." he answers quickly, putting on boxers.

His hands move on their own, quick and rushed as he starts putting on the first thing he sees. It's no surprise he even pulls out a black sweatpants, matching the shirt he randomly picked but he could care less about the choice of color for his outfit.

"Trouble?"

"I don't know, she just wants me to pick her up but she had some issues with her car, so I guess something happened with it." he answers quickly, putting on a hood over his wet hair.

There's no time to blow dry it, even though he knows the risks of going out into such cold weather with wet hair.

"Oh my god, I hope she is fine." Kiko says worriedly, handing Jungkook his phone and wallet as he thanks her, already rushing to put on his shoes. The phone vibrates in his pocket, notifying him that you've sent him the address.

She hands him his jacket from the rack, watching him put it on messily before he snatches his car keys off the counter.

"I... don't know when I'll be back. You can go to sleep, if that's what you want... or--"

Kiko notices him rambling, knowing he's in a rush and it causes her to give him a smile, opening the front door for him. "Of course, go. Just please be careful, it's still snowing." she tells worriedly, seeing him nod almost not even present as he runs through the halfway to get into the underground garage to get his car.

It's still snowing. He knows that and maybe that's why he's so worried, remembering today's news where they'd warn the public to be especially careful. He can only hope nothing bad has happened and he'll have to hope for it, until he'll be there and see you himself.

The snow eases a bit but the cold stays, causing you to shiver while you answer the paramedic's questions about your current state. You've decided to sit on the edge of the ambulance between the open back door, so you'll know when Jungkook arrives.

"No head spinning?" he asks, seeing you spaced out for a moment as you shake your head.

You're just tired, managing your own shock while you worry what's going to happen with your car. Will you be able to drive it tomorrow? It should be fine, it was your fault for panicking, not the car's. But also your car isn't in a perfect state. However, you think you're in no position to choose because you rely on your car. You've to get to your work somehow, into the club on weekends as well. It has always been more convenient for you, in terms of distance and time, to use your car rather than public transportation. That's what bothers you the most. Still, you can't really use public transportation during weekends when you're working in a club. No matter how safe South Korea is, traveling by yourself in the middle of night isn't safe, no matter the country.

Black Mercedes stops just right behind your car, coming in a record time considering you called him less than twenty minutes ago. Jungkook walks out, hood of his hoodie draped over his hair, eyes glancing at your parked car on the side of the road before his eyes are already on the ambulance. You barely manage to notice the panic on his bare features because he's already running towards you, noticing you shivering and sitting on the edge of the ambulance.

You know how this must look and knowing Jungkook, just the sight of the ambulance is enough to tick him off.

"Oh my god, what happened?" He runs towards you, cupping your face into his hands as soon as he stops in front of you, eyes wide and filled with worry and horror. You see his eyes drop to your wound, hands delicately touching your cheeks.

"It's not as bad as this whole thing looks," you tell him, motioning with your hand around you. "It's just a scratch."

Jungkook ignores you, obviously having a different opinion about how this looks. "What happened?" He presses again, looking at the paramedic who looks relieved to finally know someone came for you, and you're not going to be that stubborn to drive on your own.

"A mere car accident, sir. No one else has been hurt and the car is undamaged, but she hit her head hard and I think it's better if she doesn't drive. At least until we're sure nothing serious will occur," The man says, Jungkook's eyes focused on him as he has a prominent scowl already plastered on his usually soft features.

You shiver, causing Jungkook to glance at you as he hugs you to his body, your arms automatically wrapping underneath his padded black and warm jacket. The paramedic informs him about your car being towed, saying something about how you agreed with it and luckily doesn't mention your stubbornness. But you barely listen to him, focusing on the warmth radiating from Jungkook's body as you feel his hands stroking your back through your own jacket.

"You're not driving that car again." Jungkook says, your brows raising as you look up at him completely thrown off before you frown.

"Excuse me?" you tell him, growing irritated by his tone and how confident he sounds. It's not any of his business and who does he think he is to tell you what to do?

"You can be glad you got out with a scratch, you could've been in a hospital in a much worse state, maybe even fighting for your own life. Fuck, Y/N, that car is not safe."

You're shocked how mad he sounds all of a sudden, the worry speaking out of him automatically. At the mention of your car not being safe you glance at the man, almost looking guilty, while he raises a brow at you while he shakes his head. Well, now he surely thinks you're a dumbass. Thanks to Jungkook and his mouth.

You glare at Jungkook but he has the audacity to harden his features, completely ignoring your silent warning. "I need a car, Jungkook." you point out through your clenched teeth, unwrapping your arms off him.

"Your life is more important than a fucking car." he almost barks at you, shaking head at your stubbornness.

"You're being dramatic." you tell him, mocking him by shaking your head.

He scoffs, clenching his jaw as he looks like a minute from fuming. You get he's worried about you, you could've predicted he'd act like this once he sees your wound and the fact the ambulance had to come. But you're tired, both physically and mentally and the last thing you need is him scolding you like a kid, even in front of the parademetic that feels the tension and decides to break it.

He clears his throat, gaining both of your and Jungkook's attention. "If there are any symptoms, head spinning, throwing up or anything else. Please, don't hesitate to go to a hospital." he informs you, even glancing at Jungkook as if he's purposely saying it to him.

You're not that stupid to overlook those symptoms if they were happening to you. No matter how much the paramedic and Jungkook think you're stubborn, you wouldn't gamble with your health like that. Everyone is making out of this whole situation a bigger deal than it is.

"Yes, thank you." you tell him, giving him a bow as you stand up, already seeing a man from the tow company approaching.

The paramedic gives the two of you one last glance and nod, shutting the back door. Once everything is settled with your car, you get into Jungkook's while you both sit in silence. He doesn't start the engine right away for some reason, but you're too busy to question it as you sigh in content at the warmth of his car.

"I'm fine, Kook," you mutter, feeling his eyes on you and as you glance at him, you see him looking at you. "I know how it looks but I'm fine."

"What happened? Was it your car?" he asks, worriedly stealing a glance at your wound.

"No, it was me. I was freaking stupid for panicking. Some idiot stopped at the red light at the last minute, I wasn't driving fast but I panicked and my car jerked off the road slightly,"

"Jesus Y/N," Jungkook groans, shutting his eyes at the mention of your car jerking off the road.

"It's not that dramatic!" you exclaim, trying to persuade him that there is no reason to be so worried and dramatic, just like you've told him.

"You could've died!" he exclaims back, his rough voice surprising you as you lean in your seat, nibbling on your bottom lip. You could've died. Okay, that's a bit dramatic, you think. "That's it, I'm lending you my car."

"Don't be ridiculous," you scoff, shaking your head at his absurdity. "You need your car."

And it's a freaking expensive car, you can't risk anything happening to it. You're not a bad driver, you really aren't. Things like what happened to you just now, can happen to anyone, even to the most skillful driver.

"I'll think of something," He sounds determined as he says it, starting the engine. "You're not driving that car again."

You scoff at that, chuckling to yourself at his determination. One of the things about Jungkook, good and bad at the same time, is how much he cares about others. He worries too much, especially when it comes to his closest friends and family. It's a very strong trait of his.

"Bold of you to assume that you can tell me what to do," you mutter, feeling a sudden pang to your chest with regret. You know he's just looking out for you, and you appreciate it with all your heart. There's no one else in this world that cares for you like Jungkook does. But you still think he's being dramatic and overprotective.

His hands around the steering wheel tighten, along with his knuckles that turn white as he tries to control himself. You know he hates nothing more than you talking back at him, something you've been always doing to prove your point.

"Look, I know you were scared and I'm so grateful you came all the way here to pick me up. But I'm alive and even though my car isn't in a perfect state, it's driving okay. I'm the one who caused this accident." you tell him softer this time, seeing his jaw still locked in place as he pokes his inner cheek with his tongue.

It's only now that you notice his wet hair, a guilt growing inside of you. He's here being worried about you, dropping everything to get you and you yell at him for being dramatic. To be fair, he kind of is dramatic and even though you realize the risk and things that could've happened, you'd rather not dwell on that too much. It doesn't do any good and now, it seems like you're holding it for both of you.

"Does it hurt?" he asks softly, pointing towards his temple to hint at your wound.

"A little," you shrug, "But I'm fine." you assure him.

Jungkook seems to be deep in thoughts for the rest of the ride, so you don't dare to start a small-talk, nor you're in the mood. You're tired and you're going to work tomorrow anyway. There's no need for you to stay home. Your car is already parked in the parking lot, a guy already from the tow company is waiting for you to give you back your keys. Once that's everything settled, Jungkook agrees to your invitation to come upstairs but you know it's only because he wants to make sure there's really nothing wrong with you. As much as Jungkook is caring and worries too much, you always make sure not to burden him even more and he knows that. You both know each other, know both's intentions and when you look at each other in the elevator, there are amused smiles on your faces. However, there are no words about it being uttered.

Once the jackets are undressed and boots taken off, the warmth of your home welcomes you as you inform Jungkook you're going to change your clothes quickly. He plops onto your couch lazily, just like he always does because he's comfortable in your home just like you're in his. Thinking about him and the time when you spent a few days at his place, you're sure Jungkook would be an amazing roommate. He loves things neat and clean while he likes to cook and take care of laundry. He's a dream man for every woman. He's also very skilled whenever it comes to man's job around the house. You'll never forget how many times Jungkook changed a light bulb for you, he's changing it whenever you need him to at this point.

When you're back, wearing much more comfortable clothes than your work ones, you find him with a phone in his hands while the screen illuminates his face. Once he sees you're back, he tucks his phone back into the pocket of his sweatpants and looks at you. You notice his hair is almost all dried while you still feel a little bit guilty that he rushed so quickly to come get you.

"What were you doing out so late anyways?" he asks, remembering that underneath your thick jacket you were wearing your work attire which could mean only one thing. You were coming out of work which you confirm with your response.

"I was driving home from work."

"So late? Aren't you usually finishing around five?" he scowls, seeing you nod as you offer him something to drink but he dismisses you with a shake of his head. "Were you working overtime again?"

"Yeah, we had a meeting with customers from Japan and it prolonged." you tell him casually, his scowl still not leaving his face.

"Junho should really stop making you overwork that much." he comments. You do agree with that statement but rather than thinking Junho is that evil guy, you know he got the reason for it.

"Well, it's a very busy season and he wants to make sure everything is settled before the holidays. We got this amazing opportunity to have some of our models to be a part of a fashion show in Japan. Thanks to you, by the way. Your pictures are perfect and caught their eyes, your pictures basically got us this deal." you tell him, and for the first time Jungkook seems to beam at your praise.

"Ah, it's nothing." he waves his hand awkwardly, growing shy all of a sudden and it makes you chuckle.

"It's not nothing, you're an amazing photographer Kook." you tell him honestly, smiling at your best friend that grins cutely as soft 'thank you' leaves his mouth, looking in his lap modestly.

Then he glances at you, his smile falling as his eyes linger on your small wound. You snicker, finding his concern both cute and overdramatic. The lightning of your tripod lamp casts over his clear skin and you silently envy him for that, knowing he keeps his skincare routine minimal. You made him put face masks stored in your bathroom more than once, the amount of funny pictures of the two of you looking ridiculous while wearing them is a decent proof of it.

As Jungkook suddenly sighs, leaning his back against the sofa's back lazily, you notice something peeking underneath his hoodie. The fresh red mark contrasts with the color of his skin. Well, you can't say you're exactly shocked to see hickey adoring his skin. Even though Jungkook doesn't mention Kiko that often, and you know it's because of your opinion about her, however, there are times he just has to mention her. Especially when you ask him how his day was and what he did, his answer usually involves three things. Work, gym and Kiko. It's not like you want him to feel like he has to stop himself from mentioning her. Yes, you're still kind of bitter when it comes to the fact he's dating her again after everything she's done, and it's not going to go away. You know you'll never truly forgive her for hurting Jungkook like that. On the other hand, you're not in a place to 'forgive' her because it's not your relationship and it's Jungkook's decision. But as a best friend and a person who loves to have their own opinion, no matter how much it is not your business, you don't like her around Jungkook.

Jungkook notices your silence, turning his head to look at you as he notices your eyes on his neck. Realization hits him like a wave, he doesn't even hesitate about what you're looking at, his eyes widening as he claps his hand around the mark.

"Ah, it's... nothing." he murmurs, cringing at his repeated sentence and voice that indicates his shock and awkwardness.

You snicker, nudging his arm. "It's a hickey, Jeon. Don't be so weird about it," you chuckle, trying to lighten up the mood especially since he seems to be almost embarrassed that you've seen that.

You and Jungkook are super close, the two of you can talk about anything. He's not a typical female best friend whom you'd talk to about typical girly topics. You're close but there are some things and topics Jungkook wouldn't be able to relate to that much, no matter how much he could try. For example, a period topic. He understands you're bitchy whenever it's that time of the month and has seen you in pain more times than you can count, but it's not a topic you bring up during casual conversations or ever. On the other hand, you're very honest with him and maybe it's because he's the closest to you out of all of your friends. He's a perfect example of a person that you can talk to about anything, and he won't be making fun of you because of it.

Jungkook is the same way. He often talks about things he's doing and things that are closer to him than to you. Stuff like gym, boxing, tattoos and video games. However, one thing Jungkook keeps private is his sexlife. He's never been that open about it, especially not like you were. You practically told him all about your sex life before the deal happened. Mutual help as he calls it. Yet, you've never been too embarrassed to talk to him about it.

Partly, him not talking about it is simply because he respects his partner and doesn't go around telling anyone how the sex is. Or his sex life in general. Maybe there were a few remarks about jerking off but he usually doesn't bring it up. He believes it's a topic that is private for him and is comfortable with not talking about it with anyone that he's not intimate with.

Glancing at his hickey, it seems like the world is laughing at you. Here you are, sexually frustrated and even got into a car accident. You want to laugh at yourself, at the absurdity of the situation.

"At least one of us is getting laid." you shrug, stating casually while trying to find at least some kind of light in this tricky situation. Even though the thought of Kiko touching him and being close to him this way again makes you want to vomit. She's beautiful, hot even but that doesn't mean her actions don't speak louder.

"Y/N!" Jungkook gasps, chuckling as he shakes his head at you.

"What? I'm just saying," you shrug again effortlessly, laying back to make yourself comfortable. "This girl has her own needs too." you joke hearing him snicker.

"How bad have you hit your head?" he asks, teasing you as he pats the top of your head as if you were a dog.

You swat his hand away, playfully glaring at him before you sigh. "Shut up, I'm just being honest." you murmur.

"Try tinder or something." Jungkook suggests, met with a raise of your brow as you disapprovingly shake your head.

"Yeah, try that for yourself," you grumble, annoyed at his teasing bunny grin. "I'm busy anyways. I don't have time to go and look around for guys. And I don't want that anyway, I want things to happen naturally. I don't wanna pressure myself that I have to find someone to date, just so I'll have a boyfriend. You know what I mean?"

Frankly, Jungkook knows what you mean. He always did.

"Of course," he murmurs, poking you in your cheek when he sees you pout which you grumble, causing him to laugh.

The two of you talk for a few minutes, Jungkook deciding to give it a night when he sees you yawning every few minutes. He doesn't forget to voice out his concern about your car, saying that you're more than capable and independent to decide on your own. But you know he would rather set your car on fire.

"I'm sorry." you tell him leaning against your front door, bidding Jungkook a goodbye as you watch his brows frown in confusion.

"Sorry about what?"

"For calling you late. I'm sure you had other plans tonight." you tell him, the hickey long hidden underneath the hoodie and his jacket.

"Don't apologize for that," he says with a frown, "I'm just glad you're okay."

And you feel how honest he is. No matter how many times you tell yourself that you don't agree with his decision, hoping he'd decided differently. You know the least thing you can do is respect it for all the things he has done for you from the beginning of your friendship.

There's only one Jungkook and you should be thankful that he's in your life, regardless of what decision the two of you have made or make.

The wound decorating, mockingly said so, your temple doesn't look better the next day. It was expected but there still had been a little hope when you woke up that it wouldn't look as bad. It turns out it looks even worse in the morning when light and sun illuminate the sky. As if it wasn't enough, there is already a bruise creating around the wound looking as if you got beaten up.

You don't care about the bruise, knowing it'll go away at some point along with the pain from the impact of yesterday night. However, you know what to expect as soon as you make it to work. Turns out you're right once again, met with countless worried and shocked expressions from your co-workers but also people you've never talked to, or never realized they work in there too. None of those expressions have been genuine and being in this industry for some time, knowing some of those people, you know they just want the latest gossip and are too curious for their own good.

By the time you come up to your floor, you lose count how many people have asked you what happened to you and faked their concern. The answer is simple and the same every time; 'Just a small accident' is what you say with a tight smile that shows your discomfort, but none of them cares. They're too nosy to be more empathic and to leave you alone.

The only person you expect to actually leave you alone and show you no interest is none other than Yoongi. As much as he proved himself to be annoying, sticking his nose where it doesn't belong (considering all the teasing about Jungkook that he's been doing), you don't actually expect him to care about your little scratch. There couldn't be anything done with it and even though you've put some concealer on the new bruise, it's still pretty much visible. The odds are not in your favor when you notice him across the room, sporting that annoyed look he has every time someone talks to him before he gets to drink all of his iced Americano. But then he looks at you, eyes slightly widening when he sees the bruise but as it came, it's gone before he excuses himself. Surely using you as an excuse not to talk to Sophia who usually needs something when she's talking to someone. You notice her annoyed expression before she walks away with an annoyed puff, smirk curling on Yoongi's lips when he hears it but is luckily turned with his back to her, so she hasn't seen it. Not that Yoongi would actually care if she had seen it.

"Clumsy much?" he jokes, walking towards you looking even more pleased when he sees your narrowed eyes in annoyance. "Did you trip over something or what?"

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at his childishness, debating whether you should strangle or just ignore him. "I had a car accident, you idiot. At least you can pretend to be concerned like everyone else in this building." you grumble at him, attentively looking at his features.

He does look surprised at the new information, surely the news hasn't made it to this floor yet. You know he perfectly understood your words and the hidden meaning behind them. He had shoulder surgery last year and everyone faked their concern about him, just like they're doing with you right now.

You watch his features twist into worry, mouth opened agape as he lets out a dramatic gasp. For a second, you're actually believing he's concerned but then he sets his mouth free and your surprise drops. "Oh my god, is the car okay?" he asks, still faking his concern.

You can't help it but find him funny, chuckling at his absurdity as you shake your head at him. "Fuck off." you tell him, seeing him giving you an amused grin.

"You good?" he asks, tone dropping as he tries to act neutral.

The little smirk appearing on your lips gets ignored by him. "Yeah, I'm good. Hurts a bit but I'm fine."

He nods almost awkwardly, clearing his throat as he looks around the room for a moment. "I'm just asking because Yejun is gone for this weekend again. So if you're not coming to your Saturday shift, you'll have to let me know so I can find someone else to replace you."

You're not sure if he just found an excuse to ask about your condition, but you don't even think about it. When it comes to Yoongi, there are moments where it's better not to overthink his actions and just let him be.

You've got more important things to deal with, like your job. Two jobs that you need and the mention of Yoongi possibly thinking you won't be coming this Saturday to work at the club, you're quick to jump into action. "No, I'm coming." you tell him, met with a puzzled look as he glances at your bruise for a second.

He looks a little baffled at your sudden appearance and the determination to come to work, but doesn't comment on it. "Don't be late." he grumbles, leaving you standing in the middle of the room as he walks away.

The rest of the week rolls quite quickly, the busyness of Junho's demands is just enough to keep you exactly that – busy. Your bruise gets even worse, having shades of red, green and yellow. It takes ten more minutes to your usual morning routine to cover at least some of it. It doesn't hurt that much and you're completely fine, which you're trying to assure Jungkook every day. That man spams you with messages every day, asking you how you're doing and bringing up his car all the time. He's too determined to lend you his car, but you're also determined to turn him down on that offer. On the other note, it's better you don't get to see him face to face, the last time he's seen you was when he came to pick you up, the night of the accident. If he saw your ugly bruise, you'd have to listen to him scolding you all over again.

Good thing he doesn't know about your car being in a car service again. It broke down in the middle of the week, leaving you with no other choice than to use public transport. That adds at least another hour to your morning routine, so not only do you have to take the time to cover your bruise, you also have to wake up earlier to get to work just in time. He'd freak out if he knew you're going off the work alone and late at night.

To say it this way – this week has been one hell of a week and despite you've been barely home, going there just to wash yourself and go to sleep, the last thing you want is to lock yourself there and be all alone. A drink sounds good now and that's why you sit on a bar stool, after changing yourself back to the clothes you came here wearing.

Yoongi looks shocked to still see you there, wondering why the hell aren't you going home when your shift has ended. It's written all over his face and he tells you exactly that, leaning against a bar with furrowed brows.

"I need a drink," you simply tell him, ordering one of the drinks that are written on the menu on the black board behind him. You recognize that drink as a popular pick amongst women that come here.

Yoongi looks a little baffled but goes to mix your drink anyways. "Aren't you driving?" he asks once he's done, passing the drink in front of you.

"Thanks," you tell him, your gratitude and politeness ignored by him as he waits for your answer. "No, my car is in a car service... again."

He's amazing at hiding his reactions when he wants to and he's even better at staying neutral, so you can't tell if he already knew about you not driving to work or not. The truth is, he didn't know. He doesn't pay you that much attention and it's not like he goes around the huge parking lot, looking for your car.

"You're going home by bus?" he asks. You fight the urge to tease him, deciding to leave it for now. It's nice to have a casual conversation, something that doesn't contain work or Jungkook's overdramatic ideas of lending you his car.

"Cab," you answer him simply, your answer followed by a shrug. "I don't feel like waiting at a bus stop in this weather late at night."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, interrupted by one of the customers as he goes back to work. You sit there with your thoughts, enjoying the drink that has hints of pineapple, vodka and something else that tastes sweet and fights the strong taste of alcohol. Yoongi is great at mixing drinks, however you let that praise to yourself and enjoy the drink instead. By the time you barely get to finish your drink, a third guy approaches you trying to buy you a drink as you politely decline. From the corner of your eyes you notice Yoongi glancing at your way, always making sure the customers aren't uncomfortable. It's something you've noticed ever since Yoongi replaced Yejun's absence. You understand why Yejun trusts his brother with his club, knowing it's in good hands while he's away.

"Listen, I'm not interested. I can buy myself a drink." you huff at the man, wondering why they keep coming when all you're wearing are a pair of jeans with a random hoodie you pulled out of your closet today. There are dozens of women wearing short and tight dresses, looking way more appealing than you and your bruise and kind of horrendous outfit.

The man huffs annoyingly, ego hurt by your somehow polite but still bitter decline of him buying you a drink. Free drink would sound nice but you know you'd never get rid of him if you agreed. He wasn't even your type.

"Damn, for a minute I thought I should step in but you got it handled." Yoongi jokes, approaching you as you hand him the empty glass and order another one.

"I got everything handled, Min," you assure him, pursing your lips in amusement as he grins and starts mixing you your second drink. You're not going to lie, it strokes your ego a little bit knowing guys are coming up to you even when you look... like this. On the other side, they all seem drunk and you know that kind of type of man. Looking for someone to sleep with tonight.

Once Yoongi hands you your second drink, he goes up to Mark and talks to him for a second. You pull your phone out of the pocket of your jeans, trying to entertain yourself for a moment by opening an Instagram app. You look at your friends' and people you follow stories, noticing Jungkook posted something too. You're not surprised at the mention of Kiko's account as he snapped a simple picture of a pizza box, captioning his Insta Story with 'pizza saturday night' with Kiko's username. Your curiosity gets the best out of you and you click onto her profile. Let's not act as if you weren't stalking her Instagram account from time to time. Well, you wouldn't call it stalking... more like observing because you're curious. Most of her pictures are of her wearing nice outfits or simple selfies showing her beauty. You notice Hoseok in some pictures too but the newest one she posted just an hour ago catches your attention right away. How could it not when it's your best friend, those doe eyes staring at you as he's biting into pizza, staring at the camera with wide eyes and teeth digging into pizza. You recognize the background as Jungkook's apartment, being there too many times not to recognize it straight away.

She simply captioned the picture with a single black heart, sparking an annoyance inside of you. Not from jealousy, but from the fact she doesn't deserve him. Do all her friends that commented on that picture or even liked it know that she cheated? They surely don't. There are only a very few people who know and it's not something to brag about.

Too interested in the picture and annoyed at Jungkook's girlfriend, you don't notice someone else approaching you until you see a movement beside you in the corner of your eyes. Yoongi plops on the bar stool next to you, shamelessly staring at your screen as you glare at him, locking the phone and stuffing it back into your pocket.

"Stalking your boyfriend, I see." he teases, causing you to glare at him again as you roll your eyes. Stalking is a bit of a strong word.

"Get lost," you grumble at him, "I wasn't stalking."

"Mhm," he hums, pouring himself a shot of vodka as you stare at him with wide eyes. Isn't he working? "The club is closing soon and I feel like you need some company. You've been more grumpy lately, more than usual actually."

Scoffing, you bite your tongue not to deny his assumption because in a way, he's right. You wouldn't say you're grumpy, or more grumpy like he said, you just have a lot on your mind. "Are you sure your company is the one I need?" you respond, taking a sip of your drink as he grins at you.

"What other option do you have?" He motions around him and you look behind you, noticing almost everyone shitfaced as the club is slowly emptying. Even the music isn't as loud as it had been before.

"Go home, so I don't have to sit here with you?" you deadpan, seeing him snorting at you as a grin makes a way to your lips. In other scenarios, if it were with a different person sitting next to you, you'd tell yourself you're rude and shouldn't have responded like that. But you also know it's Yoongi and he treats you the same way. It's just the way you both are with each other.

His own grin tells you that he's not offended, more like amused by your response.

"I'm surprised," he starts, catching your attention once again as you glance at him.

His dark hair almost touches the top of his eyes, the club lights creating shadows on his pale skin as he puts down the empty glass. When did he drink it all?

"Your best friend left quite an impression on Junho, haven't seen that in a while."

You realize, this is the first time he hasn't called Jungkook your boyfriend, but a best friend instead. Deciding it's better not to comment on that, liking that he's not calling him that or teasing you for it.

"Yeah, the pictures turned out great." you nod. There's no doubt Jungkook did an amazing job, everyone in the company knows it and Yoongi is aware of that too. And you're not saying it because Jungkook is your friend.

"I heard thanks to his pictures it got us a deal with Rakuten," Yoongi says, surprisingly sounding casually and quite impressed which is a nice change from the constant bickering and teasing the two of you don't seem to let you.

In your defense, it's not your fault. He's the one who started to be annoying, you're just looking after yourself. Even though his behavior is still irritating, pretty much sparking a new kind of irritation inside of you that you never knew you've got in the first place, it's not as bad as you thought it is and you got used to it. Still, there are times you'd rather strangle him than put up with his annoying ass.

You agree with him, saying that Jungkook is very skillful in many things, photographing being one of them. However, you refrain yourself from praising Jungkook any further, not wanting to give him another reason to think you're obsessed with your best friend or anything similarly absurd that Yoongi seems to be thinking or wanting to tease you about. Despite Yoongi's determination to call Jungkook your boyfriend, even though he surely knows that's not true, there's something telling you he's doing it to purely tease you.

Still, the credit goes mainly to Jungkook, thanks to him the models from your agency get to walk on the runway in Japan. It's the biggest talk of this week (it's even more interesting than your car accident) which you're thankful for.

"So, has the lover boy got back to his ex?"

You don't expect Yoongi to ask such a thing, nor remember the information you've told him some time ago. But then again, it just confirms the assumption about him being attentive and remembers things even if he acts like he doesn't.

"Yeah," you murmur, scrunching your nose a little bit before you can control your reaction, knowing very well he's looking at you. "He's probably getting some as we're speaking." That makes him laugh, an actual laugh leaves his mouth as he reaches over the bar for the bottle of vodka to pour himself another shot.

"You sound jealous." Yoongi comments, mistaking your reaction as you snicker under your breath.

"That he's getting some? Maybe," you admit, the alcohol getting into your head is giving you more courage and you feel more comfortable admitting such a thing in front of him. "Jealous that he got back to his ex? Nope."

Yoongi doesn't spare you a glance, frowning at the glass as he pours himself a shot but you know he's listening to you as he nods. "You do sound a little bitter about it though."

"Yeah, because she's a bitch." you almost spit, taking a sip of your drink before you can let the anger consume you knowing it's mainly the alcohol that makes you so loose-lipped.

"Is she really?" he asks, surprised, gulping the alcohol as if it's nothing and just plain water causing you to cringe. You can smell the vodka on his breath, wondering how he's not already gagging at the taste.

"Yeah, no," you answer quickly, confusing yourself as you shake your head. "I don't know," you sigh, met with Yoongi's dumbfounded look he's giving you.

Well, you do sound dumb right now but it's the confusion and your brain trying to find a way to explain it to him. You don't want to reveal such information about Kiko cheating on Jungkook. Not because you want to protect her, but because you feel sorry for Jungkook. You don't want Yoongi to acknowledge him as a guy that got cheated on. At the same time, it's not your place to tell that to anyone. It's a respectful thing to do for your best friend. Maybe if it wasn't Jungkook, you wouldn't mind that much. Hell, if it wasn't Jungkook and someone else, Jungkook would be the first person you reveal such information.

"The thing is..." you start, finishing your drink as you silently plead Yoongi for making you another one. He sighs, disappointed that you want such a thing from him when you're about to explain yourself.

Too lazy to do it himself, he calls at Mark and gives him an instruction to make you the drink, ignoring your raised brow as he stares at you, telling you to continue.

"She hurt him very badly. I don't think she deserves him." you tell him simply.

For a moment, Yoongi sits while being turned your way, waiting for you to say something else but then when he realizes that's all you wanted to say, his shoulders slouch in a mere disappointment as he gives you an unimpressed look.

"What? What did you expect?" you exclaim, laughing a little at his reaction.

"I don't know? Some juicy stuff? Just when I thought you've got something interesting to say." You know he's partly joking when the corner of his mouth twitches and he tries to hide it by looking away, but you notice it feigning a gasp.

"I'm an interesting person for your information," you clarify, pursing your lips when he gives you an amused smirk. "I am!" you exclaim, causing him to laugh as your laugh is followed right behind his.

"Okay, Ms. Interesting," he scoffs, grinning at you. "You're weird." he comments suddenly, causing you to think about it for a second.

You've never considered yourself to be weird. Okay, there are a few moments when you think you're weird but you wouldn't consider yourself as that. "I'm not weird. What do you mean?" you frown, staring at him in confusion.

Mark places the drink in front of you, smiling when you thank him as he leaves the two of you alone. You notice a lot of people already left but there are still a few people dancing on the dance floor and lingering around, too drunk to stand up and leave. Casual Saturday night.

"Well, you have a best friend that somehow became your fuck buddy, except he's not that anymore. Then he gets back to his ex and you're bitter about it, not only that. You're also bitter that his sex life is better than yours." he explains, somehow looking amused again as you see you dumbfoundedly staring in front of you as you let his words sink in.

"Okay, maybe I'm a little weird," you murmur, making him laugh as you scoff, nudging his shoulder. "Oh, shut up. Also, I'm not bitter that he got back with her. Bitter isn't the word I'd describe myself as. I think annoyed and disappointed is a better description. One, because he's my best friend and I care about him. Two, she probably isn't totally a bad person but she hurt him. Three, he's freaking stupid for letting her back into his life when he deserves better."

Your chest heaves by the time you're done, realizing that those words got out of you in an instant but fuck, does it feel good. Just the fact you told Yoongi out of all people is beyond you.

Just when you expect him to tease you about it, or comment on it somehow, he actually has something rational to say.

"Love makes people do crazy things."

"Yeah, he's like a lost puppy when it comes to her." you murmur, shaking your head at your best friend as you gulp all of your drink.

Yoongi stares at you amusingly. "What about that part of his sex life being better than yours?"

"That part," you start, "is true." you laugh at yourself.

He doesn't mock you like you expect him to. "Well, to your better sex life." he says nonchalantly, however sporting that annoying smirk as he clinks your glasses together.

You'll gladly toast to that, hoping it'll bring you at least some kind of luck.

You're not sure how much time has passed, you haven't checked nor do you care that much. Somehow, you still haven't grown tired or annoyed by Yoongi's presence and actually found it quite intriguing considering you're not in each other's hair. Maybe it's the amount of alcohol you've drank, and the mentioned substance is responsible for Yoongi being talkative more than usual. You both talk about things that don't really matter, still kind of non-personal but you consider it as a success nevertheless.

What's more shocking is the fact that the nightclub located in Itaewon is empty and already closed. It's just you and Yoongi, bonding over drinks that you've lost count. You're not that drunk, just enough to blubber while you're not sure if Yoongi is even listening to you or just acting as if he is.

You're careful not to get completely wasted, and for the first time this week you feel yourself relaxing. Yoongi seems fine too, maybe a little bit lazier than usual but maybe it's because he seems to be more relaxed. He still sticks to vodka, too lazy to make you drink again so you're left with no other choice than to do shots with him. It's your second one, the burning taste of the first one is still fresh on your tongue.

"So, are you and Mark still hooking up?" you ask after a moment of silence, remembering Mark's flushed cheeks and the noticeable shy look he was giving Yoongi the other day.

"What, you interested?" He can't help but tease you, earning the expected roll of your eyes. Is he asking about himself or Mark? Not that it matters, they both aren't exactly ugly.

"As if," you huff, "Just curious." you murmur against the class of your coke, needing a little break before taking the shot in front of you.

It's weird to be in a nightclub that's completely empty, no loud music blasting in your ears. It's kind of relaxing. You almost laugh at your thoughts, momentarily distracted from your conversation with Yoongi because he's taking his time to respond.

"No, we're not. I ended it." He decides to answer. You get the feeling he revealed something he's not sure he wanted to reveal, but he doesn't seem to be too bothered as he takes a sip of his own coke and reaches for the salted chips he pulled from one of the cabinets.

"Why?" you ask, wondering if you aren't being too nosy but you don't get that many chances to pry. And there aren't that many times you're this nosy about him and his life. You can't believe him and Mark hooked up. Not because they're both men, it's not that. Not at all. But somehow the information of Yoongi hooking up with his brother's employee is quite shocking. You're not even sure why.

"I had a feeling Mark is catching feelings, so I ended it before it could end up with a heartbreak." he explains bluntly, as if he wasn't speaking about someone's feelings. Surprisingly, rather than thinking that Yoongi is being cold it's not that thought that crosses your mind.

Despite you and Yoongi working together, you're not super close and don't consider him as your friend. He definitely doesn't consider you as his friend. Somehow the two of you always end up talking (or bickering is a more accurate word). But you think he sounds so blunt because that's who he is. He doesn't show his emotions that much and it's okay. It's hard to tell what he's thinking. And you mean by this is, that instead of thinking that he's cold towards Mark you realize that he put his feelings first. You realize he didn't want to hurt him. Yoongi's words of not wanting to date remind themselves in the back of your mind, making sense why he ended it.

"Did you tell him you're not interested in dating?" you ask, reaching for some chips too as you munch on the salty snack.

"Of course," he almost scoffs, as if you asking this question is ridiculous. "When two people are hooking up, it's bound that one of them always catches feelings sooner or later." he states, surely of his statement as you can't help but disagree.

"That's not true," you shake your head, "Me and Jungkook hooked up and none of us caught feelings."

Yoongi chuckles at that, causing you to frown. What's funny? "Either one of you did or you're both lying to yourselves."

You roll your eyes at that. Again. Another person who thinks you and Jungkook can't stay friends without being in love. To be honest, not all friends hooked up together but your situation is different. You and Jungkook are different, and you're the only ones who understand that. To other people it seems weird, sometimes you can't believe you had sex with your best friend. Many times to be exact. But then you remember when you did have sex and how it felt. And you don't regret it.

"I know it's hard to believe and hard to get through your thick head," You ignore the glare he sends your way, "But Jungkook is very much in love with his ex, well, girlfriend now. Trust me, he doesn't think of me that way or any other women at that."

He stares at you for a moment, you recognize confusion coating his dark and sharp eyes as he shakes his head with a sigh. "Then it's just a matter of time."

"Oh my god, stop," you groan, "Women and men can be friends without being in love. You sound like our friends. You guys just don't get our friendship."

"I'm not saying women and men can't be friends. Okay, maybe you aren't in love with each other. But if you had continued fucking, I'm almost certain one of you would catch feelings," He sounds determined, believing his words as you think it through.

You don't even think of Jungkook that way. It's impossible. He doesn't think of you that way and your friendship is too precious. Before you can think about it any further, you shake your head to shake them off.

"Maybe I'm wrong. I just speak out of my experience. Every person I've been with, I was always straightforward that I'm not interested in a relationship. And it always ended up with someone getting too attached."

"By someone I presume you mean the other person?" Yoongi isn't the type to get attached, especially when he's too determined to let the person he's about to hook-up to know he's not interested in anything further than sex.

"Yes," he answers, shrugging slightly. "Maybe it's just my bad luck." he tries to joke, actually mustering a tiny smile of amusement from you in return.

"Well, me and Jungkook are different. I know it sounds impossible, considering your experience but I don't think it justifies every person who hooks up with someone else. I mean... there are people who just fuck and don't fall in love." you tell him.

He thinks it through for a moment, pursing his lips slightly before he gives you a brief nod. "You're right."

"Oh my, did you just tell me I'm actually right?" you joke, nudging him slightly to his side as he sneers at you.

"Oh, shut up," he mocks you, "But, you've to admit. There aren't many best friends that fuck too. Besides, the two of you looked like a fucking couple."

"Yeah, so I heard," you chuckle. You've heard that quite often from your friends. "I guess we both were lonely. Is it weird that we're completely fine even though we fucked and were too affectionate during that time?"

Perhaps Yoongi isn't the right person to ask that, or even let him judge it in the first place, but you still voice your thoughts wanting to hear his opinion.

"Weird? Fuck yes," he chuckles, noticing the way you shift on your spot with a little frown. "But like you said, only you and him understand each other. I'm just telling you how it looked from an outer perspective."

You nod, pursing your lips in thought as silence overtakes the two of you. If you've seen two best friends suddenly kissing each other and being too touchy in public, you would think there's more between them than just friendship or them being friends with benefits. You kind of get why Yoongi thought you're dating him. No, you definitely get it.

"If he didn't get back to his ex, would you still fuck him?"

The straightforward question surprises you a bit, your mouth opening in shock as you stare at Yoongi who looks genuinely curious, as if he is testing something. Like you said, it's hard to see what he thinks.

Would you still fuck Jungkook if he haven't gotten back to Kiko? Probably. Oh, who are you kidding. Of course you fucking would. The sex with Jungkook has been a wild ride that haunts you till this day. As absurd or weird this sounds, considering Jungkook is your best friend, you wish you had at least one last chance to let him pound you. You said what you said. It definitely has something to do with your sex frustration and knowing Jungkook is a literal beast in bed doesn't help.

Fucking Kiko is probably having the sex of her life right now. It pisses you off. Couldn't Jungkook be average in bed? Does he have to be so fucking attractive? Which you always knew, but now knowing what his abs feel like under your touch or how his dick looks is something you didn't know a few months ago.

"Shamelessly, I'm saying yes," you tell him, ignoring the rush of heat that spreads on your cheeks and you hope Yoongi doesn't notice it in this dim lightning. "Just because he's fucking good in bed and it sucks he's my best friend. I shouldn't think about him this way."

"That's debatable," he muses, causing you to look at him curiously as you silently tell him to elucidate. "You shouldn't think about fucking him because he has a girlfriend. But you also can't really control it since you know what that feels like. He got his girlfriend back and what did you get from fucking him?"

"Some mind blowing orgasms," you answer immediately, too quickly as the answer spills naturally out of your mouth before you can think about it. Yoongi stares at you with a raised brow as you shrug. "I said what I said."

You're not lying though. He really gave you the best orgasms in your life. It'll be hard to compete with that with your future partner.

"You're awfully honest when you're drunk." Yoongi comments amusingly, taking a shot to hide his smirk.

"I'm not drunk, I'm slightly buzzed." Haven't you heard those words before? Weren't you the one saying them? You can't remember, it sounds awfully familiar.

"Somehow I don't think you'd thirst over your best friend if you were 'slightly buzzed'." he says, mockingly emphasizing quotes with his fingers.

"Yah, I'm not thirsting over him!" you exclaim, slapping his shoulder as he hisses at you but still has that annoying grin plastered on his lips. He's enjoying this. "Okay, maybe I am." you add quietly, letting out a dramatic sigh.

"You definitely are," he muses with pursed lips, causing you to be the one who hisses at him this time. "You need to get laid."

"You don't say," you grumble with your nose scrunched. "Are you offering?" you tease him, expecting to be met with a disgusted look on his face or his voice sounding disgusted.

However, you see him actually thinking about it. "Oh my god! Are you seriously thinking about it?" you exclaim, laughing.

"What? No!" he tries to deny, but he shifts on his spot as his facade slowly falls down. Alcohol makes him less expressionless. "So what? This guy hasn't got any action in a while." he grumbles, your eyes almost falling out of their sockets.

Not because apparently, Yoongi hasn't had sex for a while. But because he actually thought about it. Thought about you. The annoying co-worker that irritates him but is fun to tease because he's a little shit. You can't lie, your sex frustration is annoying too. Just the thought of having someone take care of you, sexually of course, is arousing.

"Are you even attracted to me?" you ask, eyes carefully observing him as a little frown of confusion is decorating your face.

"I don't know." he answers with a shrug, causing you to scoff.

"Thanks, idiot," you grumble, seeing him grin in return. You don't understand this guy. "Well, there's only one way to find out." You've no idea where this courage is coming from.

Yoongi looks at you curiously, although there's something telling you he has to at least find you a little bit attractive if he suggested such a thing.

"Kiss me." you tell him, not expecting him to give such a blunt expression. He doesn't look not at least caught off guard as he sucks in breath, looking somewhere behind you before he looks at you.

"Why should I be the first one to kiss you? Kiss me first."

You roll your eyes at his childishness. "You're such a kid," you comment, "Let's do it at the same time."

"Fine," he murmurs, straightening himself as he inches closer to you.

It's weird to look him in the eyes, seeing him up close with the thought that you're about to kiss him. However, your brain is clouded to think about the fact that this is Min Yoongi. The one and only who's been a huge pain in the ass. Alcohol heats up your body, giving you more courage to do this thing and it probably intensifies your need to feel some action.

You're not sure who kisses who first, you two somehow inch close to each other until your lips meet in an awkward peck. You almost cringe, already feeling some type of awkwardness and when you meet Yoongi's eyes, he probably thinks the same thing.

Okay, let's try it again. If it doesn't work, you'll pretend any of this didn't happen. He sees your eyes glancing at his lips, recognizing what you're about to do and he doesn't protest. The kiss is exactly that. It doesn't feel special but it's enough to light up the fire inside your stomach. It feels nice, his lips feel nice. They're a little bit chapped but so are yours from the cold weather. This time it's not a single peck, your mouths moving together.

There's a little bit of tongue and saliva while Yoongi keeps his hands to himself, touching you with nothing but his lips only. You pull him closer, hearing him groan as he presses his lips rougher to yours. Couple minutes of kissing leaves the two of you breathless, Yoongi standing up as he takes your hand and leads you somewhere. You recognize the path as a path to Yejun's office. There's no time to look around properly, you've been here once and that's when Yejun interviewed you, when Yoongi presses his lips to yours.

"So I take it, I am attractive?" you chuckle into the kiss, feeling the edge of Yejun's desk digging into your lower back.

Yoongi's hands are somehow respectfully on your hips, not letting them drop any lower.

"Anything will do," he says, going for another kiss as you pull back and nudge him in the cheek, causing his head to turn to the side slightly. "What do you want?"

"You're ruining the mood, Min," you grumble, "I don't want to do this if you're not sure or feel disgusted by me."

"You think I would kiss you if I was disgusted by you?" he asks dumbfounded. "God, women. This is why I usually hook-up with men." he grumbles, searching your face as you glare at him but there's a tiny smirk twitching in the corner of your lips.

"Don't blame me!" you exclaim, "So... you prefer women too?" you ask timidly, glancing at him who barely has any expression, simply staring at you. "Sorry, I didn't want to assume your sexuality. I just always thought... y'know..."

Considering his little comments about Jungkook, and now you finding out he used to hooking up with Mark, you somehow thought he prefers men. Well, you didn't think about it until now.

"You're doing exactly that," he grins, not offended at all even though he acts like it a little bit. "It's just been a while since I was with a woman."

You nod, biting your lower lip in thought. You're not going to lie, making out with Yoongi made the thought of enjoying this night to the fullest more appealing. Also, you're aware that if the two of you were completely sober, none of this would probably happen. You're not wasted, neither is Yoongi but you're both buzzed. You could taste the vodka on his lips, nothing too strong but the taste is there.

"You wanna continue?" you ask, tilting your head slightly.

"I think I do," he answers, "Do you?"

"Yeah," you nod, giving him a consent he's asking for before you're kissing all over again. It's not too rushed, even though there's no doubt the two of you are aroused. The pace is just fine and it feels like you're both testing the waters with each other.

Deciding it's enough of kissing, you take off your hoodie and toss on the desk behind you, ushering Yoongi to take his own too. He does, showing you his plain white shirt and buffed out chest. You feel bad for wanting to compare him to Jungkook. It's ridiculous, they've different body types. Yoongi still has his own charms. Your jeans follow next, there aren't many words said out loud, both of you taking off your jeans purposely out of one reason. To get each other off. Back in your mind you can hear yourself scolding that this is not you and you've never done this before. Sure, you hooked up with Jungkook but that's different. Maybe you weren't dating him for real, but he's always been close to you in more than one way. Yoongi isn't a stranger but still, you don't know him that well.

But why shouldn't you have fun? You both want this. You've had enough time to think about this, to make sure this is what you want and it is.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Yoongi's fingers brushing against your clothed heat, your breath hitching in your throat at the foreign but also familiar feeling. His fingers feel different, but the feeling of warmth that spreads there is familiar. He rubs you through your panties, luckily you've decided to wear your nice ones which are still kind of plain but at least there's a little lace on the edges. Both of your shirts stay on your bodies, your hands fumbling with Yoongi's belt. Your throat is dry, in desperate need to feel more.

When he hears your whimper, he tucks a finger under the hem of your panties before he looks up at you in question, seeing you nod before you desperately tell him to take them off. He does, cold air hitting your arousal but you're too distracted with pulling Yoongi's jeans down as you see his bulge in his dark blue boxers. You're not going to lie, you're pleased that he's as aroused as you're. You had your doubts though, you don't know why. It's still unbelievable that this is happening.

You cup him through his boxers hearing a soft gasp as you squeeze him. He impatiently jerks his hips into your hand, ignoring the little smirk you make sure he sees. He glares at you, rubbing your clit in circles as it's your time to gasp. He grins at you, raising a brow at you. It's better to ignore him, you think as you pull him out of his undergarments. Your throat gets dry again, too pleased with seeing an actual dick. It makes you sound as if you were a hungered woman for some dick. You're not. Just horny and sexually frustrated.

You give him a few lazy strokes, making sure you spread his pre-cum leaking from the tip over his mushroom head to make it more pleasing for him. You smirk when he groans into your neck as his breath hits your skin there. Suddenly, he drops on his knees looking up at you from the floor as you stare at him surprisingly.

He doesn't say anything, simply spreading your legs as you happily comply. You can't believe you feel an ounce of nervosity when you catch him staring at your heat. There's no doubt he sees your juices spread all over it, he could feel it when he started rubbing your clit. Somewhere back in your mind, you pat yourself for shaving this morning.

"Fuck, it's been a while since I've seen pussy." he breathes out, licking his lips as you stare with widened pupils.

"That's probably the best and only compliment you ever gave me." you muse, sitting further onto the desk as he looks up at you with a mischievous grin.

"Don't get used to it." he mutters, hands grabbing your thighs.

You don't dwell onto this too much, but his touch is more automatic. It feels nice but it's automatic and you can feel that there's no crazed and longed desire for each other. You're there to simply make each other feel good, you're aware that this won't repeat again. It's happening because of current circumstances.

"Wasn't planning to." you point out, gasping when he finally puts his mouth onto your clit.

One thing has to be said. Yoongi is freaking good at using his mouth, making you see stars as you finally feel something other than your own hand (which you've failed at) or the stupid sex toy Jungkook bought for you. It's good to feel someone else touching you. You feel his tongue lapping onto your clit and juices, tasting you. It doesn't take long for you to feel the burn between your legs and the pit of your stomach, your hands slightly nudging away Yoongi's face. It's too soon.

Yoongi looks at you, almost annoyed that you haven't allowed him to make you cum, though still glancing at you with curiosity.

"I want your fingers." you tell him, in a desperate need to feel stuffed. As much as his mouth is amazing, wondering when was the last time he's been eating out a pussy, you need to feel something inside of you. Even if it's not his dick, you've to feel at least his fingers. This way you can pleasure him too.

"Demanding stuff now, I see." he chuckles, but happily complies and stands up to his feet.

You see him licking his lips as he scoots closer to you, sucking onto your neck while you feel his fingers circling your hole. You gasp, not wanting to waste a time as you take his length into your hand and start pumping him. The first moment he enters you with his fingers is unbelievable, leaving you moaning as his dark hair rubs against your cheek, his lips busy kissing your neck. He stretches you good with his three fingers, pumping them fast as he feels you tightening around them.

"Fuck, no wonder your friend kept fucking you."

Perhaps in other situations you feel scandalized that he's bringing up Jungkook into this. Especially if your hand is wrapped around his dick and his fingers inside you. Shockingly, you're not. The thought of thinking about Jungkook in the middle of this makes you even tighter. If Yoongi notices, he doesn't call you out on it and sets an even quicker pace. You do the same thing, his pre-cum making your hand around him more comfortable as you keep jerking him off with faster pace.

Your and Yoongi's moans, along with the slick sounds coming from your heat and Yoongi's fingers, are the only sounds in Yejun's office. Oh fuck, hopefully he won't know about this. Would you get fired if he knew? Will Yoongi tell him? You shake off these thoughts, wanting to enjoy the pleasure while it lasts because you can feel the familiar burn. Chasing after your orgasm, your hand is focused on Yoongi's dick while the other one is gripping his shoulder for some support, while your hips buckle into his hand.

"Fuck, I'm coming."

Yoongi doesn't comment, already recognizing you tightening and loosening the pace of your hand as a sign over you close to the edge.

"Then come." he grunts at you, gently biting into your neck. Few more thrusts of his long and slick fingers, you're coming undone underneath them as you moan out low 'fuck'.

Yoongi slows down his pace and fucks you through your orgasm, his own hips shuttering as you're reminded of his hardened length. It pulsates, still wanting to chase his own end as you grip him harder and start jerking him off. You notice him looking down, not at your hand gripping his dick as you expect him. His eyes are focused on your heat, watching your juices and cum dripping down from your tight hole as his eyes darken. You smirk, spreading your legs wider to let him see.

"You like that?" you chuckle, getting a response in the form of a grunt.

"Fuck," he moans, his hips completely freezing as you quicken your pace knowing he's already there. "Fuck!" he groans, throwing his head back as he's cumming all over your stomach, the skin there hidden by your shirt.

His body almost falls on yours, your arms wrapping around his frame as he holds himself against the edge of the desk. "Fuck, sorry." he murmurs, clearing his throat as he straightens himself.

"What for?" you ask, letting your legs relax as a cold air hits you again.

"I ruined your shirt." he says, pointing at your shirt. You see as the fabric soaks some of his seed, still the very visible stain of his cum.

"I'm used to you guys ruining my clothes," you joke, shaking your head at him when you see him looking at you confusingly. You know what you mean, your little comment mainly amusing you as you stand up.

There's no point in going any further. You're both content with how this ended, the look in both eyes says it all as you give yourselves a nod.

"This won't be awkward between us, right?" you ask, just to be sure. Reaching for your jeans, Yoongi does the same thing as he tucks his soft length back into his boxers.

He hands you your panties, getting a casual 'thanks' from you. "Not if you make it awkward." he simply says, causing you to nod.

This is not the first time Yoongi has done something like this. He's pretty much casual about this whole thing, not looking affected by the fact he pleasured his annoying co-worker, you. You're not affected by it as you thought you'd be too. But still, you can't believe you just gave him a handjob while he ate you out and fingered you. It's better if you don't overthink this, you don't even want to.

"Okay, see you at work?" you ask, putting a hoodie over your shirt as you mentally cringe when you feel the wet fabric.

"Not to look like I'm clingy because I'm not," he starts, "But let's go in a cab together." Oh, right. He has drank so he can't drive. Even though he looks completely fine and it looks like the handjob completely has sobered him up, you both know he drank and it's not safe to risk it.

"Why?" You probably have an idea but you're genuinely curious.

"It's too late for you to go in a cab alone." he simply says, giving you a weird look that tells you 'what's the big deal?'.

Deciding it's fun to tease him, you grin at him as he stares at you dumbfoundedly. "Aw, one look at my pussy and you're worried?" you coo at him.

He doesn't look amused at all, glaring at you as he scoffs. "This is why I mainly stick to dicks." he mutters, already turning around and ready to leave.

"Yeah, because you're one of them." you say behind him, seeing him flicking you off while turned to you with his back.Your evil laugh resounds in the club while Yoongi makes sure everything is in its place and lights are turned off, while you call the two of you a cab. See? It is possible to sleep with someone and not catch any feelings, it can be strictly physical. You and Jungkook are proof of it. And now you and Yoongi are another proof of it. And you don't care what anyone else has to say about it.

#networkbangtan #ksmutclub #btswritingcafe #ficswithluv #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts au #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #mutual help #personasintro

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drdemonprince · 17 days

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i read in the comments to my last ask about "ordinary unhappiness" the idea of depression as a lack of agency and i feel like that is true? when i feel miserable and in pain, it's not because something is sad but because something is either unachievable or impossible (or at least there is the perception of it). and like i think that's what you were getting at too? this thing that drives you to keep going, this lack of satisfaction. i simply don't have anything i can give into such that i would ever even feel a lack of satisfaction. i've never had anything to give myself into and feel frustrated and perhaps sometimes successful in but instead i just envy the people who do have those things. nothing i've ever done has felt maintained a sense of emotional connectiveness in that way (positive or negative). i guess to wrap this back around to another potential talking point, i'm curious how you find that in your life? is it weird for me that nothing has ever felt worth putting myself whole ass into? idk, i find it envious you've got both writing and gay hypno fetish stuff you're able to just throw yourself into so wholly and utterly

Passion isn't inherent, it can be a choice too. I only look like I care a ton about writing and gay hypno stuff because I have deliberately chosen to pursue those passions, for many years, and cultivated a deep interest in them, anon.

When I was in my early twenties, I felt completely empty. I was a void. If you've read the first chapter of Unmasking Autism, this is the period I'm talking about in that book. I went away to graduate school (because I was good at academics, and I had some illusions about what a career in that field would do for me), but I had absolutely zero zest for the subject of psychology at that point. I had no research ideas. I read psychology books and publications purely out of obligation. I did what was required of me, but nothing additional beyond that, and I spent the rest of my time sitting at home, sometimes literally staring at the wall and crying. I had no friends or hobbies, aside from taking long, long depression walks listening to podcasts in order to fill the silence.

This was when I was at my most depressed, and my most suicidal. Just existing was a pain. I'd sob in bed at night and cry out begging for God to kill me, and I didn't even believe in God. The only thing that distracted me from my pain was a guy I was seeing, who was beautiful and very cruel and inconsistent, and I clung to him through all kinds of lies and abuse because it felt as though my happiness was located inside of him.

I had a friend that I wrote to about how miserable I was, and all the twists and turns that my horrible romance was taking. Her name was Heather. (Unlearning Shame is dedicated to her). She told me hey, you're a really good writer, did you know that? I really enjoy reading your emails, even when you're speaking about the most pitiful anguished shit, you really put it poetically and have a ton of insight. You should write more.

For a while, I ignored her. I didn't care about writing. I just wanted to get my pain out on the page because I had nobody to talk to, and oodles of time to waste. I had nothing otherwise that I felt I HAD to say. I had no PASSION. I did not feel like I was put on this earth to do anything. Other people seemed to have these drives, and I had nothing.

But then one day in a fit of depression I stopped by a bookstore right near my apartment, The Armadillo's Pillow, just to get outside of the house. I happened upon a book I had loved in high school, Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections. I took it home. I read it. It transported me for a few hours away from my pain. I went back to the book store and picked up some sci-fi. A John Varley collection, I think. I was also swept away from my suffering, even when the stories had flaws that I noticed. I was interested in the actual craft of storytelling: what worked and what didn't. And there was finally some beauty in my head instead of the usual dreariness and self-hatred and emptiness.

And so. I made the choice to write. I could have taken it or left it at that point. I didn't care about anything. Caring is a muscle that you have to flex. And when you're depressed, it can be very hard. I needed a lot of nudges from the external world and other people, to realize that I had some things I did gravitate toward, even if I didn't realize it.

All that time of course I WAS driven to write. I was churning out 5k word letters to Heather every day practically. I was reading stupid shit online. And when it was put in front of me, and I had no reason to feel guilt about not working hard enough on other things, I reached for books. But I didn't feel passion strongly under the heavy blankets of my depression. Or usually at all, really. I am a quite internally muted person whose emotions are suppressed. But they're there. Speaking to me softly. And to overcome my depression, I had to decide to listen to them instead of ignoring them all of the time, and give them kindling, and then fan them into a flame.

I started blogging regularly while I was in graduate school (right here, hello, you can check my archive dating back to 2011), and finding a reason to live. When I was writing, I felt like the world was interesting, and beautiful. It gave me new things to do. I attended literary readings and book launches all over town. I submitted work to magazines. I bought old copies of magazines and read them. I inhaled books. I listened to fiction podcasts. I joined writing groups. At first, it felt like a slog, like anything else. Doing these things, I was not "happy". But I was interested. I liked learning about the world of publishing, critiquing people's stories in my head, and commisserating with other Tumblr writers about the stuff that got featured on the Prose tag that sucked.

After YEARS of doing this, of choosing to fan my passions, it became a genuine motivation in my life. But even then? I lose track of it sometimes. I get busy, or there's no place comfy to sit and read in my apartment, and I forget that I like writing and reading for months at a time. And then I have to choose it again. It takes effort to care about something, every time.

It's the same way with hypno. I did have a fetish for this stuff all my life long. But it's a passion that people always thought was weird and gross, and that I thought was bad. I didn't tell anyone about it until my late 20's. I felt ashamed masturbating to it or looking up hypno content online. For years I snuffed out that flame of passion until I could barely feel it anymore. It wasn't until I was super depressed AGAIN in my later 20's that I took a bunch of weird off-label anti-depressant drugs under the table and had a weird dreamy headspace overtake me and make me insanely horny that I remembered how much I loved hypno, and because I was in search of an escape from my tormented brain, I sought hypnotists out.

And I had the time of my life. But I also had boring, awkward encounters, bad hook-ups, and had to do a ton of work.

My passions have drawn me out of depression because I needed them to. I had to find them, listen to them, and then give them lots of food. And it's one of the few things that a person does often have agency over, no matter how dispiriting their circumstances. You can make choices about where to put what attention you do have, in what free moments you do have. When you're on the bus or in line at the grocery store and you're thinking about how much you hate yourself, you can try to think about a story you read or a sexual fantasy you had, instead. It's a lot of work. But it's better work than the work of hating yourself, which takes a whole lot of energy and attention itself.

I hope you can find something like this for you. It doesn't really matter what it is. It can be some hobby you've always wanted to try, or something "childish" you've suppressed. Having a passion isn't like being chosen by the universe to care about something. It's not like love at first sight. Nothing fucking works like that in life. It's always work. It's always a choice you have to make, because no one else will give it to you. But there can be hints that you can follow, sometimes.

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kittencomicslol · 5 months

Text

How Gyutaro would like to cuddle

I spend an ungodly amount of time thinking about him and have so many cuddle headcanons so here we go

(Some of these were written at like 12 am in the description of literal music playlists durring my phones downtime but I did my best to spell check and make them fit)

• First off, Gyutaro would probably not be big on physical touch at first. He grew up his whole life only ever either giving his sister physical affection to keep her healthy/happy, and most physical touch he felt was abusive. So naturally relationships would be harder with him especially in the touch department.

• It will probably take months or years to get him ready to actually snuggle for hours, so work up to it!

• It would probably start off with hand holding. Gyutaro’s hands are pretty big, and usually rather cold. Even if they are a bit rough and calloused you still loved holding them even if it was just for a minute or two to help him feel comfortable.

• Like I said before it would take a while, but eventually after working up to hugs it would probably go faster after he realized how nice it was to be able to hold you.

• He will ALWAYS be a big spoon. Not just because he’s probably bigger, but for two main reasons. One being his spine, he knows it would most likely be uncomfortable and he doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable.

• He also likes being able to hold you close and have his arms wrapped around you. Gyutaro cares immensely for his loved ones and he always wants to be able to protect and or watch over them. So the same goes for you, he wants you close.

• it’s not always necessary but he also enjoys placing his chin on top of your head when he spoons you. It makes him feel closer, he likes being able to feel and smell you better to know you are close. You make him feel relaxed and comfortable.

• even if he is a demon and he doesn’t necessarily need to sleep (or maybe they just can’t?? Idk) he will lie there all night long just to make sure that you are close and safe while you rest.

• He gets nervous when you rest your head on/by his chest. Gyutaro was never upset about his looks after a certain amount of time and even took pride in how he could scare off or disgust others.

• But when he’s around people he loves he’s a bit more insecure about his deformities or different looks as shown when Daki yells at him.

• He doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable on his chest because of how skinny he is and his ribs. Even if you tell him you don’t mind, he will still internally worry. He knows it’s not his fault he can’t get any meat on his bones; but he still wishes his body was more comfortable for you.

•If there is any part of Gyutaros body he actually likes and or prefers with affection, it’s his hands.

• He has always been prone to hand holding since Ume was little and they were human in order to keep her close and safe. Hand holding lets Gyutaro know that you are close and safe, and that is something he appreciates down to an unconscious level due to his human life he had long forgotten.

• Another thing he likes is definitely how he can use them to rub your back, cup your cheeks, or pet you and run his fingers through your hair. Whichever thing you prefer, all of those are things he very much enjoys.

• He's a demon, sure, but with that spine and slouch? He gets back pain like hell and he never wants you to experience it so back rubs help him be at ease that you are comfortable.

• Cheek holding/caressing? Something he does with Daki to help her calm down and feel better when she is upset. It always helped her and even though she can be a bit bratty about touch when it’s outside of comfort or battle, he always appreciates how his hands seem to help both her and you calm down.

• He loves how comfortable you look resting your head in his palms, so please by all means if you want to do that then just tell him, he will love it!!

• Playing with your hair? He raised a little girl and still looks after her, of course he knows how to handle and care for hair. He is always super gentle, making sure to not tug on a single hair you have.

• Like stated before, Gyutatos top priorities are keeping you and Daki happy and comfortable. So if you want to be petted or have your hair played with? Consider it done.

• Speaking of hands, he LOVES yours. Making sure you are close and alive is of course one reason discussed before.

• It is no exaggeration to say Gyutaro grew up with no affection at all, the most he got was when he was parenting Daki. And becoming a demon only made those gestures more lacking.

• After getting comfortable with touch, his favorite things are when you scratch his head gently or when you run your hand along his spine.

• He doesn’t want to gross you out or make you uncomfortable with his monstrous form, but if you want too? He is more than happy to oblige.. he loves how delicate and soft your hands are, and how much care goes into you being so gentle with him. It helps him with his back feeling uncomfortable since he’s always slouching

• He knows you know he is an upper rank demon who would be fine even if you did accidentally hurt him.. yet you still did everything you could to make sure he never even felt the slightest bit of discomfort.

• His hair might be messy and dirty, so help him wash it out and brush it will you? He might complain but he does appreciate it and secretly enjoys every single second of the domestic care you give him. Such sweet and small gestures are foreign to him and make him feel so soo loved.

• He was usually the one running his hands through someone else’s hair or patting them, and it didn’t take long for him to realize he enjoyed receiving that treatment just as much as giving it.

• Gyutaro usually isn’t aware of when he scratches his skin, let alone when it bleeds. He could care less usually, as if it mattered. It would just grow back. But.. with you.. it’s different.

• Gyutaro knows how poisonous his blood is, he has seen how it harms others. Whenever you two snuggle or are even remotely close he is hyper aware of any scratching or urges.

• Even if in a situation you were immune or it didn’t hurt you, he wouldn’t want to risk it. He also wouldn’t want to risk upsetting you by getting you messy with his own blood or ruining your clothes.

• Gyutaro can and will do every little thing possible to ensure your absolute safety when he is with you.

• Despite his lack of knowledge on affection and or romance, he still has his own special ways of expressing his love.

• Just like he does with Daki, he understands that you might not understand why he does what he does or that you won’t even notice the effort he puts in. He doesn’t do it for your praise or approval (though those are things he would absolutely adore) he does it out of love and respect for you.

• He doesn’t expect any sort of praise in return since he never got any from his sister because she was too immature to ever understand how wonderful he was to her.

• But if you notice? Jeez, will he feel flattered. It will probably make him want to scratch himself since that is how he responds to overwhelming emotions. But he won’t, and you know why.

• Just a simple thank you would be enough to fluster him, knowing he made you happy and proud of him sends him over the moon.

• Some things that particularly fluster him are sudden kisses(especially on his birthmarks) and praise.

• He can’t and will never get over the weird sensation of your lips on his skin or against his own.

• You never seemed to find him disgusting, and even though he worried you might one day snap out of whatever you were in and realize how hideous he was; for the time being he enjoyed your kisses.

• Kisses on his forehead are comforting for him, kisses around his nose, mouth, cheeks and chin fluster him very much; especially if it’s targeted to his marks

• The feeling of your breath up against his neck, the way your lips trail soft little kisses up against his skin sends shivers down his spine. How did he get so lucky? He didn’t know.. but he would never want it to end

• Despite being easily flustered and or overwhelmed by kisses, he really truly does love them.

• And praise? Oh goodness..

• At first and earlier on in the relationship he usually will ignore or refuse any praise about his appearance, even if he visibly becomes flustered by the pet names of ‘pretty boy’ and ‘handsome’

• He ignores them because he knows they aren’t true; at least to him they aren’t.. and unfortunately they most likely never really will be exactly true to him. Though over time he becomes more accepting of it, finding solace and comfort in how at least you find him attractive and lovable.

• Comments about his skills and strength are not only an ego boost, but they make him giddy because it means you are watching. You pay attention to him enough to notice such intricate details about him, his fighting patterns, his skills in combat he’s so proud of that usually don’t get much positive attention.

• He also appreciates praise about his strength because he feels like it makes you feel more safe to know he can protect you. And even if you don’t particularly think that way, HE still feels more proud and confident because he knows he can protect and care for his beloved.

——————

BAHHHH RAHHH RAHHGGHHHH RAHH RAHHHHHHH!1!1!1!1!1!1!

That’s all :3

#demon slayer #gyutaro #demonslayer #gyutaro demon slayer #kimestu no yaiba #kny #gyutaro shabana #gyutaro x reader #demon slayer x reader #I LOVE HIM #i love gyutaro #he’s literally my wife #omg #fluff #fluff fanfiction #gyutaro fluff #demon slayer fluff

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biscuitdragonwithastick · 6 months

Text

Let's Just Pretend This Never Happened

Layla's been having the best sleep of her life these past few weeks. Wonder why that is...

Original on Ao3

CW: Tentacle Sex, Noncon/rape, Somnophilia, Egg Laying, Eggpreg, Oviposition, Forced Pregnancy, Unaware Victim, Public Humiliation, Semi-public Birth, Orgasmic Birth, Aphrodisiacs, AFAB Main Character

Word count: 2,089

It’s night, quiet in the little apartment. Save for the soft and groans of a woman resting peacefully unaware of what was happening in the waking world.

In her dreams, she saw men thrusting inside her. An orgy occurring over and over, all stuffing her with cum and pushing her to the edge. Outside, in her bedroom, a mess of tentacles was tediously preparing her.

This monster was currently six tentacles deep inside, large enough to fit a soda can. Not that the woman was aware. She was comfortably asleep, a soft moan leaving her lips every so once in a while in time with the unequal thrusting into her hole.

The monster was very happy with how its current victim has come along. They had spent the past few weeks slowly opening her up without her ever waking up or concerning herself with how slick and sensitive her pussy was when she did. Instead, the woman seemed to have enjoyed it’s nighttime defilement. She had woken every day this week to immediately masturbate herself dumb before going to work.

The monster had purred in delight at that. It’s victims had usually raised some level of suspicion after a while, but not her. It remembered it’s first night with her, how it was unsure she’d ever be a good fit to fill with their young. It couldn’t even fit one of its smallest tentacles inside her without constant soaking of its natural lubricant.

Now look at her, taking six of its largest, now adding a seventh. Each tentacle that thrust inside her secreted a slick liquid that left her pussy quivering for more. And tonight, more would come.

The sleeping woman moaned a bit louder and writhed in the monsters hold. It was time.

With a squelch and wet pop the tentacles retreated out of her cunt. A soft whine escaped the woman’s lips. Whatever dream she was having had turned sour with the loss.

Not to worry, the monster thought, you’ll be satiated soon enough.

The largest tentacle the monster had emerged from its squirming form, the appendage it had been preparing the woman for this whole time.

Slowly, fully soaking itself in its slimy fluids, the monster entered her once more.

The woman moaned. Legs subconsciously opening wider to accommodate such a large intrusion. She pants harder as the thick tentacle continues moving farther than any tentacle had previously.

“Ahhhh-hahhhh! Ahhh!”

She gasps, eyes squeezed shut as it comes in contact with her deepest region. The prize the monster had sought after for so long: Her womb.

It presses further, deeper. Its tapered end pushing inside and working its way inwards. The lubricant gushing out and preventing the woman from feeling anything but sudden pressure and fullness.

“Ahhhhh-haaaaaa-hmmm. Mmmmm”

The monster takes a break to let the woman calm down. She was softly moaning and twisting her body, still asleep but close to release. It would be a shame if all this work was ruined now.

With an inhuman grunt, a series round orbs begin to make their way through the tentacle and into her cunt. Eggs. Their round bodies could be seen disappearing inside her and slowly protruding her abdomen. Pushing each other around to make room inside her womb. The monster lost count after a dozen went inside, but the woman takes them all.

She’s moaning desperately despite it all, on the edge of release. Her pussy quivering in time with each egg pushing inside, but unable to get the sensation just right in order to cum.

Maybe if the monster stayed longer and played with her cunt some more it could maker her cum. But alas, that’s not why it was here and morning was soon to arrive.

When the last of it eggs had pushed inside, it retreated its ovipositor. The monster was saddened that it would be unable to see its offspring emerge into the world, but content to know they would come out safely far from here.

The monster quirts a bit more of its juice on her pussy, just as a last second treat, and exits the apartment through her open window. Leaving the woman dripping in it’s slick and completely unaware of what had happened or what was in store for her.

The following afternoon, we now see our victim working in the office. Her actual name is Layla and she’s still pondering how strange her morning was. First, she had the most intensely pleasurable dream of her life. It had left her breathless and a shaking mess when she woke, but she hadn’t actually cum. Or at least, she hadn’t think she had. The slick mess between her legs proved that she had at least been overwhelmingly aroused that much was certain.

This sort of wake up had been happening to her for about almost a month now. These lewd dreams she had never had before and sudden need to get off had been so strange.

Layla bit her lip, despite how off putting this change in her “routine” had been, she couldn’t deny that it wasn’t unwelcome. The only difference this morning had been in comparison to previously was the sudden weight she felt in her stomach -err, abdominal area.

She wasn’t quite sure what to call it, but looking in the bathroom mirror that morning had proven she had gained a considerable amount of weight seemingly overnight. Luckily, this was a more casual office and she was allowed to wear a nice cardigan sweater to cover the swell. Everyone in the office had noted the change from her usual attire and had complimented her accordingly.

Layla’s cheeks burned. She wasn’t used to that kind of attention. Or any really. Quentin at the front desk had given her a special look along with his compliment. Almost perusing her body for some fantasy later. Layla shook her head at such thoughts. Quentin was far too nice and professional to be thinking like that. She was just becoming to horny for her own good. The hot pulse in her pussy agreed.

Layla squeaked at that. She could feel a bit of slick forming through her panties, her arousal seemingly increasing out of nowhere. A lurch of her newly swollen abdomen and thrumming heat told Layla she needed to make her scarce, fast.

Layla quickly and as quietly as possible got up to head towards the bathroom. Maybe her lewd mornings were making there way towards her afternoons. Maybe she just needed to quietly touch herself in the bathroom. Hoping nobody would hear her. Or walk in. Forcefully spread her open and pound her needy cunt until she begged for released.

Another surge of pleasure rushed through her, this time a yelp escaped her lips. Legs knowcked together and she had to press her hand against a nearby wall to stay upright. Her pussy was so wet right now, she didn’t think she could make it to the bathroom.

Layla scanned the area quickly, there! An empty meeting room. It didn’t have any windows and she’d be able to lock the door. Perfect. All she had to do was—“Layla are you alright dear?”

Layla turned. Mrs. Baker. Old, kind, sweet, Mrs. Baker was currently Layla’s only obstacle to getting to safety.

“Umm, I-I—” Layla stammered, another pulse of heat moved through her and se stepped back. She needed to get away before she made a fool of herself.

“You look terrible. You’re shaking like a leaf.” Mrs. Baker took hold of Layla’s hand. “And you have a fever! You need to sit down before you pass out.”

I-Mrs.Baker, I need to-“ Before Layla could even begin to explain herself her eyes turned glassy. Her pussy quaked and her head tilted back. A euphoria of pleasure washed through her and she felt a pop something inside herself seemingly released.

When Layla came back to herself, she could only assume the depraved noises that came out of her mouth as she saw the look of shock on her colleagues face. On everyone’s faces.

Layla turned and ran straight to the meeting room, locking the door behind her. Damn trying to explain herself. She needed to get her pants off now.

Layla plopped herself down on the floor, quickly flinging her pants off and surprised to find how wet they were. More surprisingly she felt a sudden lurch and squirming within her abdomen.

“Ahh!”

A cramp squeezed through her. What’s happening to me?! Layla’s thoughts screamed. But, soon another blissful euphoria pulsed through her and she felt as something exited her womb.

“Ohhhh-hmmpppph” Layla stuff her cardigan into her mouth hoping to muffle her pleasurable noises. This next cramp was far more pleasurable than the last. But now she realized they weren’t cramps, they were contractions. She was giving birth.

Knock! Knock! Knock! “Layla are you in there? Are you alright?”

Oh god no! Layla squeezed her eyes shut and spread her legs. The contractions were in full force now, each bringing her so close to orgasm. She could feel the squirming creature within making it way through her cunt slimily clawing its way out.

Her body shook and her thrust back in the full force of an orgasm as the creature pushed out of her pussy. Layla breathed heavily and only had a second to see what had come out of her before another contraction overtook her mind.

What she saw was an amalgamation of tentacles and slime no discernible features otherwise. It’s body had pulsed in colorful light that made it hard to actually discern what it was. Figuring out what she was giving birth to could wait. Birthing one of these monstrosities seemed to have made room for the rest to come out.

Pleasurable agony wrecked through Layla’s body as the “babies” moved through. Plopping out of her in a sickening squelch. She had tried to keep count of how many, she really had. But every time one exited her mind became numb to everything around her as another orgasm overtook her.

By the time it was over Layla was no longer upright against a wall, but tumped over on the ground, twitching in the aftershocks of seemingly endless orgasm. As Layla slowly came back to herself, she felt her pussy gape, trying to close around nothing, and the small puddle of drool that had formed under her face.

When she finally got up to look around, she was shocked to see that the monsters she had just gave birth to, were gone. Not a trace of what she went through was left, save for soaked through clothes.

Bang! Bang! Bang! “Layla! We found the keys to the room! If you don’t answer right this second we’re coming in whether you like it or not!”

Whatever trance Layla was stuck seemed to snap at that. She quickly put her clothes back on and opened the door to the faces of her concerned colleagues.

She spent the next few minutes in a daze as each of them questioned her and tried to figure out what just happened. It was her boss, Cara Miller, that ushered her away and into her office.

“I don’t know what happened today, but I think you should take some mental health leave.” She said in a calm manner. “And when you come back, we’ll all pretend this never happened, okay?”

Layla could only quietly agree and left to take her leave. She was only thankful for the fact that due to her tear stained eyeliner and muffled cries, the only thing any one could come up with was that she had mental breakdown in the office. Who could possibly come up with the real reason she had locked herself in an empty meeting room for twenty minutes.

It was long after the day had ended. Layla had long left the office, snug and safe in her apartment. Cara, her boss, was still working though.

The whole ordeal with Layla today had left everyone shook. She didn't blame them, of course. But they were behind and she needed to pick up the slack. That how Cara found herself in the office, blissfully unaware as a small slimy creature crawled its way towards her.

The liquid it secreted was different than that of its adult form, only numbing flesh it touched. This was important to be aware of as Cara never felt the thing as it crawled up her leg and inside her pussy. Sneaking safely inside her womb to release at a later date.

#monsterfucker #monster breeding #terato #eggpreg #monster fucker #ovipositor #tentacles #somno #cnc somno #somno breeding #orgasmic birth #pregnancy kink #Biscuit Ao3 Fics

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xan-izme · 1 year

Text

Dubble Life (ACTSV x reader x Batfam) 4

Summary: Reader made a promise to never let Spider-Woman out. Knowing the dangers of putting that mask on. Reader is starting off fresh now, and they will be damned if anyone tries to have you pull that mask down your face again.

Part 3 Part 5

TW: break downs, mentions of past trauma, mentions of mental health

"Just listen to me!" Gwen was following you as you were still franticly searching for Damian.

"Bug off Gwen. Don't need the society's shit right now." You spoke harshly. Gwen sighed as she watched your stressed expression switch between worry and frustration.

Gwen stopped and spoke. "I know your probably still hurting. But New York needs Spider Woman. Your uncle and Miles can't hold Brooklyn down forever." You paused and turned your head to the blonde.

"More anomalies are showing up. The Prowlers aren't fit to control them. If this keeps up, who knows what will happen." Gwen was staring at you with those big blue eyes of her's.

You always used to like looking into Gwen's eyes. Her eyes always held this kind of sadness in them, sadness you and her connected with. But no, you see no connection. At least not the same as before.

". . .I'm sorry Gwendy. But I don't have time for this."

You made sure the coast was clear before shooting a web to a nearby building and land in an alleyway.

After nearly two hours of searching for Damian and nearly having a break down. Alfred was able to find you and inform you that Damian was safe and was currently with Bruce. Damian had wanted to stay with Bruce. And you decided to go back to the manor.

"Don't do that again Damian. You can't just leave your sister like that." Bruce scolded his son for making you worry. Knowing you must have been freaking out with the way he had disappeared. Damian sighed.

"If she's cross with me, then I'll tell her I went back for this." Damian lifted up an album. Bruce frowns in confusion. Because how the hell is a Boney M album going to calm you down?

"Lady Y/n. Is there anything you need before-"

"No Alfred! I just need some rest; I'll be in my room." You rushed up the stairs. And slammed your room door.

You finally took a seat on your bed. A second passed, and your breathing started to pick up, a minute passed, and your eyes began to sting from the incoming tears that seem to build up until your eyes couldn't hold them any longer, letting the tear drops fall.

It wasn't long till you became a sobbing mess.

it was too much. Emotions you didn't know were still in you started to burst out of control. You were a crying mess.

Why?

Were you stressed?

Or is it that you miss your family back in New York?

Were you upset seeing Gwen? Was seeing her bring back memories that you didn't want to see? Memories of people you don't want to remember?

No. . . that's not it, is it.

It was what happened with Damian. How he let your hand go, and just disappeared. It's funny, you don't really like the boy. Well, his attuited is what you distaste the most. But you were crying, because you thought you almost lost him.

You were scared you almost let someone who was your blood, your kin, die.

What a silly thought. Don't be thinking these things. Suck it up, you keep doing this and let these feelings show to the family. They won't be happy. If they aren't happy because you're not happy. You'll ruin the mood.

So, suck it up, you thought to yourself. Forget those silly thoughts, forget that knot you feel in your chest. Because your Y/n Morals- . . . Wayne. Y/n Wayne.

And this family, this manor. Is your fresh start. Your new beginning. And in order to make sure this new life of yours is to keep them safe. Make sure Spider-woman is never involved in their lives. Make sure they live.

Hours passed. There was no dinner time tonight. Which you were thankful for. You washed up and got yourself ready for bed.

Your phone began to ring. You stared at the contact number.

Miles👾

You took in a shaky breath and answered the call.

"Hey. . .you good?"

You smiled in relief from hearing your cousins voice.

"Yea. . . did you need something? Is Tia Rio, okay?" You questioned. Worried by the way Miles spoke.

"No- I mean yes! yes Mami's alright, It just . . ."

Your eyes squint, getting curies, and a little worried as to what was the matter.

"Just what?" Your voice seemed to have snapped Miles out of whatever train of thought he had.

"One of those people, a woman. Jess, she said her name was. She stopped by here. Saying she had a package for you."

You felt your heart stop for a second. Why the hell was Jess there.?

"A-and I heard her talking to dad. She claimed she was a doctor you and your mom used to go to. Sis, she was saying some shit bout you being mentally ill. And it looks like Dad and Mami bought it."

You began cussing at whatever caused this to happen.

"I just wanted to give you a heads up. Mami's going to drop off the package tomorrow at noon. She'll most likely bring it up to Bruce."

You sighed. You can handle this. You just have to observe, be patent and don't jump too early. Make sure to make the right moves. One wrong move, especially in front of Tia Rio. It's game over.

"Thanks bro. Goodnight, love you." You say as you lean on your desk. Your posture made it clear that you were absolutely exhausted for the day.

"Love you too. Good luck."

Miles hung up and you were once again alone with the silence in your room. You grabbed a CD and popped it in the CD player. You had to keep yourself distracted.

You needed to be distant from those silly thoughts. But don't float away now, you have to plan on how things are going to be tomorrow.

You want to jump and go straight into why in the hell did Jessica Drew go to Miles's house. A place you had made clear was off limits. You had informed Jess and Peter B that the places where your family is, are off-limits. Meaning Uncle Aarons apartment, Miles's apartment and the Wayne Manor in Gotham.

But for now, focus on the challenges that are in front of you now.

The next day came around. Damian had apologized and gave you a album as an apology.

You ended up forcing him to watch a horrible rom com just to get something out of it. And you did.

"That was stupid, and I'm never doing this again."

You laughed at Damian's words. The boy was truly fun to watch. A second past before you two heard a knock. You both look at the doorway to see Alfred.

"Lady Y/n. Your aunt is here to see you." The man said.

You began to mentally prepare yourself as you stood up and walked off to your room, that was where Alfred led Rio to wait for you.

As Rio was waiting for you. She took a look at your room. Your books were organized on the bookshelf. Pictures of you and Miles when you two were younger on the walls. One picture was on your nightstand. It was of her sister, your mother.

Rio didn't know you were seeing a therapist. Well, after what happened with that friend of yours a few years back. You did need it.

You just seemed so happy, even after that incident. But Rio now knows that you were only so happy because of your mother. After she died, Rio hasn't heard your laugh in a while.

The door to your room opened. You smiled, walking towards Rio with a smile.

Rio hugged you tight. She pulled away and saw how tired you look. She cups your face in worry.

"Oh, my baby. You look tired, have you been sleeping? Are you eating well? How about Bruce? Is he being good to you? I sware if he is not-" You chuckled and held both of her hands and kept them close to you.

"I'm okay, Bruce is nice. He's been spoiling me actually."

Rio calmed down and nods "And sleep? Hija mía, parece que no has dormido."

"Ah, I fell behind my studies last week and have been working to catch up. Don't worry I'm good now. My grades are safe!"

Rio smiled and sighed in relief. "I came here to drop this off. Your Therapist, Mrs. Drew?" Rio took out a box that was a size of a jewelry box. You took it and set it down on your nightstand.

"Honey is-. . ." You waited for what Rio was going to say. Was she going to ask about that 'theripist' of yours? Whatever Jess said, it seems to have made Rio upset.

"Is Bruce here? I need to speak to him."

You sighed and shook your head "Sorry, he's still at work." Rio nods and just smiled again as she gave your hand a squeeze before letting go. You and Rio went downstairs so you could walk her to her car.

"Oh! I almost forgot to tell you. Your uncle has got a new position now. He's going to be captain!" Rio smiled widely as she told you news.

You smiled and grabbed her hand. You kissed the back of her hand gave it a tight squeeze "Thats amazing"

You were spacing out. It looked like you were staring at something but thinking of nothing. But you were thinking of a lot of things. You wanted to live peacefully. Is that selfish?

Being Spider-Woman was amazing. You felt strong, felt like you could overcome anything that came your way. And protect loved ones made you feel safe. Knowing that you could protect them, made you feel safe.

But after your mother. After finding out the truth from Miguel. You didn't feel safe, you no longer felt like you could keep your loved ones or anyone around you safe. Not when you have that mask on.

So, you gave up the mask, made sure that without a Spider woman in your universe, things wouldn't go to hell. But every time, every time you thought things were okay, thought that everyone was safe from Spider Woman. The society keeps coming to ruin it. You had to find a way to stop them.

"Y/n? Hello?"

You snapped out of your train of thought. "Huh? Oh, sorry Damian, what were you saying?" You leaned in on your palm and gave your brother a smile.

"Movie. I'm bored." The boy bluntly said. You paused and began to process what he said. You smiled warmly and walked with Damian to the screen room.

You swear to all the gods, you won't let the mask take what you have left.

#atsv x reader #miles morales #miguel o'hara #mental health #gwen spiderverse #batfam x batsis #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #x daughter!reader #damian wayne #dick grayson #rio morales #alfred pennyworth #slight angst

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babyjakes · 9 months

Text

lock them out and throw a feast.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | food play

pairing | soft!dark!curtis everett x front-ender!reader

warnings | soft!dark!curtis. non-con. crying. restraints. use of gag. fingering. minimal dialogue (curtis is a quiet guy.) oral (f receiving) with plenty of clit focus. messy food play (a whole bakery's worth of sweets.) forced orgasm. squirting. implied multiple (forced) orgasms. written in 3rd person for some reason. showered!curtis :D

word count | 1,698

an | my snowpiercer knowledge is soooooo rusty i haven't watched the movie in years. this is kind of written in a universe where curtis and his rebellion were able to take over the engine. he picks out a pretty little front-ender as his reward and throws himself a feast... anyway, please ignore any details that might not align with the movie plot. this fic is dedicated to my sweet precious wonderful somny @onsunnyside, she isn't active much these days but of course i wanted to write her a kinkmas piece still, she is so special to me. and i know she loves curtis, so this felt like the perfect opportunity. love you, sonson<33 hope you're well and having happy holidays!

Everything was just the way he ordered it. An empty car all to himself, with both exits locked, dark curtains drawn. Lights dimmed, just bright enough to see through the stilled air. One shining down stronger than the rest in the center of the room, illuminating his long-awaited bounty. His final reward. His feast, fit for a king.

The moment he had laid eyes on her, cowering and weeping as her family's luxury quarters were broken into, he knew she was his endgame. He promised himself he'd have his way with her once he made it to the engine and overthrew the elite. Now that the hard work was done, it was time for him to revel in his victories. And there was no better way to do that, he had decided, than to feed the hunger that had been eating away at him for as long as he could remember.

He stood back in the shadows for the longest time, just taking in the glorious scene before him. Sucking in a strained breath, he pressed a tentative hand over the bulge in his pants. They were new; everything on him was. As his trusted second-in-commands were preparing his private car, Curtis had disappeared to care for himself and his body for the first time in seventeen years. He had a long, tedious shower, taking his time to remove nearly two decades of filth from his tattered body. Once he was clean, he had first choice from an entire car full of clothing- everything brand new. He remained modest with his choices. All the glitz and glam of the elite had no appeal to him.

Taking a step forward, he let his dark brown overcoat fall to the floor, leaving him in the simple gray t-shirt and utility trousers he had claimed earlier. Biting his lip, he pried his hand from his raging hard-on. He would relieve himself, in time. For now, he wanted to savor every moment he spent building up to that release.

Her quiet whimpers were the loudest thing in the room, accompanied by the low rumbling of the train's machinery in the background. Her crystalline tears only made her more beautiful, Curtis thought to himself. There was something so exquisite about her agonized expression; it didn't matter how wrong or cruel this was. He had given it all, risked his life for that damn train. This was his; he had earned it. He would allow himself that.

His men had done a fine job with the setup. She was as captivating as he had dreamt for all those years- no, she was better. Her body sprawled out elegantly over the smooth oak finish of the table below her, tied to the corners by her wrists and ankles, she was nothing more than a piece of meat to be feasted on, a meal to be devoured. And Curtis hadn't had a proper meal in years. The rest of the table's surface was covered in all the sweets and confectionaries his subordinates could find. Ripe fruits, delicate cakes and pastries, bowls of thick chocolates and creams- and to top it all off, his main course had been decorated lavishly to the likings of the delicacies surrounding her. Her most sensitive places had been drizzled and dipped, sprinkled and powdered, making her the most divine-looking creature the man had ever seen.

He took another step forward, surveying her as a vulture would its prey. Her dewy eyes peered up fearfully at him as he slowly approached the side of the table. Voice slightly hoarse from all her crying and struggling, she whined weakly through the thick cloth gag secured snugly between her chocolate-smeared lips.

"Shhhh," Curtis breathed out, the steadiness of his voice and posture such a stark contrast to the girl who lay weeping and bound before him. As he turned to make his way to the end of the table, her bare feet thrashed and kicked uselessly in protest. He simply shook his head at her pitiful displays of defiance. "No use fighting it, sweetheart," he hummed, his voice almost consoling in tone. "You're not going anywhere. Not until I get a good taste of what's mine."

With heedless, eager motions, the man cleared the portion of the table that sat between the girl's trembling legs. As mouth-watering as everything he was pushing aside appeared, his only focus was closing the space between him and the one thing he was truly starving for. Lowering his front down onto the now empty surface, Curtis' greedy eyes trailed up his victim's messy legs, finding the sacred point at which they joined. He drooled at the sight of her perfect cunt as it sat before him on display, dribbles of cream and what appeared to be nervous arousal collecting beneath her rounded ass.

"Mine," he repeated, this time nearing a growl. His rugged hands came up to squeeze at her soft, heavenly thighs, earning tiny squeaks of fear from the poor girl as she shook her head pleadingly- but it was no use. He had her before him now; nothing would come between him and his feast. "This body belongs to me now, angel. Do you understand?" He brought a hand up to push back her mound, exposing her swollen clit and leaky hole to his prying eyes. The confidence he was speaking with was impressive, given the fact that he'd never spoken to a woman like this in his life. But after all he'd lived through, he felt entitled to that sense of authority. He held her life in his hands, quite literally. And he sure as hell was ready to make the most of it.

"This pretty cunt-" he dared to take his words further, his other hand dragging a finger up through the streams of sugary icing coating her thighs to begin prodding at her tiny hole. "-is mine. All mine," he hummed, perfectly happy to be stating these truths to only himself, if his new possession was so insistent on denying them with her angry sobs and harsh glares. She would come around in time; he knew she would. She wouldn't have any choice in the matter.

His finger nudged and teased at the opening a bit more before gently dipping inside, the man's patience wearing thin. At the feeling of her tight, slippery walls doing everything in their power to fight off his intrusion, Curtis wasn't ashamed of the way his cock only grew harder from her unwillingness. He savored the distressed grunts and groans she let out as he forced his digit in up to a first knuckle, then a second. Turning his hand in a fluid motion, he began fucking his finger up into her, groaning lowly at the sight of her quickly growing increasingly responsive to his efforts.

Free-hand momentarily moving back to grab harshly at her hipbone, Curtis licked his lips as his gaze settled in on the tiny nub sitting at the top of the girl's messy slit. Bringing his thumb and pointer finger back down, he forcefully spread her upper lips apart, exposing her poor little button to the cool air of the room. Her legs kicked and struggled as he drew his face in closer, letting out a low groan as the bundle of nerves was finally taken between his parched lips.

The girl let out a howl through her gag, choking on her cries and spit as Curtis worked her aching clit. Closing his eyes, the man savored the feeling of the tiny bump twitching and trembling against his steady suckling. Letting go of any last hesitations, he submitted to eating her fresh cunt like a beast that'd been starved. He paid no mind to being gentle or polite as he latched onto her helpless core, delivering punishing waves of pain and pleasure well outside the realms of her wildest nightmares.

When his lips grew sore from sucking, he switched to dragging his tongue over the pulsating nub, starting with slow, teasing licks before switching to fast, merciless swipes in the blink of an eye. The alternating paces reduced his victim to softer sobs and hiccups, her hips bucking up wildly as her body struggled to tolerate the intense stimulation. And as soon as he'd had enough of the tongue work, he was back to nursing at the poor button, now so puffy and swollen from receiving his undivided attention.

As the girl's thighs shook, Curtis could see something shifting within her. The noises she let out were becoming more desperate, more panicked, with an expression of impending doom appearing on her tear-stained face. At the realization that she was being brought to orgasm against her will, the unrelenting hunger in Curtis' gut only rose. "That's it," he grumbled lowly, her sweet, sticky juices coating his reddened lips. "You're gonna come for me now, babydoll. Come on, give it to me," his face was hardening with determination, his finger thrusting more forcefully up into her fluttering walls as she hurled towards her climax at full speed.

The cry she let out as she finally came was the closest thing Curtis had ever heard to an angel on earth. As the incredible pressure in her tummy finally shattered, her poor clit spasmed helplessly in the man's awaiting mouth. A flood of sweetness sprayed against his scruffy facial hair as she squirted, the sight of her body coming helplessly against his efforts nearly too much for Curtis to bear. Groaning loudly, he coaxed her through the spectacular high. Only when her sobbing turned to weak sniffles did he finally pull away, his darkened eyes trailing up to find her tender face.

As he went to remove his digit from her soaking heat, he could've sworn she almost seemed to cling to him, in a way. He brought the creamy finger up to slip into his eager mouth, the sugary taste of her climax making his head pound with want.

His next words sent her into a fresh fit of tears. "One more," he decided, lowering his head back down to her sticky cunt. One more, he told himself, before he'd finally seek some relief of his own.

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sfehvn · 11 months

Text

new religion part 3

Rating: M (18+ minors DNI) Word count: 2,407 Characters: soft!ascended!Astarion x fem!au!Tav

━─━────༺༻────━─━

In the small cottage on the outskirts of the city, madness ensued. The screeching of young children rang out as they happily played about the intimate home, and you let out a frustrated sigh from your place in the kitchen. “Girls, papa needs to rest. Please just relax, okay? Why don’t you guys play in the garden?” You suggested, trying to keep the exasperation from coating your words. You pour the contents from your mixing bowl into a pan, looking up at the oldest of the four girls before you. She sat at the table, scribbling into a journal. “Lillian, will you help me please?” The words were a plea, despondent for any form of assistance. The younger girl lets out a frustrated huff but stands to lead the children outside into the back garden without a word.

Since the eldest of you had moved on, things had been increasingly more brutal for all of you. Typically, house duties were split between the two oldest, you and Alan. With him gone, that meant everything fell on your shoulders. He had been reluctant to go, but once you had encouraged him to do something for himself for once, off he went with your blessing. You wondered why you couldn’t offer yourself the same kindness, but it always came full circle that without you, everyone in the home would fall apart.

Lillian was barely old enough to help around the home, yet she was already slipping away in the middle of the night to meet with a boy whom she swore she was going to wed. No matter the amount of times you lecture her about the repercussions this could have, she dismissed everything. You don’t know what it feels like to be in love. Lillian would exclaim, but you did. Of course you did. You wanted to yell, tell her how foolish she was being. However, you would never. Remembering how quickly you were forced to grow up in order to care for everyone, you wanted her to cling to her own childhood for as long as she possibly could.

Your father lay still on a cot in the front room, his breaths shallow and rattling with liquid as he slept. It had been an awful day for him. Bloodstained rags lay beside the cot, reminiscent of his coughing fits and pleas to be put out of his misery. It ripped your heart to shreds seeing him so poorly. Once a man so full of life and happiness, tormented and withered to skin and bone. He could no longer hold himself up, and you were aware that it was only a matter of time before your grief-stricken family would be back in that cemetery, burying him next to your long-gone mother.

You’re broken from your thinking by the sounds of his bloodied coughs ensuing once more. You quickly abandon the half-made meal, rushing to his side. You dampen a fresh washcloth in the bucket of water that rests beside him, swiping gently at his blood-splattered chin. “You’re okay, papa. I’ve got you.” You reassure, his wet coughs echoing throughout the room.

His body loosens up after a few moments and you grab another cloth to lay across his forehead. There was no denying the pain visible on his face, and you frowned deeply at the hopelessness you felt. “Just like your mama.” He murmured and the words elicited him to sputter another cough. You shushed him softly and patted his hand, urging him not to strain himself. “She would be-.” He falters as he attempts to catch his breath. “She would be proud.” You smile glumly at his words and move to collect wash rags that are strewn about the floor.

The trash can overflows with contents of discarded rags, and you groan inwardly, picking up the bin to toss it in the front garden’s can. You allow the last bits of warmth from the sunset to soak in your skin, making your way down the dirt path to the bin. A shadowed figure halts you, standing at the end of the path. You squint to get a better look at the mystery visitor, and confusion washes over you at the sight of Astarion. “Astarion? Why are you here?” Your brow creases as you approach, dumping the contents of the can into the larger one.

He steps closer, hands folded over a chest you’d found comfort in many times before. “I couldn’t leave things the way we did.” It had only been but a couple of days since you had left his manor in a hurry, and Astarion had spent every second apart locked in his study. His servants had felt the brunt of his anger and anguish in that time, more than half of them residing in the palace's dungeon for simply being in his line of sight.

Astarion had to restrain himself from stealing you away in the night and locking you in his bed chamber until you agreed to stay with him after your little qualm. He had tried and failed to talk himself out of his need for you; the absolute burning desire that screamed in his bones for you made it no use. He needed you. He’d considered consuming you just to be rid of these feelings that plagued his mind but had come to the conclusion that would only make his wanting worse.

A soft sigh leaves your lips, and you glance back at your home, fidgeting absently with your fingers. The squeals of excited children buzzing about the back garden is the only sound heard in the silence as you carefully try to put your words together. “I’m sorry I left like that.” A million thoughts are whipping in your head, a million things you want to say to him. This is all you can manage, though. With a brief pause of hesitation, you continue. “Would you like to come in? I have to finish cooking.” Your words trail.

There was a tinge of embarrassment ringing in your head at the thought of having him in your home. Not that you were embarrassed by your family, per se, but Astarion was used to wealth and luxury; your quaint cottage exuded everything but that. Silence befalls you, and you’re about to revoke your invitation when Astarion hesitantly nods. He knew better, and he silently cursed himself for accepting. Was he really supposed to go in there and pretend he’s the same as any of them? Pretend like they’re cut from the same cloth? No, he couldn’t. Astarion didn’t meet families. He destroyed them. Left them in shambles with nothing but corpses in his wake. Still, he followed you in. There was something about the way you looked at him with those big doe-eyes that made it impossible for him to refuse you.

You lead him into the house, shutting the door behind him. In the soft light of the home, Astarion can make out the dried blood spattered over your pale yellow dress: hair a mess and cheeks flushed, bags formulating under those eyes he loved so much. You were being pulled in too many directions and, hells, practically worn thin. His eyes shift around the cottage, taking in every detail of where you live—the house smelt of you and the scent of a home-cooked meal. You made your way back into the kitchen, resuming the forgotten meal you had abandoned to care for your father.

Astarion’s eyes rake over the house, taking note of your sleeping, bedridden father. He felt pity. For you, of course. He knew the recourse coming; it didn’t take an expert to see the man was on his last leg. He intended to be there for you to fall upon once he was gone. He steps deeper into the front room, eyes falling on a perfectly painted picture above the fireplace. A smiling family looked upon him: seven children and a couple blessed in their youth. He immediately recognizes you among the group, and his eyes drift to who he assumes to be your mother. You looked just like her. The artist had rendered that same captivating smile he’d recognized as yours on her face.

“When mom got sick, papa worked day in and day out to ensure he’d have something to remember her face. He was terrified he’d forget it.” You mused solemnly as you approached behind him. “I’ll never comprehend how he managed to afford it. He made anything happen for her, though.” You smiled.

“You’re a spitting image.” Astarion murmured incredulously, looking down at you.

You nod, rubbing your hands over the apron tied around your waist. “So I’ve heard.” Your mother was a soft spot for you. You had always tried your best to live as she would since her passing.

Loud chatter filled the cottage as the children filtered back into the house. “It’s too dark out now, sissy.” The youngest mewls. She couldn’t have been older than seven, and she was absolutely covered in mud. As were the other girls, aside from Lillian.

You tsk, ushering them away from the front room. “Go clean yourselves up. You’re tracking mud everywhere.” You scold. The girls hurry off to wash up without paying Astarion any mind. Lillian narrows her eyes at the strange man in her home, scrutinizingly.

“Hey, I know you.” You ignore her as you enter the kitchen to check the cooking food. Astarion tries to place her in his mind to no avail. “You get around.” She mutters, saying nothing more as she walks to the table to assist you with setting it. He’s left silenced for a beat, wracking his brain for whatever she may have seen, and it clicked. He had been sloppy. Dissatisfied with the meals his servants had been bringing him, cooked or fresh, he’d taken to his own devices. For months, he had found the joy of the hunt again. He frequented taverns, bringing home women who shared some semblance of you. Lillian must have seen him—more times than once, given her tone.

Astarion straightens himself out and assists with the table setting, side-eyeing the young girl every so often slyly. How would he react if she said anything more? He wasn’t sure, but he knew he couldn’t let you discover any of it. Hells, how could he be so stupid? What did he expect? Fear of everything he had built with you gripped him—fear of losing you. “So, Lillian, how old are you? You say you know me; I don’t think I’ve ever seen you about.” He hums. His tone is sickly sweet.

“I’m fifteen, and I’m to be married, so don’t get any ideas.” Lillian says pointedly, and Astarion’s jaw all but fell on the floor at the teenager’s response. This family had a solid track record of leaving him dumbfounded.

“Oh, gods, no. I wasn’t-” Astarion started.

“Lillian!” You exclaimed loudly, shooting her a stare of distaste. “That’s quite enough.” Your voice was stern, demanding. Nurturing. A side of you Astarion had never had the pleasure of seeing. “Just- just go to the room with the little ones. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.” You chose to ignore the comment of marriage—a battle for another day. You turn to Astarion wide-eyed once she’s left, shaking your head in disbelief at the situation. “I’m so sorry. She’s been,” you pause, “Difficult. To put it nicely.”

“Don’t apologize, darling. Not a problem.” He cleared his throat. He had a few choice words for the girl, much harsher than difficult, but instead, he bit them back, knowing none of them would be satisfactory to you.

Less than a seventh day had gone by when your father had passed, succumbing to his sickness. While you knew it was coming, it didn’t stop your heart from dropping to your toes when you awoke in the early hours to find his cold body, stiff and unmoving. Your cries rang through the house despite your better judgment, drawing the neighbor’s attention. You had this planned; it wasn’t supposed to be like this. You were supposed to be calm, not to scare your younger siblings. In the moment, everything in your brain was mush. It didn’t matter what you were planning, what you had accounted for. At the moment, you were that same scared young girl who had just found her mother’s corpse all those years ago. You clung to his hands as he was carried away by your brother hours later.

Astarion was surprised to see you at his doorstep and was readying a flirtatious quip when he noted how disheveled you looked. Your eyes were bloodshot, cheeks flushed and puffy. “He’s gone, Astarion.” Your voice cracked, and his heart along with it. He said nothing and instead pulled you to his chest, caressing soft hair as painful sobs erupted from you. He hated to see you in so much agony. His first instinct was to hurt whoever or whatever was causing this and he felt vulnerable that, in this case, violence was not the answer.

No, instead, he cradled you into his arms and carried you to the bath chamber. He held you while servants filled the tub with warm water, careful hands worked the hem of your nightgown over your head while you stared at a spot past his shoulder; it was as if you weren’t present. Now nude, he places you into the warm water. He combed through your hair while you cried, cleaned your body while you screamed in anguish, listened to incoherent pleas for your father to be brought back.

By the time your body had calmed, the sun was already setting. He lifted your exhausted body from the water, urging the servant replenishing warm water away with just a look. Once in the bed chamber, he towels water droplets from your skin wordlessly. There was nothing he could say to fix your heart—this time. He lays you in his bed, tucking you to his chest and all but cocooning around you. For the first time in hours, you are silent. He can hear your once-racing heart slow. “I want to stay here with you. I can’t be there anymore.” Your throat was raw, words tired. His heart leaps at the statement, and he’s tempted to take you right there and then. He pushes the thought away and instead tightens his hold around you. “We’ll talk about it when you’re of sane mind, my treasure.”

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #ascended astarion #ascended!astarion x reader #ascended!astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 #x reader #tav #reader

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horseshoegirl · 6 months

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Set Me Alight: Part 7 - Paint It, Black

📜Life is messy. And complicated. And writer blocky, with a dash of imposter syndrome... I just want to put that out there... Anyway...

Well, the poll won out. You all want to know what Jake said to Midge. This is solely a flashback chapter. I can't say I'm surprised at who you all disliked in the last chapter, though I hope this one will give you some insight into why Midge has held on to this for as long as she has.

Special thank you to @teacupsandtopgun for helping me to write a certain part of this! You can thank her for the puns! And @sarahsmi13s for taking a peak at it!

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, flashbacks, Halloween college parties, school, angst, sexual themes (overhearing), drunkness/inxotication. I mentioned angst, right? 💀

#8k <- yes, i know

Part 6 | Masterlist | Part 8

*Halloween Four Years Ago*

Giving orders to a football team to put up Halloween directions was not an easy feat. They were kids in a joke shop, only too happy to take every opportunity to jump-scare each other with a spider, a white sheet or slide out from behind a door and shout boo!

Despite the antics, you were grateful for the help. Nat and you wouldn’t have finished in time. And even then, you suspected Nat probably would have given up halfway through, merely deciding to throw Yellow Caution Tape on the walls and call it a day.

You wouldn’t have stopped - even if it became a doomed effort.

Bradley’s friends weren’t what you expected them to be. True, their appearance fit the bill a thousand times over. Tall, broad shoulders and bulging muscles were all the product of hard work - including Bob, who was smaller than the rest, though not by much. Even their mannerisms, from how they acted childish and goofy to how they winked or playfully flirted, everything you saw played into the stereotypical type that was the classic college football jock.

Then you got to know them—really know them—and hated yourself for ever associating them as such.

You already knew Bradley and had met him on occasion. When he stayed over to be with Nat, he was often up before you, and you’d chat with him over a cup of coffee. He always brought her a cup to wake her up when he could, and it always made you smile.

His story was a sad one. His father passed away when he was only two years old, leaving his mom to raise him alone. While he couldn’t regale you with his memories of him, he instead offered you the stories attached to his father’s things: a button-up Hawaiian shirt in pale pastels, a pair of coffee-brown Ray Ban sunglasses, and even a worn Milk chocolate leather-strapped bag he used to lug his books around campus.

Then, his mom passed away in high school, and his father’s best friend took him up until the point decided to leave for school. Bradley chose his words carefully when he spoke of any of them, offering little, and you wondered if the loss was still too much for him to bear.

Or something else had happened, and he didn’t want anyone to know.

But as you helped him blow up a few balloons for the floor, a song from a later decade played through the speakers, and Bradley lit up, producing a smile wider than the nearby Jack-o-lantern. He launched into a story about how much his parents loved music and how his father would play the piano, which alone made him want to learn.

You asked him if and when he did if he’d play for you one day.

Javy Machado, however, couldn’t be more different from Bradley if he tried.

He was just as meticulous as you when it came to detail. The two of you were discussing the best way to tape Velcro to the kitchen cupboards to stick fluff to the sides and mimic cobwebs when you discovered this fact. He was … quietly smooth and persuasive, with a suave smile that indicated he could charm his way into or out of any situation he wanted without needing to flirt or play it thick.

“Angle it like this, Maeve,” he had explained, stretching the piece out. “Principle of maximum contact area equals maximum adhesive stretch.”

You had raised your eyebrows at that remark, which prompted him to chuckle softly.

"Science major," he shrugged with that smile, making your internal monologue stutter to a halt until you went, "Wait... What?!"

He only laughed at your reaction, amused in a way like he’d been expecting it. But it was that look of genuine interest in his eyes that made you ask him properly.

He didn't know what field of science to specialize in, but Javy made all of it sound amazing. From stars to not dirt—it's soil—to understanding how the world worked, he knew he wanted to spend his life trying to figure it all out. If he could throw a ball around and be part of a team with his friends, he considered himself fortunate to do both.

Even if his passion was so far removed from your own, you may have seen some of yourself in his journey, trying to fit in while doing what you loved most.

Holding up a string of lights against the wall, Reuben Flitch told you he was floating through school, waiting for the day he could finally be free. On that day, he’d take over his family’s business. Comparing him to the fractured story of your brother and sister following in your parent’s footsteps never seemed to cross your mind.

Because when you asked what the business was, his face lit up with an enthusiasm you hadn’t expected.

“My grandparents own vineyards," he had beamed. "They've been in the family for generations. I've grown up with the land, the grapes, and the entire winemaking process."

He told you stories of growing up, playing through the vines and rows of trellises, making you long for the rows of apple trees at Aunt Viv's. He also talked about spending time with his grandfather, learning the process of pressing grapes and his grandmother tending and picking the grapes. He spoke about the people, everyone from the gardeners to the people who bottled the wine to his siblings, with whom he'd played hide-and-seek within the cellars.

He told you a business major was worth it, as much as he loathed it, if he could own the place one day.

You hoped he did.

But Mickey Garica and Bob Floyd were... characters, to say the least. It was easy to talk with them, even laugh with them, as the three of you spread tiny black spiders all over the apartment.

Mickey couldn’t stop asking if you could paint him one day, though you imagined it would be fandom-inspired rather than a realistic portrait. The second you asked him about his favourite universe, he launched into a word vomit of praise for each and every one. He spoke of Lord of the Rings, Marvel, Star Wars, Star Trek, and Batman—not DC—as the character deserved to be separated from the rest.

It made you wonder if the one portrait would be enough. Still, you happily humoured him, saying you needed the practice.

He was in Health Sciences, hoping it would be enough to get his foot in the door to become a firefighter. He talked about it so passionately, about being capable of making a difference and saving lives, that you honestly couldn’t see him in any other role.

And given the opportunity, Bob was so full of sass and witty comebacks to the ones you managed to throw his way, you were surprised he was seeking an Anthropology and Archaeology degree. He seemed to have a natural talent for what Comedians had labelled “crowd work.” You honestly would have taken him for a drama major had he not told you differently.

However, once he explained his choice, you understood why. Growing up, having been a Boy Scout, learning about nature, rocks, and life. He wanted to know more about life, history, and how things were.

A visit to an archeological dig site in high school sold it for him. His eyes lit up when he spoke about ancient civilizations, lost artifacts, and all the mysteries surrounding human evolution. He rattled off facts about Neanderthals and cave paintings, which had you urging him for more.

He happily obliged and was encouraging when you offered a few that you knew of.

All of them were so passionate about what they wanted to do with their lives, even Bradley, who wanted to pursue football seriously as a career; you admired all of them for it with your entire heart.

But Jake Seresin was... you didn’t know. Nor did he, it seemed.

Jake was there at your side every time you went back up that ladder, claiming someone needed to catch you should you fall again. You had rolled your eyes, a slight smirk gracing your face, but you let him all the same.

He wasn’t as open as the others, wanting to flirt with you more than anything else. Somehow, you managed to get him talking about football, and when you asked him why he played, he admitted that his father had gone and played at the school. He had been urged to apply, and his family would support him throughout his entire ride.

“Family money,” he said, his tone light when you gawked at him. You didn’t ask what his parents did, but knowing he came from a rich family, you wondered if he didn't want people to know. You certainly didn't. Nat didn’t know, at least not yet.

It prompted him to add his parents weren’t pressuring him into one career or another; they simply wanted him to keep up with the sport. So, he was buying time and taking electives, trying to figure it out, though he would have to make a decision soon.

And it made you wonder, under that confidence, under that layer of charm and ease on his surface, if he was searching for what everyone else in the group had already found. While everyone else didn’t fit the stereotype, you wondered if Jake was attempting to mould himself into it.

How you wished to tell him, he didn’t have to.

But Jake wasn’t a painting you could tear apart or theorize about. And as you pinned that last streamer to the ceiling, you realized over the course of the afternoon, you’d unwittingly developed a bit of a crush on him.

You weren’t stupid. You recognized the signs the second he caught you off that ladder. The second he handed you that shot. He was laying on the charm, the flirty glances, the playful smiles. Even the slight touches on your waist as you leaned back, pining streamers to the ceiling, were waving the red flags in your head.

Jake was either genuinely interested or actively looking for someone to hook up with tonight.

It wouldn’t be you, that’s for sure—not even for someone so charming and handsome as Jake Seresin.

In the last two hours, the guys took turns getting ready first while everyone else finished with the final touches. They wanted you and Natasha to go first, but you vehemently refused, knowing they’d ruin hours of hard work if left unsupervised.

You also wanted to see this through to the end, but you kept that to yourself. You had revealed enough of your quirky, artsy side to them. You did not need to add to it by gushing over the decorations or how the entire apartment turned out, possibly damaging whatever relationship you'd established so far.

People were weird when it came to shit like that.

Jake and Bradley emerged from Nat’s bedroom just as the two of you were headed toward yours. The hallway was already lit in a deep red from the lights now neatly strung up in the corners of the ceiling. Though the sun was beginning to set, shining warm light through your window, you knew the total effect would be entirely eerie when night rolled around. You couldn’t wait to see it.

Bradley was dressed as Indiana Jones: a white shirt, a brown leather jacket, and a fake whip at his side. His outfit was complementary to Nat's Marion Ravenwood, her costume the classic white dress from the first movie you spent a while making. Though she did ask you to take some creative liberties with the design, the dress was more risque than necessary.

The only thing remotely movie-accurate about it would be the puffy sleeves.

You couldn't help but whistle when Jake stepped out from behind Bradley. Instantly perking up at the noise, he let out a sly smirk and straightened the lapels of his deep black leather jacket.

"Danny Zuko, huh?" you laughed softly. "Guess you've got the whole 'bad boy' vibe down."

Jake smirked at you, copying one of the iconic character's signature moves by sliding his hands into his black leather jacket pockets as he strode by. "Only missing my Sandy. You wouldn't happen to know where I could find one, would you?"

You coyly peered at him over your shoulder as you continued down the hall. Unknown to either of you, Nat and Bradley had stopped to watch the interaction, filled to the brim with curiosity.

"Wouldn't know. I'm more of a Rizzo myself. Too much sass and not enough patience for leather pants."

"To get into them or to get out?"

With a glimmer in your eyes and a smirk on your lips, you pivoted to face Jake completely, still walking backwards. “You're quite the smooth talker, aren’t you?”

Jake shrugged, giving off the vibe of, ‘I can’t help my reputation.’ However, you could see the easy grin on his face, and one side of his mouth crooked upwards, making him appear boyish—just like the character he was dressed up as.

It made your heart flutter inside your chest.

“It’s a shame I’m more into the rough-around-the-edges type,” you teased softly, pausing by the corner.

Liar. Oh, you horrible liar.

Jake’s grin didn’t disappear when you saw him press his tongue to the inside of his cheek, arching an eyebrow. Instead, it turned into a knowing smirk.

“Is that so?” he teased.

You flushed, at a loss for words. Jake's teasing gaze lingered, and the lift in the corner of his mouth suggested he saw right through your lie. Your cheeks burned hot.

Jake's chuckle echoed softly down the hallway as you made your escape, somehow making your heart race faster. You didn't dare look back, but you could feel his eyes on you as you turned the corner and down the hallway to your bedroom.

As Jake retreated back into the apartment, Bradley coughed lightly. He exchanged a knowing look with Nat, who had been watching your retreat. He jutted his head once toward you, and Nat replied in kind with a single tilt of her head toward Jake.

They didn’t need to say aloud what they were thinking. They’d talk about what they discovered later, but it wouldn’t stop them from pressing this interesting development further.

When she reached your room, Nat found you already in your robe, sitting at your vanity, brushing your hair. You had already laid out your costumes on your bed earlier in the day, and Nat raced to hers the second she saw it, making grabby hands at the fabric.

"Ahh, it turned out so great, Maeve!" she exclaimed, grabbing the top and holding it up. You glimpsed at her through the reflection of your mirror, smiling when she hugged it to her chest.

“If I had made it any deeper, Nat, you’d be showing off more than just dangly bits.”

She blew a raspberry at you. You giggled, shaking your head.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to do couples costumes. I never thought Bradley would go for it,” she said after a while, standing next to you and straightening her hair in the mirror of your vanity.

“Really?” you asked, concentrating on not poking your eye out with your mascara.

“How else am I going to shoo off all the girls practically clamouring to get with Bradley? It’s a nice way to do it, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. Not every costume as a twin, though,” you said, lowering your hand to gesture to yourself. You hoped Nat would at least acknowledge the effort you’d made or pep you up for a party you'd originally never wanted to hold.

“What about the Danny wandering around the apartment ‘without his Sandy’?”

You dropped your hand from where you had started fixing up your other eye, glaring at her reflection in your mirror. “Really, Nat?”

“What, you don’t dream of a little Summer Lovin?”

You felt your face flush. As if Jake would ever really go for someone like you. “It’s Halloween, Nat.”

“Exactly. It’s Halloween, and it’s getting colder. Maybe you’ve got chills, and maybe they're multiplying.”

You groaned, dropping your head and smacking it against your vanity.

“You’re sure he’s not the one you want?” she bumped you with her hip, grinning.

“Can you stop with the Grease puns? Please,” you squawked.

Nat laughed, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger as she stepped away. "Okay, okay. But if you change your mind, I think Danny Zuko out there wouldn't mind being 'the one that you want.'"

Fingers wrapping around the handle of your hair brush, you didn’t lift your head from the vanity as you chucked it in Nat’s direction. She laughed hard, and you didn’t need to look to know you had missed her completely.

Nat eventually cajoled you into helping her slip into her dress, adjusting bits and pieces of fabric here and there. You sat back down at your vanity as she twirled once in the mirror, declaring she was satisfied. Then her eyes went to the door, and her attention shifted to Bradley and what waited beyond it.

"Are you okay if I go out? Do you need any help?" Nat's voice was laced with excitement, and her eyes gleamed with anticipation of finally having a party as she smoothed down the sides of her dress.

You shook your head, leaning back in your chair. Nat didn’t meet your gaze. "No, I'm good. I only need to touch up my makeup, and my dress is a slip-on," you smiled. "Go make sure Bradley keeps his hat on."

Nat wiggled her shoulders, biting her lip to mute her squealing giggle. The puffy sleeves of her short dress waved with her, and she precariously tip-toed out the door on her high heels. Once in the hallway, she dramatically yelled, "Come and get me, Indiana Jones!"

You stifled a giggle, shaking your head, allowing yourself to turn back to face your mirror.

Staring at yourself, you searched every part of your face, making sure your foundation, blush, eyes, and lips were just how you wanted them to be. You toyed with a strand of curled hair, wondering if what you had done was enough—if all of it had been enough.

Then your eyes came to rest on your costume, so carefully draped across the end of your bed through the reflection in the mirror.

You're not sure why "Flaming June" happened to be your favourite painting, though you supposed it had to do with the girl in the painting so casually draped across that seat next to that fountain. She was curled up almost like a serpent, covered in sheer transparent vibrant orange, the painting's only bright pop of colour.

The painting was supposedly meant to depict nymphs, sleeping Greek nymphs for that matter, or even Victorian society's obsession with beauty. However, you argued differently in the paper you wrote for it.

You cared more about the juxtaposition of fire and tranquillity in the piece than about whatever cultural influence or social construct it had at the time. That one girl was at the centre of the painting, wrapped in sheer, see-through colour. She was meant to be the focus; that much was certain.

Maybe you thought her dress signified the chaos of the world around her, and all she wanted to do was find a moment of peace.

You’d spent countless hours at the fabric store trying to match the correct shade. Once you had completed parts of Nat's, you spent even countless more at your sewing machine, staying up late to make progress on yours.

And each time she asked you to make alternations on hers, the more drastic you made it to be ‘just that much sluttier', the more you thought about what you could do to yours. In the end, the thin straps holding up your dress, revealing bare shoulders and the long slit between your breasts, ending just before your belly button, was all you could stomach.

You held the dress up, contemplating your thoughts. You could do this. You could survive one simple Halloween party - one simple college rager party.

Right?

———

The second the apartment was starting to flood with arriving guests, Jake realized you hadn’t emerged from your room with Nat.

He had been off to the side near a bookcase, talking with Bradley, hoping to stave off the crowd and the rest of the football team for a little longer. He knew they'd want to talk football and strategies for the season, and Jake simply... didn't.

He wanted a night off. He wanted to relax and have a good time. And talking about football wouldn't be it.

Bradley had said something to Jake, but he hadn’t been paying attention. He was too busy searching the gathering pods of people for your face. Why, he didn’t know. But he was eager to find out.

Bradley snapped his fingers in Jake's face, startling him from his search. "Earth to Jake!"

Jake shook his head, focusing back on Bradley. "Sorry, what?"

Bradley raised his eyebrows under the rim of his fedora. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

Jake regarded him for a few seconds before finally looking down at his drink, bringing it to his lips, admitting, "I'm just looking for Maeve."

As Jake took a drink, Bradley grinned. "She's probably still getting ready. Nat said her costume was based on her favourite panting."

Jake didn't even look up from his drink when he asked, "What's her favourite painting?"

"Why? You looking to make a good impression?" he said, still grinning.

"Fuck off, Man," Jake snapped, taking another swig to finish his drink. Bradley only laughed, now shaking his head. He would have let Jake simmer in his ask, but this was you. He had to give Jake at least a decent running chance.

"It's Flaming June, the chick in the orange dress. It's a brilliant costume idea. She made it herself."

Of course, you would have made it yourself, Jake thought.

"Surely you came across that painting with your 'rich upbringing.' Nat was practically force-feeding information down our throats a few seconds ago to ensure we recognized her costume. It’s some Freddie Luigui piece. I don't know."

"I know it," Jake snapped. "I've seen it before."

Jake was pretty sure he had, maybe once at one of his father's fundraising parties, though he actively searched his mind, trying to remember what it looked like.

Bradley remained silent, slouching against the bookcase and crossing one leg over the other. He narrowed his eyes at his friend and tilted his head.

"Why the sudden interest in Maeve? She isn't one for..." Bradley trailed off, searching for the correct word. Just as Jake was about to ask him what he meant, Nat's approaching heels on the hardwood floor stopped them both.

She stopped at Bradley's side, red solo cup in hand, looping her arm through his. "What are you two handsome boys gossiping about over here?" she giggled at her boyfriend, her chin plopping lazily down onto his bicep. "See any snakes in the crowd, Indy?"

Bradley pulled his face back into a grimace, reciting the famous line. "Snakes. Why does it always have to be snakes?"

Jake rolled his eyes at their banter, placing his empty cup on the table between them. Nat giggled, tilting her head back, indicating to Bradley she wanted to be kissed. He complied without protest, leaning down, pressing his lips to hers in an overly dramatic display merely to piss Jake off.

"Get a room," Jake groaned, mocking a wrenching noise. The couple separated, turning to Jake with amused smirks. "You've heard and seen far worse, dude."

Jake shuttered, the unwanted memory of walking in on Nat and Bradley from weeks ago flashing through his mind. Sharing an apartment with Bradley had its moments - some good, some decidedly less so. It made him wonder if Maeve had to put up with the same shit he did.

“Where’s Maeve?” Jake asked Nat, ignoring Bradley's remark. "I haven't seen her yet."

Nat opened her mouth, about to tell him you were still getting ready, when she caught sight of a flash of orange stepping out from behind the corner of the hallway. You came into view, your head angled down, mindful of stepping on your dress as thin streams of transparent fabric trailed behind you at your sides.

Javy let out a low-toned whistle from somewhere in the room, and heads turned, one by one, as you took your final step into the apartment.

“Damn girl, you clean up nice!”

Lifting your head, you were surprised to see eyes on you. Javy glided forward to greet you from where he had been standing at a nearby table, and you smiled at him, though a little weary. Deep down, you knew his comment was meant to be a compliment. But something coarse, like sandpaper, rubbed against your heart at the remark, lingering longer than you would have liked.

“What? Not bad for a fine arts major?” you joked somewhat deprecatively, though your voice held none of it.

Javy held out his hand, and you grabbed it, allowing him to lift it above your head. With a pump of his wrist, he urged you to spin under his arm several times, letting your dress fan out. You giggled as he urged you, though you wobbled on your heels. The dreaded things were Nat's only contribution to your outfit, and you were severely regretting it.

He let you go, thinking you had your footing on the last, slowed spin. But when you came to a stop, you were on the verge of falling over, your head dizzy, and your legs unbalanced.

To his credit, Javy tried to reach out and steady you, already regretting the step he took back. However, before he could, another pair of hands, one on your hip and one taking your hand, steadied you.

Jake’s hands were firm on your skin, pulling you close as you lost your balance. You fell into his chest, head tilted back, half falling over. And looking up at his face, seeing the amused grin on his lip, you drew in a sharp breath at the sight.

"Letting me make a good first impression?" he quipped.

“By catching falling women?” you laughed breathlessly, bringing your free hand to his chest. If you had let your hand stall slightly longer than necessary, you would have never admitted to it.

“Seems noble enough,” he replied, helping you to stand. Though he might have let go of your hand, he didn’t let go of your waist. “Or do you make it a habit to test the reflexes of every guy you meet?”

You couldn’t resist the playful jab. “Only the ones who seem like they can handle it. And the pretty ones.”

Jake's grin widened, and he even risked sneaking a quick peek at your lips, letting them rest there for a few seconds before his eyes roamed the rest of your body.

"Flaming June, right? Frederic Leighton's Masterpiece."

You blinked in surprise, letting out a small gasp. You honestly expected to tell people what your costume was, not just some girl in some random orange dress. Jake's knowledge of the painting, let alone his identification of it so quickly, was scoring him some major brownie points.

"You know your art," you commented nonchalantly.

He shrugged, "I might know a thing or two. I always had a thing for the classics. By the way, it suits you."

You practically preened under his gaze. "Thank you," you said, a shy smile creeping onto your face. He beamed at you in return.

Yes, you might have a crush on him. But for the first time that day, you figured it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

—-

This was a bad idea - Oh, this party was such a bad idea.

Believing you were having a good time and actually having a good time were two separate things. You certainly felt one of those things. As the night went on, and with each drink you tipped back, alcoholic or not, regret built in your stomach.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. Maybe you were seeking reasons where there initially were none, allowing Natasha’s suggestions to slowly chip away at your resolve until you finally gave in. Maybe it was the promise of letting loose, to embrace the spirit of Halloween with all its creative potential.

Maybe it was the promise of making new friends. Of getting to know people outside the art department. Natasha had told you to mingle. She wanted you to mingle, and yet... you didn’t know where to start.

You didn't expect Nat or Bradley to coddle you, but they could have introduced you to a few people besides the core group before things had gotten this bad. You didn't dare approach Javy or Rueben, who played beer pong and chugged beers back like it was nobody's business. They were off doing their own thing, and you didn’t want to intrude.

Mickey and Bob had gone home earlier in the night. Bob proclaimed he had a midterm to study for, and Mickey wanted to go home anyway so he could call his family in peace. You strongly suspected he wanted to watch Halloween movies instead.

Rocky Horror sounded like a wonderful idea right about now.

You couldn’t hang around Nat and Bradley all night, either. And nobody from your art classes would even dare set foot inside a party where nearly half of its guests were from the sororities.

You knew that. While you did extend the invitation, you told them you wouldn't blame them if they didn't come. They had looked at you with such disregard you wondered if they were seeing you through newly polished rose-coloured glasses. And standing up against the wall next to your bookcase, like an insipid wallflower, you could hardly blame them for it either.

You couldn’t introduce yourself in a place where you were the outsider, even within the walls of your own home. Soon after the first few attempts, that realization settled deep into your chest. And you couldn’t help but feel like you had done this to yourself - an attempt to be part of something like this, even if just for a night.

But Jake… Jake was still here. At least, he should be. He had been by your side for the beginning of the evening, talking to you about what projects you were currently working on over another drink—not whiskey—after you had started to hiccup while putting up decorations.

After he recognized your dress, you weren’t ashamed to tell him. You had launched into the ideas and thoughts behind two paintings and one sculpture, an old table that you were trying to turn into an elemental-type sundial. You told him about the zodiac signs you had already burned into the wood after sanding it down and how each was placed in its own little section as it related to its element.

You had reached halfway through your thought process when you realized how lost you were in your explanation. You froze mid-sentence, blushing harder than the colour of your dress.

"Sorry," you had said. "I ramble when I get excited about my art.”

But Jake’s interest hadn’t waned. If anything, it urged him to ask, “How did you find something you're so passionate about? Creating things... making art?"

His question had made you pause, though not over what to say but merely how to say it. “It was my voice when words fell short or my escape when the world grew too loud.”

You caught a glimpse of something in Jake’s eyes—a flash of longing, a momentary crack in his confident demeanour. What followed was a slight nod. It was there, and then it wasn’t, as if he’d accidentally revealed more of himself than he wanted. Then he caught himself, suddenly straightened his spine, and continued the conversation as if that brief lapse in judgment never happened in the first place.

Ten minutes later, he excused himself to get another drink. And you hadn’t seen him since.

You scanned the room for him, hoping to spot that black leather jacket among the sea of people. But it was impossible. Under the dim, eerie glow of the lights, each costume blurred into the next, and the crowd swallowed any hope of finding him.

Reaching for whatever mixed drink Nat had made you earlier off the table, you pushed yourself off the wall, weaving through the throngs of people, figuring you might as well try to see if she knew where he had run off to.

Liquid sloshed over the rim of your cup onto your hand as you dodged a zombie here, a fairy there, and music pulsing like a heartbeat through the packed room. Laughter and snippets of conversations swirled around you as you scanned the sea of faces, both masked and not for Nat.

Glasses clinked, a witch cackled, and the scent of spiced pumpkin mingled somewhere in the mix with the tang of alcohol and body sweat. By the time you spotted her leaning heavily against the kitchen Island, red cup in hand and her laughter too loud, eyes slightly unfocused, you knew the night had taken its toll on her sobriety.

She was too preoccupied with telling a bunch of people a story to notice how you quickly launched the contents of your cup into the sink behind her. You extended your arm when you were close enough, looping your arm around her waist. Her arm came up at the same time, sliding across your back to pull you close.

Nat tilted her head back onto her shoulders, glancing at you with happy eyes. "Maeve!" she whined tipsily.

Given how far gone she was, you were surprised at how accurately she pronounced your name. She bent slightly, still holding her red Solo cup in her hand, to hug you tight, her face smooshing into your neck.

“It looks like you’re having the time of your life,” you snorted. She nodded against your skin, biting her lip in a smile with a happy, drunken snigger. She lazily pulled back to meet your eye, and you smiled at her.

“Have you seen Jake around?”

Nat paused, her gaze flickering around the room as if she'd genuinely forgotten about him, though she didn’t lift her head off your body. "Jake? Oh, I haven't seen him in a bit,” she slurred slightly. “Why? Do you two likeeeeeeeeeeeeeee each other? Is Jake going to make you scream grease lightin’?”

You reached for her red Solo cup and pried it from her hand. “Okay, yup, you're cut off.”

“Nooo,” she pouted her arm a dead weight as she tried to take it back. Her hand hit the bottom of the cup, and liquid shot up, once again covering your hand in whatever type of alcohol Nat managed to mix together. You could only sigh.

“Here comes the fun police,” she muttered under her breath. “I thought you’d be off doing your own thing.”

Well, that fucking stung just a tiny bit.

“I’m not going to be the one who cleans up your vomit tomorrow morning, Nat.”

“I’ve only had,” she held up her hand, widening her thumb and pointer finger probably further apart than she thought, “this much to drink.”

“Ahm...”

Luckily for you, Bradley appeared, having seen what was going on. He looked amused yet concerned as he slid between the gap of the island and Nat to observe his girlfriend babbling nonsense on your shoulder. “What’s happening here?”

Nat made another grab for her cup, but Bradley gently intercepted her, taking her hand into his before she could even grasp it.

“That,” you offered.

“I think it’s time we get you to bed, love,” he suggested, wrapping an arm around her waist. You let him take her, happy for him to bear her weight.

Nat leaned into him, mumbling something incoherent, a mix of protest and agreement. Bradley spared a glance at you, silently thanking you in your unspoken agreement. You nodded, watching as he sandwiched her to his side and carried her off towards her room.

It always seemed like one of you was always taking care of her. At one point or another.

After getting rid of Nat’s cup, you felt the sticky residue of both of your spilled drinks on your skin and felt the urge to run to the privacy of the bathroom to wash it off. Stumbling down the hallway, blusters on your feet finally making themselves known, you let your hands casually slide along the wall. The music from the party faded into a muffled, dull noise as you walked.

You wanted to smile at the lights. The red eerie glow along the top corners of the ceiling only reached not even halfway down the wall, plunging the floor into a dark abyss. You clumsily stuttered through it, unable to see anything below your waist.

It was exactly as you pictured it, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to manage the slightest grin.

The bathroom door was down at the end of the hall slightly ajar, with the red LED light illuminating its edges from behind. You zoned in on it like a wobbly arrow to a target, tired and completely done with tonight and everything about it.

You reached for the curved handle, about to push the door open, when a high-pitched giggle came from behind the piece of wood. You shot your hand back like you had been burned, and with a quick turn of your heel, you plastered your back up against the wall.

You immediately knew what was happening behind that door, and it made you throw up in your mouth just a little.

Ugh, I’m going to have to disinfect the hell out of that bathroom tomorrow.

The next voice you heard, however, made your heart drop into your stomach.

“You like that, don’t ya, sweetheart?”

You didn't want to believe it, but you had to see for yourself. Leaning forward off the wall, you peered through the crack in the door, only to spot a black leather jacket taking up most of your view—the same black jacket you had complimented Jake on earlier that day. It was a stark contrast to the red glowing light above him, and something snapped in your heart and recoiled back as one slender bare leg in beige fishnet stockings wrapped around his.

There was an overly drunken and seductive 'ahm,' forcing you to glance over his shoulder at the girl he was with—her costume was a bejewelled Taylor Swift outfit to match her long blonde hair.

You swallowed your bile and adverted your gaze, pressing yourself back up against that wall, out of sight and hidden completely from view.

You knew this was a possibility; Jake was merely looking for a hookup and nothing more. You had considered it all afternoon. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel utterly hurt at the sight.

"I mean, Nat's pretty clever befriending that girl.. what was her name, Maeve?" the girl snickered.

"I know. It sounds like something out of those weird fantasy books everyone loves." A whimper from his companion followed Jake's breathy and muffled laugh.

At the dig, your hand went to your chest, your heart thudding painfully under your palm. The realization they had been talking about you, about Nat, made tears flood your eyes.

You didn't understand it. Or maybe you did, and you were too blinded by the possibility of someone like him, someone like Nat, Bradley, Bob, Mickey, and Rueben, to beat the fucking pyramid scheme and care about someone like you.

What other explanation was there except the fact you had been blinded by those who proved to be the exception? Blinded by the fucking elementary school crush cause he had flirted, smiled, joked, and maybe even showed some half-decent interest in you. Clearly, the second he figured out you weren’t going to hook up with him, he sought his sights on someone else.

Jake wasn’t trying to mould into the stereotype. He was the fucking stereotype.

"Even her costume," she sneered. "Like, who the fuck dresses up like that for a college rager Halloween party? You're supposed to dress up slutty."

You couldn't speak, staring down the front of your dress to what you had thought had been a risky enough slit. You couldn't even breathe.

"You kidding me?" he laughed lowly. "Bradley was practically screaming at us what she dressed up as. I'd have no fucking clue what she was otherwise. I'd guess some random Greek Godness obsessed with that awful shade of orange."

Your hand slid up from your chest, around your throat to feel your harsh, rough swallow. Only it didn’t stop there, suddenly finding yourself wrapping it around your entire mouth, stifling any noise wanting to escape. Through shaky inhales in and out of your nose, you fought hard to stop yourself from crying over this.

Over him. Over a fucking jock who would say anything to hook up with a girl. Only to get his dick wet.

But you couldn't prevent the tears from welling up in your eyes, or from one finally spilling over, dropping down your cheek only to stall there, or how the hand covering your mouth curled up around your cheekbone, only to stroke away the tear.

You refused to look back at the door through the crack, so you fixed your gaze on the darkness consuming the ground. And as you lowered your hand, you caught the ugly black smear marring your skin.

How could you not? Standing in the glow of that red hallway light, it was the only thing you could see.

The artistic irony hits you like a freight train. Here you were, dressed as the girl in your favourite painting. Her dress had been the only bright shade of colour in the entire painting, and you, standing in the top half glow of bright red LED lights, had failed to notice what had been staring you in the face all along.

Orange was muted by red, and black bled through all. The only thing about you that stood out the entire evening was this tiny black mark scarring the back of your hand—black tears from smeared mascara.

"I would have guessed an orange," the girl snickered, quickly followed by a mewl. "Though she practically blended into the wall, I couldn't see her with the lights."

Lips plucking on skin echoed off the title and out the door, and Jake drew in a ragged breath as he agreed. "She did blend right into the fucking wall, didn’t she?"

Your eyes burned. The girl giggled.

“How long do you think this one will stay? She seems… different, to say the least.”

Jake sniggered. “Seriously, you think Natasha Trace is hanging around that girl out of the goodness of her heart?”

His laugh was so full of malice that it was nothing like the ones you had heard pleasantly filling your ears earlier.

“Everyone knows after what Nat did, she needs an image clean up. Playing the saint, befriending the weird loner art girl, giving her the best friend badge?”

“If she thinks she’s got a place in the big leagues, she’s in for a rude awakening,” the girl murmured. “Pathetic. People like her don’t belong with people like us.”

There was a pause. “It’s just like Natasha, though. She always needs an audience, something to validate her feelings. It’s brillant really.”

Jake's agreement was a silent blow, his next words the dagger. "Nat's smart. She knows how to play the game. Maeve's just...convenient."

Convenience. The word echoed in your mind, bouncing off the walls of your already crumbling self-worth.

“Give it a year. Trace is going to drop her the second the next new shiny person comes along. And everyone is going to forget about the little art girl she used up and discarded. Or she’ll become the most hated girl on campus.”

Without your back up against the wall, his words might have made you crumble into that dark abyss.

“Can we stop talking about her now?” the girl whined. “I thought you promised to get me off.”

Jake chuckled lowly, the sound morphing into a low, predatory growl. “You brought her up, sweetheart. But don’t worry—I’m all yours now.”

You pushed yourself away from that wall, stumbling down the dark hallway to your bedroom out of instinct, refusing to subject yourself to any further torture. But just before your door, you fell into the wall, your shoulder throbbing as you slouched against it.

The world around you swirled, leaving you consumed by one thought—and one thought alone.

That. Fucking. Asshole! How dare he! How fucking dare he!

To hear Natasha be demeaned, your friendship demeaned and used as a stepping stone in pursuit of a meaningless hookup... anger boiled under your skin. You didn’t care what he or what they had said about you, but Nat?

If Jake thought he’d succeed in sweet-talking you, to play you like a puppet on a string, just as he assumed Nat had been doing, he had another thing coming. If he was going to talk shit about your friendship with her, you’d show him just how spineless you could be.

Oh, he’d wish he’d never caught you off that fucking ladder. Wished he had never met you and flirted with you, obviously a ploy to find someone to hook up with. You gagged at ever having a crush on him in the first place.

But as you leaned against the wall, trying to steady your swirling thoughts, doubt wormed its way into your mind.

What if he was right?

What if your friendship with Nat was just a convenience, a way for her to maintain her status or recover from her sorority fallout? You knew nothing of it, nothing more than what she told you. There could be more to the story, things she hadn’t revealed, things nobody else had either.

No, you shook your head, trying to dismiss the thought. Nat had been there for you in ways no one else had.

Jake was just an asshole. Plain and simple.

But then another thought sucker punched you in the gut.

You couldn’t tell anyone else what he said. You wouldn’t be responsible for causing that type of drama within a friend circle, one that long before you ever showed up. They never would have believed you anyway, and Nat… she worked so hard to get out, escape the rumours and gossip, to put it behind her. She didn’t need to know about this.

You had no choice but to carry this burden alone. It was a lonely decision, but perhaps loneliness was a small price to pay for the semblance of harmony among friends—or so you tried to convince yourself.

But Jake. You could no longer give a rat’s ass about Jake. If he wanted to attack Nat, then fine. You hit him right back. That much you could still do.

Whatever had possessed Frederic Leighton to name the piece you currently embodied, “Flaming June,” whatever possessed him to gift that girl with fire in her name, that fire was suddenly born in you.

A flame that sparked and kerosened your soul to burn, hot and bright. It was a wildfire that rushed under layers of skin and ignited every nerve, ending with a ferocity you never knew you possessed. It was born to protect what you had found - Nat, Bradley, Bob, Mickey, Javy and Rueben. And that fucking asshole would never be allowed to put you down, Nat down, like your family did, ever again.

Pushing yourself off the wall, you stepped into your bedroom. Slamming the door, the lock clicked hard into place.

It never opened the rest of the night.

NOW YOU KNOW....

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randomfoggytiger · 1 month

Text

React: A Late-Canon Reviler Gives the Revival a Try (My Struggle I), Part I

For David Duchovny’s birthday, I put out a poll asking Tumblr which of his projects I should watch for the first time.

The Revival won. Welp.

I then, fool that I am, put up another poll wherein I doomed myself by including an option to watch the whole thing.

And here we are.

My Struggle I.

Oh, boy.

This post will be long because I'm laying the groundwork for the rest of the series.

MY MODUS OPERANDI

I don’t care how cute or cuddly or happy or heartfelt individual MSR moments are, popcorn will be thrown if those scenes are achieved through incomplete, inane, or nonsensical plot points. Give me 1+1=2 or give me death.

The Revival is part of a whole that includes all of Seasons 1-9 and Fight the Future and I Want to Believe. As much as I prefer to distance this series from canon, the reality that it functions as a direct follow-up remains; and it needs to be judged accordingly.

And, as always, I separate the art from the artist~.

...WELP. It’s time to face my doom.

Let's go!

MY STRUGGLE IV

The intro’s… fine. Engaging, even.

I did notice, though: the last series and Fight the Future and I Want to Believe began with the same formula: glimpses from what will be an x-files case, then straight to Scully’s perspective. Usually Mulder’s narration and POV didn’t feature until the tail-end of a two or three parter, i.e. Redux or Amor Fati or… well, even then, it was juxtaposed against Scully’s.

Scully was the voice of The X-Files-- even Chris Carter noted that her report of each episode’s casefile became a motif of the show. Mulder’s narration was rare, very rare, even in episodes that were written to focus on him.

A definite and purposed choice, to be sure. Mulder as an active agent in his own story. …OR a story that focuses on Mulder’s voice instead of Scully’s.

We shall see.

The intro continues; and it’s still engaging, possibly gripping (too bad I know where this leads)... but the music got a bit LOTR there. Is that just me? Seems… mellow, orchestral, a little more fantasy than sci-fi. Am I nitpicking? Maybe.

The BIBLE references UFOs?? Lol, no. (Unless you count the objects described in Revelations-- the book, not the episode-- but even then, those are largely considered to be drones, not UFOs.)

Chris Carter, I see you.

(Note from the future: NOW I see why the Bible bit was included-- lots of heavy-handed "God means this, Scully" in order to get her on-board to join the files. Ugh.)

…They’re really doubling down on the UFO lore, huh. All of which evaporated because of global warming, I guess.

GUYS, why couldn’t this have been about life on Earth after Colonization?????

It fits with the disaster footage, it fits with Mulder’s voiceover, it fits with the character progression from Season 9 (I GUESS), it fits with a whooooooooooole ton of other factors.

I’ve never been one for wanting Colonization in canon, but it literally would have worked for this series. There wouldn't need to be a complete wipeout of humanity, maybe just a “disaster happened, but the humans are fighting back” scenario.

And that would fit with Mulder and Scully’s "breakup", PERHAPS-- they spent so much time working, trying to save the world (she in science, he on the ground or with untainted factions who coalitioned post-Colonization) that their relationship cracks would need to be actively worked through. Not broken up so much as together and repairing.

It would also help CC and co. to avoid the tempest of modern US politics and the more mainstream conspiracies that were taking hold at that time-- a broader reach to all audiences, a "bigger picture" for everyone to unite under.

(Guys, they should have let me write for this show. …I take it back, I’d have quit after three days.)

Also: The show writers spent all their brain power on this sequence and this sequence alone, didn’t they?

Obiwan Kenobi and Military Man are going on a bus somewhere.

...On closer inspection, neither man looks like anything like Obiwan Kenobi, but the nickname is staying.

We’re back to Scully at a hospital-- not unlike I Want to Believe’s opening.

Skinner called? Oh. Didn’t know he was “here” this early.

WAIT.

Wait, wait, wait.

Scully just called up Mulder like nothing’s a big deal? He answered like nothing’s a big deal? She’s smiling over his joke from the get-go?

…And we’re supposed to believe they’re seriously broken up. Which the show will insist is the case.

David and Gillian really said, “Script? What script?” and did what they wanted. I salute them.

Also, “What’s happening out there, Scully?” is a great line to point to Mulder’s continued isolation… which the series will IMMEDIATELY toss aside because he’s, apparently, not been as much of a hermit lately? (Granted, this could be a joke at his own expense because he’s no longer claimed by ~the darkness~, but…. I don’t think the writing’s gonna be that clever, I’ll be honest.)

Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

Fine, I admit it.

I’m loving this so far.

And that’s gonna make me even angrier later on.

“Why doesn’t he [Skinner] just call me?”

“He doesn’t know how to reach you, Mulder. I barely know myself.”

Mulder is baffled and a tinge annoyed, Scully is amused and straight shooting.

THERE IS NO HINT, BEHAVIOR, OR MANNERISM SUGGESTING THEY’VE BROKEN UP. None. At all. He’s isn’t reluctant to answer her call, isn’t sad or withdrawn, isn’t affected by anything she’s saying other than to be teasy or poky. She isn’t hesitant to call, isn’t sad or depressed, isn’t anything other than a little pleased to dangle a juicy tidbit in front of Mulder’s face.

This is gonna follow IWTB’s ping-pong writing-- they’re fun and in-character, they’re suddenly out-of-character, they’re fun and in-character, they’re suddenly out-of-character, etc. etc. etc.-- isn’t it?

(Mulder taping over his laptop’s webcam is a great touch and not something at all that I’ve done before. At all.)

“I thought you were done with UFOs-- the ‘stranglehold they put on your very existence’, I believe you put it.”

“I’m just the messenger, Mulder.”

That’s GOOD, that’s necessary writing. That’s planting the seeds of what happened between them, what led to a cooldown or a breakup or a whathaveyou. AND STILL neither character acts as if they’ve broken up: no melancholy, no sadness, no nothing.

Mulder’s timbre became a little sardonic while quoting back her words, but that doesn’t mean they’ve broken up. If anything, that points to a bicker and line-in-the-sand between them-- him bringing up UFOs at the dinner table and her reminding him to talk to someone else about it before turning the topic to how the lettuce is growing or something.

Neither actor is performing like one would if pain and trauma and heartbreak and distance were placed between them; and that really complicates things because the breakup is built on top of the aforementioned list of struggles.

Would Mulder have dug his heels in post 2012, seeing it as a sign that “the aliens” just changed their plans? Yes.

Would Scully have seen a pursuit down that rabbit hole as a waste of time? Debatable. The Truth S9 Scully wouldn’t have-- the aliens are still out there; and they cost her months of her life, months of Mulder’s abduction, months of Mulder’s death, months of Mulder’s separation, and the ultimate cost: William’s adoption and their life on the run. Post The Truth Scully would have seen this as her quest, too: she won’t give up, she says in the finale, because he won’t.

IWTB Scully, however, would- and that's a problem.

I’ve already discussed, at length, how out-of-character Scully was in I Want to Believe (posts here.) Although Mulder doesn’t escape from the same writing blunders, she is really, really scalped: of her courage, of her will, of her determination.

Whenever Scully gave up, in canon, it was only because she thought she was holding Mulder back, or when she felt Mulder had lost his faith and trust in her. That held true in Season 9-- despite the appalling writing choices there, too-- but didn’t in IWTB.

The Revival had the perfect opportunity to factory reset the writers' mistakes: portray a wiser duo who continue to fight the fight according to their strengths, like they always have before Mulder ever met Scully. (When Mulder tells Scully to set up a meeting with Skinner, he adds, “Don’t pretend I’m going alone”-- which reinforces my point.)

But I know that's not going to happen.

Scully goes without argument-- THAT’S GOOD, THAT’S GOOD CHARACTER WRITING. At this point in the game, of course she would-- they trust each other, they have for years, they’d have reached even deeper levels after going on the run for [insert math] years. All good things!

The problem: this will create a huge conflict with her actions later.

(I’m already so disappointed.)

“Uber?”/”Hitchhiking. Relax, Scully, I’m kidding” was a fun modernization of their humor, I’ll take it.

This scene is starting to highlight the distance between them, which is all well-and-good, but feels tonally different from the previous scene. As in, their two scenes were definitely filmed on different days, in different moods, and with different intents.

She’s worried about him, with tears in her eyes; he has his walls up; there’s distance, as previously noted.

“Good for you to get out of that little house every once in a while”/”Certainly was good for you” is followed up with knowing, indulgent, pleased smiles and you expect me to believe these two are seriously broken up. Nope. I’ve seen Scully sad but amused, I’ve seen Scully too sad to be amused, but these two? This moment? Nah.

Tonally dissonant-- the IWTB problem: at-ease and close one minute, at-odds and distant the next. Hoorayyyyyy....

None of this makes sense for a long-term, permanent (as Scully infers later to someone else) breakup. Nor for a short-term, semi-permanent one. Math doesn’t math.

“I’m always happy to see you,” she says, implying he's the one who permanently pulled away… which will be contradicted later this very episode.

“I’m always happy to find a reason [to leave the house],” he says, somberly.

Both of which are odd lines.

If he’s happy to leave the house to see her… why hasn’t he?

If she’s happy to see him, always, but says a relationship between them was "impossible" (which she will later), why is Scully staring at him with heart eyes, hoping he gets better so they can continue their relationship? (And mark my words, this tone underscores her interactions with him the rest of this series.)

Tad’s here. He’s... fine. He represents the overly cautious very well. At least he hasn’t gone full Alex Jones mockumentary (...yet.)

I’ve heard criticisms that Mulder and Scully don’t act like themselves in this series, but based off the few minutes I’ve seen here… I don’t agree.

The essence is the same. Truly. Scully’s got the same face that lights up the same way, Mulder’s got the same expressions and young-at-heart humor. Neither are really melancholic. Neither are David or Gillian esque.

Perhaps that will change.

(Note from the future: OH BOY. Which Mulder and Scully are we talking here-- OG Mulder and Scully? Nope. IWTB Mulder and Scully? Yep. David and Gillian? Once or twice.)

But, again, their interactions feel… wasted. Hollow. They’re supposed to be broken up, but their breakup doesn’t contribute to their interactions or the plot. They’re supposed to have suffered and are working back to each other… but they aren’t really separated, haven’t seemed to suffer (note from future: except for one scene which comes outta nowhere), and won’t collapse back together on-screen.

They’re supposed to be wiser and more mature, but they’ll still engage in a silly will-they-won’t-they while Mulder eats up the latest UFO or conspiracy slop he’s either already engaged in or debunked [insert math] years ago and Scully clings to her cowardice like a leech.

First nagging problem: Scully smiling at Tad, Scully excusing Mulder’s mannerisms when he becomes briefly jealous, Scully making nice with a conspiracy nut.

…Isn’t that Mulder’s job? Didn't she leave because conspiracies were consuming her life? Does this mean she actually does want this life back but is she playing coy or elusive because...?

Furthermore, when Mulder popped a comment off to a witness or informant in the past, Scully never excused him-- just breezed over it professionally with another question. She’s only saying “excuse him” here because she’s taken a shine to Tad. WHY, on this post-2012 global warming green Earth, WOULD SHE?

Tad says Mulder is the X-Files, Mulder says that “book is closed”... WAIT. Wait, hold up--

Pause. Stop. Rewind.

Mulder wants to believe. Actual proof is hard to come by.

Tad thinks Mulder is the X-Files.

MULDER SAYS… *ahem*... Mulder says, “I’m afraid that book is closed.” …Which means he’s no longer into UFOs or aliens, too. SO. why did Scully LEAVE.

If that’s behind him, why aren’t they together again???? Mulder didn’t know who Tad O’Malley was a minute or so ago, meaning he’s been outta the conspiracy scene for a bit. That MEANS his departure from Conspiracyville's been long enough to patch-up his obsession and ensuing depression, I guess.

But then... what about Scully??

Because Mulder wants her to come back (already subtly established in each scene), and Scully is concerned for his welfare; but Scully thinks he’s still into UFO conspiracy and hasn’t come back because of it? BUT SHE ISN’T SHOCKED WHEN HE SAYS “I’m afraid that book is closed” MEANING SHE KNOWS HE’S PUT THAT BEHIND HIM... BUT STILL HASN’T RETURNED?

And both of them aren’t acting as if they’ve broken up, anyway, except for a pointed line of dialogue here and a brief reaction there before they yeet back to the status quo.

They’ve left that behind them, Scully says, for better or worse. And Mulder latches onto that better or worse, making a pointed barb at their breakup, but…. There’s no writing glue, just suggestion and inference; and the suggestions themselves don’t add up.

Here come the bullet points.

Season 10 posits Mulder became depressed after the aliens didn’t invade in 2012-- that’s reasonable and logical, his nature is depressive when his expectations are subverted or smashed or etc.

Season 10 also posits Scully left because Mulder became too much to deal with. That’s… not logical, since her nature is to rescue and nurture, even when Mulder’s being an actual boil on her sittin’ cheeks (ala Demons, etc., etc.)

Season 10 posits Mulder’s hard to get a hold of-- despite being in the same house the FBI helicoptered to in IWTB-- and posits it might be hard for Scully to get a hold of him-- despite the fact both characters easily got in contact, knew it was each other, and even joked about the fact it’s hard to get in contact with Mulder… which means it really isn't. (The script doesn’t catch these discrepancies, of course, pretending Mulder is very hidden away at the same ol' house he'd been discovered at in 2008.)

Season 10 says Scully doesn’t want UFOs to be part of her life anymore, that it was a stranglehold… yet she came along on a conspiracy gig without question to… what? Be around Mulder? But then, why warm up to the conspiracy guy-- an embodiment of what drove her and her partner apart?

Season 10 posits Mulder chased Scully off with his conspiracy spiraling YET ALSO states he’s put that part of his life-- conspiracies, UFOs, the X-Files-- behind him. Which implies: A. Mulder’s aaaaaaall better now and B. he put that all behind him but Scully never came home and C. Scully shouldn’t know he put that all behind him if that’s what’s keeping her away; but she does know because his declaration doesn’t take her by surprise, which means she’s still driven away and concerned for him for no discernable reason.

Season 11 posits Scully didn’t leave because Mulder became too much to deal with but because she, too, had issues to deal with. This point wasn't mentioned or hinted at in the episode that introduces their breakup, which makes that line of reasoning a complete rewrite. (Whatever. I’ll judge how well that’s executed when I get there.)

It doesn’t add up.

Are we surprised.

Five seconds after this, I had to listen to a back-and-forth between Tad O’Malley and Mulder on conspiracies and Conservatives and alien beliefs and the O’Reilly Factor and….

This seems out of touch, I’m not sorry.

When this show aired, Conservatives already had their miles-long conspiracy theories. For Mulder to be ignorant of that fact while allegedly knowing exactly who and what Tad believes while also alleging….

More bullet points!

Fox “I’m afraid that book is closed” Mulder has, supposedly, been out of the conspiracy scene.

Fox “I’m afraid that book is closed” Mulder isn’t aware that not only did 2015 Conservatives believe in aliens-- despite the fact Tad is a watered-down copy-paste of Alex Jones-- but that there were also Conservative believers in the 90s (who were a fringe in their own group, but.) This was Mulder’s expertise; and his eidetic memory isn’t likely to have tossed that info because it was no longer relevant to his life.

Fox “I’m afraid that book is closed” Mulder has supposedly not been out of the conspiracy scene-- despite saying he is-- because he does know who Tad O’Malley is-- despite not knowing who he was two minutes ago.

Mulder is assuming that Conservatives “of your credentials” don’t believe in UFOs or “9/11 false-flag conspiracies” despite people from the Left, Center, and Right publicly believing those conspiracies in 2015.

Fox “I’m afraid that book is closed” Mulder is supposed to be dismantling Tad’s grift; but he (and the writers) sound uneducated and incredibly out-of-touch during this dialogue-- as if all Conservatives were still Bush-era believers. Most were suspicious of the government by this time (they helped elect a man who ran on a “drain the swamp” campaign, after all.) Mulder’s bewilderment here is old and tired, even by 2015 standards.

This writing is flashy-- long sentences, quick back-and-forths-- but poorly constructed and badly executed.

This is also the first segment where David Duchovny is peeking through Fox Mulder; where Scully is swinging wildly between absolutely-fine-with-Mulder and we’re-no-longer-together; and where we, the audience, are being force-fed that only one side of the political aisle believes in aliens-- or the Bigger Question or whatever-- on a show that wants to poke at unfounded conspiracy beliefs.

Oh, look! Scully made a Scully-face, so everything’s good now!

(UuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH--)

Sveta. Aww, I like her--

“You don’t remember me.”

“No, I think I’d remember.”

WHAT WAS THAT.

Show writers, STOP with the romantic triangulation, it’s NOT. GONNA. HAPPEN. David doesn’t even TRY to make that romantic-ish. Yet you angle on Scully’s face as if she’s supposed to be out-of-the-loop and a tinge jealous.

WAIT, WAIT, WAIT, hoooooooooooooooooooold up.

Svetta was a dark-haired little girl Mulder interviewed after her first abduction, meaning she’s set up to be another Samantha.

So…………………. What’s with the murky jealousy issue, CHRIS. You wedged it in solely so Scully would feel jealous over Mulder? Y’know. Like I Want to Believe?

And I say Chris Carter because he wanted to play the breakup angle:

"We do it in an interesting way," Carter told The Hollywood Reporter. "We put some of the tension back in that was relieved by them being together. It added to the storytelling opportunities. It's something that I came up with; I had been thinking about it. There was always talk of [breaking them up] if we did another movie."

The first shot canon takes right between the eyes:

Scully being “familiar” with the “screen memories” abductees are given was a cool touch… except she’s never been given “screen memories.” The abductees in Jose Chung’s From Outer Space were given screen memories-- she was returned a blank slate. (Even Mulder didn’t have “screen memories” after his abduction.)

Scully poking Sveta about aliens taking her unborn fetuses seems a tad (heh) strong except all the alien-related pregnancies have been the result of government testing, not alien probes. So. If this scene followed canon's rules, her skepticism would be warranted.

But this skepticism is still odd.

Two seconds ago, she was making nice to Tad O’Malley in the car, and now she’s leading the questioning for Sveta. The odd icing on top of this odd cake is that Scully left because she didn’t want UFOs to have a stranglehold on her life, yet here she is leading an interview with an abductee.

Sveta: “I have alien DNA, for sure.”

Scully: “Have you had a doctor confirm that?”

Sveta: “No.”

Me, too, Mulder. Me, too.

Scully doesn’t question the alien DNA bit, so that’s good.

…I’ll bet everyone forgets she and Mulder have a bit lingering in their systems from the black oil and his brain thingy and residue from when she touched the ship and and and.

“Something you can test. Dana.”

What… what was that.

Honestly, what was that. Whatever mood David was conveying through Mulder, it didn’t match anything from any previous scenes, let alone this one.

Is he poking at Scully? Why? He’s not jealous anymore (if he even was.) The way he says it and her expression in response implies they have a tense back-and-forth going on, but they don’t. THEY DON’T.

We’re 13 minutes in and I could make another numerical list. But I won’t. Yet.

Back to not-Obiwan Kenobi and Military Man.

That alien’s stupid bad-looking.

Wait.

That’s not how canon said Roswell unfolded.

And the first alien shot on Earth was by Deep Throat’s hands-- that was his whole turning-point backstory.

CURSE YOU, LACK OF A SHOW BIBLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

(Note from the future: All of that past canon? Fake. Faked. All lies. None of that happened.)

“What have you done??” Not-Obiwan Kenobi yells… and what have they done?

Back to Scully and Sveta.

Sveta can move things with her mind-- not all the time-- but at least Scully is listening to her claims without automatically shutting them down.

But also…

“I can move things. With my mind,” should have IMMEDIATELY had a greater impact on Scully, up-close-and-personal as she was to her son’s abilities. But nope! No reaction! Of course!

Sveta “You were together but now you’re not” is asking the right questions. I don’t even mind Sveta. I’ll bet this episode’s the last time we see her, though.

Does she contribute to anything? No. But she’s nice, so.

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIT, WAIT, WAIT.

Scully diagnosed-- wait, hold up, list time.

Scully diagnosed Mulder with depression.

That killed their relationship.

…THAT killed their relationship? After everything?

The writers are going to have to explain, in detail, why that killed it.

Why does canon need to explain? Because we have a history of Scully sticking by Mulder during the worst periods of both their lives-- leaving him would have to require a very, very good reason.

And there is no indication, thus far, that Mulder’s depression drove a humungous wedge between them, forcing her to walk away. In fact, there is no indication a wedge exists between them, AT ALL-- only the odd, inconsistent word or phrase here or there that bears no weight on the plot or their ultimate decisions.

Whenever Scully left in canon, it was because she could no longer help Mulder. Season 11 will rewrite Season 10’s initial explanation but setting that aside: we’re not given any indication that she did try to help him; or that his depression was so deep and so dangerous that it drove her away.

And if it were that deep or that dangerous enough to drive her away, Scully leaving would have been the last and worst possible action she could have taken. If Mulder's mental state was in such a massive nose-dive that she couldn’t handle what he was going through, Scully-- a medical professional-- would have had him hospitalized, even temporarily against his will, because she would know (per Demons or Gethsemane or Amor Fati) that this level of depression always manifested in suicidal tendencies for her partner.

But Mulder, as per the rules laid out in this episode, never went that far in his deterioration. (Note from the future: We'll get to that.)

If he had, Skinner would have been aware of his hospitalization and wouldn’t have asked for his help; Scully would have been aware and wouldn’t have passed on the information; and Scully wouldn’t have called from the hospital with a degree of buoyancy when relaying Skinner's request to Mulder.

In short: Scully leaving = very big, very drastic measure. Mulder suffering from depression = very big, very bad consequences. Scully's nature and past actions = getting Mulder help, even if he resists at first (i.e. shooting him in the shoulder to save his life.) Mulder and Scully's partnership = unbroken, except through distrust or botched writing.

“And you have a child together.”

Wow, that wasn’t clunky at all.

SCULLY STICKS SVETA HARD WITH A NEEDLE BECAUSE SVETA MENTIONS WILLIAM, darkly saying "That's enough", SO SVETA WOULD KNOW SHE DID IT ON PURPOSE.

I’m… so disgusted. Like, eck. Urk. Awful.

Telling Sveta to back off, strongly, would be in-character; USING PAIN TO DO SO is…. So wrong on so many levels. Scully never utilized medicine to inflict pain or injury on her enemies.

Wow, this grossed me out. You know why?

Scully diagnosed Mulder with depression and left. At first glance, that seem like an out-of-character action that the writing can salvage later by this or that means.

BUT THEN, Scully inflicts pain on Sveta for mentioning William, leaving the audience with the impression that she’s vindictive.

Which then connects the dots between “vindictive” and “left Mulder when he was diagnosed with depression.”

And since we, the audience, haven’t been given a stronger reason for how Mulder’s depression got that bad or why she didn’t help him through it, we’re then left with a sour impression of Scully’s character.

The writers then try to imply Sveta was spilling out Scully’s personal secrets to prove that her powers were real, but that still doesn’t give Scully the right to abuse her power. Especially because a traumatized woman was trying any method possible to be believed.

And the fact that Sveta is also victim of the government weaponizing science and medicine makes me even angrier at Scully.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhh, BOY, another helicopter outside the Unremarkable House, my favorite part of IWTB....

Mulder’s never seen… an alien replica vehicle.

Oh, my mistake: “No. Never. Not like that.” Covering all the bases, I see. Y’know, in case the writers FORGOT MULDER SAW ONE in SEASON 1, EPISODE 2.

OH, LOOK, he’s got his wonder face back, everything’s aaaaaaaaaaaaall better now!

Running on free energy they’ve had since the 40s, sure Jan. Whatever you say.

This just feels so old. Like. Tech we haven’t had since the 40S, GUYS, GET IT, BIG MONEY CORPOS KEPT IT FROM US. Yeah, we got it.

And the flashbacks to Not-Obiwan Kenobi just walking off with an alien corpse because Military Man didn’t… see… value in studying… it. I guess.

Scully doing “God’s work” giving kids ears because their biology neglected it.

I admit, that’s an intriguing window into her perspective of God vs. science, and how she sees a person’s biology separate from God messing them over or messing them up just because. I dig it.

(Note from the future: This will be used as a plotline club rather than a nuanced discussion of her faith.)

Mulder being the most challenging relationship she’s ever had-- “and the most impossible”-- is a weird line. Because yes, it’s true that their relationship is challenging; but her fervor at impossible is the only time in this episode we see an adversarial tendency, DESPITE My Struggle I trying to drum up moments to prove TENSIONS still LINGER (they don't.)

It’s IWTB all over again. Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

“Yeah. I got that impression.” Tad says, and Scully’s hurt because she thinks Mulder gave Tad that impression of her.

So. So. Wait.

Scully lied when she stated “It’s impossible” because she didn't like Tad poking into her private affairs?

But she sounded truly convinced their relationship was "impossible" while saying it.

So, she was either angry or still confused about her emotions-- which is fine, Scully's not always in-tune with her inner workings-- when Tad replied, "I got that impression."

Which explains why she was so hurt at Mulder's seeming rejection.

Because she thinks Mulder’s behavior led Tad to that conviction.

Which means CC just wants Mulder and Scully to be caught in a miscommunication fic.

Also, why is Tad so sad about this? Were they his OTP, or is he pretending to sympathize to get in Scully’s pants? Because that’d be crummy, Chris, to have her be overly nice to Tad only for him to try to twist that into an opening as the new conspiracy guy on the block.

On a lighter note, Chris Carter said Mulder and Scully could still get it in their 50s, so there’s that.

HE DID, HE DID SET SCULLY UP TO BE PURSUED BY TAD--

WHAT. WHAT. WHAT WHAT WHAT--

KNOCK IT OFF, CHRIS.

Poor Sveta. She’s gonna be butchered in this script, isn’t she?

The series is EATING up vast amounts of time with very little scale or grounding. For all I know, a day or a week could have passed.

It’s so, so badly paced.

Mulder’s investigating now, without Scully, because he noticed Sveta had a tell during the interview.

Um.

Sure, that’s a Mulder thing to do.

Oh, wait. This is the “work of men” realization.

The dialogue between Mulder’s questions and Sveta’s answers are really disjointed, as if they’re mildly talking past each other-- another aspect of IWTB I couldn’t stand.

Welp, at least it’s easy to prove they were both written by the same people.

The second shot-in-the-head for canon:

“Sveta, who took your babies?”

“Men.”

“Men? Humans? You saw their faces.”

Also, Sveta’s babies are referred to as her babies, but William-Jackson isn’t Scully’s baby despite sharing half her DNA but Emily Sim was Scully’s baby despite also only sharing half her DNA.

It’s a mess.

Well… Mulder doesn’t seem too surprised here that men were involved in her abductions (I mean, he's long since been aware the government was involved from day one, so.) It’d be really stupid if the writing made him surprised about this later, wouldn’t it?

…Wouldn’t it?

Another poorly constructed set of lines:

“I haven’t worked for them [the government] in years.”

“But you always wondered… if they were lying to you, too.”

No, he didn’t wonder-- he believed it.

A wonky way to address his old skepticisms, for sure.

JUST AFTER I NOTED THAT MULDER DIDN’T LOOK SURPRISED AT SVETA'S REVELATION, HE CALLS UP SCULLY AND MAKES A BIG DEAL ABOUT IT BEING A CONSPIRACY OF MEN.

I knew this was coming, but maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan that was so, so poorly handled.

SCULLY WAS GETTING (sort of) WINED AND DINED BY TAD O’MALLEY??????????????

I HATE IT HERE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING, WHAT IS HAPPENING, WHAT IN THE WORLD AND WHY, HOW COULD YOU BE SO EASILY FLEECED, DANA, THIS ISN’T AN ED JERSE PARALLEL BECAUSE YOU THINK MULDER DOESN’T WANT YOU, THIS IS STUPID, THIS IS THIS IS THIS IS

WHAT.

I thought Scully had dated Tad O’Malley in the past (sometime after the breakup) but this is worsefarworse.

SVETA IS THE KEY TO EVERYTHING, I’M SO TIRED.

“Mulder, where are you going?” sounds exactly like Scully, and now I’m mad Gillian didn’t use that voice for the rest of the show (voice recovery aside....)

I KNEW SKINNER WAS BEHIND GETTING THEM BACK. He just calls up Scully to call Mulder up, then just unlocks the old office when Mulder wants to get back in. 110% Skinner thought this would help his buddy Mulder. And he’s not wrong.

Wait.

Did Skinner put in more effort to save Mulder from his mental health struggles (per this My Struggle I episode) than Scully??????

Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-- my brain is broken.

The hold on Skinner’s face while he says “Can you tell me what this is about” was way too long.

Also, don’t try to play coy with me, Skinman.

Now the camera’s zooming around and losing its “X-Files” feel by being too… modern.

Skinner telling Mulder to calm down is the only time in canon where I agree with him. Mulder’s just spouting and demanding and not really making clear sense and this is why you don't let Mulder back into his basement without Scully by his side, Skinner-- don’t you remember that lesson?

Skinner telling Mulder to calm down then saying he doesn’t take orders from him only for Mulder to say “Who do you take orders from?”, ugh.

GUYS, THIS WAS RESOLVED IN SEASON. 2. BECAUSE MULDER KNEW MEN WERE BEHIND THE CONSPIRACY SINCE SEASON 1, EPISODE 2; AND SKINNER SINCE SEASON 2, EPISODE ASCENSION.

BECAUSE SKINNER’S ALREADY HAD HIS LOYALTY TESTED AND THIS IS HURTING MY BRAIN MAKE IT END.

I’m not even 25 minutes into this, help.

“Why do you think I called you? Because I was looking out for you, because I’ve always looked out for you.” Is… is Skinner the only character who’s progressed? That’s exactly what he would do-- he’s acting sensibly, rationally, and in-character... and more mature, more veteran, than his agents.

I know the Revival is supposed to be “Mulder and Scully all grown-up” but none of their actions have been intelligent, measured, or informed by their age or life experience. It’s a farce that I hope future episodes will rectify.

“A decade of my life--” Mulder rants and kicks his poster like a toddler AND YOU KNEW ALL THIS INFORMATION FROM SEASON 1, MULDER. NONE OF THIS IS NEW. WWWWWWWWWWWWWWHAT IS THIS.

I can’t imagine how disappointed philes were when they tuned into this episode. Well... I can because of how I feel; but at least I knew, roughly, how bad it would be going in.

This is worse.

Skinner: “You’re blaming me for that?”

Mulder: “No, I’m blaming myself. I’m sure they lied to you, too.”

This isn’t a revelation, chump.

At least Skinner confirms my theory: “There hasn’t been a day since you’ve left that I haven’t reached for my phone to call you, Mulder, wishing you were still down here.”

Feral Mulder is touched.

“Since 9/11--” OH NO, WHY ARE WE GOING THERE “--this country’s taken a big turn and in a very strange direction.”

Guys. Guys. This isn’t… this… what.

“Now they police us, spy on us, and tell us that makes it safer--” CAN THE WRITERS GET OFF A SOAP BOX FOR FIVE SECONDS. Of course it isn’t safer to be unnecessarily policed or spied on, but the answer isn't just "boo, the government!" What… why… my brain’s melting, I feel it deteriorating.

This, again, feels so Bush-era. Like, whoever wrote this didn’t update their mentality.

Also, the camera shots and cuts are weird. Holding too long, zooming out at “pause and take THAT in” moments, focusing on Mulder’s phone while he silently calls up Skinner to prove a point… it’s supremely unsubtle.

Back to Tad, I don’t care. You did this to yourself, Scully, cozying up only to be used as a name drop on his show. Stupid.

Is Scully gonna be shocked she has alien DNA? She shouldn’t be.

But then again, Mulder shouldn’t be shocked this has all been a work of men, so.

She’s expecting-- no, hoping-- for a call from somebody named Mulder.

Sure, they’re broken up with hard feelings. Sure. Absolutely.

Is this old man Not-Obiwan Kenobi?

Of course.

At least Mulder seems old hat at this informant business.

But of course, he’s “not even close” to putting it all together.

Stupid.

WAIT.

The countdown was WRONG-- Mulder states it began, not ended in 2012, meaning he's believed this theory for some time. Meaning... why was he so depressed after 2012? Why are there still depression concerns in 2015?? Seriously, what's with his depression if the 2012 Colonization was allegedly the cause of it but there is no Colonization and the clock's simply been reset????

WHY WAS HE DEPRESSED IF HE RECONFIGURED THE COUNTDOWN. WHAT.

Mulder: "Not by aliens, not with aliens, but by a conspiracy of men--"

“You’re wasting my time.” Tell him, old man Not-Obiwan Kenobi!

“Ten years ago, you came to me--”

Wait, ten years ago? What, 2005? The guy showed up while Mulder was on the run? And Scully never… knew about this?

There were no aliens lighting each other on fire??????????????????? WAIT, I NEVER HEARD THIS INFORMATION.

THERE WERE NEVER ALIENS, AT ALL???????????????????? Like, AT ALL?????

The writers are saying that Scully's experience on Ruskin Dam in Season 5 was not two warring alien factions BUT TWO GROUPS OF MEN LIGHTING EACH OTHER ON FIRE, OR GIVING EVERYONE FALSE MEMORIES OF ALIENS LIGHTING EACH OTHER ON FIRE, OR...??????

hONESTLY.

Let's be real specific for a second: Chris Carter expects us to believe that the ENTIRE mytharc from the original show was ALL faked; that there were no aliens, ZERO, ZILCH; and that CSM and Deep Throat and all the others created elaborate schemes JUST to manipulate MULDER because the aliens weren't a threat from the start????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? DON’T BELIEVE YOUR LYING EYES. THEY WERE ALL MEN IN SUITS.

Like… do you realize how stupid that is? How actually, unfathomably stupid that is? It’s not just “the aliens didn’t invade because of global warming,” no, it’s “they were never a problem to begin with, we just manipulated Mulder into believing they were because… because he’s so important, I GUESS.”

Roswell’s also a smokescreen, of course.

Y’know how, during the 90s, DD thought The X-Files was a stupid sci-fi show? If he thought each mytharc plot was as bad as this one, no wonder he wanted to bail.

Oh, by the way, the global warming explanation is part of a theory: the fascist elites will dominate the world and escape from consequences into space, leading the rest of humanity to die by a globally warmed planet. The aliens weren't chased off by global warming because they were never a factor to begin with.

Wow.

I CAUGHT A CONTINUITY ERROR!

Scully shows up at his place in her uniform from yesterday, panicked, like she’d just run from Tad’s side to see what happened despite her saying over a day has passed.

Going to ignore his “What are you doing here, Scully?” because we’ve ping-ponged back to the out-of-character Mulder that the writers use when it’s time to remind everyone he and Scully are broken up.

It’s IWTB all over again, I’m so tired.

They’re talking past each other and he’s touching her shoulders now because he needs her to trust him and yadda yadda yadda.

It’s soooo, sooooo, soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo highschool, I’m sorry. This is Riverdale. This is [insert whatever teen series you want to watch.] These are teenagers masquerading as adults, for the angst.

None of this holds up, their emotions shift left and right without provocation, things just happen, and there is no strand of continuity stringing anything together.

Scully trying to talk Mulder down from further pursuit doesn’t make sense because, AGAIN, she’s the one who's always gone back to the files even when he walks away; and every time he’s given up, or wanted to, SHE'S called him back and held him accountable and kept him going.

This is the Scully from IWTB with no gumption of her own, who denies her leaps forward because of plot, plot, plot.

Guys, I’ve been religiously dosing myself with caffeine (via chocolate), but my body keeps trying to make me go to sleep because it’s so uninvested. I don't even need sleep.

“This is my life, this is, this is everything I believe in--” HOW. MANY. TIMES. Has he said this before. WHEN HAS THAT LINE EVER WORKED ON SCULLY.

But that's beside the point: "this" was no longer his life after Amor Fati, by his own choice. Closure brought him closure, but he was already spittin' walk-away talk by Requiem, chose to leave in Vienen, and insisted Scully stay gone in Alone. In Season 9, it was Scully who had to beg him into hiding to pursue the Truth or whatever; and it was Scully who brought him the case in IWTB and Scully who relayed Skinner's request and tagged along both times until she got uncomfy and decided never mind, too hard.

Y’know? This claim gets to me because it’s a lie. A lie so blatant that 90s Mulder would have thrown hands over it, a lie so baseless that it erases his declaration in the hallway:

“I don’t know if I want to do this alone. I don’t even know if I can.” And every time Mulder yells his “THIS IS MY LIFE”, he erases that part of his past, the part that willingly left the files or the big Truth or the next chase to save Scully’s life or to keep her by his side.

Chris Carter said Mulder and Scully were The X-Files post The Truth… but I guess he keeps conveniently forgetting that. More accurately, he keeps making MULDER forget that, in spite of all evidence in Mulder’s history and personality to the contrary.

It infuriates me.

“Tad O’Malley is a charming man--” get outta here.

Now Scully’s been played the fool so she’s going to think Mulder’s being toyed around with by a social media sociopath. You’re an idiot, Scully.

You’re an idiot, Mulder.

You expect us to be idiots, writers.

Here’s some ham-fisted “Fate” dialogue for you, *ahem*:

Scully: “How do you know he’s not playing you, he’s a player!” (You would know, Scully.)

Mulder: “He’s a Godsend!”

Mulder’s not a believer in God, BUT this is also supposed to refer to the God conversation Scully and Tad had in the hospital, which will inadvertently make Scully ~believe~ again.

“What are you talking about?” I’m with ya there, Scully. I’m with ya, there.

Scully’s trying to insist Mulder's on a verge of a breakdown, which… UGH.

This scene implies Mulder hasn’t had a breakdown or a break from reality YET-- Scully spends the episode constantly concerned for his health and begging him, here, to watch what where he's stepping because he’s on the verge of spiraling.

Which means he hasn't spiraled, because she's afraid of what would happen to him IF he did.

MEANING that there wasn’t an inciting factor that made her leave: no alcoholism, no outbursts, no nothing. He just became depressed, probably withdrawn, and wouldn’t change; so, she left.

Do you realize what that means, per this episode? It means Scully ANTICIPATED a breakdown and left BEFORE it happened. Then hoped he’d get better before it did.

Which breaks the established morals of her character. If she had been able to help, she would have stayed. If she hadn’t been able to help, she would have found another way to help him, even if it involved calling in a third party against his will. Instead, she withdrew and hoped he would get better BEFORE he reached a breaking point-- essentially, leaving him to an impending breakdown while hoping and praying against it.

This makes her decision to leave a mark of weak character-- not because she was a woman who left her depressed husband, but because Dana Scully, whose character we amply know, left. It checks none of the boxes she'd have to clear first before choosing to take one step out the door.

All the fic I’ve read to justify their breakup-- and make no mistake, CC wrote her to say “as your friend” intentionally-- or time apart or whathaveyou had Scully reach a breaking point. Because, of course! That's logical. But here, in canon-- in black and white-- that didn’t happen.

We, the audience, have to create a plausible scenario in our minds to justify the steps she took. Because. it. Is. not. In. canon (as per this episode.)

Now Scully’s gonna get jealous of Sveta, I’m so done. Riverdale, uuuuuuuuugh.

Mulder just lets Scully walk away because Scully thinks he wants Sveta but “Sveta is the key to everything” and if Scully wants to misunderstand that she should have more trust in him, I guess, and I NEED A RESPIRATOR.

He just says “Scully” once and lets her huff off.

TAD’S BACK, GO AWAY.

WAIT, TAD STOPS HER BEFORE SHE LEAVES.

Mulder: “I would have invited you, Scully, but I didn’t think you would come.”

That’s…

That’s….

Let’s break down this stupidity:

Scully shows up.

Mulder had Sveta in the house because he was calling her and O'Malley for a group meeting.

When Scully becomes nearly hysterical over his safety, he doesn’t reason with her, just spouts like a lunatic.

When she misreads the Sveta situation and stomps off, he lets her go with a weak, “Scully"--

--because he knew Tad was right behind her and was pulling in to stop her from leaving.

Because Tad and Sveta were invited but Scully was not.

And Scully was not invited because.

Because she might not show up.

I’m just preaching to the choir at this point, continuing on.

Scully gave in, just like that. Guess she’s not leaving, anymore.

She’s so, so… spineless. Has been since Season 9, has been a BIT since Season 8 (though that was at least justified and kept to a bare minimum.)

I’m just. So sick of passive Scully.

I HATE THOSE STINGER NOISES NOW.

It’s always, “You can't let this information out because these men work in secrecy”/”What is it?”/”You’ll see”; then stinger; then we, the audience, are immediately shown what it is.

No suspenseful build-up.

Tad: “Then why are you [Scully] here?”/”Scully: “Mulder, what are you up to?”/Mulder: *knowing look*/stinger/next scene.

KNOCK IT OFF ALREADY.

“Implanting of alien embryos”-- so Sveta’s babies weren’t her babies.

So Scully’s baby wasn’t her baby.

But Emily was her baby but William isn’t.

Sure, Jan.

In spite of this information, the Revival will paint William as their son until it doesn’t; despite, again, stating from day one that the alien babies are implanted embryos and not biological babies.

So, these two boneheads should have suspected that William wasn’t theirs, anyway.

Even though William is theirs because the CSM timeline doesn’t add up, which they would have mathed in their heads by the time little William was snuggled in their arms.

It’s all so stupid.

Why does this feel so fearmongery about the government? And I’m not going to sit here and say the government should be trusted-- it has a VERY bad history, I'm aware. But this is “my first conspiracy” level of worldbuilding.

Did the writers think it was clever to set O’Malley up as a bad actor then reveal he was a good actor, modeling him after the notorious Alex Jones only to point and jeer, “HAH, you assumed! He’s actually on Mulder’s side!”

Because that’s not genius, that’s laziness.

Scully only now decides to inform everyone Sveta has no evidence of alien DNA? So, what, she was never going to tell them unless Mulder kept being, what, crazy?

“They got to her” says Mulder about Sveta, but Scully LITERALLY SAID she had no alien DNA, so what was Sveta supposed to believe???????? That Tad O'Malley wasn't using her for as a hoax???

Mulder ran all the way to her house, or ubered then ran, or whatever… and she’s gone, of course.

Poor Sveta.

Tad O’Malley’s Truth Site is gone, oh, noooooo.

Look, I’ll always be against censorship. But this is sending so many odd and mixed signals that it’s creating craaaaaaaaaaaaazy levels of dissonance.

Mulder wrote “Don’t Give Up” in Scully's car dust….

Riverdale.

Mulder presents the global warming = no aliens theory?

I’m so tired.

WAIT, SCULLY BELIEVES MULDER'S THEORY NOW THAT HER BOY TAD’S BEEN PULLED OFF THE NETWORK.

“We need to find her [Sveta], Mulder,” Scully insists.

Hold on, prediction time: Scully only changed her mind because this case now involves her-- i.e. only extending empathy to Christian (a boy that reminded her of William) and not to the string of missing, possibly murdered, women in IWTB.

OF COURSE. Her results for Sveta ended up being wrong AND HER OWN GENOME HAS ALIEN DNA IN IT, TOO.

You selfish, self-centered clone of Dana Scully.

Scully truly hasn’t recovered since… Season 9, let’s be real, where she told Mulder to leave then spent the whole year crying over his absence. In IWTB, she brought Mulder a case then left him when he wouldn’t stop his pursuit (to SAVE. LIVES.) And in the Revival, she called Mulder and the gang crazy until her own genome showed alien DNA.

Hate this, hate this, HATE this.

Also, yeah, she already knew she had alien DNA in the OG series, moving on.

Oh, and now they get a call from Skinner just when Scully says someone has to stop the bad guys.

OF COURSE.

Remember the God convo from earlier, guys???? GOD. FATE. SOMETHINGSOMETHINGSOMETHING.

You had ONE good idea to explore-- how Scully views God vs. the aberrations of biology-- and then just... used it as a convenient club to beat in the “God/Fate means for us to do this” instead.

“Scully, are you ready for this?”

“I don’t know there’s a choice.”

Can’t someone PLEASE just explore her faith with nuance? PLEASE?

Sveta's DEAD???????? I’M SO MAD, I liked her!

YOU FAILED HER, SCULLY.

YOU FAILED MULDER, SCULLY.

WHY DOES SCULLY HAVE TO KEEP FAILING PEOPLE????????????

Skipping the CSM scene because I don’t care, the END.

CONCLUSION

How does Scully’s mischaracterization keep reaching new lows?

How does Mulder become less wise with age?

How is Skinner the only mentally mature character here?

I’m so tired.

#txf #React #Revival #A Late-Canon Reviler Gives the Revival a Try #Revival Reviler's first-time watch through #My Struggle I #mine #first-time watch through #Part I #x-files #xfiles #the x files #Mulder #Scully #Tad O'Malley #Sveta #S10 #xf meta #thoughts

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