#it makes me sad occasionally that some of the things i'm most proud of in this liveblog are things that will only have an impact

[blackjackkent]

The second of the chains binding Orpheus in place shatters under the blow of the Hammer, and the magical prison explodes in a burst of light that makes Rakha have to flinch and look away.

She opens her eyes to find that the shards of light have fallen away, and the githyanki prisoner is sitting on his knees on the stone.

He draws himself slowly to his feet, then with a sudden motion lashes out with one hand, psionically summoning the sword of one of his fallen honor guard into his hand.

Narrator: As the githyanki prince takes his blade, a silent cry pierces your head. It's unlike any sensation you've ever felt.

Rakha grunts, clutching her temple as she steps back away from the point of the sword turned in her direction. This is - not pain, exactly, but a new connection, one she doesn't recognize. There's little time to analyze it, though, as Orpheus takes another step towards her, raising the blade so it is level with her throat.

"You reek of illithid," he hisses. His narrowed eyes are cold with disgust. "You destroyed a githyanki creche. And you slaughtered my honor guard."

She can see the rage work through him; she knows that expression, the desperate desire to strike, to destroy, to avenge. But he waits it out, holds it in, his knuckles whitening in their grip on the weapon's hilt. "Nonetheless," he growls, "it seems we must be allies."

She could not have maintained the alliance with the Emperor, not anymore - but nevertheless Rakha was worried this might be the reaction when Orpheus stepped from his prison and saw the wretched lines wrought into her face. She shoots a sideways look at Lae'zel, who steps forward at once, her head lifting proudly.

"Your Majesty. The Prince of the Comet," she says with earnest reverence. "Gith's true heir. It is an honor."

"Do not patronize me," Orpheus sneers, and Lae'zel's head snaps back as if he's slapped her.

In truth, Orpheus is barely looking at her; his attention is fully focused on Rakha and her illithid-corrupted appearance, wary and ready to strike. "You rejected the illithid when it no longer suited your needs. No doubt you freed me because it suits you now," he says, disdain in every syllable. "I will neither forgive nor forget your abuse of my powers."

Rakha grimaces. Nothing about this is false; everything Orpheus accuses her of is something that she has indeed done. Deaths and alliances and betrayals that all seemed necessary at the time - for survival, to keep fighting... or sometimes simply to spill blood. There is nothing she can say in defense of herself - except that it worked, and she has made it here to this moment.

"You're free now, aren't you?"(*) she asks curtly.

"I could have been free much sooner!" Sudden rage flares through the cold disdain. "You had the opportunity to surrender yourself to my honor guard. They would have given you a noble end!" His jaw works angrily. "Any worthy individual destined to become ghaik would have done so. My guard would have freed me, and I would have stopped the elder brain before it evolved into a Netherbrain."

He tilts his head back, looking at Rakha with a sad, bitter scowl. "All that suffering... avoidable - were it not for the choices *you* made."

Rakha stares back at him, resisting the urge to flinch away from his eyes. Perhaps the accusation is truth - and yet what does it matter? She has the blood of thousands on her hands far beyond what the brain has effected. Orpheus cannot give her any condemnation she has not already given herself.

But she came here, and she turned the Emperor away, and she pulled Orpheus from his prison at her friend's urging. Surely that counts for something.

"Let's forget about the past," she mutters curtly. "I was... misled. What now?"

Orpheus glares at her skeptically for a long moment. Then he shrugs resignedly. "We will destroy the Netherbrain together, and put a stop to this nascent Empire before it expands into the stars."

He paces a few steps side to side, and then scowls. "The ghaik was correct about one thing. The Netherbrain's power is beyond us. The hardest metal in the world will not cut through its mind, for it is made of thought itself."

He folds his arms with a grim expression. "At this point, it will take an illithid to unleash the full potential of the Netherstones."

Rakha stares at him, bafflement slowly giving way to horrified understanding.

The Emperor was telling the truth - about this, at least. An illithid must control the Netherstones in order to have a chance against the brain. And she just drove away the only illithid they had any chance of allying with.

Well - not the only one.

She looks over her shoulder impulsively, finds the others all watching her with varying levels of dread. They have all realized the inescapable truth in the same moment - if the Emperor is gone, then one of them must evolve.

It should be me, Rakha thinks numbly. It will have to be me. She has already consumed so many of the illithid worms, after all. She has taken on their abilities, traces of their magic. It is a small step, in a way, towards that final evolution.

If it is what must be done in order to see that this fight finally, finally ends... And yet the idea makes her stomach churn; her vision blurs for a moment and she clenches her hands at her sides in a desperate attempt to steady herself.

A hard irony; she has worked so hard, these last weeks, to try to find out who she is, what she is, who she might like to become when she is finally able to escape the cycle of destruction for which she was born. She has tried so desperately to find peace, and clung on with both hands to the bits of it she has been able to discover. And she has tried to claw her way out of the endless manipulations of those who have sought to use her for their own ends.

But now, after all of it, she must evolve, abandon forever the self that she has been building, and surrender to what the Emperor wanted from her all along.

But there is no choice. This has to end, and perhaps there will be peace for her friends, even if there is none for her.

"I understand," she says, and though her voice is low and ragged with exhaustion and fear, it is steady. "If that's what it takes... I'll do it."

Orpheus blinks, raises his eyebrows in surprise. But before he can answer, a different voice cuts across the conversation.

"Wait," Karlach says, her voice unusually quiet, strained with the effort not to tremble. "Maybe you don't have to. It--" She swallows. "It should be me."

(A/N: Oh god, her face. I'm not ready for this. Hector is HOWLING in the back of my mind.)

Rakha turns, startled. For a moment her surprise wipes out every other thought, and she stares at Karlach in bemusement.

"Why you?" she asks.

"I'm dying," Karlach says. And she tries to laugh, like it's a sardonic joke, but she can't; her voice cracks. "My heart feels like a live grenade - gonna blow any minute."

Rakha looks her over - and indeed, she can see the signs of it. She's been so preoccupied with the battle to come that she hadn't noticed, but Karlach's engine has gotten much worse in the few days since Gortash died. With that last effort, she has entered the end stages; the flames are higher around her, the heat causing the air in her vicinity to shimmer gently.

She nods, seeing Rakha recognizing the truth of the situation. Their eyes meet, and Rakha can see the sincerity and grief there in equal measure. "You still have a life to live," Karlach says. "I don't."

"If this is the end for me, let me be the motherfucker who saved the world," she says. Again, that raw and cracked attempt at a laugh; even now, she wants to find the humor in the moment, but Rakha can hear the desperate plea outweighing everything else in the words.

Rakha is silent for a moment. The brutal unfairness of the situation feels like a kick in the gut. It should be my job to die, she thinks bitterly, for perhaps the hundredth time since the battle at Wyrm's Rock. It should be my job to die and yours to live; you should have the path laid ahead of you, and I should go quietly into the void.

It is not fair. But she thinks she can see what is happening in Karlach's head, and despite the words, it is not simply an act of bravado, or even of sacrifice.

If this is the end for me, let me be the motherfucker who saved the world.

Karlach is going to die. There is nothing Rakha or anyone else can do to stop it. Left to her own devices, she will simply burn into ashes when the fire eventually overcomes its bounds and consumes her. And it will be a pointless death, fire and brimstone and senseless loss.

In a way, surrendering to the parasite here, becoming illithid, is its own sort of death. But this would have a cause to it - a reason for it to happen. And it would be an action taken to save many other lives.

It is not so different, Rakha thinks, from her own decision only a few minutes ago to stand up and strike the brain again, even when despair threatened to overwhelm her. To simply lie there and die would have brought a kind of peace - but it would have been a pointless death while there was still work to be done.

Attack with purpose, Lae'zel told her so many months ago, and she has clung to that statement as a guiding mantra. But she is realizing something else in this moment, something Karlach clearly knew without having to be told.

Dying with purpose is just as important. Maybe more so.

She examines Karlach's expression in silence for another long moment. And then she nods, and she sees the relief that crosses Karlach's face to know that she understands.

"If this is what you really want," she says, "all I can say is thank you." Her voice, though curt and matter-of-fact as always, has a distinct and unusual thickness in this moment - because it is a gift that Karlach is giving, and she sees it very clearly. Not only the sacrifice itself, but the lesson implied in it.

"Any time, Soldier," Karlach says.

-----

(A/N: Bit annoying that there is zero companion commentary in the moment on either the PC or Karlach taking this decision. But that's okay, I can write my own. \o/ )

For a moment, Rakha thinks Wyll is going to intervene, to demand that they find another way. He looks appalled, devastated, angry at seeing his friend make this choice, at seeing his lover support it.

But perhaps he sees the reality of the situation just as they do, or perhaps he simply realizes it is not his decision to make. He steps forward and rests a hand on Karlach's shoulder, wincing as the heat presses into his palm. Then he nods.

"I'm proud of you, Karlach," he says softly.

"Thanks," Karlach mutters shortly. "Trying not to freak out right now, so I'm glad to hear it's not showing."

"You do a brave thing, cub," Jaheira murmurs. "I have known kings who would not make such a step so unflinchingly."

Karlach laughs shakily. "Yeah, well. Some of my time's been pretty shit, but it's been a pretty good life, just this last bit, yeah? Got the Jaheira calling me cub, saying I'm brave. A girl could do worse."

Her breath catches raggedly; she meets Rakha's eyes with a weak smile. "And I got to see my city again. Got you to thank for that, Soldier." A pause, and then she reaches out and abruptly catches Rakha's hand in both of hers, a fierce grip which there is no denying.

"You're not so bad as you think, y'know, Soldier," she says quietly. "But I need you to promise me you're gonna live the fuck out of this life I'm giving you. All right? For both of us."

Rakha finds, abruptly, that she cannot speak. But she grips Karlach's hand back firmly, and she nods.

The others look on in silence. No one seems to know quite what to say, though grief is written on every face. Lae'zel, in particular, looks angry, enraged at fate and with no one to strike out at. But she doesn't interfere.

At last Minsc speaks, grave and intense, inclining his head at Karlach. "Boo shall sing of you in his songs of heroes," he says, "Karlach Cliffgate. While Minsc lives, you shall be remembered."

Karlach gives him a watery smile, letting go of Rakha's hand and drawing away. "Better him than Volo, I guess."

-----

"You! Tiefling!" Orpheus cries, shattering the moment apart. "You would volunteer your life for the greater good. You would make the ultimate sacrifice. I thank you."

He inclines his head, gives her a military salute which Karlach returns almost automatically. Her eyes are staring straight forward, jaw trembling with the effort not to lose her nerve.

"The Netherbrain wants nothing more than to see all infected become ghaik," Orpheus continues matter-of-factly. "My defenses keep the voice of the Absolute out, but just as I can raise them, so I can lower them. I will allow the voice of the Absolute in; once it reaches you, it will order you to transform. It will only take a moment, and once you are a mind flayer, I will fold you under my protection once more."

He waits, silently, until she nods, then lifts one hand glowing with power. Rakha watches, fascinated, as a glimmering shield around Karlach's head, so subtle that she has never noticed it, abruptly vanishes.

"You will be the savior of empires," he intones, "not least my own."

Karlach screams.

Narrator: With the withdrawal of Orpheus's power, Karlach's mind is rushed with the full force of the Netherbrain. The very fabric of her being is torn apart and reformed in an agonizing process that is over all too soon.

Narrator: Then - stillness as she stands transformed, once again closed off from the Netherbrain's mind.

Slowly, the being that was once Karlach draws itself up to its full height, hovering a few inches off the ground. A strange celestial armor shimmers into being around it, and it flexes its fingers curiously, its tentacles twitching.

Orpheus looks at her for a moment, and then slowly lowers himself to one knee, his head bowing. "My people will remember you, tiefling," he murmurs. "The rebel illithid who stood beside their reborn prince and ended the Grand Design."

Slowly he stands again, then squares his shoulders and shoots a look at Rakha, who jumps, as if suddenly recollecting her own presence in the moment.

"Let us return now to the city," he says gravely, "and follow the path of the Netherbrain."

-----

(*) Full in-game line: "Drop the attitude. You're free now, aren't you?"

[boop-le-snoot]

masterlist

dirt

sundress+no panties+daryl = uh oh...

title and soundtrack is dirt by depeche mode. you need to take depeche mode away from me tbh, I'm hung up on the exciter album writing smut when I should be making updates to my negan and ironstrange fics.

I also headcanon daryl having huge fat swinging balls for some reason and I'm so sorry you had to read that I turn into an animal when I write daryl

cw: 18+, word count 3k. a little rough (butt slaps, some bites, he calls you a "bitch in heat" and a "slut" a couple of times - lovingly of course), a little pervy (you're fucking outside and daryl eats his own come out of your pussy+breeding kink if you squint really hard).

He reaches in, fingers curling around the bunched up, patterned cotton of the dress and his mind blanks. The low growling, he realises, is coming from his own mouth.

"The fuck, girl?"

You look at Daryl over your shoulder, where the bare skin has erupted in goosebumps from his hot, humid breath. "What?"

You sound annoyed, but there's a distinctive teasing undertone to it. Your eyes are narrowed a little too much. The corners of your cherry-tinted lips are tilted upwards.

"You ripped all my damn underwear, Daryl! What did you expect?" You grouch, breaking the second of still silence. "Can't just take a stroll to Victoria's Secret anymore, can I?" Seeing his face darken even more, you hastily add, "I got a couple I wear on runs."

You sound so cute when you're annoyed, Daryl thinks, but it's overshadowed by his blood rushing in his ears, hot and fast. His cock is still pulsing in his jeans and it demands to be released.

"So you jus' walkin' 'round with allat juicy ass hangin' out fo' all da men to sniff?" Daryl feels an urge to clarify to you, what is exactly you're doing, that he's upset with. "Cuz that's exactly what all them dawgs are fuckin' doin'!" He's jealous, of course he is, but most importantly, he doesn't trust any of the men as far as he can see them.

Hell, he isn't completely sure even Rick would pass on the opportunity to get an eyeful of your soft thighs, your scrumptious ass, or your fat cunt, for that matter.

Lord knows they're the juiciest fucking things he has seen in his whole entire miserable life. Just thinking about it makes his rock hard cock twitch and release a sad dribble of pre-cum in his pants.

"Exactly, your girl!" You declare, eyeroll audible in your voice. "Nobody's seein' me without my panties 'cept you."

Daryl's only response is to hitch up the sundress higher, the movement so quick, the fabric gives a sad crack as the seams threaten to burst. Your ass is still bare, still round and smooth as ever, nobody should have this sort of curves while they're in the middle of a damn apocalypse, he thinks, and sinks to his knees and sinks his teeth into the supple skin of your right ass cheek.

You yelp at the sharp pain. You squirm, your attempt at getting away, of course, futile: your hips and waist are firmly in his grasp. Rough fingertips dig into you, just shy of painful.

"There," Daryl inches back a bit, admiring the indentations left behind by his teeth. For someone who forgets to take care of himself most days, his teeth are surprisingly straight and white and strong. And he lets you feel it. "Now if any asshole decides to go nosin' where he shouldn't, there'll be a warnin'." Daryl sounds proud of himself, which is all and all - fair.

Once the initial shock subsides, your feel your cunt lips stick together even more as your arousal oozes out of them- and down your thighs, now that there isn't any fabric to contain it all. In all honesty, you did enjoy the occasional breeze that would waft up your skirt, even if it didn't offer much respite from the sweltering summer heat.

And Daryl is definitely not helping matters, either. He's like a damn furnace, pressed up against the back of your legs, all solid bulk, breathing hot and moist into your skin, every exhale going around the curve of your ass and disappearing between your legs. He knows it the moment that you shift in place, subtly trying to widen your stance even though there is nothing more you want than to rub your thighs together to provide relief to your swollen lips and throbbing clit.

He raises a hand, wide and open-palmed, and smacks your ass. "You're such a fuckin' slut," he grouses. And your first instinct is to gasp at the offense; you hide your grin in a lip bite. Yes, yes you are. And you know it. And he knows it. Your ass cheek jiggles as he gives it another well-aimed slap. "Lookit you," Daryl presses the issue, "drippin' wet." To hammer his point home, he takes a thick, fat finger and runs it along the seam of your cunt.

It glides easily. You shudder, biting back a moan. Your legs shake just a little, but Daryl notices - he always does - and his finger dips inside your lips. The rough, calloused fingertip swipes through your labia, stopping just short of your clit. You whine and he withdraws.

His numerous knives and tools clatter as he abruptly gets up.

"You wanna be fucked, huh?" Voice quiet, Daryl's front presses to your back with a malicious intent. The prominent bulge of his erection is pushing into your back. "Is that why you goin' round naked? So anybody coulda bend you over, anytime, huh?" He reaches around you, hand blindly nosing for your face. When he finds it, he wastes no time in prying your mouth open, sticking the damp finger inside.

Your own cunt, salty and tangy, blossoms on your tongue. The gesture makes you moan around his finger and him- he sticks another one in, keeping you quiet.

"Shut the fuck up," Daryl orders. The rasp in his voice makes your knees buck and your cunt weep and he knows it. His free hand moves at your back, and with the accompanying noises, you come to realise that he's opening his pants and hurrying to free his dick.

When the damp, silky tip touches the bare skin of your ass, your body reacts before you do. Your mouth wraps tighter around his fingers. Spit dribbles from the corners of your mouth and onto his wrist. Your back arches into his body. He is just as scalding as the sun beaming down from the sky.

Daryl pushes his fingers deeper into your mouth, holding them there until you gag. The motion makes your whole form spasm and shiver; his cock gives a responding jump of its own.

"Lookit you," he rasps directly into your ear, hot breath tickling the shell of it. "Like a fuckin' bitch in heat," he grabs the meat of your ass cheek, spreading you one-handed. His cockhead noses around the cleft, leaving a sticky trail behind itself. It dips near your cunt, adding your juices to the mix. "You want it so bad."

You do. You really, really do. But you know Daryl is mean. You love it when he's mean to you. When he is proud of the strength of his bulk, when his eyebrows draw tightly over his brilliant blue eyes and nothing, absolutely nothing can escape his predatory stare. You crane your neck, trying to look back at him, to plead with your eyes.

He gets it, because he always does. Daryl's fingers quickly leave your mouth, dragging a wet trail of spit down to your neck where his fingers wrap around it in a secure hold.

"You want it so bad, then fuckin' beg," he says the words and you immediately, greedily descend into the permitted depravity.

"Please, Daryl," your voice sounds hoarse, interrupted by hiccups as you struggle to swallow the saliva that had pooled in your mouth and around his fingers, "please, fuck me. I'll be good. Please."

You feel him fist his cock as it twitches; you can't help it, really, as you arch your back even more and push your ass against his rough hand. Immediately, he withdraws it, just to slap you again.

"You're a bitch in heat," he muses, but you can hear the beginnings of impatience in his voice. "Say it!"

He's never made you do that before. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, you gasp, part shock part offense, until you feel a drop of fluid roll out over the outer lip of your cunt and fall and disappear somewhere below you. Then it's just lust. The kind that tints the whole world red and narrows your field of vision.

"Fuckin' say it!" Daryl demands, patience thin.

You wouldn't put it past him to just shove himself in at this point. "I'm... I'm a bi- I'm a bitch in heat," you hiccup, feeling your face flood with heat. "I'm a bitch in heat, please fuck me!"

You feel his lips tilt up just the tiniest bit against your ear before he reaches back for his cock and aims it at your cunt in a single, precise thrust. You gasp and mewl as he suddenly stops halfway through. Your cunt ripples and flexes and squeezes. Daryl drops his forehead onto your shoulder, panting.

"So fuckin' tight," he murmurs, mostly to himself. You're not - he knows better, he makes sure you're not before he even thinks about sticking it in - but you are. All that blood that went straight to your cunt the moment his breath caught up in his throat at the sight of your bare pussy - It's making your cunt swell all around him.

A pathetic mewl leaves your lips, your satisfaction incomplete. You wiggle, you arch, but Daryl is as unyielding as ever.

"You take what I give you," he growls, teeth bared like an animal against your ear. Nonetheless, you feel the tip of his cock kiss your cervix. Stars burst in your eyes. You are so full, practically bursting at the seam of your cunt where his fat balls rest against the stretched hole.

Slowly, Daryl withdraws, both of you hissing at the drag of his fat cock in your engorged cunt. You may be a bitch in heat but he's every bit the stud that is just as fervent and feral to breed you. His teeth creak as he pulls back completely, leaving just his weeping tip inside of you.

And then he slams home. And again. And again. And again.

With every powerful thrust of his hips, you gasp. Quiet, pleading moans is the limit of your vocal capacity. Mouth dry, the air gets trapped in the back of your throat as your lungs demand their due.

Daryl is unrelenting. His blunt fingernails drag over the skin of your throat, leaving marks in their wake, as he makes way to your mouth.

"This is what you wanted, slut?" He pants into your hair. "Be quiet. Be really fucking quiet unless you want everybody to see what kinda..." He inhales sharply, feeling your walls flutter at the flith dripping from his tongue.

And it shouldn't make you feel the way you feel. Those fucking words just add more accelerant to the fire in the pit of your stomach, spreading it from there and up, over your face. It flames. Your hand helplessly clutches the nearest surface as you attempt to brace yourself against his thrusts and the notion that anyone could see you.

Bent over something or another, dress hiked up to your waist and Daryl's hips pistoning in and out of you at a rapid pace. He didn't bother undressing save for letting his pants hang freely just below his cock and balls. Heavy, fat balls, littered with coarse dark hair, that slap against your cunt and your clit with a resounding smack every time he drives his cock inside of your cunt. The squelching noise it makes is obscene.

Another whine, and your pussy squeezes him once again, blind and hungry for release. You can feel it building steadily, deep within your abdomen.

"Fuck yeah," Daryl growls, "you fuckin' like this, don't 'cha?" He's gotten the hang of it: the dirty talk, he knows exactly how to get under your skin. He's a mean bastard with nothing close to dignity or self-respect. If anyone saw him, rutting into you, little more than two animals, he wouldn't, couldn't stop.

Daryl would stare them down up until his cock swelled and busted, depositing his seed inside your womb.

Your knees feel weak. It's getting harder and harder to keep up with him; seems like every pathetic whimper that leaves your lips only makes him meaner, stronger somehow. The grip of his hand on your hip is bruising. Daryl effectively wears you on his cock, submerging himself into the warm depths of your pulsing cunt over and over.

"Da-Daryl..." You gasp, you moan and you plead.

He doesn't stop. He merely handles you into a different angle, the one that hits that special spot inside of you with every powerful thrust. He is mean, but he is also fair.

"Gonna cream my cock?" He barely makes sense to himself, the words that his dry mouth garbles seem to have a mind of their own. "Gonna be good, girl? C'mon."

"Ah," you want to say yes, you want to affirm, but all that comes out of your mouth are garbled, unintelligible noises of pleasure. But Daryl sees it. It's in the way your arch becomes near-painful, body overtaking your mind. Even the slightest bit of pain blends into hot-blinding pleasure. You don't know where what ends and begins.

It begins somewhere behind your cunt. The contractions start slow and aching, and every punch of his cock to your guts intensifies the feeling tenfold, until every last inch of your cunt is squeezing around him in that same arduous, suckling rhythm. It's like your pussy is nursing at his cock, attempting to suck his life out of him and deposit it into you.

The pleasure is like a wall of fire and water. Your chest blooms with it, but your extremities swarm with pinpricks. Mouth parted in a silent scream, you sway forward, managing to catch yourself on your elbows at the last moment.

The man behind you doesn't care. He's way past caring, having had started chasing his release the moment your cunt enveloped his cock in a vice grip. The meat of it is sensitive and he spends the few inches to the finish line gracelessly mashing it inside of you, accompanied by the sound of wet flesh meeting even wetter, sloppier flesh.

"Take it, fuckin' take it," you hear him gasp through your stupor before that familiar, warm rush floods your cunt. His cock twitches, once, twice, three times, each forceful throb followed up by more and more seed being pumped into the depths of you.

Against your back, Daryl sags and pants out his excerption. Like a dog. His wet nose leaves sweat stains on your back where he nuzzles into you.

Your knees shake as you struggle to hold up his weight, and then your legs completely turn to mush when droplets of his cum escape your cunt as his spent cock slips out. You know you should be worried about stains in unsightly places but somehow, you can't bring yourself to care.

Daryl notices this, of course. His bulk slides off you; you hear him quickly shove himself back into his pants before his ass hits the ground with a loud thud. Next to you, of course, his stubbly, prickly cheek rubbing over the skin of your leg. He places a wet kiss on the inside of your thigh, and then another.

You know the drill. It's hard for him to find words, sometimes, after a scene like that. It's the intensity of it, the forceful ejection of him out of his head where he spends most of the time, that renders him speechless. Daryl is forced to feel - good things. It's not something that he is used to.

Your skirt is still around your waist and the hot sun is shooting lasers directly at your ass and pussy. You've managed to get your bearings enough to feel at least a little self-conscious, a little exposed. Your combined fluid still drip from you and for a split second, you think about pulling up your panties to try and at least somewhat contain the mess.

Right, you sigh to yourself. It makes your exhausted body twitch and sag even more.

Daryl gently pushes away your hand that was attempting to pull the dress over your ass. You freeze; he smiles against your skin, a little closed-lipped grin that makes something warm and fuzzy make a nest inside your chest. That quickly turns into a startled gasp as his fingers glide through the mess of your cunt.

You're spent. Exhausted. So sensitive, his rough skin practically hurts on your hole and clit.

But Daryl gets it. You get him, and he - he gets you. His hot breath fans over your pubic hair and it's all the warning you get before he opens his mouth wide, flattens his tongue and licks. You've made a big mess and there is a lot to take care of, but if there's anything about Daryl that you know, is that he's thorough at what he does.

In no time, he's got his tongue shoved down your cunt as far as it would go, curling against your walls, lapping up his and your cum like your pussy is an all-you-can-eat-buffet and what's inside of it is sugar and spice and everything nice.

But it's not enough. It's not anywhere near your clit, or any other place that could make you produce more of the cream he's feasting on. Idly, you think about who's the real bitch in heat here, but push out your hips to meet his face nonetheless. You can be mean too. If you want to.

I don't know what to say for myself

[rewh0re]

—968 words, angst, death, deep talks about life, cemeteries. yea ig that's it. yea also wrote this at 3 am guys i am mighty sleep deprived

a/n; atp I'm doing everything BUT studying or writing my gojo fic :D (gojo fic someday you'll see the light till then this megumi angst has to compensate for it) REBLOGS + FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED!!

megumi can never truly forget that memory.

he remembers clear blue skies and the occasional chirping of birds along with the flapping of their wings. white clouds slowly drifting in the air and dragonflies hovering over the grass. the trees were green and lush, the leaves gently rustling due to the cool breeze which could mean one thing alone—the advent of spring. there was a silence that washed his body with a strange type of peace, a peace he had never quite known, that he had just allowed himself to feel. and there was a presence—you—standing beside him, looking at the unknown grave, head tilted slightly and hands deep in your pockets.

he couldn't help but think—there was so much life bursting amidst a place that housed the dead.

megumi never liked cemeteries. they made him sad, unhappy, gloomy in a way. but you found a certain peace in them. to walk in silence, looking at the many graves—you had said it calmed one's soul. made one think. made one feel grateful for their life.

"it's almost amusing, don't you think?" you had asked, breaking your silence.

"dead people amuse you now?" megumi looked over at you to find you still looking at the grave. how could it ever be amusing to look at a stranger's grave? he swore that sometimes even you didn't understand what you were saying.

"no idiot," you shook your head, a little chuckle bursting out of your throat as your eyes locked with his.

"what i mean is," you sighed "that these people, they were people, like you and me. they had dreams and hopes and aspirations. they worked hard for their passions and hoped to achieve so much through their efforts. isn't it awful how many of these people might never have reached their dreams? their lives cut short as they were snatched away from their own loved ones?"

you ruffled your hair before crossing your arms, "i find it unfair. isn't it unfair? how you never know what will happen? how you, me—all of us—will just become another memory to be forgotten? how we'll just become dust, become one with the earth? our names, just some carvings on some stones and even then—everything will just go on as it is. life will go on. we're just lone stars burning out in the massive universe."

megumi could only look at you. you had that effect on him, rendering him speechless through your words alone. a few seconds passed before he finally found his voice again.

"well," he began, tone laced with a certain gentleness that only showed itself in your presence. "i see it more like the beauty of life. we're here and then we're not. we live and we love and we thrive and we falter. it's the way of life, or the rule of life, whatever you call it. i think that's why we have to make sure we make the most of it. life is unpredictable and that's what makes it so thrilling."

"i think you're right—well—in a way at least. i've learnt to cherish my life. i think with you by my side, i can stand strong and proud and i can live. i'm glad you found me and i found you and i'm glad that we're always by each other's side," you smiled up at him, nudging his shoulder.

"always?"

"always."

wasn't that the promise you made?

it was like looking through a glass window, so vividly was that day's image imprinted on his mind. he wanted to break that glass and take a hold of that memory and relive it again and again and again if it meant he could have you by his side. he definitely would do that if he could.

life is not really beautiful he learnt after he started visiting the cemetery more often. it was cruel, it was ruthless, it filled one with agony and suffering and pain. oh, so much pain.

he never looked at random graves anymore like he did before with you. no, he looked at just one. the name etched on the stone with a few leaves scattered at the base—l/n y/n.

it hurt, it truly did. through you, megumi learnt love and loss, he learnt heartbreak and grief and what it felt like to cry in the middle of the night wishing for you to hold him close and whisper i'm here. you never were though, you wouldn't be there anymore, you wouldn't cradle him and card your fingers softly through his hair or wipe his tears or kiss his worries away. you wouldn't and that was reality and he had to live with that reality.

megumi learnt through you how promises were only made to be broken—knowingly or unknowingly.

but you taught him how to love and to be loved, how to find beauty and peace in the mundane, how to dream big and how to care, to be kind.

he loved you but he had to let you go. alas, you wouldn't want him to be stuck, frozen in a place where darkness loomed and nothing but sheer heartache reigned supreme. maybe it was true that a part of him was gone. maybe it was true that he would never feel truly and completely whole again. but he could swear your ghost would curse at him if he didn't at least try to move forward.

so he laid a bouquet of white carnation at the base of your grave, uttering a silent prayer.

"always." he brought his index and middle finger to his lips and then placed it on the top of the headstone before standing up, burying his hands deep in his coat pockets.

"always." he whispered, letting his words get carried by the air before turning around to walk away.

[kaepop-trash]

not sure if you’re still taking requests for chance encounters but i just read the whole thing in one sitting and love it sm!!! i love your more angsty drabbles so i was wondering if you’d do one where yn and johnny are on a “break” 🥹

Give Up, Give In

There were a lot of requests for going back to the club so I'm just adding some of my favourites:

Anon: I'm just a girl standing here asking for more Johnny (CE) yearning. Make him suffer ma'am 🙏🏻 [Yes ma'am🫡]

Anon: The club is your Chekhov's Gun and it's still lying unfired on the table. [This is the best ask I've ever gotten since this account started]

Anon: Just. More. Dom. OC. [Short and sweet. How can I refuse?]

Mini Masterlist

_

I was in quite the headspace when I was writing this and you can tell. In contrast to most other things I've published, I edited this painstakingly. Somewhere in the middle I watched Casablanca again and you can actually tell where.

This is just very intense. Idk what came over me, I think the characters came back to me like past lovers do in a dream. I wrote this in a daze. I also surprisingly like this. I'm posting it with love instead of just shrugging responsibility of it. Enjoy!

Warnings: Angst, Angst, Angst; A lot of references to a movie older than the Czech Republic; (There are just a lot of sexual warnings in this one girls) Smut, Voyeurism, Friction play, Light BDSM, Handcuffs and Whipping (not the main characters), Dom! OC/Sub! Johnny, Dom! Johnny/Sub! OC (They are switches in the most literal sense of the term), ribbon play (male receiving) [is that even real?], Abs riding, grinding, Dirty Talk, Degradation; Intense, INTENSE; So much angst like what was I thinking; Johnny's a bit of a babygirl in this lol idk how else to explain it; Pussy-whipped Johnny you are my #1; OC is mean, but Johnny actually likes it (He told me); A lot of misplaced anger and resentment (in a sexy way); Alcohol; Johnny has the kind of sadness in him that you only see in east european gay porn; There is some homosexual themes in this, don't forget that in this world everybody is bisexual (except Tenmin, they are full fruit loops); Bisexuality(?).

WC: 18.6 k (Honestly this can and should be read as a standalone.)

_

Her focus came in and out of the moment, mostly being drawn back by the occasional whimper or hiss that echoed loud against the cement walls.

It was a mistake coming here tonight. she knew it the moment Hyuck bought it up.

"You look lethal." Yuta crossed his arms the moment she walked into his house, equally confused and somehow proud. Beside him, Hyuck whistled. Both of them eyed her top to bottom, taking in the very nice dress she bought herself this week.

“Absolutely deadly.” Hyuck agreed, crossing his arms in front of him, “So where are we going?” He looked between the both of them.

“For dinner. A bar maybe, judging by how our friend is dressed.” Yuta mused, turning to (Y/N) for confirmation of the plan she laid out.

“What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?” She frowned. 

“What?” Hyuck looked between both of them, confused, “We aren’t going to your club?”

Yuta chuckled, “No (Y/N) is staying away from the hallowed grounds.”

“Why?” Hyuck turned to her, looking offended. “I shaved my balls for this.”

Both Yuta and her turned to the boy, incredibly confused and horrified by the information he willingly volunteered

She cleared her throat, deciding it best to ignore it outright, “That’s none of your business, Lee Donghyuck.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I just told you I shaved my genitals and you’re bringing up personal businesses?”

“You volunteered that information.” She grimaced, wondering why she didn’t see this coming. “You can’t just go to there on a whim. There’s a list that’s fixed a week in advance.”

“Aren’t you literally friends with the owner?” Hyuck mirrored her arms.

“The owner's friends gets benefits." Yuta shrugged, "You're roped in by extension, it seems.”

The very mention of the person who was not to be named made her spine straighten, “We are not going to the club. I don’t want him to think I am in his space, I don’t want him to think I need to. It’s a horribly petty thing to do.”

“He might not be there at all.” Yuta offered.

“We are not going.” She repeated herself, looking at the both of them with a sense of finality.

They ended up at the club less than two hours later. After dinner, entering a “normal” club reminded her exactly why she stopped doing this after undergrad. She wanted to just go home but Hyuck and Yuta were both slick menaces. And now she was here.

One of the men in front of her cursed, bringing her attention back to the present. 

Her original reasoning to slip into the basement the moment she entered the club was to mitigate even the most remote possibility of being confronted by Johnny. Another part of her was overcome with intrigue once the idea materialised.

The basement was one place she hadn’t had a chance to explore. Initially, Johnny would tease her with the idea of it, but he never lived up to his own promise in that department. A couple of months in, their visits to the club reduced considerably as work got harder and their apartments got more comfortable. Then the matter was never brought up again.

Sitting in it now, she tried to imagine what Yuta meant when he compared it to the few dungeons he frequented in Amsterdam. A few with Ten even— back when he was still single of course.

The place was a lot more elegant than the floors above, divided into confined rooms that felt larger than they were owing to the incredibly tall ceilings. Unlike the rooms on the second floor though, there was no pretence. Instead of looking like hotel rooms, each room was mostly minimal. Despite the baroque display of velvets and satins, each only had one tall bench and a few chairs. The lighting was also much brighter than the intimate dimmed ones above. The lights here were yellow and brazen, nothing hid under them. The most apparent of which were the contraptions and tools displayed audaciously on the walls, ranging from curious to downright frightening. 

Despite all that attention, the rooms were also open: no door, not even a curtain to lend privacy to the inhabitants. If she was clueless about what the requirements on this floor were, taking a walk down the length of the corridor gave her the clarity she needed. 

Pain of this magnitude wasn’t something she was ready to give or receive from a stranger. But she did gather that spectatorship was a part of the experience on this floor. The chairs in most rooms had at least one person seated, watching as other people made use of the various instruments available.

That is how she ended up here.

One of the rooms seemed to be void of any onlookers. Two men occupied the bench inside, looking at each other with tender trust. She stopped at the entrance, deciding that this was the palatable option. She might even learn a thing or two, she wagered.

At first, they seemed unaffected by her presence. She pulled a chair and sat down at a considerable distance, still feeling trepidation about the intrusion. She watched as they got comfortable with each other, imagining that they met here for the first time today. They decided to trust each other despite, was what she decided. 

Sometimes she wished that was how her initial visit to the club went.

“What should we use?” One of the men asked the other, the yellow sleeves of his shirt brushing over the man's cheek. The other looked to be the one calling the shots, so she was waiting to know as well. But he surprised her, turning to look at (Y/N) instead.

Her eyes went wide for a moment, not sure why she was being acknowledged.

“Well? You’re wearing silver aren’t you?” The man asked, his hooded eyes impatient.

Oh.

Her hand went to touch the chain that Yuta had so creatively woven into her hairpin. It was supposed to be half a joke. 

Owing to the spontaneous visit, they were unaware that there was a theme tonight. It was classic movies night and none of the three were dressed for the occasion. So they decided to keep the spirit, deciding on pursuing otherwise uncustomary situations. Hyuck said he'd do anything the first person he met told him. Yuta claimed that today would be the day he pursued his favourite bartender. And she put on the silver chain and walked into the basement. A decision taken for the interesting stories it would birth. Much like this one, she relented.

She chewed on her bottom lip, trying to think of what she could possibly say.

“I don’t think–” Yellow shirt began to speak, probably sensing her panic.

“Did I ask you?” The other was quick to interject, keeping his eyes on her.

She looked at the two men carefully, the more compliant one much taller than the one clearly in charge.

“Take your shirts off.” She said first, “You’ve been rubbing against each other like kids at church. It’s pathetic.” Hooded eyes smirked, pleased to get what he was looking for.

“You heard her little boy.” He turned back to his partner, reaching out.

“You’re own clothes. Not each other’s.” She clicked her tongue, expressing her disapproval through her tone.

And that was how it began. They were excellent at following her instructions and slowly she began to take more liberties.

People came and went behind them. The first hint of another presence had surprised her. After that she started ignoring the sound of occasional shuffling. 

Except one that spoke with a voice she could not ignore. A familiar one.

__

Johnny was comfortable in his corner, pretending to listen to Ten explain the theme again.

“I was watching this movie with a friend while she was recovering from a broken leg. And it came to me!” He told yet another person, “Unfortunately, she isn’t here today.”

“What are you talking about?” One of Ten’s friends sat up at that, “I saw (Y/N) an hour ago.” She looked at Johnny for confirmation.

Johnny looked up, at least two pairs of eyes already on him. He shrugged, trying to play off his nonchalance by taking another sip of his drink.

“Babe,” The woman continued, poking the man beside her. “You remember seeing (Y/N) downstairs, right?”

Johnny snorted, “You must be confusing her with someone else.” He said with utter confidence. She would not be anywhere near him if she had the choice. Not after what he said.

“She’s in a white dress today, right?” He asked his partner, who nodded.

“Yeah, she’s downstairs. Martin told me when I went for a cocktail. I wasn't looking or anything.” He added quickly. “Don’t glare at me man.”

Johnny looked away, not realising he was. His mumbled apology wasn’t even trying to be genuine.

“There’s Yuta,” Ten raised his arm to call the man. “Let’s ask him.”

“There is no need.” Johnny groaned, but Ten ignored him with ease.

“What?” Yuta came up, looking thoroughly annoyed. No doubt being interrupted in the middle of something.

“Is (Y/N) here with you?” Ten asked.

Instead of answering, Yuta turned to Johnny. The cautious look he gave him gave him the answer he was looking for.

“Yeah.” He turned back to Ten.

“Where is she? It’s her theme tonight!” Like most other people, Yuta too did not care about Ten’s theme.

“You would not guess.” He said with a grin, sitting down with a conspiratorial chuckle.

And that's how Johnny ended up in the basement for the first time in a year. He walked past each room, looking in to find what he was looking for.

Johnny wasn’t sure what he’d even do when he found it. Would he stop her? Would he watch? Or would he leave her alone like he had himself wanted?

Johnny slowed his steps, only for a moment. Why did she have to come to the basement now? If she wanted to, why didn't she mention it to him? He thought she wouldn't like it. Or maybe he wasn't the one she wanted to share that with. That last thought was alone to add a spring to his step.

His thoughts only spurred him on as he passed more rooms without her in it. Almost crossing one, he stopped to take a few steps back. He had to be sure that the back that was facing him was the one he was seeking.

She was in white like Ten's friend had stated, a dress he never had the privilege of seeing before tonight. Head rested on her hand, she was watching someone else. He relaxed, walking further into the room. Once her side came into view, the relief that came over him seemed to piss him off. Any thought of leaving her alone evaporated with it. This was supposed to be what he wanted.

“I had to see it for myself.” He scoffed, the novelty of the situation only just coming to him. (Y/N) turned in her chair, looking up at him with surprise in her eyes. “Trying new things? You could have told me if you wanted to come down here. At least I know what your limits are. You were never the best communicator.”

“I would assume that I know my own limits best.” She turned away from him, back to the two men in front of her. Not a hint of kindness in her eyes.

He really must have said too much that night. 

One of the men sat quietly on the large wooden bench every room had, yellow shirt hanging over his shoulders, in place because his hands were cuffed behind him. The other man stood over him, a flog in his hands. His white pants matched her dress.

“Has he stopped asking for more?” She questioned the one standing. Both the men were watching her, waiting.

“Then why did you stop?” She questioned, voice impatient. “Does the little boy want something stronger?” Yellow shirt nodded like he was waiting for the question.

(Y/N) chuckled, getting up to walk to the small chest of cupboards. She leaned over, making Johnny finally notice the length of her dress— high above her knee. Pure instinct made him turn to the other people in the room, watching her with undoubtedly the same thought on their minds.

“Someone isn’t on theme.” Johnny clicked his tongue. It made the guys turn to look at him, then between the two of them.

Suddenly Johnny felt like they were the spectators, and he was the one on display with her.

“I didn’t plan on coming here tonight, so I didn’t receive the memo.” She didn’t even look at him, standing up with a thick whip in her hand.

“Eyes on me boys.” She turned to the boys, “Do you want this?” She questioned and the one meant to be on the receiving end nodded eagerly. 

She chuckled, walking over to them and handing the tool over. 

“Such an obedient boy, aren’t you?” She cooed, hand on his chin. Yellow shirt nodded enthusiastically. Giving in to her so easily that it nauseated Johnny. That would get them nowhere.

Keeping her eyes on his face and her fingers stroking his cheek, she handed the whip to the other guy.

“Start slow. You’re being too hostile.” She turned to the man with a warning.

“He likes it.” He defended, her hooded gaze remained bemused.

“I’m the one who’s calling the shots, am I not?” She raised a brow. The man swallowed, giving her a quick nod. As complaint as his companion.

This was no fun.

Johnny scoffed rather loudly, but she ignored him and as a consequence, the boys ignored him as well.

“What will you tell me you'd do?” She continued, focused on the man.

“I will listen and follow instructions.”

“Like a what?”

“Like the slut I like to pretend I’m not.” 

She smiled, letting the one in yellow go to run a hand through this one’s hair. He closed his hooded eyes to enjoy the feeling.

“Good. Now do what you’re told.” He nodded and she let go, turning around to walk back to where she was.

Her eyes met Johnny’s finally.

“Can I help you?” She asked him, the tyrannical tone bleeding into the question. Johnny’s cock twitched for the first time that evening.

“You can start by reminding yourself who you’re speaking to, pet. Or do you need assistance?” Johnny tongued his cheek, shoving his restless fingers into his pocket.

She looked at him with disbelief for a moment. When she rolled her eyes, he was sure she was taunting him.

“You can keep your reminders to yourself.” She rubbed her hands together, “I didn’t come here to play with you.”

“Why are you here at all?” Johnny raised a brow, unable to hide the vexation in his voice. Why didn't she tell him she wanted to come to the basement?

It earned him the first flash of anger in her, so far, apathetic gaze. “I didn’t realise you were marking territory? Am I barred from coming here now?”

“I was asking a question.” He took in a cautious breath, realising that she thought he meant the club. Perhaps, the alternative made him look less bothered. 

“Can't you see?” she pointed at the two boys, “I'm simply minding my own business. Why have you come down here? Looking for me?” She leaned against the head of the chair she was seated in before, waiting for his response.

Johnny let out a humourless laugh, “Who said I was looking for you?”

“I haven’t known you to come to the basement before.” She pointed.

“Just because I haven’t come here with you, doesn’t mean I’m a stranger to the place."

The words did what they were intended to do, her anger flared with an inhale she tried to play off. Johnny had to bite down his smile.

“Okay, be on your way then.” She flicked her hand towards the exit, dismissing him. "There are other rooms."

Johnny took a step towards her instead, “I stopped at this one because I could not believe you could be a watcher. I wanted to see for myself."

“She told you to leave man, why are you ruining our night?” The boy in yellow whined, making Jaehyun turn to find both men watching the exchange. The other one kept his eyes on Johnny.

She turned to meet his gaze, “Did I say you can speak?” She questioned. The boy gulped, shaking his head. “If you’re that impatient then get on with it. I didn’t say you can stop.” He nodded, turning back to the man in white pants with a demand, his eyes still watching Johnny. He looked familiar.

Johnny whistled and hissed, bringing her attention back to him. “Look at you. Even I almost believe that look on your face. What’s wrong, baby? You sound mad.” He cooed, mocking her.

“What’s wrong is that you’ve sauntered in here to ruin my night.” She failed to hide her frown.

"Ruin?" Johnny's voice raised in taunt. "I'm sorry to disturb your little pageant. You must have been enjoying just how easy this was before I walked in. They're eating up your every word, you must be elated."

Her jaw flexed and Johnny had to resist the urge to close the gaping distance between them.

"If you're done with your tantrum. You can leave now." She aimed her gaze at the door, a single and final order. It was Johnny's turn to flex his jaw. Tantrum.

"If you think this is a tantrum then what should we call your fucking fits?" He clamped his jaw the moment he heard the edge in his voice.

"We don't have to call them anything." Her volume rose, taking a step forward, daring him to continue.

"There it is." He smiled victoriously, "Why don't you stomp your foot while you're at it. Let's show everybody what you're really like under this act."

He could see the way she got blinded by her rage. For him he realised, that was something only he was capable of pulling out of her.

He should have backed off but Johnny stayed pinned in place, momentarily consumed by his sick desires to always get a rise out of her. He knew she wanted it too, her breathing hitched but eyes stayed glued on him. It was deranged but this is what he has signed up for with her.

“Fine," She said after a well contemplated silence. Johnny's lips quirked, knowing he was right as usual. Finally she was going to give in to him. For once. "Take off your chain and I’ll give you what you want.”

His smile faltered, brows furrowing. He regained himself quickly, reminding himself that he was being foolish to believe it would be that easy. Not after he was the one who told her they'd be taking a break. Not after the unnecessary things he'd said.

It was a silly thing that he regretted the moment he proposed it. But the tone she had ignored him for no reason still made his blood boil. At least he had the decency to lay down his intentions in front of her. She had absolutely no right to be angry. And yet, she was furious at him. It was evident in how she refused to so much as look at him since he had made the proposition, acting like he wasn't even there. Refusing to share an elevator, refusing to bring papers to his office.

He wanted to be civil but she went to great lengths to stay out of his path. Even reminding him that he wanted this when he asked her why she was sending interns with tasks that were done easier without the middleman.

It was infuriating and it only offended Johnny further. Even now, he was the one to come here with his pride between his legs. He told himself that he would not give in till she relented first. 

“And what is it that I want, Kitten?”

“What you always want.” She turned to walk back to her chair, pulling the object closer to him, letting it grate against the cement floor harshly. “Me.”

Johnny's teeth against each other. Taking his hands out of his pocket, he folded his arms. No, it was her turn to give in.

“I will give you what you want if you take that chain off.” He pointed at her head.

“What I want is for you to leave. If you can’t do that, I will have to abandon my new friends.” She pointed behind her.

They reached a stalemate with her words, silently sizing each other up. In the back, the boys had forgotten about the commotion all together. The sound of clicking locks signalled the introduction of the bondage frame. The next sound was the clean crack of a whip, followed by a harsh inhale once it touched skin. Johnny took in a sharp inhale himself, the sounds tempting him.

“What good will taking mine off do?” Johnny spoke through raspy breathing, “You give up too soon anyway. You don’t know how to be in charge.” Another slash echoed against the walls, this time Johnny exhaled slow. “You only know how to be a brat.”

Despite his words, she smiled, watching him shift on his feet. “Two weeks without being inside me and you’re already forgetting things.”

“Has it been that long already? I didn’t even notice.”

“Sure. The last time you went this long, you were throwing tantrums like this.”

It was Johnny’s time to be racked with anger, his exhale slow, dangerous.

The whips increased in frequency and moans filled the large roam, bouncing across the walls with urgency.

“Go slow.” She lashed, turning her attention back to the couple.

“Sorry." Both of them said together, the one whipping dropped his arm. The other opened his glazed eyes.

Johnny should have brought (Y/N) to the basement himself.

“Sorry what?”

“Sorry, miss.” They said in tandem.

Johnny scoffed, “I never realised what a good teacher I was.”

“What do you fucking want?” She turned back to him, lips twisted with irritation. “You wanted a break, didn't you? What was it that you said?” She finally sat down, leaning back and crossing her legs. “That’s right. “You wanted a change. What happened, are you bored already?"

"No," Johnny shrugged, unclasping his arms from his chest to walk towards her. "I just wanted to see what you were doing with your free time. It's such a pity to see you waste it. The only person bored here is you apparently." This time he did smile, enjoying the way she averted her gaze, "So I came to offer you a game just for tonight."

"Not interested. You need to come up with better excuses."

Johnny hummed like he didn't believe her, shadow falling over his entire form as he came closer. Her brows knit, gearing up to defend the truth. He cut her off before she could even speak.

"Stand up." He ordered, stopping his stride only when his knee touched the chair.

She blinked, practically rendered silent by his audacity. What pissed her off more was how she almost did it, the chair audibly screeching back before she could reign her instincts in.

(Y/N) crossed her arms, mirroring his stance from earlier as she sat back to play off the slip, pretending she was just trying to sit back.

She knew it didn't work when Johnny smirked. She was busy preparing herself for when he asked again, to stand her ground with more conviction. Instead, he leaned down, kneeling in front of her. The act was in sharp contrast to his previous words, giving her whiplash and leaving her out of depth.

His fingers brushed her dress, staring at her lap in a way that made her think he would rest his head against it. It was a thought that had no place in the given circumstances. Slowly he looked up with a tender gaze that was equally out of place.

"What game do you have in mind?" She asked, mostly to distract herself from the way her heart leapt when she met his eyes. After all this time, he still had the ability to make her feel so excruciatingly timid.

"It's movie night." His voice was soft, "Let's pretend to be different people." He ran his tongue over his cheek.

She wasn't sure what to make of the statement. After all this time he never stopped being an enigma.

"Who are you dressed as?" She looked down at his white shirt, making a note of the undone bowtie, "Roger Moore as James Bond?"

"I prefer Sean Connery."

She took the bowtie between her fingers, "You don't have his raw sexual magnetism."

Johnny's lips twitched and she couldn't help the way her own mirrored it.

"If we're going to be playing parts," She sighed, not entirely sure how he'd managed to lure her in. Then again, she was always too ready to give in to him, "Let's play ones different from who we really are. Something to keep this night out of our," She failed to hide the sliver of indignation in her deep inhale, "Current situation."

Johnny licked his lips, looking somewhere between amused and rattled. Yet again, she was stunned by his audacity.

"In that case, I have the perfect thing." He took her hand in hers, bringing it up to kiss her palm. This time her indignated inhale came before a pained exhale.

He came closer instead of finishing his thought, leaning till their noses touched. 

"Let's pretend we're in love."

Her eyes froze over in an instant, a foreign gasp making her turn back to the people who were now spectators to her vulnerability. Both of them watched with bated breaths, their own preoccupations long forgotten. They watched her, waiting for her response.

She pushed Johnny without looking at him. Predictably, he did not budge. When it happened the third time she did turn back, liquid rage dripping from her glare. Her mind mulled over a response multiple times, the sort of words that would express her outrage without hinting at her agony. It fell short, not finding the right ones to express how deeply unkind his words were. Not without betraying her closely guarded secret.

He was still close to her, close enough to let her count the lashes that framed his amber eyes, to see the stray one that fell on his cheek. This close it was easy to see that he was the most beautiful man on earth, easy to forget everything and just fall an inch closer. It was easy to want nothing more than to press her lips against his, to forget they were meant to be apart. This close she didn't need to pretend to be in love.

"Oh god." She heard Yuta's voice, cutting through the haze of lust that began to overcast her decisions. "(Y/N)." He marched up to them.

Only when she heard his footsteps stop beside did she turn from Johnny.

"Let's go, babe." He pointed his thumb at the door, whistling to play off the urgency.

She turned back to Johnny, who had moved back a few inches now. Miles, as far as their usual proximity was concerned.

She sighed, pushing her chair back.

"What do you need (Y/N) for?" Johnny asked casually.

"I need to keep her away from you." Yuta clicked his tongue, laughing awkwardly when Johnny turned to frown at him. "Nothing personal, buddy. She made me promise I would." He pointed at her.

Johnny turned to her, raising a brow. Waiting for confirmation.

"Don't bother. My instructions are to take her away whether she likes it or not. You know how crazy our (Y/N) is." Yuta chuckled like he was making small talk. She got out of her chair with a loud screech.

"Let's go." She grabbed Yuta's arm to turn him around, "I need a fat drink."

"You need a fat something." He scoffed, knowing himself that he deserved the smack she landed on his arm

"At least try to think before you speak sometimes." She groaned.

"Just tell her man." One of the boys spoke up, reminding Johnny of their presence. It was the one in yellow, his brows furrowed in deep thought. His companion scoffed, shaking his head.

"Did anybody say you can stop whipping?" Johnny raised a brow at the guy with the object in his hand. "Did you tell him to stop?" He asked the one tied up. Both shook their heads.

"In that case, you need to focus on your own endeavours." Johnny stood up from the floor, brushing the dirt of the knees of his good pants. "Enjoy your night."

As he turned to walk away, the sound of a whip cracked through the silence.

__

(Y/N) seemed to find more than a few merits in the basement. On top of being less crowded, the basement bar also housed some interesting liquor choices. A tequila bottle with a worm and some Baiju with an entire snake sat side by side on the shelf at eye level. While she would not be trying them, she could respect Ten's sense of humour.

Yuta also swore that this was the bar with the best cocktails. Martin, the bartender, was a legend on the premises if her best friend's claims were true. Patrons would sometimes grace the floor to only stop for a drink. She was sufficiently intrigued.

Nails tapped against the stone surface of the bar as they waited for the cocktails in question. She also waited for Yuta to speak, getting impatient and agitated from his stare.

"I just don't understand why you keep doing this." He huffed. Never one to express any overt opinion on the matter, she was caught off guard by his frustration. "If you really want to stay out of his way then do it."

"I'm trying. He came to me."

“You and I both know that you can enforce a boundary when you want to.” He groaned, looking away like the whole thing was making him uncomfortable. “Look, I don’t want to sit here and act like I can give you any real advice. I just want to ask you if you’re sure about what you’re doing.”

She could never lie to Yuta, not in a convincing way at least. She stopped tapping her nails, rubbing her fingers together and watching the bright lights above reflect on her nails.

“I know what I'm supposed to be doing. What it’s supposed to be like.” She mumbled the confession, spotting a chip in her nail enamel. “But it’s confusing with him. Everything is confusing with him.” Teeth ground against teeth as she let the words wash over her. She needed a manicure. She needed to stop doing this to herself.

"This has started to feel self-inflicted to me." Yuta assessed with accuracy.

"It needs to end." She spoke, the words rattling her to the core.

It was the only way left now.

"Then do it? What exactly are you waiting for?" Yuta raised a brow, making it blatant that he was baiting her.

Her lips parted, answer ready on her lips. She bit her tongue the next moment, putting the thought away.

"How do you just expect him to notice that you're this in love with him when you put so much effort into hiding it?"

She looked up at him fast, "I’m not–"

"Spare me, (Y/N)." He cut her off, "The only person who can't tell is the man himself. And that’s only because he’s too busy being in love with you.”

“Stop.” She shook her head, “That just isn’t true.”

“Are you stupid?”

“Fuck off, Yuta. You don’t know all of it. You’ve seen him be nice, you’ve seen him take me to the orthopaedic’s, seen him get me drinks. But you don’t know how he is. If Johnny loved me, he would say it.”

“Like you say it?” His brows furrowed, looking angry. She had never seen Yuta angry at her.

“It’s not the same.” She took a deep breath, her lungs fracturing from the force. A sound of wood cracking filled the air, followed by the laughs of multiple people. She turned back to see the cause of the commotion. Someone shouted that a bench broke, followed by a reassurance that everybody was fine.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Yuta spoke after, “You keep torturing the guy because you don't know what to do about how you feel. And you torture yourself because you don't want to make a decision." Yuta paused, giving a sympathetic sigh. "I love you, but it's not fair, you know that. He drops everything for you, I can’t believe you don’t see how he lets you toy with him. He’s always at the mercy of your whims and he doesn’t even mind it. Do you want to be the kind of person who does that to someone? He’s a decent guy."

She knew he was right. But he also didn't know all of it. 

"I don't want to torture him." She admitted, keeping her eyes fixed on the white bar top, “He's always trying to get a rise out of me and I just,” She paused to sigh, yet again feeling confronted by her own state. These were things she’d never said before. “So I give him what he wants, a fair fight. I don't know how this ended up being the kind of thing where we keep pushing to see how far it can go.”

Yuta frowned, visibly bothered by the notion. She couldn't blame him. It seemed to be like this all the time now. Both of them looked for reasons to fight lately, like they were testing to see who would get up and call it off first. Loving him made her angry and picking fights made it easier to pin that anger on the right target. He had begun to find her frustrating as a result.

"Why not just talk it out? It can't be worse than it is now?" Yuta questioned.

About this, he would be wrong. She knew Johnny too well by now. He would try to play it off, say that they can give it a shot without meaning it. Johnny was used to being admired, he would never understand its intensity. He would take it as easy as he took most things and it would ruin her.

"I think," She paused, looking up at the ceiling with a groan. "I'm not afraid of rejection. If he said no it would hurt, but I'd move on." She looked back down at her friend with a heavier heart. "What I'm afraid of is that he would say yes without meaning it. He's okay with everything. If I asked him for a relationship he'd say okay, if I ask him I never want to see him again he'd say okay too. If I asked him for the real thing I'd want it to work. But I don't know what he wants." 

She sighed, thinking about how complacent he was about everything. When she decided to ignore him on a whim he left it alone, when she decided to spend the last week of her recovery at Yuta's he was okay with it. He was okay with her sleeping with Doyoung and when she told him they don't anymore he was okay with that too.

"Johnny is just always okay with everything." She spat the words, before she sighed again. "I know that's not fair I just–" She paused again, entirely lost on what she even wanted. "If he loves me, he does a terrible job showing it."

“Oh,” Yuta said. To his credit, she could tell that he was trying to understand. “That does sounds complicated.”

That was what finally made her laugh. Complicated was exactly what she’d spend her entire life avoiding. It was why she spent her weekends with her friends and why she was insistent on keeping things casual with Johnny.

She nodded in agreement, a pitiful smile lifting her lips. "I'm ready to take all of it too. That's how afraid I am to be without him. I keep playing his games and I keep making new ones. Hoping it will keep him interested. Hoping that for once he'd say more than okay. Even if it was a no." She groaned, once again angry at herself.

"What happened to you?" Both of them laughed, her face scrunching.

"I don't know, man. I've tried so many times to figure out how I let a person rattle the peace I’ve spent my entire life protecting. A man who could replace me without any effort."

"No one can replace you." He sounded offended.

She scoffed, mostly finding his reassurance touching.

"I get that you're moping, but you make no sense." Yuta's brows furrowed, "He's wrapped around your fingers."

"That's just because I keep him on his toes." She shrugged, "To overthrow predictability is to strive for more compelling experiences." She repeated the words Johnny had said to get once, the words leaving her tongue bitter. 

Yuta tapped his knuckles on the bar with a frustrated groan, pointing an accusatory finger at her. " I told you to not play fuck monopoly. You've gone and turned it into a tournament." Yuta groaned, knocking his shoulder against hers.

"I should have listened to you.” She admitted, lips twitching when Yuta looked surprised at the confession. “Sometimes I wish it wasn't so combative. If I wasn't so afraid of losing him every second he's with me, then maybe I'd love him without fighting it all the time."

The words left her heavier than she imagined, wishing she really could do it. When she wasn't so busy fighting it with all her might, she knew that loving him was worth all of the things it came with.

"You can just love him." Yuta's words made her close her eyes in denial, "Everybody is at the risk of being lost, no? Nobody comes with a guarantee, why should he? I could have a heart attack tonight while having the best sex of my life and you will never see me again. You don't fight our friendship? Why fight this?"

She looked up a little at loss, unnerved by the wisdom Yuta suddenly imparted.

"What?" He asked.

"I can't believe you just live, laugh, loved this." She snorted. Despite everything, she felt more grateful for Yuta now than she ever had before. "I appreciate this. Really, you are my ride or die." She gave his hand a squeeze.

"Aw, you're so sentimental. Do you still want me to keep you away from Johnny?"

"Yes."

Yuta sighed, "I guess I was also being too optimistic expecting you to change overnight. Think this through when you can."

"I will." She promised.

"That's good enough for me."

_

Leaning against the bar, head resting on her palm, she took in another deep sigh. (Y/N) had lost count of how many it had been. A deep melancholy had settled in her bones and it could neither be shaken off nor be cured.

"What can I get you?" The bartender came up to her.

Her order came to the tip of her tongue like it was second nature, a glass of whatever red was the best. But she stopped herself when she realised that it was Johnny's second choice, not hers. Then she thought to ask for a whiskey but immediately realised that it was Johnny's first. Maybe making a simple decision shouldn't be so complicated.

"A gin and tonic for the lady, Martin. The one you make with the lavender gin." Johnny spoke as he took the seat in front of her. "Since she walked into my gin joint of all places."

The words made her finally realise what he meant to dress as, a humorous smile tugging at her lips. 

It had been a while since she'd seen him properly. Johnny had spent most of the past few weeks on a work trip, spending the remainder of his time on the recording floor. The rest, she took the effort of being out of his way, taking his need for a break to heart. A break from her, he meant. It was the least she could do.

Right now, in the depths of her despair and with two glasses of two different liquors in her, she allowed herself a good look.

To her misfortune, he looked as he always did. As breathtaking as the first day she walked into this club. He was different behind these walls too; always at ease, not exhausted, not burdened by the condition of his position. In here Johnny was always just a man.

She seemed to understand then. He wanted a break to get back to this, to be carefree and fun. Without the predictability and bitterness that had settled into what they had. Her fingers squeezed the edge of the bar.

Johnny ran his index finger over the rim of his glass, mixing the sound with the tapping of his shoe— making some unknown melody. The action brought her attention to the flicker on his wrist, from where hung a single gold chain. Her eyes wandered to his collar, where the silver chain from earlier was missing.

"What brings you here, Miss?" He sat back in his chair, his eyes sparkling under the sparse lights.

She took a moment, taking his words in. His question was an open ended request. She could be anybody she wished right now, say whatever she wished. She could be carefree and fun, be as unpredictable as she liked. 

She could make him stay.

"A miscalculation. I thought it would be an enjoyable night. Yet I'm stuck making boring small talk with a man who thinks he can order drinks for me." She couldn't help the words, the anger from before still remaining. If he wanted time away from her then why did he keep coming in her way? Why did he make it hard for her to walk away from him?

She could be anybody at that moment. Yet, (Y/N) chose to be herself.

Johnny's eyes danced with embers, tongue darting out to lick his eager lips. He chose to be himself too.

"My apologies, Miss." He tipped his head, not meaning it in the slightest.

"You seem to know my tastes." She picked the drink up once Martin placed it in front of her, giving him a quick smile.

"I am a man of many talents." Johnny answered.

"I was talking to the bartender, Sir." She turned to him, nose raised high. Martin chuckled, apologising to Johnny almost immediately after he could. The title was meant to mock the one he used for her. Yet the very formation of the word on her tongue reminded her that it was a word between people they were trying to run away from at the moment.

Johnny's lips twitched and she couldn't tell what it implied, what he was reacting to.

"What brings you here?" She asked, humouring him at last.

"To this place?"

"To me."

Johnny chewed his bottom lip, clearly a little frustrated at her adamant need to be difficult. In truth, she couldn't be sure why she was being like this either. But Johnny liked when he was cornered, rendered retortless. And the distress marked so clearly across his face made the depths of her belly twist in a way it hadn't in weeks.

"Do you gamble?" She asked him, once again steering the conversation away from the dead ends she sent them into herself.

"I did once, lost everything I had."

"That must have been hard. My condolences to you."

"It doesn't matter to me. At least we'll always have Paris." He gave her a smile that was uncharacteristically warm. It pulled her out of the act, reminding her of what she was missing.

(Y/N) remembered making Ten and Johnny watch the movie. One of her all time favourites, she had warned him when he complained about the cliché premise. She knew that was why he was doing this. She just couldn't tell if it was out of spite or affection.

"My husband is waiting for me upstairs. I must go to him." She stood up, breath catching in her throat when he caught her wrist.

"Your husband is gambling."

"My husband doesn't gamble."

"We all gamble, my love."

She jerked her hand out of his hold, the words stinging her like a live wire. Sucking in her teeth she couldn't help the way her face twisted, seething.

"You will be back." Johnny sat back, face neutral.

"Why would I?" She tapped her hand on the bar, lifting her drink into her free hand.

"Because we all have something at stake." He let her hand go, eyes shifting with sorrow. She wondered if he'd always been such a good actor.

__

Johnny played her face over in his mind so many times that he hoped it would dull the pang in his chest. Could it really be that bad? Did she hate the idea that much? Was being in love with him that unpleasant a thought to her?

He groaned, sitting up on the sofa. The sound earned his friends attention, Ten turning to him with a particularly impatient gaze. He looked ready to say something.

"Can you just–" He began, his husband's hand coming up to stop him.

"Johnny needs another drink." Taemin gave Ten a warning look, turning to Johnny after. "There's a good Japanese whiskey out today." He offered with a smile, pitying him.

Johnny wanted to scoff, but he was aware that he had successfully over wrung everybody's patience. So he nodded and got up to leave.

He realised that he had become the reason he avoided the fancies of things as tedious as love, sitting here by himself drowning his aching sorrows in alcohol too expensive to be drunk so copiously. Just like the movie he had made fun of, Johnny was yet again a cliché.

"This needs to stop." He mumbled to himself, not remotely drunk enough to pull half the antics he did tonight.

Johnny had always believed that he’d find love when the time was right. He never sought it out because he believed that these things happened on their own. The fact that he spent the entirety of his twenties building his company was something he was proud of. He didn’t believe he had wasted the time.

In truth, Johnny had spent his entire life working towards something. Too occupied to ever feel loneliness in the way it was perhaps meant to be experienced. Which was probably why he wasn’t prepared for it. Love had finally found him and Johnny was plunged headfirst into wanting something that he failed to work towards. There was nowhere to go. What he wanted was right in front of him. He just didn’t have the courage to grab it.

He heard the hesitant intake of breath he’d recognise anywhere. The sound dragging him out of his musings.

"You were right." Her words pierced through his thoughts.

Johnny halted the urge to whip his head immediately at the sound.

"Are you here to finally gamble?" He spoke to his glass. She came around to stand in front of him, shaking her head.

Her hand reached out, moving the few stray strands off his face, When he flinched at the touch, she retreated her fingers quickly. 

"You aren't the only one to have lost everything in Paris." She spoke carefully.

He sighed, the sound more like the wince of hot sand when it finally rained. Looking up, his eyes met her vulnerable ones, the ones he’d keep making the same stupid mistakes for. The ones he'd happily run into a million dead ends for.

Johnny put his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She didn't fight it and he was sure that his relief was written across his face as he rested his forehead against hers.

“Who are you really?” He sighed.

“We said no questions.” She sighed along with him; caressing his hair, playing his game.

"We have to stop doing this to each other. To ourselves." He let the liquor speak for him, soaking up the courage it came with. Johnny took a breath, telling himself to take the leap; to say what he needed to say, to ask for what he yearned to have.

Her hand landed on his arm, squeezing. “Johnny.” Her whisper trembled past her lips.

“Hmm?” He said with incredible caution, squeezing her tighter and bringing her closer. Slowly he opened his eyes, waiting for her to speak.

“Let me go. I don't like this game anymore.” She tried to get away from his hold.

Johnny’s brows furrowed, “What?” He breathed out, not expecting that. He was being serious, he needed to speak before he lost his nerve.

“Just,” She huffed. “Move. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” She hit his shoulder when he didn’t listen.

“You came to me.” He reminded her.

“Yes, and now I want to go.” She grit her teeth. “Please.” She pleaded, practically whimpered in pain, and his hands relaxed the very next moment, letting her go.

“Whatever, (Y/N). I’m tired of this.” He turned away from her.

Despite her earlier insistence, she faltered. He could see her watching him from the corner of her sight, hesitating. Just as he turned to call her out on it, or to finally ask (he wasn't sure), a voice called his name. Both of them turned.

“Hey Johnny,” It was Jessica, the model. “Can you come with me for a moment?”

Johnny turned his gaze to look at (Y/N), finding her jaw gritted and eyes fixed on the girl. His lips quirked despite himself, tongue sliding over his lower lip as it lifted.

“Sure.” He sat up, “I was done here anyways.” He stood up from his seat.

_

“What?” Johnny stopped in front of Ten. If the way he snapped didn’t betray his irritation, he hoped his face did. “Why did you send Jessica to call me?”

Ten turned to Johnny, taking in the apparent displeasure with a frown of his own.

“Yuta mentioned that he’s meant to keep the two of you apart. I thought I would add to the effort.” Ten shrugged.

Johnny ran her hands through his hair, “Okay.” He groaned, sounding anything but. “But why did you send Jessica?”

“She was passing by and she knows you.”

“Yeah but now (Y/N) thinks–” He paused, exhaling in a way that sounded like another groan. “Nevermind. Did you even want anything?”

“Not really.” Ten smacked his lips, “If I avoided all the people you’ve slept with in my club then I would have had to go call you myself.”

“You should have since you’re so passionate about this. (Y/N) can make her own decisions, just leave it alone.” He flicked a pillow from behind Ten, making the guy fall back into the sofa.

Ten turned around, eyes laced with intention.

“You’re a coward Johnny.”

“Ten.” Taemin cautioned but his conviction did not falter.

“You need to grow up and have a real conversation with the girl you love.” He continued, giving his best friend a pertinent look. “You’re just punishing yourself and that girl for no reason.” His face softened for a moment, looking like he was pitying Johnny. “Sometimes we ruin things beyond repair by letting it be.”

“You need to,” Johnny took a step closer, “Leave it alone.” It was a plea, partially because he knew Ten was right.

“He’s right.” Taemin interjected, “You can’t meddle in his matters.”

"I'm not meddling." Ten hissed at his husband, "I'm tired of watching my best friend wallow in a misery of his own making." He looked at Johnny, "It won't go away if you ignore it. And it won't change till you do something about it. So why?" He asked.

Johnny rubbed his hand over his face, not in his right mind or place to have this conversation. “You don’t get it.” He said with a lost voice.

“You have to do something, Johnny. Do you expect to live in limbo?” Ten added.

He expected her to deal the death blow. Something he would not say out loud. This entire time he had expected— practically hoped— that she would be the one who would have left by now. He would have accepted it, he would have swallowed it as an inevitable, and he would have taken solace in having been right from the start. That she would get bored of him.

He had been so sure of it that he wasn't prepared for this. He hadn't accounted for ever making it this far.

Johnny nodded to Ten, a silent promise. His friend was right, no matter how much it pissed him off. Johnny knew he would at least have to make a decision soon.

__

(Y/N) walked away from Johnny with cold hands. This was it, her steps faltered. She walked as far away as she could. All the preparation she had done for that exact moment had evaporated with his words. She couldn’t believe that she ran away like she did, only delaying the inevitable.

He was ready to do it, she could feel it in her bones. She could read it all over his face.

I’m tired of this.

That was the exact indifference to the matter she had feared most of all.

Whatever.

It was like being stabbed by a rusted knife— messy and unnecessary in its cruelty.

Whatever, (Y/N).

Her head hurt, she pushed through to get deeper into the club. To somewhere she could not be found. She needed to prepare herself better for this. She was afraid she’d beg him to say, afraid she’d cry. This wasn't the place or the state of mind she needed to be in for this.

Whatever.

She took a deep breath. No, she needed to prepare herself better.

She couldn’t believe that he would do it here. And he would have. Her exhale came out irate, he would have held her in place and told her he was tired of her.

He would have finished the thought had it not been for the model. Miss belly button herself. Her next breath came out utterly furious.

She was tired of this too, she coaxed herself. Tired of being stuck in limbo with the most elusive man she could have possibly laid hands on. She was tired of loving him too, she lied to herself.

She stopped, realising that she was in the emerald alcove. Yuta’s favourite corner. It was a cosy spot lined by arches that circled the area, littered with chairs that were closer together. Each arch had large and thick curtains that were never drawn, but nonetheless served as a visual policy that added to the sense of seclusion it was meant to emulate.

It was also the part of the club where Johnny had fucked his blonde companion on that night. 

(Y/N) shoved the thought out of her head as fast as it emerged. The first order of business would be to stop thinking about him all the damn time.

She picked up her drink from the bar, a sweet and potent cocktail this time, her kind of drink. Looking around to find a corner to sit in, her eyes landed on a man at the bar. One she recognised. One of the guys from the basement. The rough one with hooded eyes.

"The glasses really change your face." She sat down on the bar stool beside the one he occupied. The man looked up, surprised to see her.

"Usually people tell me how used to my glasses they are, that my face feels empty without them," He smiled to himself. "But I suppose we met under extraordinary circumstances." He tapped his glass, still giving her an odd look.

"You look disconcerted by the memory." She pursed a smile.

"Not particularly, I just didn't think I'd see you again. I'm a little surprised in all honesty." He commented.

"It's a small world." She shrugged.

"It's an even smaller guest list."

This time she did smile.

"I do finally understand why new faces are such a sensation around here." She continued into a new territory, enjoying the confusion on his face.

"Isn't it so?" He snapped back into a casual retort almost immediately. "It gets awkward really fast when everybody is a friend of a friend."

"Speaking of, where's your friend?" She looked around, wondering if he was close.

The guy smiled, almost like he was expecting it. "Why? Would you prefer his company to mine?"

She looked back, "I'm just curious." Her shrug was noncommittal.

"He must be around here somewhere." The man shrugged back, equally evasive. "We aren't friends, we just fuck sometimes. These big, important men and their secret need to be in the palm of someone's hand." He told her like she somehow knew what he was talking about.

She gave him a puzzled look that made him chuckle. 

"I thought Johnny Suh used to wear copper as a joke." This time he steered the conversation into new waters, "But you, I always knew were the silver type." He pointed a finger at her, more victorious than accusatory.

"Nonsense." She laughed.

"You're a natural. I knew it on the day the man spent the entire evening on the floor with your foot in his lap."

"I," She paused, stunned at the mention of the day. From the perspective of a virtual stranger nonetheless. "I can't believe you saw that." She blushed, the memory coming back. It was a joke, something they did to see how their friends would react. It never occurred to her before now how it might look to an onlooker.

"Small pool." He shrugged, "When I first started coming here, I had my eyes on him. But it's easy to tell that he's not the surrendering type. So when I saw that, I couldn't help but have my eyes on you."

She was surprised by the easy confession, an effortless breeze .

"Did I live up to your expectations or was it disappointing?" She questioned, playing her surprise off as flirtation.

"Yes and no." The man smiled, pushing his specs higher up. "On one hand I've finally solved the mystery that is Johnny Suh."

"Oh.” She stopped to wonder if she should ask him to elaborate, thinking against it immediately after. “And on the other?" She asked instead.

"I really wish you did more than just watch."

Her mouth opened with evident surprise, the words so easily said. An absolute and uncomplicated request. The man laughed, clearly enjoying the surprise on her face. It made her snap back.

"Maybe in a few months, we can get back to this." She half joked.

"Months?" He winced, "Are you going on a trip?" He sniggered.

She smiled, not willing to elaborate any further.

"Something to look forward to nonetheless." He raised a glass, "I think your usual is waiting for you." He pointed over her shoulder, making her turn.

Her usual was sitting on one of the sofas, at a considerable distance. She wouldn't even have noticed him without the prompt.

"Well, your glasses work for sure." She squinted. "Trying to get rid of me?" She asked while trying to gauge Johnny's expression. She was unfortunately not wearing her own glasses.

The man laughed, "No, I just believe that some things are best left unbreached." His voice was careful.

She turned back, "And here I thought you were flirting with me."

"Oh I absolutely am. I just have different tastes. Also best left unencroached." He licked his lips.

Her eyes fell on the movement, "I have ears and an open mind." She looked up deliberately slow.

"I don't know, will you just using me to make a point?" He teased, eyes darting behind her.

"You don't seem to mind being used."

His cheeks turned red and it made her lips twitch. She had been denying herself the extent of what the club had to offer, (Y/N) realised.

The man's eyes went behind her again just as she heard shuffling. She rolled her eyes to the heaven's themselves. Eventually, she'd tire of Johnny's predictable antics. Maybe then she'd tire of her own too.

"Is she bothering you again?" Johnny put a hand on her waist, effortless and clear in its intention.

"We were just getting to know each other." The man smiled.

She realised that she hadn't caught his name yet.

"Are you finally socialising?" The question was blatantly aimed at her. But she pretended not to understand, turning to call the bartender over instead.

"A repeat?" The server pointed to her glass but she shook her head.

"Water."

"Time for us to go home, babe?" Johnny leaned down, his breathy question warning her neck. The heat from his hand burned her through her dress as well. The assumption in his words burning her pride.

"You're intruding." The words slipped from her tongue. She didn't look at Johnny but the other man looked up at him with a glint in his eyes.

Johnny laughed again, this time a little more nervous. Good, she thought. She was done pretending to take him in stride.

"(Y/N)–" Johnny began, his words careful.

"Go home, Johnny." She interrupted. "Didn't you say you were tired?" She turned to look at him. Johnny looked down at her with a heavy frown. She braced herself for some dreaded response. But he said nothing, just watching her for a fleeting moment in a way that gave her hope. Hope that immediately soured when he looked away.

"I'm actually tired." She said simply. "You might have to go look for belly button again. What was her name, again?"

"You never asked her name."

"Right. It's for the best, I suppose." She grit her teeth, hands tightening around her glass. "It would be a long day if I tried to keep up with them all."

His eyes glimmered with ill intention as he leaned closer to her face. Pride made her stand her ground, not look away.

"I've done it to you too. If you want me to do it again just ask." He licked his lips, a heated reminder of a few months ago when things were so very different. Every inch of her skin flushed.

"Fuck you." She spat, the implied consolation in the words enraging her from head to toe. Especially when he didn't sound consolatory at all. 

She turned when she heard the chair beside her move.

"Leaving so soon?" She asked the man. He shrugged, adjusting his glasses and giving her a nod.

"Come on." Johnny nudged her, "We're done."

"No, I'm just getting started." She met his gaze from the corner of her eyes, You can go back to whatever cunt you crawled out of." She eyed Johnny's unruly hair, ruined by god knows what, truly at the tail end of her patience and pretence.

She turned back to give the man a smile, "I'm sorry, please just ignore him."

He gave an uneasy laugh, looking up at Johnny before back at her. Before the man could get another word in, she felt Johnny close in again. This time his fingers slid down her arms. 

He did it so deliberately slow, so expertly, that apart from breaking into goosebumps, she also visibly shivered. His lips part against the shell of her ear, the sound rattling her spine.

"The only cunt I'm crawling in or out of is yours. I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure that out by now." He kissed the skin under her ear, making her shut her eyes. The words and the action did exactly what he intended. She melted against him, heart soaring at the confession. 

The chair beside her slid back further, making her eyes open. "Never a boring day in this club." The man chuckled to himself, walking away after giving her a last wave and Johnny an amiable nod.

"I hate you." She spat at Johnny once he was gone. 

"Okay." Johnny said, not even pretending to take her seriously. "Come, I want to fuck you." He brushed his fingers over her knuckles. The words made her stomach twist and clench. "I even wore your favourite little chain."  He took her hand in his, the gold chain hanging from the wrist.

Her lungs slammed her heart, no doubt exhausted by its flightless fancies. He was giving her what she wanted. It was all she would have. Johnny was giving in to her for once.

Fuck. She cursed in her head. Just this once.

She still didn't turn to look at him, "Will you honour it?" The words came out easier than she would have liked. Johnny hummed against her ears, lifting her hand to his lips.

"Anything you want." He kissed the tips of her fingers one by one.

"Are you still playing your game?" Doubt made her ask the question, finally daring to turn just enough to see his face. She wanted him to say no. He looked up and remained silent instead.

Her ensuing exhale was one of surrender, "Fine, let's play."

A game was all it was, she supposed.

_

Johnny lay back in bed with a kind of cocky smirk that looked like he had already won. She couldn’t fathom what he was so proud about. But then again, he had no clue what was to come.

“How will you have me?” He asked, undeterred by the weight of any consequences. He put his arms behind his head, relaxing further into the bed. She didn’t answer him, turning her back to him to peek through the amenities drawer. After rummaging through all the intriguing objects, she settled on a long satin cloth. Running it between her fingers she closed her eyes to feel it, deciding that this would have to do.

When she turned, his eyes were waiting, taking the object in.

“Are you going to blindfold me to deprive me of your pretty face? Or will you do it to yourself to pretend I’m someone else. The man from earlier, perhaps?” He raised a brow.

She said nothing, keeping her eyes roaming and on anything but him. Gently, she put the cloth down at the very foot of the bed before walking into the washroom.

When she returned, Johnny’s brows were furrowed. He tried to smooth it out when she came into view, but the subconscious frown on his lips remained. It made her purse a smile.

For all his menacing ways, Johnny was a generous lover. His intention was to push her beyond the edges of her flimsy patience, going a little further each time till she was surprised at her own limits. 

But he was also kind in a way that he didn’t realise. Johnny would take his time, but the man always gave in before he intended. True to his personality, he went with the flow and stayed starkly aware of his partner. She could always trust that he would never push her beyond a limit she could not handle.

She however was not the same. Not as seasoned as he was, she was driven solely by her need to stake a claim on his bottomless patience. 

Her need to control him was unique to him only. (Y/N) had never desired to conquer a man like she wanted to conquer Johnny Suh. It made her petty and it made her unpredictable. He had known how to push her buttons from the first day she walked into this place. Even before that, Johnny always knew how to push her professionally. He drove her to blinding rage that left her vulnerable.

It made her mean in retaliation. Her method was to distress him in an effort to shatter his usual easygoing resolve. She liked to watch him beg as much as he did her, but more than that she liked to watch him as he let her get away with it all. 

She was always at his fingertips. But he was also wrapped around her fingers. And she'd take every opportunity she had left to remind him of that.

He turned to look at her, trying to hide his growing impatience. She untied her hair, letting it fall over her shoulders with a sigh.

She stopped at the edge of the bed, eyes going over his entire form. Her eyes halted at his legs, returning to his waiting gaze with a silent instruction. Johnny decided to play dumb, raising both his brows in clueless question.

She didn't move, watching him with such impassive patience that a part of her was impressed by her own restraint. There was a silent stare off that she promised to win on account of the indignation she'd been holding at bay for two weeks.

Johnny smiled, a thought sparking his eyes.

"You do it." He stared at her, "Please?" His voice dripped with his taunt.

She turned away from him, walking back to the foot to pick up the sash she left. His eyes followed her as she came back. Sitting beside him, she placed her hand across his torso. Tilting her head to her shoulder she watched him for a second, eyes storming with contemplation.

"Come here." She finally said, fingers brushing over the buttons of his pants. He moved so fast that he almost threw them both off the bed. Her lips twitched and she had to look away to bite it back.

"We don't know each other." She said softly, fingers flicking the button off. When she looked up, Johnny's brows were furrowed in confusion. "We're strangers who met here today. That's the people we can pretend to be."

Johnny chewed on his bottom lip, looking like he wanted to say something.

"It's my turn. That's the part I want to play." She reinforced her idea, taking his silence as agreement. 

Johnny nodded, confused but intrigued by where this was going. She was angry, it was plain to see. Johnny had never really seen how her fury looked when it boiled over. But he hadn't expected it to be this silent. He tried to push down the fear it brewed deep within his bones. With all his pushing, Johnny also knew how to pull back. So he allowed himself to go along with the game, hoping he hadn't pushed her too far.

When she did pull his pants down, Johnny's dick stood up like it was peering to catch a glance. As usual, a traitor. She unclenched her fingers, the sash falling on his legs. Still unsure of its purpose, he extended his hands to her, wrists held together.

She looked up at him with cold amusement, "Do you want to be restrained that bad?"

"What else could it be for?" He asked, voice betraying his impatience.

"You don't need to be tied, Johnny. You never do. It's not like something so flimsy would hold you anyway." He watched her toy with the object, gingerly wrapping one end of the cloth around her palm a few times. The other end still resting against his thigh.

"Then?"

"What? Don't trust me?" She raised an expectant brow.

"Right now, I'm not sure what you're going to do." He gave her a cautious gaze, yet again failing to gauge her state of mind.

"Just lie back."

So he did, he listened to her and relaxed back against the pillows.

She raised her hand flicking the sash up, the material brushed against his dick, making it twitch again. She did it again, moving it back and forth against his tip till he was clenching his thighs.

"What are you doing?" He asked between rapid breaths.

"Don't like it?" She questioned, meeting his gaze. When she moved it again, the smooth cloth brushed over the underside of his cock, grazing the vein that was now bulging. Johnny's hips lifted off the bed. "You seem to like it." She hummed.

She looked back down, spinning the sash around this time. The thing wrapped around his cock in hypnotising circles, covering the length with feather light brushes. When it brushed over his tip, Johnny had to close his eyes.

He had been so on edge all evening, so excruciatingly hard, that his dick was beyond sensitive. It made the delicate friction shoot liquid electricity up his legs, fresh blood pumping into his already stiff dick.

Then she tugged the ribbon with one harsh pull, the entire thing tightening around his length in one exquisite clench.

"Fuck." He groaned, hips bucking up again. "That's–" He began, but the material was already coming loose, making his eyes shoot open just as she let it fall slack. 

Before words could form in his mind, before Johnny even tried, she was moving it back and forth again.

"What are you trying to do?" He asked, feeling as confused as he did aroused.

"I'm going to get you off. That's what you want, right?" She blinked up at his face, giving him an innocent look.

He wanted her to touch him. But that felt like a confession of subjugation.

"I'm not going to get off like this." He said instead. Her lips twitched, the glint in her eyes telling him that he'd said the wrong thing.

"Are you assuming, or is that a promise?" She questioned.

Johnny didn't respond, knowing well when he'd walked into one of her traps. She knew it too, returning to the task at hand with a chuckle.

"I'll take that as a promise then." She spoke softly, words as gentle as the satin that brushed against his dick over and over.

With each stroke, he felt the skin get more sensitive than he thought possible. His hips squirmed more frequently, eyes fluttering shut, the fabric edging him to insanity. The precum that was beading at his tip began to make each brush a little harsher. 

It wasn't enough to even pretend to search for the beginnings of a build up. Yet it made his cock twitch a little more with each brush, just enough to feel good in what it was denying him. Johnny's lips parted when she wrapped the ribbon around his dick again, brows creasing as she tugged the thing tight around his length. He would have laughed at his state had he not felt so incredibly turned on.

"You love this." She seemed to choke on her own realisation, just as he felt the cloth begin to wrap around his dick again. Knowing what was coming, he braced himself. "Look at you, Whore." She clicked her tongue, "Your fingers are going to tear the sheets."

Heat spread from his forehead down his chest, suddenly too aware of the effect this was having on him.

"I'm trying not to grab your hair and put your mouth where it belongs." He opened his eyes, just in time for her to pull the sash taut again. A moan slipped past his open mouth.

"Where does my mouth belong?" She goaded him, "On your cock?" A dismissive hum slipped past her lips. "Looking at you now, I think my mouth is too good for you."

With that, Johnny could agree. Her mouth was too good for anyone. He wasn't sure that he wouldn't come the moment she so much as brushed her lips against it.

"You've kept me hard and waiting all night. There's only so much a man can take." His thighs unclenched as the ribbon released his length, falling around the base in circles.

"I told you to go bury your busy cock in some other hole."

"And I told you I only want to bury myself in you." He raised a brow, annoyed that she refused to believe him.

He saw the shift in her gaze and the red that tinted her cheeks.

"Let me feel how wet you are." The words rushed out with desperation, taking the liberty the moment gave him. Slowly, he dragged his hands closer to her. Despite the caution she was menacing, tightening the cloth against his base with a swift jerk. The friction made him wince, his hips lifting off the mattress again.

"Take your time with your game. I just want to see how much your pussy missed me."

Her breath came in and out in sharp waves, never too far to not be affected by the right words. Words he knew best.

"Behave." She warned him.

"No." He sat up, enjoying the uneven rise and fall of her chest.

"Alright." She said, letting the sash go entirely. 

Johnny raised his head, a little surprised by her agreement. He also couldn’t believe the pang of disappointment that racked through him at the loss of the touch.

"Take your shirt off." She pointed her chin to his chest.

Experience told Johnny that there was a catch, but it also told him to do what he was told. He took off his buttons rapidly, afraid she'd change her mind.

“You’re very eager.”

“I’ve had a long night.”

She got off the bed, bending over to pull her panties off. Johnny licked his lips before he could truly understand and control the urge. She caught the sight, lips cocking in an arrogant smirk. Both of them turned to catch his dick twitch.

She stood up once the garment was off, walking back towards him while Johnny curbed the urge to demand she take her dress off too.

Slowly, she got on the bed. Resting either knee over his waist, Johnny put his arms behind his head to watch her straddle him. Feeling cocky himself, he let a smirk light his lips. When she caught it, her own smirk looked to pity him.

“You’re also very presumptuous.” She started moving forwards. His tip brushed against her clit as she moved, both of their breaths seizing in tandem.

To his surprise, she got a hold of herself before he did, lifting herself higher to avoid a repeat.

Having already lost the upper hand in the situation, Johnny parted his lips. “Do it again.” He asked shamelessly.

She ignored the words, not even refusing or reminding him of his current station. When she sat down, it was on his abdomen. For a moment, his senses blurred. 

Johnny could feel the smooth glide of her wet slit, practically slipping.

“Fuck Kitten, You’re so wet.” He hissed, stomach clenching tight along with his fist as he resisted the desire to grab her waist.

“I’ve always wanted to do this.” She breathed out, the shake in her voice betraying the intensity of the sentiment.

“Just listen to your sopping pussy squelch for me.” He groaned, head falling back as he heard the sound of her pressing against him. “You just love using me, don’t you?”

“How can you tell? Are you used to being used?” She questioned.

Johnny thought it was a joke, lifting his head with humour in his eyes. But upon meeting her gaze, he saw it bore into him, looking displeased.

Right.

He forgot they were strangers.

“I know the type.” He answered after several moments.

“Oh? A lot of experience in the area?”

“Mmhm.” He hummed.

Both her hands pressed against his chest, “Eager and presumptuous men should be used once in a while. Keeps you grounded, don’t you agree?” Her hips slid forward, head falling over almost immediately.

She bit back a moan. Johnny smiled.

“I’m not sure I do.”

“No?” Her next glide came as Johnny flexed his stomach, pulling a hiss from her. “You need a change in perspective.”

“Is that what you’re here to do? Enlighten me?” He raised a brow.

She nodded, eyes fluttering closed. With each glide of her hips, it got harder for her to hold still. Soon, her legs were tightening around his waist. They still shook, despite the tight grip.

“Your legs will be sore tomorrow.” Johnny warned.

"You should be more concerned about yourself right now."

"I think I'm doing good." He sighed, lips lifting in a relaxed smile.

"That's unfortunate. We can't have that." Her breath stuttered as Johnny flexed his stomach in retaliation.

Johnny scoffed, "You just love to make it harder for yourself, don't you? Just wait till later."

"Later?" She hummed, hips coming to a halt. "Do you think you'll see me again?"

Johnny chewed on the inside of his cheek. That was not funny to him at all. It leeched what little enjoyment he had and he had to close his eyes to take in a furious breath as she began humping into him again.

(Y/N) couldn't tell why he had gone quiet all of a sudden. She wasn't supposed to care, she wasn't going to. He was doing what she had intended to do. She told herself that his silence was also a tactic. That is why she felt bothered. Her hands pressed against his chest with more urgency, the movement of her hips getting faster.

"Enjoying yourself?" He asked after so long that she gasped at the sudden sound. She nodded, her pace increasing as she felt the knot in her stomach tie itself tighter.

She looked up at his eyes, this close the building pleasure in her core muffled her brain further. (Y/N) leaned in, eyes fixed on his lips. Everything aside, she always missed kissing him the most.

She didn't expect his hand to move at all, nonetheless to grab her chin. He squeezed her cheeks harshly, lifting her face to meet his gaze as he sat up.

"I don't kiss strangers." He reminded her, making her crumble inside. "Understood?" He raised an irate brow. She nodded and he let go as fast as he had grabbed her, bringing his hands back to his sides and relaxing again.

Her pace slowed down a little despite herself. She felt rattled by the words.

Right.

She forgot that he could be cruel too when he wanted to be. At least in these cases, they were true equals.

After losing her rhythm, the tightness in her belly slipped away. No matter how fast she moved her hips, what angle or pattern she tried, she felt frustratingly far away from the build up that never came.

"You don't seem to be doing too good. Need help?" His words were a taunt. She thought it best to ignore it, moving down to sit atop his length. Johnny's head fell back as a sigh left her.

"I think I can manage." She muttered, too distracted by her own frustrations.

"I don't think you can." He spoke through a tight jaw, "Ever used a man before, honey? I don't think you know how to do this." He continued to provoke her.

"And you do?" She asked, sliding over his length. Both of them gasped when his tip nudged her clit, leaving his length wet from her leaking insides. "You look too busy being pussy drunk."

"I'm nothing if not a multi-tasker." He groaned, hips bucking once before he pressed it back down with the sheer force of his will.

She smiled, "That's a lot of promises."

"Give me a chance and I'll show you."

She thought about the first time he was at her mercy like that, the time feeling like it was years ago instead of just one. His every overconfident claim drove her mad, even more so when he lived up to each claim and more.

She thought about her first night here, not even strangers back then. She thought about the first time she had met him. About how she knew him as the man who had built himself a monolith. 

In truth, Johnny had never been a stranger to her. She walked into her interview the same way she had walked into the room much like this one a year ago.

Absolutely enamoured by him.

She stopped moving entirely, "Fine."

Johnny lifted his head to look at her, "What?"

She thought about the little things that could have been different the first time around. Whether they would have produced a different outcome.

"Show me." She lifted her arms, surrendering to him.

His hands came to her back in a flash, lifting her and dropping her down in a heartbeat. Her head fell on the very edge of the bed, knocking the air out of her.

"Are you sure?" He asked, eyes boring into hers.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, "Have you known me to offer anything if I wasn't?"

He raised a brow, forehead gathering. "I thought we didn't know each other."

"Your turn." She told him.

The words made him chew on his bottom lip, his free arm tracing up and down her leg and driving her wild.

"Alright. Sit up." He nodded, pulling back.

Confused, she regardless did what he asked. As she sat up, his hands came to her waist, keeping her on his lap.

Her nose knocked into his, the proximity to his stormy eyes making her dizzy.

"First thing," He whispered, hand coming to her hair. "We don't need these." He unclasped the pin that held the chain in her hair, taking the one on his wrist off right after. 

She gave him a confused look but didn't question it.

"We play my parts now." His breath hitched, "There are no winners. I don't want to fight, I don't want to win. I don't want to be strangers." She heard the small clink of the two chains being placed on the table, his eyes coming back to hers right after, "I want to make love to you." He kissed her eyelid.

Her chest crumbled at the words, caving in and grinding itself into pieces. Helplessly, she nodded.

He shifted, gently placing her head on the pillows.

"Wrap your legs around my waist." He whispered, words as delicate as his actions. She did what she was told.

"Why are you doing this?" She couldn't help but ask, needing an answer.

"You said you wanted to be furthest from who we are. We're already strangers, (Y/N). Despite everything, I still don't know you."

"You could just ask." She whispered, brushing her knuckles over his chin. "I'd tell you anything you want. All you have to do is ask."

Johnny's eyes steeled over at the words and she bit down on her lips hard, cursing herself for letting her sentiments get ahead of her.

"You were truly born to drive me crazy." He groaned, leaning down to kiss her jaw. She froze, expecting him to kiss her. But his lips moved lower instead, hands coming up to the ends of her bunched dress.

"Taking this off." He mumbled against her skin. She nodded.

He pulled back to do the task, watching her with intoxicating intensity as she lifted her hips off the bed.

"So beautiful." He sighed, "I don't understand how you're mine." He breathed out, making the growing cavity in her chest swarm with butterflies. The lines between pretence and reality blurred long before they even existed.

"The same way you're mine." She dared to say, the thought itself as devastating as it was euphoric.

Johnny groaned with approval, hands slipped between them to pull her panties off, "Should I ease you into it?" He asked, finger brushing over her entrance.

Despite seeing white spots in her vision at the touch, she shook her head. "No, I'm good."

His head lifted, eyes coating with tenderness, something she didn't realise she had been yearning for, "Still, it's been a while."

She tugged at the edge of his shirt, bringing him closer, "Your dick is inside me more than it's outside it." She wiggled under him, her impatience already fighting with her need to cherish this moment, "I promise you, I can take it." She huffed.

"What a filthy mouth," He curled his smiling lips, leaning forward till their foreheads touched. She held her breath, again expecting him to kiss her, but he just brushed his lips over the corner of her mouth. "Did you miss my cock?"

"Johnny," She whined, "Please. I need you."

"Answer me, (Y/N)." He asked and she nodded.

Her eyes screwed shut, "I–Fuck." Her words jumbled, when she felt him nudge against her writhing hole.

"Did you?" He asked with a wispy voice, stuttering.

More than anything else, she missed him. All of him. The confession at the very tip of her lips, threatening to flow.

They were playing a part she reminded herself. For a few moments, she was safe behind it.

She forced her eyes open, "It was you I missed. God I miss you so much I might just go mad."

Johnny forsake his control, slowly beginning to ease himself into her. Every muscle in her body went stuff, endless mutters leaving her lips.

"Really?” He asked through his teeth.

"Every goddamn day." She responded with the same gritted jaw.

He hummed, sounding infuriatingly unconvinced. "Why didn't you come to me then?" He stopped after only a few inches, pulling back out again.

"You told me you wanted a break. From me. What was I supposed to do? You weren't even here. You did everything you can to avoid me."

"You did it to me too." He muttered. To her surprise he pouted, the gesture giving her whiplash as he entered her again a little further this time. "You're so wet, baby. So tight." He groaned, eyes shutting for a moment like he was taking it in.

Baby. It was something he had never called her before. Her insides clenched around him in the same way her heart squeezed around those words— holding the moment as tight as she could. He'd used an array of words to refer to her, to call her, to praise her and degrade her. Yet nothing ever felt like this one. As unassuming as it was. Maybe she was actually mad.

"I can't come and just demand your attention. I'm not like you, I just can't do it." She huffed, frustrated and relieved at the same time.

"You're always demanding my attention."

"That's untrue."

"Is it?"

It wasn't. She did always make an effort to be at the forefront of her mind. Of course like many other things, she'd assumed she was good at keeping it covert. In actuality, like most other things, he was just letting her get away with it.

But this was different. This wasn't about teasing him or toying with his need for excitement. This was him wanting a change. She knew that because he told her as much. It hurt her beyond consolation and she couldn't be in front of him with that. 

It had been a year and she had probably become stale to him.

"Why are you fighting with me?" She said instead of acknowledging those things, "I thought you wanted to be in love?"

"This is how love feels like," He looked over her face. "So I'm told." He marched the words with the slow retreat of his length.

On this, she could agree with him. Of all the things people had to say about love, no one warned her how gut wrenching it could also be. She'd hate it if the good parts hadn't made up for it and more.

Her overwhelmed mind made the next question spill, "What does it feel like to you?" She asked him, not sure what she was expecting.

"Like this." He sighed, beginning to push so slightly back inside her. "Like being inside you."

The words made her clench around him yet again. She wanted nothing more than for him to mean those words. Moments like this made her wonder just how she had managed to mask her real feelings for so long. Especially now, when every inch of her seemed to be bursting with it.

"Kiss me, Johnny." Her eyes fluttered open, swallowing whatever remained of her pride to ask for what he already denied her. “Show me just how much you love me."

Johnny’s eyes softened like they melted— glistening despite being in the shadow.

Then his lips pressed against hers and she felt like her entire being lit up with the brunt of her relief. Her hands came to his neck, his to her hips, holding each other like it was the only thing they knew.

She sighed into his mouth without meaning to, the faintest moisture collecting in the corner of her eyes. She had truly missed kissing him. He had ruined the act of it. He had given her the privilege of kissing her, and now she considered it a privilege outright.

It would also be the thing she would miss the most. That and his smile, the sound of his voice when he laughed, the way he said her name. (Y/N) wondered if she'd ever truly be able to kiss another person again.

Johnny's lips moulded over hers like they were completing a puzzle. His hand stroked her thigh gently as her head tilted up to deepen the kiss. He kissed her slow and he kissed her fast, taking his time to navigate each familiar crevice. His sigh was touching, one of relief and comfort. She could get lost in that alone, locking the sound away in her memories.

She'd miss him so much when he was gone that she missed him already. Her arms pressed him closer to her, with more urgency. When he trailed his kisses down her neck, she used the opportunity to wipe her eyes against her shirt, still hanging on his shoulder.

Now Johnny entered her completely, and it took her breath away. Her arm squeezed his neck, his shoulder muffling her moan.

"Good?" He questioned, more as a gauge of her state than to fish for compliments.

"The best." She couldn't help herself if she tried. When he probed the thicker part of her walls she moaned his name so loud that she was sure it could be heard all the way to the basement.

"Yes right there." She added once the stars in her vision dulled.

"Yes, I know." He chuckled, peppering kisses all over her neck and cheek. "I know." He reassured.

"Don't stop." She whined, the pleasure mixing with the flurry of emotions to drive her mad. "Johnny, please."

"I won't." The words accompanied a tender hush. "I've got you." He promised.

"Johnny, I'm so—" He cut her off by grabbing her chin, lifting himself higher and making her look into his eyes.

"I love you. You." He tripped over his words. "I love you so much. More than life itself." He groaned, brows furrowing. "Fuck, you were just made for me and I spend all my time thinking about just that." His thrusts started to get sloppy, only spurred on by her tight grip around him. "That and just how much I fucking love you."

Her lips parted on their own accord, "Johnny, I–" But the words were cut off by a moan as he came with a sudden shiver. The feeling of his come shooting inside her sending her into her own orgasm as he kept up his ridiculous pace.

(Y/N) had never felt hollow the way she felt when he pulled out of her after what felt like hours of just laying there. She couldn't even feel the relief of his weight lifting off her chest. 

He was staring at her from the side, she could feel his eyes looking her over, analysing each movement on her face. When he took in a breath— to say something, she got out of bed. Once again fear grabbed at her, mind filling with every possible explanation he would have to dismiss everything that had just happened.

"I should get cleaned up." She mumbled to the floor, not even bothering to gather any of her clothes. She just went into the bathroom and stayed in the tub. Long enough to be sure he was asleep. 

Or gone.

_

(Y/N) woke up to the feel of Johnny’s hand sliding up her legs, resting on her hip. She smiled, pulling her head back to look at him through her slitted gaze.

“Morning.” Johnny’s voice, as deep as it was on most mornings, was too cautious. Her brows knit, confused for a moment. Then the previous night came back to her, reminding her that this wasn’t most mornings.

She hummed in response, “Where did you get pajamas?” She asked, eyeing the dark green t-shirt and pants that she was certain weren’t from his closet.

“The bottom drawers in the dresser always have a pair or two.” He informed her, the first she heard of this.

“Why didn’t I get one?” Her brows gathered. Johnny just gave her a cheeky grin.

“We haven’t spent a night here before, have we?” He questioned her.

“I haven’t.” She mumbled, shifting to bury her face further in his neck then she found it when she woke. But the reminder had ruined the harmless mood.

Pulling away felt too awkward to pull off so she just tried to shift again. Johnny must have read her mind because his arm came back to her leg, pulling it up on his own and leaving a chaste kiss on her forehead. A sigh left her lips, finding comfort in the familiar situation despite the circumstances. The air in the room was, nonetheless, tense. She told herself she'd take away these moments as relics.

None of them spoke to fill the silence. In truth, there was nothing to say. Only when it got too hot did she pull back from him. 

Silently, (Y/N) slipped out of bed, looking around to spot her clothes. A knock on the door made her rise, grabbing one of the robes that always hung from the bathroom door.

She opened it to find Charlie, one of the servers, standing with her things in his hand.

“Mr. Nakamoto sent your things.” He reached his hands out with her bag, “I took the liberty of bringing Mr. Suh’s things as well.” He handed her the paper bag as well.

“Thank you, Charlie.” She smiled, “I heard that you’re getting married?” She beamed and the man blushed in response, giving her a shy nod.

The overnight bag she had packed for Yuta’s house was heavy and made it difficult to open it with both hands full. She reached into the packet in which Charlie handed over Johnny’s belongings, taking his wallet out to pick out a note to hand to the man for his efforts.

“Next time you’re manning the bar, I want to know how you met your partner.” She smiled at him and he thanked her for the tip. Once she closed the door, she could put the bags down. Sighing from the release of the burden, she opened her bag to fish her own wallet out, replacing the money she took from Johnny.

“You didn’t have to do that.” His voice came from behind. She turned, finding him leaning against the wall and watching her carefully, arms crossed in front of his chest. She just shrugged in return, coming up to hand him his things before walking into the bathroom.

When she emerged, she was dressed for the day. Johnny was laying in bed with his feet on the floor, looking up from his phone when she walked into his line of vision.

“Where are you going?” He asked, brows furrowed like he was somehow expecting her to stay.

“Yuta and I are supposed to have brunch today. Hyuck too.” She spoke while clasping her watch.

“The breakfast here is pretty good. You can just eat downstairs.” Johnny sat up, phone dropping on his chest and then on the bed.

She looked up at him, lost. Breakfast was another thing she did not know the club provided.

Johnny seemed to catch on, eyes lighting up with amusement. "Really, it's like a hotel if you can ignore the large bowls of condoms everywhere."

She laughed under her breath, “Ten’s more entrepreneurial than you are.”

“I’ll have you know that it was my idea.” He said defensively, smiling nonetheless.

“Oh.” She chuckled, “My apologies. The condoms or the breakfast?" Picking up her shoes, (Y/N) sat down at the edge of the bed.

"The breakfast. The condoms are more of a legal failsafe. Your department more than mine."

Both of them laughed.

The next several moments were silent till she finished putting on her shoes, his hand coming to her waist as she started getting up.

He snaked the arm around her to halt her efforts, “Stay.” It was a single word packed with a heavy request. She could feel his eyes on her in the mirror in front of them, keeping her own gaze fixed on the floor.

“I can’t.” It was an equally simple response, laced with a heavy implication. She looked up at the mirror, meeting his gaze. “We have reservations.” It was a flimsy excuse that seemed to get a rise out of him. 

His soft eyes hardened, “You came prepared to stay the night, it seems.” His eyes drifted to her large bag.

It was a petty thing to say and for a moment she wondered if she should lie, give him the shot of provocation that he was seeking when he said the words. But the antagonism that filled the previous night had weighed down on her. She was tired.

"My original plan was to go for dinner and crash at Yuta's. It was Hyuck who insisted on coming here.” 

Johnny hummed, the sound heavy with the words he held back, unconvinced. It made her turn to him, “I have no reason to lie to you.” The words were the simple truth and she could tell that it did the very thing she was trying to avoid.

Her eyes wandered over his face, taking in the way he was trying to hide his outrage. She wondered if it was his ego or if she wanted to delude herself into thinking he actually cared. “All this time and I still don’t understand you.” She bit the corner of her mouth, regretting the words for the argument it would spur.

“It’s not like you ever ask.” He slid closer, nose knocking against hers. His eyes looked up from her lips expectantly. 

She wondered if he wanted a question or a kiss.

Her phone rang while she debated and she told herself it was divine intervention. Except it was just her best friend.

“Ask Johnny if he wants to go for brunch with us.” Yuta skipped the greetings to land the poignant jab. Of course he already knew who she was with. There was never going to be anybody else.

“No.” She got up from the bed, gathering her things. 

Despite every ounce of sense telling her otherwise, she turned to look at him, meeting his gaze to give him a silent farewell. There was the brimming fear of this being the last time, afterall.

The thought made her still. She had to shake her head and look away.

“Meet me downstairs. Did you find Hyuck?” She asked, walking out of the room.

__

Another week passed and (Y/N) had begun the process of mourning. Taking the last two days of the work week off, she had holed herself up in the safety of her apartment for three days now. The time had been spent consuming enough sugar to remind herself that she never had a sweet tooth, before shifting to the store of sour candy that was seemingly endless. Putting the first one in her mouth made her eyes well. 

Finally, she started looking for a different job, her constantly blurring eyes making the task take much longer than intended. 

That Saturday night, she fell asleep trying to imagine how she would hand in her resignation to him. What could she even say? How would she avoid explaining to him that she couldn’t be around him. 

She simply was not as aloof as she wanted both of them to believe.

The building phone never rang. The day doorman never had to see people come to her apartment unless they were with her or he knew them as her regular guests. The one on the night shift was new. 

Her first thought was the most obvious one. It was Johnny, it had to be. But she reminded herself that she had other people in her life. It could be Yuta with some ridiculous situation that only he could have. It could be Doyoung since she had let it slip that her non-relationship with her boss was beginning to sizzle off.

“Hello?” She finally answered the phone.

“I’m sorry Miss, there’s a man here that refuses to give his name. He says you know who it is. I told him that you don’t take visitors this late.”

She huffed. That reduced her guesses to two of the three. Nonetheless, she was grateful for the man’s caution.

“I’ll be down in a moment.” She sighed.

The elevator dinged and she clenched her hands inside the pocket of her hoodie. The one that was not hers. Despite her reasonings, she of course knew who was the moment the phone rang.

Johnny stood in the lobby with his hands on his hips, a frown set deeply on his face. His hair glistened under the lights and her eyes drifted to the doors behind him. 

It was raining.

“Your new place is definitely high on safety.” He remarked, lips still downturned. "Your doorman thinks I'm a thief who'd walk through the front door." He pointed behind him, a small grunt leaving his frustrated lips.

She loved him, she realised for the millionth time. This time with a sudden jolt. Despite every rational thought begging her to do otherwise. She loved him so dearly and so hopelessly that she didn't know what to do with it at all.

Johnny looked restless, his feet tapping against the floor. She could understand and she could forgive it. That was how much she loved him.

She loved him. A sigh of relief left her, like the crashing of waves on a rocky shore after it finally met land. It was useless to pretend otherwise. She loved him and she'd let him in anytime he showed up.

He was in a suit, the rain ruining the fabric permanently. She wondered why he was in one on a Saturday at midnight.

His hands dropped to his side, “You haven’t been coming to work.” He said as the gap between them began to close with each stride. “I was preparing for the quarterly distributor meeting and Kun’s notes made no sense. He’s on a work trip too. I had to call the entire legal team into work today because all of the copyright issues seem to be funnelled through you.” 

She stopped a few metres short of being in his personal space. “I’m entitled to my leaves.”

“Then you should brief the team properly so work doesn’t stop when you aren’t around.”

He was right, she gave him a nod to affirm it as well.

“Did you get what you needed?” She asked, flexing her fists in the safety of the deep pockets of the hoodie.

“Yes. The intern, Hendery, had a decent idea. I hired him tonight.”

“Good. He’s good enough to replace me with enough training.”

Johnny’s frown went from expressing discontent to a confused one. She'd put the hint in his mind now. 

“HR said you’re sick.” Johnny mumbled after a moment of silence, shuffling.

“It’s a cold. I just needed the time off to feel better.” 

Johnny nodded, hands coming back to his hips. He kept nodding, deep in thought.

“Is that the reason you came all the way here? I was sleeping.” She finally huffed, feeling the brunt of her own indignation suddenly.

His brows knit, arm coming up so he could glance at his watch.

“Oh.” His face smoothened in one go, “I didn’t realise it was this late. I was just driving around to clear my head.” He slowly put his hand down, biting down on his bottom lip.

She finally took her own hands out of her pockets, only to cross her arms in front of her chest. She knew why he was here, but she wanted him to admit it. She needed him to confirm so she could act like she wasn't giving in without a fight. Her dignity was the one thing she wanted to walk away with.

“I’m sorry!” He finally huffed, following with a groan that came from somewhere deep inside him. She blinked, incredibly surprised. “Is that what you want me to say?” He huffed again.

The last part ticked her off, “I don’t want you to say anything. What are you sorry for? Is it for waking me up because that is fair, but it’s not the first time you’ve done it.” The words were deliberately cautious.

Johnny groaned, running a hand over his face. “You’re making this so much harder than it needs to be.”

“What are you sorry for?” She asked, raising her chin and burying her brimming hope.

He gave her a look of furious disbelief.

“For once,” He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was second guessing himself.

“What?” She asked with more anger bubbling in her words, taking two steps closer. He took notice, his own two steps closing their gap. Now they were in each other’s personal space.

“For once, can’t you give in to me?” There was a desperation that made the edge of his words blunt.

She stared at him with disbelief. "From the moment I met you I've only ever given into you."

"I'm not talking about that. I'm not talking about work, or bed. I mean your pride. Put it aside for once. Tell me you want me. Give in to me." He took just another step closer.

Remembering the place, she turned to the doorman, “You can let him in next time.” She raised her voice enough to be heard by the man. 

Her gaze softened when it came back to Johnny and she prayed to god that he couldn’t see the glisten in them. Finding a real touch too scathing to execute, she settled for hooking her finger through one of his belt loops.

"You wouldn't be here if you believed I don't."

"I'm here because I'm giving up. I'm done. I don't want a change, I want you."

The confession washed her in a flood of relief. She would love him as long as he'd let her.

"And I came down here because I'm giving in. I don't want a break. Either leave me once and for all or never say that to me again."

Johnny chewed on his bottom lip, taking in the tempest in her eyes.

“Take me upstairs.” He asked like that wasn’t exactly where she was taking him. Like it wasn’t the inevitable outcome he had in mind when he walked into the lobby. For all his claims, he knew how quick she gave into him. “You can sleep, you look so tired. I don't want anything, I just want to be here.”

“You will sleep too.” She announced, turning away to pull him towards the elevator.

Once on the elevator, a thought made her freeze, “The place is a mess.” She warned him, remembering the cave she had turned the place into in the past week. 

He gave her a cautious look, “(Y/N). Baby.” He laughed, her gut kicking up an assault at his tender tone. “Your place is always a mess.”

 She frowned, taking her hand out of his to smack his chest. 

“Hey!” She huffed.

Johnny groaned, a grin tugging at his lips after.

[anonzentimes]

Regarding the opinion that Nagito is a relatable character, I totally agree! He is very contradictory, but that makes him relatable. I think the reason he was looking for something absolute was because he didn't want to get hurt emotionally. I really like the following part of the line he says at Nagito's ending of Island Mode, and it made a strong impression on me:

I thought I would finally be released from the cycle of good and bad luck, but I was clinging to false hope...

(I took this quote from the Danganronpa fandom wiki, so I'm not sure if this is the exact line in the Englsih version).

I didn't pay attention to that line the first time I played the game, and for a while I even forgot he said it. But when I replayed DR2 from the beginning and reached that ending again, I was really surprised because this line reveals his honest feelings quite well. I think that he said things like "luck is an absolute good thing" in the Free Time Events, and even seemed to be proud of his talent, but in reality he felt that his life, being at the mercy of bad luck and good luck, was painful. (Since he says "finally be released".) In other words, you can see here that he has an ordinary mind, at least originally.

He had to think that his life was very happy to protect his heart. In reality, he felt that his life was a mess and not going well. Thinking about that makes me really sad, but that is the line he says just before he asks Hajime to be his friend, and Hajime immediately accepted, so I hope he feels happy to be able to enjoy the ordinary moment of spending time with someone he likes for the first time!

Hi Asaka!!! :D yes that's the exact line in the english translation don't worry!

Nagito is such a complex and wonderful character, he is the result of horrible circumstances and horrible continuous tragedies. He clings onto his coping mechanism to have something to live for, and I think to some degree he's aware his life is quite miserable. He cares about his life but has developed in a way where he doesn't have to think about things like anyone else would, and in turn these coping mechanisms became unhealthy, obsessive, and causes him to act morally gray for the sake of so called hope.

I really do love that line because it really does show he acknowledges there that it is a horrible cycle! Usually he wouldn't come to terms with that exactly. Any time anything bad happens he knows good luck for him will strike again, he knows hope surely will happen soon, so he lives on. When good things happen he's scared of the bad luck ahead but appreciative of the moment, and especially if the good is hope he's thrilled because it's what he lives for at that point.

I think he hates his talent and doesn't see it as worth anything because it has killed everyone he's ever loved, but I also think at points he takes pride in it since it's the main thing he can say he has. He thinks he's worthless, but at least he's the ultimate lucky student, right? I think he believes that If he doesn't even live up to his awful talent then he's even more worthless than before. He truly can believe in his luck as the only thing occasionally valuable about himself, but even then he thinks it isn't that good.

He's good at hiding his emotions for the most part when they aren't so extreme, and he has become partially emotionally numb to some extreme situations. But what I love is that, you still can tell when you analyze him enough how he thinks and feels. He's an honest person and even when he lies his emotions shine through if big enough or something usually spills out. One of the examples I spotted today when replaying and loved is when he starts to get really nervous after lying to Hajime so much when investigating.

I think Nagito Komaeda is so relatable because he just feels so human, if that makes sense. His depth is really well done, the world and his coping mechanisms are unhinged but he himself emotionally feels real. We see him use coping mechanisms, have love languages, fear dying alone, be emotionally contradictory, go through struggles and trauma, see the impacts of said trauma, see him have complex beliefs, see him having an honest kindhearted personality, have good intentions while doing the wrong thing, have self esteem issues, have tonal issues, he is just so well written that I could list things that contribute to his depth forever. There is so much that makes him feel human, a lot of it is apart of the universal human experience, while other things are a lot more specific since it's fantasy. The thought of Nagito recovering, being able to finally live the ordinary life he's always wanted after everything, being loved, and not dying alone makes me so happy.

[elsewhereuniversity]

High above the bustling of the students, above the awestruck windows looking out at the sky, the ever-moving boughs of the trees, and the cats napping on the warm roof tiles, there's a weathercock. Multiple actually, a whole flock of them, jutting out from various towers of various buildings on the campus. Only some of them actually show the direction of the wind blowing past them, others show the weather conditions of places far away, or long-past, or occasionally nonexistent. Some point in the direction of an important artifact, or towards the fate or destiny of some unlucky kid of prophecy, some are the playthings of mysterious magical anomalies, some have learned to fly and spend their days bothering cats or stealing pens and sandwiches from distracted students. The purpose of most of these weathercocks is unknown, though occasionally some enterprising students take it upon themselves to study the movement patterns of their chosen specimen, in the hopes of figuring out what makes them turn. One particular weathercock has captured the attention of many such souls with its specific schedule and intent movements, which suggested it must be moved by a human-like (or, perhaps, greater) intelligence, or, at the very least, responding to magic that is.

I've been having a lot of fun reading the Cockwatchers' theories in the uni's newspaper, or listening in on their conversations in the cafeteria during lunch, so it breaks my heart to have to reveal this, but it's not really magic. No dark secrets, no great futures, no horrifying anomalies lie in the direction this particular weathercock is pointing (well, I suppose they may, but only by accident). In truth, I have been using it to play chess and occasionally checkers with some fae in the eastern part of the forest. I have a free period on tuesdays and fridays in the northern wing of the Media and Communications building, and I figured starting telecommunications with something in the forest would be a good way to pass the time. It kinda just snowballed from there. We've come up with quite an efficient system of signals, I'm pretty proud of it actually.

The point is, they're starting to get way too good at it. At the board games, I mean. I sort of had the upper hand when I started teaching them how to play, but I've never been especially good at either of these games, and apparently they practice amongst themselves in-between our sessions, so they're starting to consistently kick my ass. I haven't bet anything I was sad to lose, but it is getting on my nerves a bit, and anyways I've come up with a really good quip for when I win, and I want to get the chance to use it. Which brings me to the real reason I'm confessing to this whole thing: I need a chessmaster to come help me out. Or a checkersmaster, if there is such a thing. So if any of y'all want to come play (and help me win) against some fae, you can find me during 5th period on tuesday or 2nd period on friday on the 1 1/2th floor of the northern tower of the Media and Communications building, by the window with the paint-speckled windowsill that looks out at the tiny weathercock at the top of the eastern tower. Bring a trinket you wouldn't mind losing. And maybe some snacks too, while you're at it.

[wetcatspellcaster]

🪐🌙🌸 :)

omg thank you! this made me realise i forgot tumblr's cardinal rule of askgames (send an ask to the person you've reblogged from) - rectifying that now!

🪐Who’s your favourite non-companion character, and why?

I have two answers for this!! one is Rolan, bc he's the exact character I play in a D&D game (mean cringefail wizard with a posh accent and ambition driven by family issues surrounding adoption - my first divination wizard PC was literally that). it was an act of instant recognition :')))

but in terms of the writing of the actual game... Orin. I think the interpretation of what Murder's avatar would look like and what her motivations would be is super interesting. I feel like she's more chaotic evil, where Bhaal is neutral, and I love the reasons the game gives for that potential shift! it makes her stand out from the other villains, at least for me personally. maybe i'm just gay.

🌙Has writing for BG3 created any challenges for you?

interesting! I guess this has nothing much to do with BG3 itself, but this was my first time writing for an Active™ active fandom. that bought with it many joys, with engagement on a scale I'd never had before, but also all the pitfalls of that - occasionally pressurising/entitled comments, sudden scrutiny for narrative decisions and my behaviour/opinions when i'm just trying to vibe within the genres I like, imposter syndrome, pressure to stick a landing before an audience when before there was like 6 people in the room etc. etc. Especially when I was taking Pieces, my most 'popular' (?) work in places other people might not want it to go! I had to learn to stick to my guns (and my outline), when a lot of people are suddenly telling you what they think of your choices, what story they think you are writing, or in some cases, what story they think you should be writing.

🌸Rec one of your fics and tell us what you like about it!

oh boy... i mean. A Bleeding Heart is genuinely my favourite fic, mostly bc I have a lot of fondness/nostalgia for when i wrote it - it's why I didn't edit it to be in line with Full Access story revelations. I'm proud of the things that I got right, but also feel like editing out or changing the things that I got wrong would be dishonest to the story.

But....ok. no, actual rec: Party Favours. Bc everything is sad and awful and I'm on an angst kick in my writing lately. So let's all look back to the singular piece of proof that I know how to have fun :')

bg3 fic asks!

[lilc77]

Suffer with me SasuSaku lovers...hahaha

So I was perusing through my WIPs and found this little gem. It's another one of those thoughts that came in the middle of the night and I just vomited what I could at the time before I forgot it. It's a WIP, I recently called, "Together Again" - SasuSaku Timetravel AU. After re-reading this WIP, I was sad that there wasn't more. I was even sadder when I realized that it was I, who left it unfinished and haven't written more (*sobs incoherently*). I'm pretty sure where I want to go with this, the problem is the same as always, figuring out how to get there. I will eventually pick this back up but in the meantime, I am sharing this little snippet because it's that good if I do say so myself...lol. So for all you SasuSaku lovers out there, suffer with me and enjoy this snippet. Trust me, you won't be disappointed, except maybe want more...hahaha.

"TOGETHER AGAIN" - A SasuSaku Timetravel AU

CH. 1 

SAKURA HARUNO, the pink-haired medic nin, dries her hair off with a towel as she prepares to read a few medical charts while waiting for her hair to dry before going to bed.  

This has become her nightly routine. Most women have a beauty routine, others spend time talking on the phone with their significant others. Her, she has her work, training and sometimes the other thing that she took from her Shishou, the Fifth Hokage, besides her enormous strength and her medical ninjutsu, her love for the alcoholic beverage.  

She would sometimes have a drink or two while doing some work before bed or when work has been a little too stressful, she stops by a local tavern to get her fill. Occasionally, she would be accompanied by a friend or two but when her friends are busy with their own significant others or out on missions, she finds herself at the tavern alone with her work. Since she’s a regular, the tavern owners and the barkeep keeps an eye on her. The tavern owners see her as a daughter while the barkeep has a hidden crush on her, though he keeps it to himself as to not seem like the other idiots who wanders in the bar looking for someone to warm their beds at night. To be perfectly honest, he’s attracted to her and fears her at the same time. Some of the regulars also look out for her knowing that she can protect herself especially from travelling drunkards who are naïve enough to hit on her and unaware that she has the strength of a hundred men in her delicate little pinkie. On the occasion that it happens, the regulars as well as whoever is working for the night make their bets to see how long she’ll let the poor fellow talk and how far he flies out the door. On a night she feels generous, he gets away with just a hurt pride and with both legs and arms intact. On an unlucky day, she runs into them the next day at her job as Director of the Konoha General Hospital. Of course, she can pass them off to her residents and interns without having to deal with them herself. This earns her a few sniggers and gossip as well as a few of them trying to play matchmaker.  

This is what became of Sakura’s life – work, training and being the only single one left out of her peers. Even her best friend, Ino, is set to be married in a few months. Not that she’s complaining. Her work gives her a sense of warmth and happiness knowing that she saves lives, and she keeps families from being torn apart. She also garnered a lot of respect from her peers as well as the whole village. It makes her feel proud of herself to know that they rely on her and places their lives and the lives of their loved ones in her capable hands.  

As for her personal life, it is a personal choice. It’s not that she doesn’t try, she has been on a few dates, and she’s even slept with a few of them. On one occasion, she had to shower and dress at work coming straight from the previous night’s tryst. However, most of the time, the relationship doesn’t go far mostly because of her busy schedule or they’re busy with missions and are out of the village while she’s stuck in the village running the hospital. She tried dating a civilian once, even though he was from a well-off family and held a prominent position, his insecurities got the best of him, and he ended up cheating on her. Then there is also a part of the reason for her singleness that she would never admit to anyone but to herself, even then she doesn’t dare to speak it out loud except in the deep cavern of her heart – the fact that her heart has never truly healed from the loss of a certain dark-haired nin whom she loved since she can remember.  

After the battle between her two best friends resulting with one of them losing an arm and no trace of the other except for a large, burnt crater with a few specks of blood and singed pieces of clothing. There was no closure, at least not for her. There was no body to bury - just the anger and a gaping hole that won’t heal no matter how hard she tries. She has tried, hell, everyone who loved her tried as well. At first, they would try to comfort her when she would have a hint of an emotional breakdown then they would amuse her and spar with her when she would have her fits of anger though the surrounding area paid for most of it with the number of trees she destroyed and the craters she created on the ground. After a while, after everyone had moved on and thought that she did too, she started keeping how she really felt to herself and decided to bury herself with her work to keep busy and keep from thinking about things she doesn’t want to dwell on. Eventually, it resulted in what her life had turned into – a routine. After a few years, the routine made her life bearable and eventually, not as bad as she thought. She even genuinely started smiling again without having to fake the smile. Her work and the hospital were flourishing. She even started travelling out of the village to promote new practices and procedures and to promote her new idea of starting a Children’s Clinic for Psychological and Emotional Trauma.  

She was also training regularly – sometimes by herself and at times her old teammate and best friend, Naruto, would join her, sometimes her other teammate Sai, and even her old sensei and Rokudaime, Kakashi. She would also go to Lee’s Dojo whenever she has energy enough to deal with his excited youthfulness.  

She even made a conscious effort to start going out more. She had lunch and dinner with her old team regularly, at least as much as their busy schedules permit. Sometimes it would be all of them, other times, it would only be one or two. She also let her girlfriends and female coworkers drag her out for a night in town. She can honestly say that she was happy. Everything was going great. That is until “they” walked into her life. 

She was about an hour into going over her patient’s charts on her bed when she started dozing off. Her head fell sideways on her pillow with the chart on her chest. She must’ve been more tired than usual since she started to snore lightly. She only snores whenever she’s sick or when she’s exhausted. Suddenly, there was a light rap on her door. Sakura didn’t rouse. After a few minutes, the rapping became louder. This jolted Sakura awake. Panic was evident on her face since she wasn’t expecting anyone at this hour, and no one dared to stop by unannounced unless there was an emergency at the hospital. She hurried to put on her robe and see who’s at the door. She stopped a few feet shy of her door and her knees buckled.  

It can’t be. There’s no way it’s him.  

However, there’s no mistaking it. There are two chakra signatures behind her door and one of them is faint and unfamiliar, but the other is as familiar to her as breathing. Her heart pounds in her chest. He knocks again but this time, he calls out to her in the familiar way he used to knowing she’s standing a few feet from him with only a wooden door between them. Not that it would’ve stopped him. The fact that he’s still standing behind it knocking and hasn’t forced his way in says a lot since he could’ve easily broken it down. There is a barrier ninjutsu in place that prevents anyone from entering except for members of her old Team 7 including her sensei. She forgot to alter the ninjutsu and remove his permission once he defected, so he could’ve passed through it and entered at any time.  

“Sakura, please open the door,” the familiar voice pleads. His voice is a few octaves deeper, but she can recognize it anywhere even after not having heard it in years.  

Sakura places her hand on the door, shaking. Sakura can’t believe it. Part of her feels that she’s not awake and that she’s dreaming since she’s dreamt this very thing happening many times before. However, the coolness of the metal knob in her hand and the loud thumping sound of her beating heart in her ears says otherwise. She opens the door but wasn’t prepared to see what she saw.  

There he was, SASUKE UCHIHA, her old teammate, friend, once upon a time enemy, and her first and only love. He stares at her with a look that’s unfamiliar on his face – helpless pleading.  

“S-Sasuke?” Sakura asks more for confirmation than anything else. She still doesn’t know what to think or feel. She’s too stunned to say anything else.  

“Can we please come in?” Sasuke pleads. 

For the first time, she notices the bundle with long, dark hair asleep in his arms. That’s why he couldn’t cross the barrier, it’s because of her. Sakura weaved the signs to undo the barrier. She steps aside and opens the door wider letting them through.  

CH. 2 

Sasuke sips his drink incognito under a dark hood in the back booth of a tavern in a foreign land.  

He’s been working odd jobs from being a hired help to accompanying a fishing vessel out to sea for weeks sometimes months. He has been wandering from place to place ever since he arrived in the foreign country four years ago. He hasn’t quite found a place to settle down in that he feels he could make his home, so he stays until a better job finds him elsewhere. He’s learned the language enough to navigate and communicate with the locals. He’s also learned their customs and adjusted his style accordingly so as not to stand out. Although, it’s not so easy at times since the women tend to give him a lot of attention wherever he goes, hence, the purpose of the dark hood.  

Sasuke Uchiha had always received a lot of attention from the opposite sex even when he was little. He thought it was annoying then and even more so now that he’s older except on a few occasions. They used to fawn over him and act giggly and would follow him everywhere he went so that he could never be alone even when he wanted to, and he so desperately wanted to be alone then. Well, there was one whom he didn’t mind being around. He used to look for her pink hair but that was a long time ago. Sometimes he wonders what she’s doing but shakes the thought off and places it back in its box, in the deep pit of his heart before it can take root. There’s no point in bringing up the past and it’s not going to do him any good. Plus, she’s better off. At least, that’s what he has convinced himself to make himself feel better.  

At times, he would dream about her, not sure why but there she would be. Sometimes he would dream that he was back in the village with her or that she would be with him. Seems like they were sharing a life together. There were also times where he would dream about touching her or what it would feel like to touch her and explore every inch of her body, every curve. They would be so enraptured by each other and entwined together that it was hard to figure out where one started and the other ended. It felt a little too real and at times, not enough. When the loneliness and the longing would be too much for him, he would seek the company of other women, but it always ends the same, he always leaves before they wake and never stays with the same woman. He leaves with his body being fed for a brief time but for some reason he’s never satiated and there’s always a feeling that something’s missing. Plus, no matter how beautiful the woman nor how much pleasure she claims to give him, it’s always her face that he sees and only hers. He feels guilty but he lets them know that there will not be a second time, nor will there be anything more than what he is willing to give that night. Nothing more, nothing less. Most of the women are fine with the arrangements, though there have been a few tears. On one occasion, the woman had been married though to his defense, she did not disclose it until afterwards. He also always made sure to keep the ninjutsu that makes him sterile for a while lest he want a little Uchiha running around.  

A little Uchiha or a few of them running around...yes, he’s even dreamt of them. A few mini-him running around yelling “Papa” and fighting amongst themselves. For some reason, it’s always the same, different dream, same number of children. Plus, these same children look the same in all of them with just the difference in ages in some of them – the eldest, a girl with black hair and dark eyes with glasses looks just like her father, the second, a boy with pink hair and green eyes, the third, another girl with dark features but she takes more from her mother, and the youngest, though one can’t really tell his features yet since he’s either a babe in his mother’s arms or still in his mother’s womb. Also, for some unknown reason, their mother was always her with her bright pink hair and bright green eyes. She’s never looked more beautiful than when she’s glowing and her belly round. The look of joy in her face as she’s surrounded by their rambunctious kids. His face reflects the joy she feels albeit on a much smaller scale. You could see contentment in his eyes. Those were the good times. 

Other times, he would have nightmares of her getting hurt or dying, in the worst times, he would be the cause of it. There are also times when he would dream of nothing but them sitting together and talking. Not really about anything either and he always never remember the conversation but what is ingrained in his memory was her smile, laughter, and the way she calls him, “Sasuke-kun.” No matter what version of a dream he has, he would force himself awake to remind himself that none of it is real. 

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

BACK AT SAKURA'S HOUSE...

She shuts the door and exhales before turning around to face her old teammate. 

“Is there a place I can lay her down in?” Sasuke asks. 

“Uh...in there,” Sakura points in her bedroom. She leads them to her bedroom and cleans the mess off her bed. She moves her patient’s charts onto her nightstand and turns down her comforter for Sasuke to lay the girl in. She finally sees the girl up close. She looks like a mini version of him. Sasuke lays the girl, removing her shoes and tucking her in. He moves the girl’s long dark hair out of her face and tucks it behind her ears. The girl looks about 4 or 5 years old. Sasuke was about to leave when the little girl reaches out for him and calls him, “Papa.”  

He’s a lot taller than her now and his hair is no longer spiky, it’s flat on his face and his bangs swept to one side. Even though they’re only months apart, for some reason, he looks a bit older than her, more mature-looking and refined. He’s still as handsome as ever. His mature look really looks good on him.  

- END OF SNIPPET -

[tblsomedoodles]

Now that we're entering into 2024, I'm asking some artists and writers that I follow:

1) What is the one piece you're most proud of from this past year?

2) What are some pieces that you would have liked more people to see? If you can include links, I'd love to go check them out!

3) What were your top three favorite pieces (art, comics, fics, etc) that someone else has made this past year?

(As always, no pressure to respond! Feel free to just ignore, or let me know if you'd rather I not send you these kinds of asks in the future.)

Oh let's see!

1 ) Fic wise, i'm really proud of "Proud Family Tradition". I was actually able to finish it this year, which i'm super excited about and, in general, i just love how it turned out vibe wise.

Art wise, that's a hard one. Um...I'm going to go with the "Non-cannon Leo meets Clara comic" b/c i love how it turned out. The looser render style mixed with the limited dialogue and not-overly-distinct panels look so cool together. and it helped me start experimenting with other brushes by doing so.

2 ) Probably anything with Jenny (from Family Web). For whatever reason she doesn't tend to get very many notes at all, especially compared to anything else really.

For specific things, ummm...probably My Good Omens doodle from september. I redid a panel from an old animatic of mine and I love how the whole thing turned out, but it didn't do well at all. And Maybe my Forever Alone animatic. Again, love how it turned out, but it's for an au that i haven't really done much with beyond this and a donnieverse stop so it didn't get seen as much as i would have liked. It's based on the first thing i wrote for rise (though i haven't quite posted it yet. I've got to get on that) and i learned a lot making that video. Heck, i even got a decent looking fightscene in there lol.

3 ) Only 3?? ok, i'm gonna try lol.

ok, so no particular order (b/c i'm literally just going through my bookmarks on ao3 lol)

"things that ought to Crawl" by mudlarkspur (WisteriaParfait) (AO3). A very good "Draxum finds a little feral donnie and accidentally becomes a parent along the way". Very cute. Love it. Been meaning to do some fanart but haven't gotten the chance (or courage) to do so yet.

"Minor Interference" by bambiraptorx (AO3). Basically The turtles accept Draxum's offer to train them so they can prank him while doing so and everyone starts catching familiar feelings along the way. Super cute. definitely recommend if you want some chaotic shenanigans and occasional fluff : )

oh last one...um....ummm....ummmmmmmmm........Oh!

"Rotten Reflections" by Nicoforlife (AO3). Rise Leo and Donnie end up in 12tmnt, but it's dark/suspenseful, and they're both feral and injured. Idk, i just love this fic in general. I've read it 3+ times over the last year (i don't really reread that much that quickly, so that's significant) and will be rereading again so to catch up. (i'm behind on all my reading atm. it's sad) I just vibe with it. Again, another fic i need to do fanart for but haven't yet.

(this was so hard! There's just so many i love. picking only 3 was very difficult)

Thank you!!

[historicallysam]

Fan Fiction Author Self-Rec

So my good friend @orchidscript tagged me (ages ago -- sorry!) so here we go! My five favorite fan fics I've written:

Shatter Me || RWRB, Alternate Canon

This story took me on an emotional journey during a deeply emotional time in my life. If you choose to read it, please mind the tags. It gets real and deep and pretty sad at times. I'm beyond proud of how it turned out.

Twenty Seven Batters || RWRB, Baseball Player/Baseball Announcer AU

I may or may not have written this as a surprise for my good friend @letloverule1111. It's baseball and FirstPrince and it means a whole lot to me.

Teach Me, Teach Me, Teach Me (How to Love) || RWRB, Teacher/Single Dad AU

A school year in the life of a single dad and his daughter's second grade teacher. It's almost completely fluff and is one of my happy places. I occasionally add to this universe because I can't seem to leave it alone.

January - March 1980, New York City & Morristown || RWRB, Revolutionary War/Culper Ring AU

It was hard to choose which from this series that I like the best so I just went with the one that hits hardest (to me). It's the fourth chronologically in the series but the one I find the most impactful.

The Edge of Glory || RWRB, Post Canon

This is my newest story but it was one of the easiest flowing things I've written. It felt real to me, reminded me of my own days in politics, and helped me understand Alex better.

I'm still finding/making friends on here but I'll tag some folks I know. Please don't feel obligated - only do this if you'd like and if you haven't before! @mudbloodpotter05, @indomitable-love, @xthelastknownsurvivorx, @adreamareads, @myheartalivewrites

[muskmelon-enjoyer-199x]

self portrait except it's 2013 and they're making me take antipsychotics for being trans

unpleasantries under the cut

something I don't talk about a lot is that I used to enjoy singing when I was younger. I didn't really talk about it then because I already got enough shit. I don't really talk about it now because I don't really like singing anymore. Anytime I try to sing along with something now, i just get sad. even if I plug my ears, I can still feel it in my throat.

Sometimes I wonder if things would have been different if my parents had actually given a shit. The difference between photos of me at 15 and 18 is so stark. They could have done something.

I haven't told them (and I probably won't), but I kind of hate them. It feels stupid sometimes, because I didn't get disowned. They didn't leave me out in the cold when it came to finances or housing. They actually want to see me sometimes, and they say they're proud of my accomplishments.

I guess the problem is that they have never been able to support me emotionally. I tell them something is wrong, and they tell me it isn't. I tell them something horrible is happening to me, and they tell me it's not that bad. I tell them somebody did something horrible to me and now I have weird recurring nightmares, and they tell me to get over it already. I almost died of something that wasn't my fault, and they were mad at me for it.

Being around them usually just feels like being around strangers nowadays. I feel bad saying that, but it's true. I wish they would just apologize so I could have some closure about what happened and get on with trying to maintain what remains of our relationship.

I posted something else about conversion therapy before, but I freaked out and deleted it.

It was about how negligent and malicious misdiagnosis are used to medicate the trans out of kids in places where outright conversion therapy is banned. They basically zombify you on tranquilizers ("mood stabilizers," "antipsychotics") that legit break your brain. It really sucks.

You end up a twitching mess with long-term sleep problems, sexual dysfunction, and trouble organizing your thoughts. Then, once the damage is done, everybody pretends that you actually were insane the whole time. If you complain or struggle in life, they just write you off as a diagnosed headcase.

It's so frustrating. I feel like I drift between being sad and angry all the time now. I watch shows I like, and they make me sad. I just think about various bad things that have happened all the time. Everything reminds me of them. I can't go a day without thinking about at least one of them. When it happens, my heart starts pounding and sometimes I hyperventilate.

I don't really like being around other people usually. I don't feel like we are the same species most of the time.

I keep feeling like im watching my day go by from inside my eyes. When I look at my hands, it's like looking at someone else's hands. Sometimes I look in the mirror and it feels like I'm looking at someone else. I've watched my reflection for hours before, trying to make it feel like me the way I rationally know it's me.

I cry in my car after work a lot. It's hard to hold it in when I'm there. Idk. It's like I can't usually cry at appropriate times anymore, or when I feel like I want to cry. It only happens occasionally, and never at an appropriate time. It just comes out of nowhere, because of a song or something dumb like that.

crybaby bullshit. Sorry. I was a crybaby before lil peep got it inked on his face

[emryses]

20 questions for fic writers

thank you @postmodernau & @queerofthedagger for tagging me!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

35. what the hell lmao

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

379,505. again. what the hell!!!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

at this point i would say the main one is stranger things. i tend to only be able to successfully write for one fandom at a time apparently lol. but i imagine i'll dip my toes back into merlin one day.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

you looking at me, looking at you (steddie) / run your fingers through my hair (steddie) / eat me alive (steddie) / when the party's over (gallavich!!) / you want it straight from the heart (steddie)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i do! most or try my best to. often in the first week-ish after posting something, and i do sincerely try to respond to every comment but i've fallen behind on that a lot recently.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

this is a hard question to answer because i literally have thrived off of angst, specifically in the merlin fandom, for many years. i think i'll say winter always turns to spring which is a canon compliant merlin/will fic i wrote that has a tinge of....unrequited feelings, which is probably what bumps it up into the most sad.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

is it bad that i don't write a lot of "traditional" happy endings? i kind of make them work to get there lol. bittersweet my beloved. i would say my hairdresser steve au is the most lighthearted thing i've written with a happy ending?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not really! i've gotten the occasional weird ass comment that i'm sure the commenter THOUGHT was "kind" but i've kind of side-eyed.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i do! i don't think i'm very good at it & it takes me ages when i do. i guess all kinds??? love it when they're pathetic and desperate iykwim.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

not often, but i have a steddie btvs au i am slowly percolating on.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i'm aware of! but i doubt it, even then lol.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes! there was a merlin translation fest a while back, and my merwill fic, winter always turns to spring was translated into portuguese!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no..........but mona & i have been percolating some thoughts..............................................monaaaaaaa.........is this a sign................?

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

this is such a hard question !!! i think i have to say at this moment in time it's steddie. they truly just scratch all the shippy itches for me. honourable mention tho to merthur, who have had my soul in some way or another for 10+ years.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i have this shameless canon divergence fic. the summary i wrote describes it best: "When Ian was 3, his birth father Clayton Gallagher and his wife Lucy were granted full custody, ripping Ian away from the only family he had ever known. Fifteen years later, Ian has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder and is looking for answers. Here, he reconnects with Fiona and Lip, his brother and sister who watched him be taken. Ian also meets his brother’s friend, Mickey, who conveniently is the guy Ian has been meeting in bars and dark alleys for the past few weeks."

part of me wishes i could go back and finish it, but i haven't written for gallavich in so long & i have so many other fics for other fandoms i'm more inclined to finish first. i guess never say never, but i also don't know when the time for it would be. alas.

16. What are your writing strengths?

how dare anyone make me talk positively about myself....sigh. ok. i think i'm good at character tone/voice. the way characters speak has always come pretty easily to me, and so i'm often most proud of my dialogue. i think it's why a lot of my fics often are dialogue heavy & have people working out problems together.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

does my own brain count? i feel like i can be repetitive in my descriptors of things. everything is "says softly" or "he smiles" or "he laughs" etc. my brain tells me every single goddamn sentence has to be Unique or something, and then i get in my head about Everything. it's the worst !!!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i haven't ever done it! not sure how i would go about it tbh! i don't speak any other languages other than english, so i would be hesitant to put any other language in a fic of mine because i would have to rely on google translate or something.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

HMMM. if i'm really honest, probably peter pan when i was like. 10. then it was icarly LMAO. all on ff.net babeyyyy

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

hands down, fields of gold. i consider it to be my merlin magnum opus of sorts, my eternal love letter to the show. i took 2 years to write it, and genuinely no joke some of the aspects/themes of that fic date back to headcanons/meta i wrote in 2012. so. i poured a lot of my heart into that fic, and i hope it shows.

zero pressure tags: @stargyles/@pushrope, @mojowitchcraft, @magicinavalon, @stevespookington, @lady-lostmind, @thefreakandthehair, @snapshotmaestro, @glaftwlet, @andonandon & truly anyone who sees this and wants to answer these questions. tag me!!! i am nosy and love stuff like this lol.

[imstillhere-butallislost]

1 Year On Testosterone, Androgel Timeline Update

June 10th marks my 1 year on testosterone, and although this post is probably posted after that date, I thought i'd make a big 1 year update on my timeline on (low dose) androgel. Here you'll find my thoughts on using gel instead of shots, my current and future transition plans ,thoughts on still not passing one year on T, and my full timeline of changes. I imagine this will be a very long post, so buckle up. Feel free to ask or DM me any questions

My starting dose in June of 2022 was 1 pump of 1% androgel daily, which has 12.5mg of testosterone. In December of 2022 my dose was upped to 2 pumps of the same gel, so 25mg of testosterone applied daily. The gel has the same consistency as hand sinitizer and dries within 20 or so seconds when applied. The gel has risk of transferring to other people or harming pets, especially within that first hour of applying. If you go on gel, be careful about tranfering it to people who might not want extra testosterone in their system. That being said, one year on androgel, and I have had no issues with tranfering the gel to other people or harming my 2 cats and dog. I started off applying the gel to my left upper arm and shoulder, but occasionally switched to my right arm and shoulder, but recently have been applying the gel to my abdomen

Now onto the timeline part

The immediate and most impactful effect was the change testosterone had on my mood. I struggled with depression for all of my life, and suddenly that was just gone.
One year on T, and I am happy (as well as EXTREMELY surprised) to say that I don't have depression anymore. I have a lot more energy, I'm rarely sad these days, let alone depressed. This won't be the case for everone, but it was the case for me. 4 days on testosterone I was flexing as I passed mirrors, not proud of that

one. I also noticed that my general body temperature went up, I have bad circulation so my hands used to always be cold, and that has lessened. Also within the first

month, I noticed increased hair growth. Stomach hair, and also hair where I applied the gel on my arm. Just a little bit more, but noticable. My labido went up a lot, like it was insane. I was able to gain muscle mass easier. I started growing hair on my thighs, which I never had before. I also noticed a small amount of facial hair growth.

Not many more changes happened until my dose was upped in December, because I was started on a really, low dose and still am on a fairly low dose. after getting my dose upped to 2 pumps of gel, I did start actually noticing bottom growth, but looking back i'm sure I did have some amount of bottom growth before December, but it definitely got more noticable when the dose was upped. Around mid February, my voice had some drastic changes. The median of my voice used to be 190-200hz, and now it's 130-140hz. Technically in the "male range", but I still don't think my voice passes, maybe it's androgynous. The voice drop was rather sudden, although not extremely drastic. I had to sort of learn how to speak properly again without my voice cracking, not being used to the new range. Before my voice even got lower, I knew it was going to drop soon because I noticed it just couldnt go higher like it used too. My voice drop started with losing the higher range rather then going lower. I've noticed that my body fat has I think begun to redistribute, I hold a lot of fat in my stomach rather then hips. I never dealt with much acne on my face, but my back around the left shoulder where I first applied my testosterone has a lot of acne. Hair growth has continued, which honestly has been one of my favourite things. I never thought i'd have such a strong attachment to stomach hair. I still have my period, which absolutely sucks.

Thoughts On Not Passing One Year On T

I'm still not where I want to be one year on T, and that is a little bit hard on me. I'm not saying I regret it, because testosterone is the best thing that has ever happened for me, but it's a special kind of hurt seeing other people with the same timeline that i'm on that pass while I still don't. which is exactly why I think I wanted to add this part in here. I still don't pass as male, while being one year on T. I think maybe starting T made me feel more present in my body, which is good, but also led me to have to really face all of the dysphoria and issues I have with myself. I used to be able to ignore it by dissociating, without even realizing that that's what I was doing. Being misgendered has just begun to hurt more, because now it feels like a failure on my part (or my bodys part) because I can get angry, asking myself why after a year on tesosterone I still am not passing. It leaves me afraid, I think. Maybe I always testosterone was THE thing I needed and then i'd pass consistently after just a couple of months, but that just didn't happen for me. I assumed that it would just be easy. I think that has to do a lot with the culture when I came out. People didn't share timelines if they were unhappy or non passing, or if they did they were laughed off the internet. This is because I started questioning my gender around 2016, and came out in early 2018, where "SJW TRANS CRINGE COMPILATION" was like... the norm on YouTube.

People shared a lot less of their struggles in fear of being lumped into that and being harassed, or they just felt like maybe during those times the passing trans people should take the stage because it was easier for cis people to digest and understand. I don't blame anyone for not sharing the hard parts of their medical transition, because this is very personal stuff and people will question you if you say youre not 1000% happy to be where you are, but i'm glad that I see more people talking about not being satisfied with how their transition is going, and how they still don't pass X amount of time into being on testosterone. It's nice to see posts and videos and timeline updates like that. These things take different amount of times for different people, and that's alright.

It's hard, but I'm alright with it. The fact that I am where I am at all is something i never thought i'd get to at all. I'm proud to be where I am, when I think about it.

Testosterone has helped me greatly. I'm a happy person now, happiest i've ever been, and I see a future for myself now. A very happy one. Without even passing, testosterone has helped me so much. Just internally. I don't know how much of my happiness comes from just having consistent hormone levels everyday, or if my depression was just all a manifestation of background dysphoria that is being directly treated by hormone therapy now.

On Gel Vs. Shots and Dosage

I'm not really sure what made me decide to take gel rather than the shots, but I was adment on gel. I don't know how I feel about that decision in the long run.

For cons about the gel, it's expensive.

Around $200CAD every 2 months. It's really hard without insurance. I don't think my changes have been slow because of gel,

just because of my low dose. It's hard to contact my endo, and they even sent bloodwork paper to the wrong location, so generally it's been a bit hard to get my dose upped. I also started T as a minor (17) so that is specifically why I was kept on a low dose to start with. I'm assuming that now that i'm an adult, it will be easier to get my dosage upped. Being on the gel I also kind of feel, not left out, but not really a part of the classic transmasc doing their T shot experience, which I did always assume i'd do when I was 12-13 and I first came out because I didn't know gel was an option. These days, there's more talk of gel and patches, which I think is definitely good for people exploring their testosterone options.

For pros of gel, consistant hormone levels daily is very very good for me I find. There's no big spikes and low lows like there would be with weekly or biweekly shots, it's just daily consistent levels. I can feel kind of bad if I miss a day of gel, which i'm unsure if that is caused by me mentally knowing that I don't have testosterone for that day. or if that's actually just due to not having the regular hormones that I get daily. This is one of the reasons Why i'm unsure about switching to shots despite the expense of the gel. I don't think I would do good at all with such major fluctuations to my hormone levels, and it's not something I really want to play around with in fear of my mental health declining again with big hormone fluctuations like that. I also like the little daily routine of putting on gel everyday, it fits into my routine well and I feel i'm more likely to remember a daily routine rather then weekly or biweekly

I think often about maybe switching to shots, but I just don't know if the increased risk to my mental health with big hormone fluctiations is at all worth it.

I'm hoping to ask my endo about 1.62% gel and if its available in my area, because it has a higher concentration of testosterone and one pump would nearly be my current dose of 2 pumps of 1% gel, so id need to refill it the same amount of time for a bigger dose, instead of doing 3 pumps of the 1% gel, which I would need to refill more frequently which would cost more money more often.

Uncertainty of Medical Transition

This may be a shock considering i've been talking about how much medical transition has helped me, but I want sure if I even wanted to go on testosterone at all at one point. I've been out for from ages 12-18, and flip flopped on what I wanted many times. I knew I wanted to be on testosterone when I first came out, but that waned with time. I think after being out for so long without medical internevntion, the idea seemed so far away, I sort of let myself believe that it would never be able to happen. I let myself believe that maybe I didn't want to medically transition, becuase it was easier then addressing the fact that it would take a lot of time and it would be a hard process that I didnt know how to start it. It was a hard, confusing process to get hRT as a minor. There want just a quick guide for my area that I could find, if there was one at all it was in the depths of a website that hadnt been updated in a decade and was hard to traverse. I was at the appointment to get my perscription, uncertain about it. I took the step anyway, holding on to that sliver of hope that maybe I could actually have that life I dreamed of as a child

It turns out that going on testosterone was the best decision i've ever made. I'm glad, and i'm very lucky, that I stepped into the unknown.

The Future of My Transition

I'm largely happy, hoping that my testosterone dose gets upped again soon. I'm hoping to actually start passing with an upped dose, too.

I'm in the process for top surgery, which is another thing I thought could NEVER happen to me. So far out of reach, for more fortunate people, but this month i'm going to be sending all my forms in to see if my top surgery can get covered. I could have top surgery within the year. I have never been more happy in my entire life.

I think that's really all, My life is going good. I'm generally happy with my medical transition, despite not being exactly at the point where I want to be, but every single day gets a little bit easier for me. Feel free to look back on some of my other update posts, which i'm sure go more in depth, and of course ask me any questions. I'm happy to share, I know timelines on gel are a little bit harder to find.

If anybody is reading this who is considering testosterone, debating gel, or early on testosterone and trying to map out what their future will look like, I want to say hi hi hi hello. You'll be alright. You'll figure it out. You can not medically transition ever. or do it later in your life, or go on testosterone and then go off if you decide it isn't right for you. I genuinely believe that everything will all work out. Take your time, enjoy your life, there is community out there for you.

[creampuffqueen]

You absolutely don't have to answer this one if it's something you'd prefer to keep to yourself, but... was there any particular reason why you struggled with your confidence as a writer? It's a little funny, a little sad, that no matter how good someone is at what they do, at certain times they're unable to perceive their work that way

yeah i don't mind at all! i've been in a very good place confidence-wise for a while now, so i'm definitely able to look back on some of those moments more objectively. i think it's very important to share that everyone struggles with confidence at times, no matter how "good" their work seems.

i think my struggle with my confidence as a writer, both then, occasionally now, and always, stems from the fact that i have never been a super confident person as a whole. i have always had very bad imposter syndrome, ever since i was young, in pretty much all that i do. school, work, hobbies, anything really. i always have had this underlying feeling of 'i'm just faking being good at [thing], i was only good at [thing] because of dumb luck, one day i'm gonna be super bad at [thing] and then everyone will Find Out'.

find out what? idk. but that is something i've experienced for a very long time. most of the time i'm able to ignore those feelings, but every now and then they really rear their ugly head and i sort of get stuck in a rut.

as for the writing itself. i actually can pinpoint what i was specifically struggling with at the time. for starters, i was still finishing up school when i was beginning to plot out my fics for yangvik week, and my spring semester was rough. my adhd became incredibly unmanageable and my overall mental health was probably at the worst it's ever been. not super conducive to writing.

the other part of this struggle was actually because of my other fic, 'the push'. i love that fic and i am very proud of it, but it BLEW UP, becoming popular beyond my wildest imagination. it's only been out for a few months but it is one of the most popular things i have ever posted. last time i checked, it is the most popular work in the entire yangchen/kavik tag on ao3, which is just crazy to me.

unfortunately, the downside of this is that i began to feel like nothing i wrote would ever be as good as that fic. the imposter syndrome appeared full-force. i began to wonder if i should even bother writing for yangvik again. i mean, i had created the most popular fic by dumb luck. there was no way i could create something of that caliber again, right? and if i wrote something that wasn't as good, then people would know that i'm secretly a terrible writer.

this was also extremely exacerbated by my outside mental health struggle. i would struggle to write because of my adhd, and then would beat myself up about it because 'oh i just trekked through that mental block before, i should be able to do it again'. (spoiler alert, no i couldn't).

but somehow, the stars just seemed to align for yangvik week. by some miracle, i had both the free time to write AND working medication that actually let my get my ideas down. i published my fic for day one and it was very well received, and i was able to focus on that rather than my own imposter syndrome, and finally feel some confidence in my writing again!

so this is just my message to other artists: everyone struggles with their confidence at times. it isn't always mental health related like mine was (though you should always prioritize your own mental health! making art is so, so much harder when your brain is out of whack) but everyone feels a lack of confidence occasionally. your art deserves to be seen, no matter if you think you've just created the second mona lisa or you think it's a dumpster fire. someone out there is going to love it, i promise <3

thank you for the ask!

[therev28]

20 Fanfic Questions

Tagged by @bioticbooty (indirectly). Thank you!

Tagging @infiwrites, @ryqoshay and anyone else who feels so inclined!

How many works do you have on AO3?

99! Definitely hitting 100 by the end of the year ^_^

2. What's your total AO3 words count?

496,196

I'm 100% hitting half a mill by the end of the year, which is nuts to think about

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Lately it's been a lot of Project Sekai, but I still write some Love Live fic and the occasional one-off when a new fandom really grabs me.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Love Live! Nijigasaki Shipping Anthology - Exactly what it says on the tin. It's an anthology fic containing a single ~1000 word chapter for every possible Nijigasaki ship. I'm currently at 49/55 done!

Personal Choices - A Lycoris Recoil ChisaTaki fic. In fact, it was the third fic in the tag, written after episode 3 of the anime. The show went on to be fairly popular, and because I got in the tag early, it did some really good numbers.

Mutual Fantasies - Another LycoReco ChisaTaki fic, and this was the first smut fic in the tag, lol. Similar to above, it's done numbers by dint of being there first. (I do think it's pretty good, but certainly not my best work.)

A Sellout Night - A Bocchi the Rock NijiBocchi fic. Another case of a fandom being much bigger than my normal ones and thus giving bigger stats than typical. Tho I wrote for a slightly smaller ship, which makes me happier that it did well. I'm also pretty proud of it.

Leo/need Shipping Week - 2022 - Again, exactly what it says on the tin, lol. Because there are 4 members of Leo/need, there are six possible ships. Add a free day (aka, poly ship), and you've got a whole week! This was my first real time writing Project Sekai fic, and Leo/need wasn't nearly as popular back then. (They're still not the most popular, but the whole fandom is bigger.) Very proud of how this one turned out!

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Absolutely! I love replying to comments. It just feels like the right thing to do? Like, someone took the time to leave a comment and tell me how my story made them feel! The least I could do is reply and let them know I saw it and that it was appreciated. And depending on the type of comment, I can sometimes talk about themes/motifs/motivations/etc. that I might not really get to talk about much otherwise.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Honestly, not many of my fics end ansty? I'm very much a proponent of angst with a happy ending. I don't mind making my characters sad, but I want them to eventually be ok.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Considering I live for fluff, happy endings are like 99% of my catalogue, lmao. But it's probably the 42k slow burn, Passion's Growth. The main leads spend years coming to understand the depths of their feelings for each other, and it was pretty satisfying to write them finally getting together.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Haven't yet, no. I've gotten some weird comments, but no hate.

9. Do you write smut. If so what kind?

I do, yeah. I'm incapable of writing "quick" smut. Almost all of mine has at least a few thousand words of build up. I tend to write couples (or polycules on occasion) experiencing something new in bed. Whether it's literally their first time together or they're deciding to try something new, I just like exploring how that might play out.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Not really, no. I wrote a short Love Live/Project Sekai fic, but that's about it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Don't believe so.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! One in Spanish for sure (it's a related work on AO3), and I think two in Russian on a different site? (They asked for permission, I just never saw the end result.)

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Once, with some friends over a decade ago (on ffnet (hi @bioticbooty, lol)). Honestly, it didn't get very far off the ground before we all kind of dropped it. It was really hard to juggle between the four of us, and while I did enjoy it at the end of the day, I don't think I'll ever do it again. Not really for me.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

God, this one's hard, lmao. Recency bias would have me say Setsuna/Ayumu from Love Live, but I think if I'm being truly honest with myself, I think it'd have to be Shepard/Garrus from Mass Effect.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I guess I could say my old ME self-insert, but honestly, I don't even want to finish it anymore. That fic is well and truly dead. Besides that, I make it a point not to start a fic unless I feel confident I can finish it.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and inner monologue.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Descriptive prose. I've been trying to get better at it, but it's a slow process.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Eh, no real thoughts. If it makes sense to do, do it. Otherwise I don't see much of a point.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Mass Effect.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

You're gonna make me pick just one???

I think I'll pick When Everything Changes. This was the first long fic I wrote after almost 10 years of not writing much at all. After a series of oneshots, writing (and finishing) this fic made me really feel like I was back. Not to mention that it has some of my favorite hurt/comfort, smut, and angst, all in a single chapter! And in that order, too! I often joke that it's my masterpiece, but taken in the traditional sense of "a work that proves one has the skills to become a master," it kind of fits.

[gwydionae]

It's Not Going to Fix Itself

A/N: I just needed some Raph and Mikey bonding. Haven't written nearly enough of that lately.

Posted on fanfiction.net >here<.

Teaser: "I don't need help from you or anyone else!" The words were spat from Raph's mouth with such venom that anyone else might have believed them, but Mikey was more convinced than ever that dodging his older brother's angry, wild swings was exactly where he needed to be at that moment.

Disclaimer: I do not own Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Takes place sometime after "Casey Jones vs. the Underworld".

It's Not Going to Fix Itself

"Seriously, how can they not be done yet?"

Mikey barely glanced at Raph who sat huffing with indignation on the bench in the common room, glaring down at his T-phone as if that might make it ring sooner. His older brother had been groaning and complaining ever since Donnie had taken off in the Shellraiser after a call from Casey. Apparently he had found some old car for cheap and bought it with the intention of having his own vigilante ride, but he hadn't even made it two blocks before the thing broke down. Raph had offered to tag along as he and Casey had talked about going on patrol that night, but Donnie had shut that idea down, noting that Raph's lack of knowing anything about how cars worked would only make him a distraction.

And so for the last hour and a half, Michelangelo's monster movie had been punctuated with the occasional growl and bark from his most short-tempered sibling. A typical Tuesday, then.

"I'm not gonna just sit here all night waiting for Casey's new toy to be fixed!"

"Pretty sure you said that, like, forever ago, dude," said Mikey, eyes never even leaving the TV screen. He really should have expected the pillow thrown at his head in response.

Not five minutes later, Raph was on his feet and stomping toward the lair's entrance. "That's it. I'm done waiting. Forget Casey and that stupid piece of junk that idiot got conned into buying."

"If you see Donnie, remind him he owes me some pizza gyoza," said Mikey as he lazily raised a hand in a wave, ignoring the rude gesture he received in response.

To be honest, Mikey was surprised it had taken as long as it had for Raph to storm off on his own. If he didn't know better, he might've guessed it was due to the current sad state of the city above as the residents of NYC tried to rebuild their lives after being subjected to an alien invasion for over half a year. The Kraang might be gone, but the streets and back alleys were meaner than ever, and going out alone was asking for trouble. But he did know better, and Raph loved trouble, so if anything, he should have taken off the moment he knew Casey was stuck on the side of the road somewhere.

Too distracted by his cheesy B movie to give it more than a passing thought, it wasn't until he heard the sound of the Shellraiser returning followed by not one but two familiar voices that he perked up, looking around curiously. Hopping up from his beanbag, he wandered over towards the garage and peeked inside. Donnie and Casey were talking animatedly, a beat up piece of machinery he supposed must have been a car at some point sitting next to them.

Mikey couldn't help but laugh, thoughts of his owed gyoza drowned out by the misshapen hunk of metal. "Dude, is this your new ride? What happened, did Donnie hit it with the Shellraiser?"

Turning toward him as he entered the room, Casey flashed him a proud smirk and patted the rusty hood. "You'll see. This little baby is gonna tear up the streets when me an' Donnie get through with her." He smacked said turtle roughly on his shell. "We've got so many ideas—it's gonna be wicked!"

"Your vehicle actually has to appear street legal, don't forget," said Donnie as he walked over to his shelf to grab his toolbox. "We mutant turtles would avoid the police regardless, but you at least have to make an attempt to obey traffic laws or else you could lose your license." He set down his toolbox next to the supposed car and shot Casey a wry smirk, "But let's worry about getting it to actually start first, shall we?"

"I'm telling you, the alternator is shot. Piece of cake, you'll see," said Casey as he popped the hood, wrestling with it a bit in order to get it to not only open but then stay open. "So let's get to it, D! Gotta fix this baby up so I can use it to strike fear into the hearts of evil everywhere!"

Mikey blinked. "You're working on it now?"

"It's not going to fix itself, Mikey," said Donnie patronizingly.

"But what about Raph?"

Casey and Donnie shared a glance before turning back to him, near identical looks of mild confusion on both of their faces. "Uh, what about Raph?" said Casey.

All three now wore the same expression. "Raph said you guys were going out tonight?" The statement came out as more of a question, Mikey suddenly wondering if maybe he had blocked out his older brother's grumblings better than he'd realized. The look of understanding that dawned on Casey's face told him that he hadn't.

"Oh, right," he said, smacking himself in the side of the head, "I totally forgot. Aw crud, guess I won't make it tonight after all. Tell'im for me, would ya, Mikey?" And with that, he turned back toward the exposed engine. "So that alternator—"

"Raph already left," Mikey blurted out, his brother's behavior from earlier nagging at the back of his brain. "Maybe you should call and talk to him."

Donnie raised an eyeridge. "If he's already gone, then there's nothing to worry about," he said, joining Casey in front of the engine, "aside from exactly how much trouble he's going to get into while out alone, anyway. It's probably best not to bother him."

"Yeah, it's cool." Casey didn't even turn around, craning his neck as if searching for something. "We'll bash some heads in some other time. But right now, Casey Jones is in need of some epic wheels!" Shoulders suddenly slumping, he let out a sigh, "Oh, man. Looks like we'll have to jack the car to get to it."

"'Piece of cake', huh?" mocked Donnie with a smirk.

The two car junkies already completely lost in their own world, Mikey silently exited the garage and headed back to the common room. Flopping onto his beanbag shell first, he lay sprawled out, staring upside-down at the bright colors flashing across the TV screen without really paying attention to the scene playing out before him. His brain kept stewing over everything he'd heard in the last two hours, a light frown on his face.

Casey calling Donnie for help, Raph waiting hours for any sign that Casey was going to show, Donnie offering to help Casey soup up his car, Casey forgetting his plans with Raph and not even calling to tell him...

When was the last time Raph and Casey had gone out on patrol together anyway?

"Think I could use some fresh air."

Jumping up, Michelangelo made a dash for the nearest exit, not even bothering to turn off the TV. As soon as he was topside, he headed straight for the area of town he knew Raph and Casey liked to patrol—Purple Dragon territory was perfect for "bashing in a few heads". Running from rooftop to rooftop, he kept his eyes trained on the alleys below, looking for any signs of a brawl, but it wasn't long before noises from above caught his attention. Next to him stood a building only a few stories higher than the rest in the area, but it was just tall enough that if he wanted to find out whatever was going on up there, he'd have to investigate more closely. Judging by the crashing, banging, and cursing, he thought he had a pretty good idea.

Climbing up the fire escape to reach the top, Mikey peeked over the edge, unsurprised when he found Raphael positively destroying a giant air duct vent. The poor thing was a mangled mess, and Mikey only hoped that his shell wouldn't wind up resembling it.

With a flip, he hopped onto the roof with a smile. "Hey, Raph! I been looking everywhere for—"

He was cut off by a loud growl as his brother smashed another sizable dent into the ductwork. "Buzz off, Mikey," he said, hands balled into tight fists, "unless you want me to start aiming for your face."

"How about we both aim at some other faces instead?" he pressed on, undaunted by the threat. "Pretty sure I saw a bunch of Purple Dragons ov—AHH!"

Mikey quickly jumped out of the way as a large fist was suddenly on a collision course with his head. Flipping and somersaulting across the roof, Raph kept up the chase, teeth grit in an angry scowl as he barreled full steam ahead.

"I said, get lost!" he shouted, swinging wildly as Mikey easily avoided the assault.

"Dude, chill!" he cried, holding out his hands in a sign of peace. "I'm just here to—WOAH!" He expertly ducked out of the way of a particularly vicious punch, Raph's fist instead colliding with some metal framework with a muffled clang.

"I don't need help from you or anyone else!"

The words were spat from his mouth with such venom that anyone else might have believed them, but Mikey kept up his dance, more convinced than ever that this was exactly where he needed to be.

"That why you complained about Casey for almost two hours?" he said, words that would normally be dripping with sarcasm now said plainly.

"Casey can go screw himself for all I care!" Mikey did not miss the slight stiffening of his rampaging brother's muscles. "If he wants to waste all his time with Donnie on that stupid, beat up tin can, then fine! Good riddance! Who needs'im?"

Making sure to keep eye contact while still avoiding getting his skull caved in, Mikey spoke in a calm, light tone, "I know how it feels to be left out, you know." Raph flinched at his words, his swings losing some of their ferocity. "So you could pummel me into oblivion, or—" the younger slowed to a halt, hands up in surrender, "—maybe you could talk about it?"

Fist still heading towards his face, Mikey closed his eyes with a grimace, waiting for the painful impact. But as said impact never came, he peeled one eye open to see wrapped knuckles inches from his nose, shaking ever so slightly. The hand was quickly lowered with a growl, still balled into a tight fist at Raph's side as he glared at a random spot on the ground.

"I don't wanna talk about it," he said before seating himself on the rooftop with a huff, knees pulled up as he crossed his arms on top of them. The childish display was undercut by the nearly imperceptible crack in his generally confident tone as well as green eyes that always seemed to reveal more than his older brother would probably like.

Despite the verbal rebuff, Michelangelo plopped himself onto the roof next to him, happy to have seemingly calmed the beast without a scratch. "When was the last time you and Casey went out on patrol, anyway?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Raph shrugged and scoffed, "Weeks ago? We've been out together once since the invasion. Streets are worse than ever, and now that dufus wants to spend all his time on a hunk of junk that looks like Donnie ran it over with the Shellraiser?"

Mikey laughed. "Dude, that's exactly what I—wait," his face scrunched in confusion, "when'd you see it?"

Shrinking even more into himself, Raph muttered, "Caught'em right before they took off. Just kept yammering on about all the weird stuff Casey wanted to do to it."

Neither Donnie nor Casey had mentioned seeing him, which could only mean he hadn't wanted them to. Raphael was pretty hard to miss with his booming voice and heavy footsteps, which was normally how he seemed to like it. Based on their conversation in the garage, though, it wasn't hard for Mikey to guess why this time had been an exception.

"Have you tried talking to Casey about it?" said Mikey, though he was positive he already knew the answer, even before Raph's derisive scoff had left his mouth.

"And say what? That I'm mad at him for not hanging out with me enough? Yeah, that'll help," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Just tell him you wanna hang out more."

Raph fixed him with a glare. "Who do you think was the one who wanted to go out tonight? I've been asking him ever since we got the lair fixed up," he said, the bitterness in his tone unmistakable. "We used to team up several times a week, but lately he just heads out on his own. You heard his whole 'solo vigilante' bullcrap! And now he's got this piece of junk that he's perfectly fine working on with a guy he could barely stand a few months ago?" He turned away with an annoyed huff. "I don't need to be a genius to get the message."

Much as Mikey wanted to, it was hard to argue against Raph's logic. Casey's solo ventures hadn't exactly been a secret, and he had been hanging out with Donatello a lot more ever since the two were stuck working under the same roof back at the farmhouse. Raph had been quiet and distant at the time, likely too worried about Leonardo lying comatose in a bathtub to notice the change in dynamics. Not that Casey and Donnie getting along was a bad thing—even Raph had seemed relieved that their spiteful rivalry over April had morphed into a far friendlier sort of banter. But if Casey really was choosing to spend all his time either with Donnie or by himself and next to none with the guy that was supposed to be his best friend, well, it would be pretty impossible not to take that personally.

All the talk of friends not really hanging out in a while had Mikey's thoughts drifting to Leatherhead. He hadn't seen him since the defeat of the Kraang, and he'd been meaning to stop by the Mutanimal's new base of operations for a visit.

He suddenly perked up, his brain finally reminding him of who else would be there.

"Maybe you could hang out with Slash," he said cheerily. "He seems to be pretty chill now that he's with the Mutanimals." The suggestion had been offered with the best of intentions, but the way Raph stiffened at the mere mention of his former pet turtle had Mikey wondering if he'd missed something.

"Right," said Raph, voice still bitter as Donnie's morning coffee. "Slash, the guy who turned down my offer to team up because he was 'better off solo' and then turned around and teamed up with Pigeon Pete." He snorted dismissively. "Yeah, I'm sure the fact that he and Casey both did the exact same thing is just a coincidence."

Mikey swallowed a grimace at the forgotten similarities between the two, but refused to give up so easily. "But maybe—"

"Look, just," Raph cut him off, but rather than sharp, his tone sounded more resigned as he let out a sigh, "go home, Mikey. It's not like any of this really matters anyway, so stop worrying about me."

"Of course it matters, dude!" Jumping to his feet, Mikey wore a look of determination. Bending over toward his older brother who looked back incredulously, he planted both hands on his waist. "You think I don't know what this feels like? I watched the rest of my bros hang out with new friends without me for like a year before we busted Leatherhead out of Dimension X! And how about Chris Bradford—big dude, real famous, member of the Foot clan that pretended to be my friend before getting double mutated into a creepy wolf monster? I was seriously bummed out, thought I'd never make a real friend!" Plopping himself back down next to Raph, Mikey lightly elbowed him in the side. "But then someone cheered me up, told me that I deserved better. What kind of bro wouldn't wanna return the favor?"

The look Raph directed at him held a twinge of guilt. "I just tried to pound your face in, like, ten seconds ago, Mikey," he said flatly. "I'm pretty sure you don't owe me anything."

Michelangelo didn't usually try to talk his most volatile sibling out of one of his more violent moods, but seeing him sitting there gloomily with worst case scenarios stewing in his head made him wish he'd tried more often. Normally Raph exuded confidence—frequently to the point of arrogance—never showing any signs of resignation or loneliness. But if he was showing those signs now, it seemed likely that other angry tirades might be due to feeling similarly dispirited, and Mikey had to wonder how much of Raph's confidence was specifically used to hide that fact.

If that was true, simply trying to talk him into feeling better seemed a bit of a hopeless cause. Long ingrained patterns of behavior weren't broken with words—they were broken with actions.

"You know what, you're right," he said at last, his tone so matter-of-fact that Raph gave him a curious glance out of the corner of his eye. "You did try to pound my face in, and all I wanted to do was help. That definitely means that now you owe me. So I say we head on over to Murakami-san's to pick up some pizza gyoza and then swing by the Mutanimals' place so we can all enjoy it together."

He did not miss the way the scowl already present on Raphael's face seemed to darken.

"Mikey..."

"What?" he replied innocently. "There'd be plenty! We could split it, like, ten for me, five for you, and—"

Expectedly, Raph cut him off. "I know what you're doing, so just drop it."

Mikey fixed him with a pointed look. "When was the last time you actually talked to Slash?" he asked before quickly adding, "while not in the middle of trashing a bunch of Kraang, I mean."

Looking away, Raph rested his chin on his arms as he muttered, "Probably before I knew he hated the name 'Spike' so much."

"That's what I'm saying!" Mikey jumped to his feet. "That's, like, forever ago, dude! Would you know how to act around a guy whose family you tried to flatten into turtle pizzas? Maybe he just feels super awkward and doesn't have a clue what to say." Crouching down directly in front of his brother, he reached out and gently nudged a folded arm. "Come on, Raph. Talk to him just this once! I promise that if you're right and you guys really can't be friends anymore, the two of us'll stay out the rest of the night pummeling Purple Dragons, destroying ductwork, and inhaling ice cream. Whaddya say?"

For a moment, it seemed as if his words had fallen on deaf ears, but soon green eyes were once again fixed on him, an eyeridge raised quizzically above them.

"'Inhaling ice cream'?" Raph repeated dryly, the barest hints of amusement tugging at one of the corners of his mouth.

Mikey grinned. "I figure we can skip the customary sappy movie, but why deny ourselves frozen, creamy goodness?" he said with a shrug before standing back up and holding a hand out to his seated sibling. To his delight, Raph reluctantly reached for it with a sigh.

"Can't believe you're talking me into this," he grumbled as Mikey helped pull him to his feet.

"No one can resist the charm of Michelangelo with a plan that involves totally awesome food," he said as he threw an arm around his older brother's shoulder.

With some hesitation on Raphael's part, they both swung by Murakami's noodle shop before heading to the Mutanimal's new hideout, and while the impromptu meetup was a bit awkward to start, by the end it turned out that there was no need for Mikey to help Raph mangle more of New York City's ductwork. Now nearly midnight, a promise to hang out again had Mikey heading back to the lair with a bright smile on his face, but Raph insisted that the night wasn't quite over yet. And as the two sat next to each other on Raph's bed, ice cream pilfered from the freezer in hand despite the late hour, Mikey decided that the next time his older brother stormed off, he wouldn't have to ride it out alone. ____________________________________

A/N: My dad would be proud with how much I learned about alternators by writing this. So many scenes that were basically just me venting about the fact that all of Raph's friendships in this show were done so dirty had to be cut due to, yanno, being solely there for venting purposes and not actually adding anything. :P Whoops.

As always, critics and grammar police appreciated!