#its harder for him to come to terms with anyone forgiving him

[deathfavor]

Anonymous said: Tora, would you be mad if Chifuyu blamed you for Baji still?

   It’s sickening. The memory that slips easily into his nightmares, blending reality and sleep, till he can’t breathe. Until he wakes in a cold sweat, silent and tensed. He doesn’t deserve anything less than that hatred. He was supposed to join Baji and instead...

   “  No.  “  Kazutora shakes his head.  “  I deserve it.  “  He doesn’t actually know what Chifuyu thinks...and the truth is, he’s too afraid. He’s too afraid to know what anyone thinks. It can’t be worse than his own cross.  “  A hundred times over I would deserve it. What kind of fucked up joke is it for me to have a right to be mad over it? “

[too-deviant]

idk if you’d be comfortable writing this but I was wondering if you could whip up an Aphrodite!reader who’s fed up with her beauty. She stops attending school and stays the full term at camp which makes Luke confused. So she tells him about how random dudes would hit on her and be creepy at her school or something. She’d prolly join him with Kronos bc she wants to feel respected for once. Would be such an angsty but filled with femme rage although totally cool if you choose not to write this~ Just wanted to share it with someone 💛

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Aphrodite!Reader

Summary: Maybe you didn't want to be beautiful anymore.

Content: pretty angsty, brief mentions of male harassment but nothing explicit or triggering, again sorry for the wait i had w block pls forgive me. also not proofread sorry yall its been a rough week.

You were only faintly aware of the noise around you.

The chatter of the city was a mere buzz in the back of your head as you marched down the street. It amazed you, really, just how unbelievably dickish mortal boys could be. This one in particular; Mike Schwartz, a five foot something jock who sat on the bench at every game. He’d been a bother in your life since you started high school. Back then, you took the endless prospects as a compliment – you truly were your mother’s daughter. It was a boost to your weak teenage confidence. 

But as the years went by, the constant asking for your hand became an irritant. Especially when they couldn’t get the hint – at fourteen, turning down guys felt amazing, but when those same guys kept coming back for more, it made your eye twitch. Couldn’t they take the first no, tuck their tail between their legs and fuck off?

Apparently not. 

After four years of putting up with it, you were done. Storming out of the cafeteria, grabbing all your things, hailing a cab and getting the hell outta dodge. Maybe you should’ve stopped to think — called your dad, taken a few deep breaths. But the harder you thought about it, after trying not to for so many years, you came to the conclusion that you would’ve ended up here anyway. 

Here being the peak of HalfBlood Hill in the middle of September. It was only slightly unusual, because when you usually arrive at the start of summer you get to watch the crowds of arrivals setting up shop at camp. Now, however, it was fairly desolate. Less people, you knew. 

It was also a split second shock when you stepped across the border and felt the drastic change in weather. From the cool breeze of the autumn air to the warm summery spring that camp was in year-round. A shift that made you pause, but you kept on down the hill anyway. 

Chiron was waiting for you on the porch of the Big House, and without so much as a word, gestured for you to follow him inside. He was fairly understanding of your situation, but made you Iris Message your dad and tell him of your decision. He, too, was more glad you were safe than angry you ran off. 

“We can talk about this when you feel like talking.” He’d said. 

So you’d done it. Finally, you’d gotten yourself away from the hey hot stuffs and the you seeing anyone baby?s. You were back at camp, you were where you were most happy. 

But you weren’t happy. 

Being a year-rounder, you’d discovered, was a lot less busy than being a summer camper. You got more days off, longer breaks between activities. You found yourself spending more time in your own company; something you never really got to do before. Most of the time you were with your siblings, or your mortal friends, or you were being hounded by some frat boy and their friends.

It took a minute to get used to the loneliness, but you did. You explored camp, found places you hadn’t seen before. A cute clearing near a stream on the east side of the forest, or a Satyr sanctuary on the far end of the beach. You read more books, you trained a little harder, you perfected six new hairstyles on your little sister Elena and Annabeth from the Athena Cabin. 

And yet, you were still pissed off. 

“Why?” 

Luke Castellan was a name everyone knew in this little corner of Long Island. One of the oldest campers, head counsellor of the rowdiest cabin, token tour guide for the new kids. Oh, and the best swordsman camp had seen in, like, three centuries. He was cute, that much you’d heard all around your cabin. But you’d never really held a solid conversation with him until you became a year-rounder. The fewer people around, the more you run into him. 

You’d been practising a few neat tricks with a dagger when he spotted you. Said he was there to train himself for once and that you wouldn’t even notice he was there. You did, though. Especially when he took his shirt off twenty minutes in. 

You shared a water break, he asked you why you’d transferred to being a year rounder, and you indulge him in the story. He was super nice about it too, which made you angry. Was Luke the only nice guy on the planet? 

“But at least you’re happier now, right?” He’d said. You weren’t, you told him that much. He gave you this knowing look you’d never seen on him before, and asked Why?

You shrugged, “I don’t know. I love it here, I do. But I shouldn’t have to uproot my entire life and bring it here just to get some semblance of peace. I shouldn’t have to give up my education, my friends, my dad, just so I don’t have to get harassed every day. It’s not even like my mom gave me anything to help combat it, either. She just made me beautiful and told me to deal with the consequences! I mean,” You let out a weak chuckle, holding up the dagger you’d been toying with, “This was a birthday present from a friend in Cabin Six. Not even my mother, who is a warrior herself, could bother sending me a weapon. They really don’t give two shits about us, do they?” 

He’d parted his lips, eyes shining with something, and looked at you through his bottom lashes, “No. They don’t.”

You and Luke grew closer after that. A lot closer. By the time summer rolled around and the rest of the campers returned, you were inseparable. Many rumours spread but you two ignored them in favour of sneaking into that clearing you’d found and talking in whispers about your hatred for the gods. Who cared if they could hear you? Let them. 

It was Luke who had come up with the idea to steal the bolt. A quick job, in and out, and maybe then they’d listen to what you’d have to say. But they didn’t — they did exactly what they always did and risked the lives of two young demigods and a satyr just because they couldn’t be bothered doing it themselves. Selfish — that’s what they were. They didn’t care about anyone —

“ — but themselves!” You glared at Thalia, who stood before you atop Mount Tamalpais with her spear in your direction. “I mean, look at your dad. He didn’t care enough to stop the monsters from killing you, oh, but it’s okay because he turned you into a damn tree!”

“This isn’t the way!” Annabeth yelled from afar. Her hair was twisted in a style you’d taught her how to do that first year as a year-rounder. It broke your heart that she couldn’t see how right you and Luke were. 

“Curse them, Thalia.” You said plainly, holding up your dagger. Half mortal metal, half celestial bronze. A gift from Luke. “Curse your father and his children. His brothers. Curse them all like they deserve to be cursed! They deserve to be toppled.”

 You tilted your head, looking at them all. Luke and your army were heading steadily up the mountain. If you could convince them now, there wouldn’t need to be a battle. 

“Where are they now, huh?” You raised both your arms, “You’re fighting for your life against a titan on a mountain and the only god who came to help out was Artemis? And that’s just because she was here already.” You scoffed out a laugh, “You should thank us, really, for taking her. Had we not, you’d be dead already.” 

Annabeth watched. You were unrecognisable in that moment — your face streaked with dirt and blood, curled into a dark sneer that any of your siblings would berate you for because of the wrinkles you’d get. You didn’t seem to care all that much, though. Not when Thalia was lunging for you and attempting to pull you out of the rage you were in. Not when her spear and shield were no match for your measly dagger and you went toppling down the mountain. 

The next time any of them saw you was in Manhattan — after believing you to be dead for a year and a half, it came as a shock when you emerged from the crowd of monsters. Your hair was hacked short, and one of your legs had been replaced with a bronze prosthetic. You fought with a ruthlessness none of them had seen in you before, whether it be because you were on the losing side or because Luke had given his body to the Lord of Time before you had the chance to tell him you loved him. You were still angry, and even if you hated Kronos, you didn’t hate him nearly as much as you hated the gods. 

When Luke died, you were kneeled beside him. Your face was dirty, your hair was knotty, and there was a dent in your bronze leg. He lifted a hand to your face, “I’m sorry to have to say this, but…you’re sorta beautiful.”

“Sorta?”

He grinned, and then he died, and you were filled with such unbridled rage that you pushed yourself down to the ground of Manhattan and tore through Kronos’ army with fire in your eyes, not stopping until Apollo got rid of your sight and forced you to calm down. You didn’t know if you’d ever be calm, since the only person who ever understood you just died in your arms, but you dropped your dagger and stomped your way back up to Olympus like a bratty child anyway. 

Zeus didn’t punish you for what you did, but he did say he’d be keeping a firm eye on you. You joined the hunters, much to your mothers disdain, and didn’t ever allow yourself to look back.

[sammygender]

is there any point in the series that sam could have made an escape and actually successfully gotten away from dean and hunting, or do you think that his lack of support system made it impossible

FANTASTIC QUESTION. sorry im gonna ramble for 7374893594 words now

tldr, past like s3 (and certainly past s5) i think its kinda impossible.

early seasons, like 1-2, sure and totally, he almost does, he plans on it. but then the demon deal for his life happens and theyre trapped in cycles forever and ever and everything becomes a lot harder and, also, sam and dean just naturally become more and more codependent, decreasing the chances of them ever being able to have a 'normal relationship', which i think is necessary (dean loosening grip on sam, them having connections outside of each other) for sam to ever 'get away' from dean/hunting (cause otherwise its just an all-or-nothing choice, more on this in a sec).

i think its less so much about sam successfully getting away in terms of getting dean off his back/to leave him alone (which, dont get me wrong, WOULD be hard, especially as the seasons go on, considering dean cant stand to be alone and has extremely controlling and occasionally stalkerish tendencies <3..... but could still certainly be possible), but about him actually choosing to leave dean/hunting (which for the purposes of this question we r equating).

bc its sort of like..... he takes a lot of Breaks especially during mid seasons (s5 after lucifer's set free (tho iirc this one is dean's doing), s7 after dean kills amy, s8 with amelia tho he thinks deans dead, s9 after gadreel possession is revealed....) but he always always comes back. of course s8 is dean Literally Dragging sam back into it (<3) and also just shaking everything up by being generally Alive, but s7 and 9, its cause dean has done something awful thats genuinely shook sam up, and in the end he just... gets over it. cuz what is the alternative? dean doesnt change and rarely apologises!

like its the fact that of course he wants a relationship with dean because deans the closest person in his life and everything to him, but having a relationship with dean equals their intense codependent unhealthy bond, equals dealing with dean's disregard of his autonomy and ignoring it (read: letting it wear him down). dean's all or nothing. they cant just be 'normal brothers'. and i find it extremely hard to see sam ever actually longterm choosing 'no dean' over 'dean who loves him more than anything and will always do anything for him but systematically wears down his personhood and punishes him for percieved disobedience and thinks he's the one who gets to make choices about sam's life'. like he would have to have a bunch of connections outside of dean, they probably both would, and that would never really happen partially because of dean. they can never let anyone else get on their level. like u said. lack of support system!

and its like... what could dean Actually do that would make sam 'cut him off'/distance himself permanently. i literally and truly cannot think of anything. sam canonically has an INCREDIBLE capacity for forgiveness, just in general - where's that jared quote about how sam forgives everyone cause he sees himself as someone so in need of forgiveness - and this even more so applies to dean. dean locks sam up and leaves him to die, kills his friend, tricks sam into letting an angel possess him, and tries to kill him, and none of that makes sam leave dean permanently, not just because dean makes it physically difficult for him to (tho he does - insisting they work together in s7 on the case, going off to get mark of cain in s9) but also cause sam just eventually forgives him and moves on. is it 'capacity for forgiveness' or is it that he doesnt really view bad things that happen to him as a big deal, that (thru s5-esque emotional abuse techniques <3) deans subconsciously gotten him questioning his own reality and opinions so deeply that it just takes time before sam's agreeing with dean again. makes you think!

but tbf (and this is a digression but i just find it interesting) this probably goes both ways too - what could sam actually do to make dean leave him permanently? even when deans incredibly angry at sam he usually wants him around to berate about it <3. exceptions being start of s10 when hes a demon but even demon dean soon switches to sam-obsession.... and s5. which i know according to endverse Wouldve been a permanent split up? which is kind of wild? and canonises that that Couldve Happened i guess. samgirls should do more with endverse, id kill to see an actually good samcentric fic of like. the events leading to endverse. if anyones read any pls pls recs. ANYWAY. theres also ofc s2 meg possession, where dean just fully thinks sam killed people and is like <3 okay baby brothers lets pretend this never happened we got this do u need me to bury a body <3. truly a ride or die. unless ur actively going against Him specifically. things to think about. tell me ur takes.

and anyway then s11 onwards he is NOT getting out. not unless someone really managed to get it into his head Hey So Pro Tip This Is Fucked. sam acquiesces to dean-as-dictator, having literally Let Dean (be about to) Kill him, dean (newly cured from moc) is consequently much more pleased with sam and with their relationship, they fight much less and theres therefore much less prominent emotional abuse etc since dean is at his worst when hes upset. (iirc. late seasons are a blur except for jack stuff.). and by s13 he has a son and maybe if this happened seasons ago dean's treatment of jack would've been enough to prompt at least a temporary split up but it doesnt, it just sparks a few vague arguments between samndean and sam telling jack that dean is trying <3 and that its very difficult for him <3 which is why he told you hed kill you <3 thats just what dean is like you have to get over it at some point <3 (I LOVE S13). so then yeah. too late.

TLDR... he is too indocrinated <3. sad!

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

David Rowe

* * * *

Fuck the media explanations that Trump won because he was talking to them about the economy, because he was talking to them primarily about himself in his bizarre monologues that also covered the dick size of a dead golfer whose career peaked sixty years ago, windmills killing birds, kids coming home from school having had their gender changed maybe during recess, and a whole lot of Hannibal Lecter apparently because in the broken jelly of his brain there was some kind of association between insane asylums and refugees seeking asylum, and on top of that a lot of threats against and menace to women and anyone who opposed him, juvenile insults, and a whole thing about sharks and batteries, and a certain amount of slurring words and a whole lot of words in no particular order conveying no particular meaning, along with the promise to put the world's richest man in charge of the economy, who in turn promises to wreck it.

I get that there's a lot of economic unhappiness and real struggle, but that didn't start with the Biden Administration, which gave people pandemic relief at the beginning of its term, but Republicans wouldn't let them renew it, which is why people remember being better off four years ago. Meanwhile the Harris campaign promised to help with in-home healthcare, the cost of housing, and raising the minimum wage, and I know no one knew that any of these campaigns had content because the media was too busy rewarming frozen scandals. But also a lot of people got good green jobs from the Inflation Reduction Act and a lot of people got debt forgiveness, both Biden administration things that began as, respectively, the Sunrise Movement's Green New Deal and the debt activism that emerged from Occupy Wall Street (I've been thinking back to Occupy Wall and how it created space in 2011 for people to reveal how crushed by housing, medical, and student debt they were--Harris went after predatory housing lenders after Occupy, when she was California's attorney general.) Biden, who clearly modeled himself after FDR, was hailed in some quarters as the first non-neoliberal president since Reagan came 44 years ago to destroy the New Deal and the Great Society and make the poor poorer and the rich richer.

It is its own form of disinformation, how the mainstream media settles on explanations about what just happened and why when they happen not to be true. And we heard the same bullshit in 2016 when mostly white people voted against their own economic interest for a racist, sexist, incompetent member of the 1% and middle class people claiming to speak for the working class insisted this was all economic dissatisfaction. Trump is a puppet for forces that will make ordinary peoples' lives far harder and then they will blame Antifa or immigrants or something and the media will repeat these ridiculous allegations as though they deserve serious consideration.

One point no one should forget: abortion is an economic issue for anyone who can get pregnant. Immigrant rights are not just an economic issue for immigrants but for the whole economy, which would fall apart without them.

Brookings Institute: "The Trump campaign decided that Harris’ stance on transgender issues was the Willie Horton of 2024 and invested heavily in negative advertising that dominated the airwaves throughout the South.1 Anecdotal evidence suggests that this campaign helped weaken Harris’ effort to portray herself as a common-sense center-left candidate rather than an emissary from San Francisco."

Wired: "Trump ran a campaign that stoked culture war grievances and divisions, and was defined by lies, a desire for vengeance, and, at times, threatening rhetoric. In social media posts he threatened mass arrests of his political opponents in revenge for “stealing the election” in 2020 (though evidence conclusively shows the 2020 election was not stolen). Lawmakers, election workers, school board members, federal agents, and judges have been repeatedly targeted over the years with violent threats by his supporters who believe they were acting on his behalf. Trump repeatedly promised his supporters he would “destroy” the deep state, invoking the popular conspiracy theory of a nefarious web of faceless bureaucrats working to destroy the US from within. He cast himself, alongside the people who stormed the Capitol on January 6 over election lies, as “political prisoners,” even “hostages” who were being persecuted by a “tyrannical” Biden administration."

Robert Hubbell: "Just as the media normalized Trump before the election, there is a wholesale effort to “normalize” the election results. Pundits are claiming the election was decided by voters’ concerns over inflation, immigration, or crime. Those issues are post-facto rationalizations offered by voters to conceal their real reasons for voting for a convicted felon and adjudicated sexual abuser over an eminently qualified candidate."

Brian Merchant, tech journalist extraordinaire: "Apart from Trump himself, there are few more obvious victors that Elon Musk; for $100 million or so and a few months’ display of unrestrained fealty, he just bought himself some real estate in the inner sanctum of Trumpworld. It may be the most fruitful investment he ever made, a bargain really. ...Suffice to say that Elon Musk is the closest that a Silicon Valley tech titan has been to the White House, in a position of overt and direct power. There is of course a long lineage of the Valley linking up with Washington for defense contracts, help in avoiding regulations, and other forms of material support—see: Malcolm Harris’s Palo Alto—but this is the next level. It could even, perhaps, be considered a logical culmination. It’s time to face facts. In Trump, Silicon Valley got what it wanted: A president that will kneecap antitrust efforts, embrace deregulation, and defang labor laws."

[Rebecca Solnit]

[schm00by]

Mixed Feelings about the Malware Arc (Ben 10)

The Malware arc, to me, left much to be desired. With the lesson Ben was meant to learn in the arc and the emotional impact of its conclusion heavily dampened due to the pacing and lack of buildup.

Basically, from my perspective, the arc with Malware was supposed to teach Ben to forgive himself for losing Feedback. Which might I add, is already a daunting message to tell (to me at least, I mean it hit me like a truck). In retrospect, yeah that is a hard-hitting topic that contrasts heavily with the more “kiddy” direction Omniverse is taking, at least compared to its predecessor: Ultimate Alien which often (to the best of their ability when the network was breathing down their necks) tackled darker topics and had a moodier atmosphere.

This message was reached and confirmed with Past Ben and Present Ben interacting. I felt the entire scene with Past Ben and Present Ben interacting was honestly pretty hard hitting, at least for Omniverse’s first season. With Past asking Present if he learned anything, and Present saying, "yeah that losing bites" and Past, with his eyes downcast, asking if Ben was still mad at him after all these years was just wow. And when Present got down to Past's level and agreed that instead of beating up his past self about what happened, he’d instead focus on what he can do in the now (Ben's way of saying he’s come to terms with what happened and is forgiving his ten-year-old self). I actually really liked that scene; it would have been an amazing turning point in Ben’s character.

However, even with the little praise I give it, the entirety of it felt sorta misplaced. Now this scene could totally work if the pacing hadn’t been so butchered. If we had more scenes with Feedback and really saw the closeness Ben had with him then this scene would’ve hit so much harder. In this arc we barely got any Feedback scenes or really how the loss of Feedback really affected Ben other than a few one off lines about how he feels whenever anyone brought up Feedback or some, one off flashbacks of 11 year old Ben using him, as most of season one consisted more episodic episodes than an overarching story (not including the episodes with Zip and the Hunter, and Malware)

Literally in the episode RIGHT before the conclusion to Ben’s arc (the Past and Present scene) we are shown what happened to Feedback. (Malware literally ripping Ben from his alien form was just wow and I don’t even know where to start with that). If they have given us more time to digest and see the impact Feedback made on Ben when he was taken, then it would’ve been all the more emotional to see Ben be reunited with his favorite alien. Having us see Feedback’s death scene just for him to immediately be brought back in the literal next episode was just too much to swallow at once. It’s hard to explain but it would’ve been neat to see that scene with Ben losing Feedback earlier in the season. Perhaps when Ben first saw Malware, he could get a flashback, or we could have an episode focusing on Rook trying to get to know Ben better and learning about what happened through Gwen. Not only would it give us more time to digest what happened to Feedback before he is revived but we can also see more character interaction with Rook, a current partner of Ben’s, and Gwen, who used to be partnered up with Ben and maybe contrasting they’re views on him and what is feels/felt like to be partnered up with him. It moves the plot forward, does not give us mediocre, forgettable, and practically useless episodes, and we get more character interaction. Fillers are always a great opportunity to go more in depth with the characters when they aren’t doing something with the overarching conflict and a lot of fillers in Ben 10 are often wasted to random, fast action mini-plots (not to say that is bad because it definitely isn’t, I personally loved the Billy Billions episode and loved Billy and Ben interacting, but I wish there was more variety in the fillers than a one off crisis that is dealt with in random episodes)

[partisan-by-default]

Rebecca Solnit / Facebook:

Fuck the media explanations that Trump won because he was talking to them about the economy, because he was talking to them primarily about himself in his bizarre monologues that also covered the dick size of a dead golfer whose career peaked sixty years ago, windmills killing birds, kids coming home from school having had their gender changed maybe during recess, and a whole lot of Hannibal Lecter apparently because in the broken jelly of his brain there was some kind of association between insane asylums and refugees seeking asylum, and on top of that a lot of threats against and menace to women and anyone who opposed him, juvenile insults, and a whole thing about sharks and batteries, and a certain amount of slurring words and a whole lot of words in no particular order conveying no particular meaning, along with the promise to put the world's richest man in charge of the economy, who in turn promises to wreck it.

I get that there's a lot of economic unhappiness and real struggle, but that didn't start with the Biden Administration, which gave people pandemic relief at the beginning of its term, but Republicans wouldn't let them renew it, which is why people remember being better off four years ago. Meanwhile the Harris campaign promised to help with in-home healthcare, the cost of housing, and raising the minimum wage, and I know no one knew that any of these campaigns had content because the media was too busy rewarming frozen scandals. But also a lot of people got good green jobs from the Inflation Reduction Act and a lot of people got debt forgiveness, both Biden administration things that began as, respectively, the Sunrise Movement's Green New Deal and the debt activism that emerged from Occupy Wall Street (I've been thinking back to Occupy Wall and how it created space in 2011 for people to reveal how crushed by housing, medical, and student debt they were--Harris went after predatory housing lenders after Occupy, when she was California's attorney general.) Biden, who clearly modeled himself after FDR, was hailed in some quarters as the first non-neoliberal president since Reagan came 44 years ago to destroy the New Deal and the Great Society and make the poor poorer and the rich richer.

It is its own form of disinformation, how the mainstream media settles on explanations about what just happened and why when they happen not to be true. And we heard the same bullshit in 2016 when mostly white people voted against their own economic interest for a racist, sexist, incompetent member of the 1% and middle class people claiming to speak for the working class insisted this was all economic dissatisfaction. Trump is a puppet for forces that will make ordinary peoples' lives far harder and then they will blame Antifa or immigrants or something and the media will repeat these ridiculous allegations as though they deserve serious consideration.

One point no one should forget: abortion is an economic issue for anyone who can get pregnant. Immigrant rights are not just an economic issue for immigrants but for the whole economy, which would fall apart without them.

Brookings Institute: "The Trump campaign decided that Harris’ stance on transgender issues was the Willie Horton of 2024 and invested heavily in negative advertising that dominated the airwaves throughout the South.1 Anecdotal evidence suggests that this campaign helped weaken Harris’ effort to portray herself as a common-sense center-left candidate rather than an emissary from San Francisco."

Wired: "Trump ran a campaign that stoked culture war grievances and divisions, and was defined by lies, a desire for vengeance, and, at times, threatening rhetoric. In social media posts he threatened mass arrests of his political opponents in revenge for “stealing the election” in 2020 (though evidence conclusively shows the 2020 election was not stolen). Lawmakers, election workers, school board members, federal agents, and judges have been repeatedly targeted over the years with violent threats by his supporters who believe they were acting on his behalf. Trump repeatedly promised his supporters he would “destroy” the deep state, invoking the popular conspiracy theory of a nefarious web of faceless bureaucrats working to destroy the US from within. He cast himself, alongside the people who stormed the Capitol on January 6 over election lies, as “political prisoners,” even “hostages” who were being persecuted by a “tyrannical” Biden administration."

Robert Hubbell: "Just as the media normalized Trump before the election, there is a wholesale effort to “normalize” the election results. Pundits are claiming the election was decided by voters’ concerns over inflation, immigration, or crime. Those issues are post-facto rationalizations offered by voters to conceal their real reasons for voting for a convicted felon and adjudicated sexual abuser over an eminently qualified candidate."

Brian Merchant, tech journalist extraordinaire: "Apart from Trump himself, there are few more obvious victors that Elon Musk; for $100 million or so and a few months’ display of unrestrained fealty, he just bought himself some real estate in the inner sanctum of Trumpworld. It may be the most fruitful investment he ever made, a bargain really. ...Suffice to say that Elon Musk is the closest that a Silicon Valley tech titan has been to the White House, in a position of overt and direct power. There is of course a long lineage of the Valley linking up with Washington for defense contracts, help in avoiding regulations, and other forms of material support—see: Malcolm Harris’s Palo Alto—but this is the next level. It could even, perhaps, be considered a logical culmination. It’s time to face facts. In Trump, Silicon Valley got what it wanted: A president that will kneecap antitrust efforts, embrace deregulation, and defang labor laws."

[actualbird]

idk if this is a controversial opinion but with all the au talk of a happier luke/luke without suffering, it's fun to think about but it feels like it undermines what the message from the benji card was trying to tell us? like my wish for luke is that whether he ends up with rosa or not... he'll be fine regardless (even if it takes him longer to realize or with the help of other people). it kinda feels like a "we have to save him" narrative in which the only happy ending for luke is that if he gets together with rosa (or in another case, if he never got sick in/got into nsb the first place? though not saying that non nsb luke wouldn't come with other sets of problems idk eeeee) i just want the little baby boy to be ok no matter the situation :(

hi anon!!! idt it's a controversial opinion and i agree with you!! tho i also dont think it's like....particularly mutually exclusive, if that makes sense?

i adore u bringing up SSR Dream of Benji because 1) man i love that card story and 2) i can super see where your coming from clearly when u bring up that card. the card where luke himself wonders so hard if only he made different choices, he wouldnt be "locked" into the the "destiny" of pain and suffering, the card where mc implores him to not focus so much on what-ifs and accept that there is always the hope and possibility for joy and love even in a life that will have pain. in terms of parallels, it's clear to see. when making aus, are we doing the same thing luke did in that card?

ehhhh not rlly? i think it depends? UHAJVFASLFHAV. like, forgive me for im about to get meta and whatnot but i think whats key here is intent and purpose. luke did all his wondering about happier/better what-ifs due to a mix of resignation to his fate and also self-loathing. it's why i used the word "locked" awhile ago; he thought his fate was inevitable due to his choices and that better things were futile. whereas, in exploring AUs it's less of like—and here is my belated note that ofc i can only speak for myself cuz im not a mind reader or anything kjHVKJSDF—it's less of being convinced of the futility of what timeline!luke we're seeing but more just a want to Explore. i love AUs and will always support its intent of exploration outside of the realm of canon, it's a place of curiosity and possibilities! and maybe the reason it's coming out a bunch now is simply cuz main story stuff has been quite emotionally jarring ajfvaJHLV I CANNOT FAULT ANYONE FOR WANTING FLUFF IN THESE TIMES YKNOW. I WANT THE FLUFF TOO.....I HUNGER FOR IT!!!

[EDIT: i realize a simpler way to word everything above is "miles morales voice: I CAN DO BOTH!!!!!!" yknow. we can love AUs and love canon!]

but overall i do very much agree with your sentiment; i also want for luke to get better, i want him to eventually live a happy life no matter what timeline hes in. in my mind's eye, his recovery is possible in All universes. it's just harder in some and easier in others. in timelines where he acquires his condition, i dont think the lynchpin-catalyst for him bettering himself is necessarily in a romantic relationship with mc, but in the general concept of just like.......connecting and allowing himself to be emotionally vulnerable and honest with another human being, creating a support system with the people around him, letting himself be okay with needing help. im a big believer in platonic love and found fam so even in an timeline where nobody in the nxx team starts dating each other, so long as luke can make that choice to let people in, i think he'll get better. not perfect, not magically cured, and definitely not easily, but still better.

at the end of the day i actually dont see luke's most damning cause of suffering to be his condition (because as we can see from his personal story route, he can deffo find joy even with it). rather, it's his outlook on himself and letting himself be open with others. it just so happens that due to the romance genre of tot, that his outlook changes due to romantic love.

sorry to be a pretentious dweeb and bring up song lyrics jhvKJHVJSHDFVS BUT THERES JUST THIS SONG IVE BEEN OBSESSED WITH LATELY THAT CAME INTO MY MIND WHEN ANSWERING THIS, Complicated Creation by Cloud Cult

I called up the moon for a little consultation Yes, you know that I'm a happy man But something in me is burning I gotta push it, push it out, push it, push it out So much frustration The moon called me back And said "I'll give you some advice [...] If you rid of all your baggage you will likely float away But you can't know beauty if you don't know pain Gotta feel it, feel it all, feel it, feel it all There's your medication

i bring these up cuz at the crux of it.....to me, luke's entire narrative and character (regardless of timeline and AU) is hinged on the central conflict of "am i doomed to pain? how can i be happy if there is so much suffering?" and really the answer is "pain, one way or another, is Going to happen. and so will joy. but to get there, you have to open yourself up to both, you have to work through both, you have to let both in. no running away, no giving up"

i think luke will be okay

[burnwater13]

Grogu considered Greef Karga a good friend now, but he hadn’t always been a good friend. In fact, he’d been a pretty lousy friend when they first met. After all he’s the one who was telling people about a fifty year old male fugitive who needed to be brought in, warm or cold. At least is was cold as in Mandalorian cold and not cold as is the middle of space cold.

Din Djarin went to all the trouble and expense of finding and rescuing Grogu and brought him back to Nevarro only to have Karga get all upset once the Mandalorian rescued him from the Imps because giving them a child wasn’t the Way! That hadn’t been friendly at all. 

Then when they managed to get off Nevarro with the help of the Mandalorian covert, it was clear that Karga didn’t put up the tiniest fight to keep the Imps from just wrecking the place. And then! Then! He tricked Din Djarin into coming back to Nevarro with Grogu. 

Thank goodness Din is actually harder to trick than that. He brought Kuiil and Cara Dune with him and some blurrgs because, why not. Greef had made up some story about the Imps and then thought he was going to just turn them over and get a reward. But the Force is mysterious in its ways and Greef got attacked by some huge flying critter and needed Grogu to forgive and forget. And heal him. He needed to do it all. 

Well, after making a few inappropriate comments about Grogu eating him, as if! Humans are not tasty! Greef  let Grogu heal his injuries. That saved the big man’s life. Now they could be friends. Wow. Is that how you treat your friends? They can only be your friends if they save you that way? That seems like a pretty high bar.

Any way, after that they were cool. Greef was always happy to see Grogu and would carry him around and chat with him like they were two peas in a pod. You know, a pod racing pod. They talked about all sorts of stuff and it was pretty clear to Grogu that Greef Karga had learned an important lesson that day.

A couple of important lessons. First, he learned that Din Djarin did truly care about ‘the kid’ and showed that by not turning him over to anyone else’s care. Second, that people shouldn’t be judged by how they appear. Sure Grogu was small, but he had a big heart and was happy to use the Force to help people… especially people in pain. And the third lesson Greef learned was that it was never too late to reflect on your behavior and try to make amends. 

After all that was said and done the only terms they ever had to discuss were how many frogs did Greef have to feed him for Grogu to heal his aches and pains. Grogu was holding out for three frogs a session, but the Mandalorian butted in and would only let Greef feed him one. One crummy sugar frog at a time. Did Din truly care about him, when that’s what he negotiated for? Yes. He did. Grogu didn’t know how to heal a cavity yet.

[modgirlyreposts-revamped]

Kamiko and Minori are kind of this fangan's naegiri or maybe kuzuhina the way Rian and Alice are its saimatsu, in terms of personalities (Kamiko is cold, calculating and mean, Minori is determined and hardworking but not naively positive, Rian is uncertain of himself, though he's more emotional than Shuichi, and Alice, while more emotionally distant than Kaede, is kind and positive)

Kamiko is basically the cold, shielded person I've told you about before, but I don't think I've explained Minori, so a quick rundown: she has a very "driven by sheer force of will" personality. She's brave, outgoing and analytical, but also compassionate and always willing to help. She basically felt as though everyone around her was just letting things go to shit without closure or justice, so she got her start as a detective by solving a missing person case in her area, successfully proving the victim had been kidnapped by his abusive girlfriend but may have still been alive, and giving the police her findings saved the boy. Minori was renowned as a massive hero, especially for the way she promised the boy he didn't owe her anything for saving him but that she couldn't stand the refusal to "dwell on the bad" like that wasn't almost all there was. She isn't an optimist, really, but she wants to believe she can fix things, and she fears being helpless more than anything, even death.

Minori's hardworking personality endears her to Kamiko, who challenges her to push herself harder as Minori does to her. They develop a mutually beneficial relationship that grows into infatuation, as Minori is either really bad at hiding her attraction to Kamiko or just doesn't care (she's bad at it.) Kamiko, however, feels like she can't grow attached to someone else, because focusing on anything but her academic talent will cause her to stumble and fall and lose everything. Minori thinks if anything, anything at all, she deserves to have the one normal teenage experience of falling in love, which kind of drives a rift in their relationship that comes through in Minori's frustration with those around her, as after chapter 2 she has a completely justified meltdown, screaming at everyone that they're all idiots dooming themselves to their own deaths with their selfishness, which is especially directed at Kamiko and Heiran. With a proper understanding of Minori's character, that whole sequence becomes really upsetting. Especially with the notion that the stress of it all literally makes her physically ill as she's later found in one of the bathrooms throwing up. It's literally so much, she puts herself through so fucking much trying to save everyone else.

The real tragedy is, though, after chapter 2, she realizes how deep this whole thing runs. It makes it apparent that she is not going to find the mastermind and make it out alive, and she has to tread carefully to make sure the others don't die because of her. She withdraws and is unsure, just trying to get from day to day without telling anyone she's on the verge of giving up. The fear of giving up is her only driving force, and she wants to make sure she does something, anything- it's the only reason she can survive. If she ever stopped moving, if she ever stopped trying, she may as well die- and she probably would. It would be a slow and painful death on so many levels, so she keeps pressing forward, keeps searching, keeps fighting, keeps watching over everyone. She's quick to forgive Kamiko after she's apologized to Masumi for her behavior, not wanting to hold grudges. She doesn't want to be complicit in anything bad happening to Kamiko because she didn't care enough. She has to help everyone, she tells herself. She has to save them. Is she supposed to just look away from the bad? She fucking can't. She has to save them.

The last three nights before her death, she sleeps with Kamiko. Not in a suggestive sense, in a literal one. It happens simply- Minori knocks on her door gently just before nighttime, and despite Kamiko's hesitation to attachment, she agrees to let Minori share a room with her. One night, then the next, then the next, and then on the fourth she's gone. They find her floating in a water heater.

Kamiko burns her hands trying to fish her corpse out of the 130 degree water. She barely manages to grab her coat, but her clothes and hair are so waterlogged she can barely lift her at all, and can't get her out of the water. She only tries once before the pain is too much to bear. She's devastated, but can't show it. She refuses to show it. She can't give up. She can't stop moving. She can't stumble and fall now. She's already lost Minori, she can't risk figuring out what else she could possible have left to lose.

The nighttime announcement has gone off. They aren't allowed to investigate. Kamiko is a panicked mess, trying to figure out how to fix it. Every instinct in her body is telling her to retreat.

When she gives in to it, Rian walks her to her dorm. She loved Minori, she loved her so fucking much, but it wasn't enough. Minori's determination wasn't enough, Kamiko's love wasn't enough, it wasn't enough. It devastates Kamiko. All she fucking wants is to get Minori back.

Even years later in the sequel, Kamiko is suspected by other characters of being the mastermind looking to avenge Minori's death at the hands of everyone who failed to save her, leading to a scene that has lowkey crushed me to write where Kamiko, still emotionally repressed and just trying to move forward and live a better life, breaks down being reminded of it all, and admits she would have done anything she could to save her. Looking back on it, she wishes with everything in her that she'd just let her hands burn to useless wrecks to get Minori's corpse out of the water heater, or gone with her when she left early in the morning to help her, or just grabbed her by the arm and asked her to stay, but nothing, nothing will ever be enough, nothing will bring her back- Kamiko failed her, and nothing she could do would or could ever avenge her because Minori's death was her failure. She sees it as a failure, and she has held it against herself from the moment they opened the lid of that tank and found her body inside.

The devastation it causes her literally makes her contemplate suicide out of sheer grief. When Rian goes after Alice, she sees for a moment in the heat waves and the terror in Rian's eyes the night they found Minori dead. She sees herself in Rian's desperation, and sees Minori in the burning heat he runs back into to save Alice. It's why she stays. She can't run anymore. She can't evade and just try to survive. She has to be there. She'll wish for the rest of her life that she could have done that for Minori, her first real love, but she follows what Minori would have done in that moment.

In her future design, she wears a blue jacket similar to the green one Minori always wore. The loss weighs on her constantly. The memory hurts, but it comforts her. She knows she's lucky her hands weren't damaged by that one moment of stupidity she dodged out of- Alice and Rian, bearing possibly permanent burn scars, weren't as fortunate. She will forever wish she did. She doesn't want Minori to just be a memory, not yet. Sometimes it feels like she'll forever be that sixteen year old girl with braided hair, her face burning bright red an avoiding eye contact as Minori laughed, gently clasping Kamiko's hand in her own. Minori was everything to her. She has to move on, but she'll love her forever.

She watches the fire, begging to herself that Rian at least will come out. She can't leave. Her own bare-bones survival has taken backseat. She needs them.

I went from 😀 to 😦 so quickly, since I apparently forgot that this is a fan made Danganronpa-

I relate to Kamiko a lot, so that’s most likely why Minori’s body discovery got me fucked up, since if that happened to someone I loved that much, I would react almost exactly like Kamiko

[herald-divine-hell]

And you're completely right. I think ultimately that DA has a lot of great ideas and concepts for worldbuilding, but a lot of aspects of it falls apart under heavy scrutinization, especially the religious elements. But then again, I think a lot of fantasy writers do have a struggle between implementing a complicated relationship with religion and especially institutional religion, especially because we have become far more aware of religious leaders corrupted acts and the abusive culture of many religious institutions and their religious frameworks. It is a lot harder to remove those biases, and I even will admit I do have extraordinary biases when it comes to religion, but the treatment of religious systems and institutions in the Dragon Age series has always been weird, particularly when you examine the most robust religious doctrine we do have - Andrastianism. It is definitely far more shallower than many religions within the real world, but also just fantasy religions themselves (writers like GRRM for example, and even think I think Andrastianism is a far better implemented religious faith than the Faith of the Seven or the Old Gods of the First Men.)

And I think that is what makes it more tragic - that BioWare has the ability to write such nuance characters and their perspectives on faith and belief such as Leliana and Cassandra, and even Mother Giselle to a certain extent, but the faith they believe in is so entirely devoid of hope outside a possible coming of Andraste after all nations and peoples submit to the Chant. But that is only after people accept the Maker as their God. The Chant gives no real reason to even give hope in this deity since He refused to actually aid His followers because of their sins. Despite my complaints about how Morrigan reacts to Leliana's religiosity, she is right to point out why should she believe in a God that allowed His prophet and supposed beloved to die in such a horrible way? Unlike the crucifixion of Jesus, there was no pardoning of sins - no sacrifice that warranted the need for her death. The Maker choose to allow Andraste to die because that is just what He willed, at least according to Andrastian theology.

And it just, I don't know, makes me sad for someone like Leliana? I so adore her as a character of strong faith and morals (and so adore the complexity given to her in Inquisition where we do find her in a crisis of faith), but I simply don't understand with the Maker we are presented in the game, how anyone can actually sincerely believe in such a god, especially as a divinity of forgiveness and compassion. Andraste, sure. But Andraste is not technically divine to the same extent as Jesus is (though I do notice some parallels to the humanism efforts made by the Quran and its interpretation of Jesus and Andraste, but even then the Quran gives conceptions to the Christian faith by declaring the virgin birth, him being born without a father, being a "sign", him being described as the Word and enforced by the Spirit (ar-Ruh)), so despite Andrastianism's clear devotion to Andraste, it is not like she could technically do anything about what is happening to her followers.

It is as you said, a pastiche and a weird veneer of Catholicism that does not really work once you actually contemplate its religious goals - and really I try my best to ignore that conversation because it is hilarious how the writers claim they will never confirm nor deny the Maker, but than essentially denied the Maker in Veilguard, and also because it ultimately means nothing in the end, at least in terms of stakes in the greater world.

And the fandom certainly does not help when it comes to discussions about Andrastianism. Obviously, people can have their opinions, and I will never shame anyone who is an atheist/agnostic or has religious trauma when it comes to Christianity or any other organized religions for their feelings, but it is not just "the Maker isn't real" or "the Chantry isn't bad". It just a really weird religion that simply doesn't make sense, even for a fantasy one. It's devoid, to me at least, of the ability for someone to have faith in it. It's just so...depressing? If that makes sense. And it's why I think the Inquisitor would have a much greater impact on southern Thedas - because to many Andrastians, they finally got a sign from their God and Savior. It makes sense why people would believe the Inquisitor is divinely-touched, because it grants them hope that they aren't alone, even in their darkest hours. The Chants do try to imply that those who are faithful are not alone, but again it is inconsistent because of the established religious doctrine of "the Maker has departed and turned from the World".

It's just ajksdandajdknasda

It still perplexes me why anyone in Thedas would have any reason to worship the Maker.

And this isn’t because He’s not real or anything of the like.

Listen, I’m fairly religious—or at least I do believe in God and all that—but more a significant interest in religious history and the development of specific religions within their historian context. A large reason why Christianity and Islam both spread early on was not through military conquest (though the later ‘Abbasid writers certainly did try their best to push Prophet Muhammad to a warrior-prophet), but from the poor, the needy, the slaves of society. The big reason why those two religions especially had such a strong pull was because of the inherent belief of a Divine entity being there to provide comfort and mercy when all social institutions. When no one else would, there was at least something out there that cared (rather than entity exists or not is another question entirely; and if its followers had continued such mercy is a different question that is not what my post is talking about)

In essence, the reason the conception of God in both Islam and Christinanity spread as they did was because God was universal, not bound to a singular state or people, but transcended, and perhaps more importantly all-merciful, all-compassionate, and all-loving.

Compared that to the Maker, whose mercy is entirely conditionally and He specifically chooses not to interact (supposedly) with His Creation for mistakes and sins, being almost entirely remote and disconnected with His Followers. Outside Andraste, who at least while the Maker’s Bride, is not entirely divine or made up the same transcendent presence as the Maker, there is nothing inherently there to draw any sort of respect interest to the Maker. Say what you will about the conception of God in the Abrahamic sense, specifically the Christian and Islamic conception, but at least They *are there* (theologically) for Their followers. The Maker can’t even do that.

It’s one of my biggest complaints and wishes from Inquisition—there is so much a person who is named Herald of Andraste with such a powerful force such as the Inquisition can do—but BioWare refused to explore these themes when it’s right there. It doesn’t matter if your Inquisitor does not believe in their prophethood. As Inquisition hits us over the head with Ameridan and Solas, people shall believe as much as they wish as they will believe the truth. Yet our Inquisitor isn’t bombarded with theological questions or inquiring over Andraste’s design. It’s just ahhh

Andrastianism deserved a better god than the Maker.

[bratkook]

right now. (m) jjk.

not yet, almost , right now

pairing. jungkook x reader genre. fluff, smut, idiots to lovers!! word count. 14.8k warnings. two mega fucking idiots<33, miscommunication/dumb assumptions, smut in forms of: fingering, oral sex (f.), orgasm denial, spanking, some spit bc duh, unprotected sex, super sweet & lovey!! also jungkook is a sweetheart pls love him summary. coming to terms with your feelings after getting off to the idea of your close friend is a little harder than you thought, but how long can you take before jungkook decides its time to move on? note. did jlin forget how to write for a few weeks? yes, yes she did....i know this took a long time but life is rough man so forgive me... but anyways lol the final part to the not yet!verse is hereeeee! thank you to @kithtaehyung​ for reading this over for me ily!! thank you guys for enjoying this mini series, the response was really unexpected but im sososo happy over every comment/ask i’ve gotten for this story. once again, tysm for your love and let me know what you think<3

The evening sun illuminates Jungkook’s apartment, golden hour bouncing off every reflective surface and straight into his eyes the second he walks in, immediately squinting as he makes a beeline to shut the blinds. His head was already throbbing from the hangover that decided to peak around noon, a mean case of nausea putting a damper on his work day. So as much as he loved soaking in some vitamin D today was not the day. 

“Are you joking?” he huffs as he brings down the blinds, hand yanking at the flimsy string in an attempt to get it unstuck. “How stup—you’d think with the amount I pay every month in rent the blinds would work!” 

Alright, so maybe he was a little grumpy today, choosing to take it out on an inanimate object and blame it purely on the bad decisions made last night—definitely had nothing to do with the residual moping of you going on a date. This could be fixed, easily. 

The first order of business? Texting you to see if you’d be interested in devouring greasy food from your favorite place down the street. He’d get to see you and finally put something in his stomach, it’s the best of both worlds really. 

Jungkook forgets about the blinds, leaving them stuck in the awkward position as he walks away entirely, fishing his phone out of his pocket while he enters his room. It’s the same text he always sends when he’s hangry: If I don’t get food in the next 15 mins I'm burning this place down and taking you with me. 

He knows the response he’ll get, either that meme of the child in front of a burning house or an equally hangry paragraph. The phone gets tossed onto his bed as he changes out of his work clothes, needing to dispose of the business casual attire that was suffocating him, his old college hoodie giving him the comfort he needs. 

By the time he’s finally slipping on his sneakers he’s expecting you to come knocking on his door, your impatient attitude always putting a smile on his face. Half of the time your neighbors thought you were having arguments from the way you’d pound onto the slab of wood, saying his name with just enough annoyance laced into each syllable it would fool anyone into thinking you were actually upset instead of being a brat. But when that never comes, he reaches for his phone again. 

A few notifications fill up his screen, some instagram direct message previews, his group chat that he never responded to, and a few emails coming through, but you had yet to respond. Maybe it’s a little creepy, but Jungkook knows you’re home because he passed by your parked car on his way in. So his mind jumps to two extremes: you were either face down, drowning in your bathtub, or that yellow shades wearing wannabe version of himself was at your place. 

Not an ounce of shame sits within him as he speedwalks to the side his bed was on, placing both palms onto the wall before his ear was pressed against the cold drywall. Jungkook’s not really sure what would make him feel good, hearing you and Jung Hoseok together, or hearing nothing at all. His ears strain to hear anything, but the only sound he gets is his own blood pumping. 

With a small pout he pulls back, deciding he’d play the annoying neighbor role today and pound on your door instead. It’s a role he doesn’t take lightly, knuckles banging on the wood loud enough for you to hear wherever you were in your apartment. It takes a few minutes before any sign of life is shown, your door creaking open, and Jungkook is thankful because he was about to head to the maintenance office to ask for a key in case you actually were drowning in your bathtub. 

“C’mon, let’s get food,” he declares instantly, a charming smile on his face as he stands with his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. The smile slowly falls off when he gets a good look at you, hair looking like a mess on your head and your fluffy blanket draped around you as you give out a weak cough. “Are you sick?”

“I think so,” you rasp out, leaning against your door frame and tugging the blanket tighter around you. 

“Did that fucker give you mono?” Jungkook looks irritated, brows pinched together in a grimace—something you’re definitely not accustomed to seeing so you almost don’t catch his accusation.

“Jungkook, no! It’s nothing serious.”

He doesn’t look fully convinced, but he shrugs anyways, positive you weren’t interested in getting interrogated when you were feeling under the weather. “Alright, let me know if you need me to drive you to the doctor if it becomes something serious.”

With a roll of your eyes and a small smile, you wave him off, slowly shutting the door behind you. Your eye immediately peeks through your peephole, not relaxing until he makes his way down the hall and enters the elevator, still on his quest for greasy food. 

“God, how old are you?” you grumble to yourself, yanking the blanket off your body and onto the floor with a huff. Pretending to be sick to avoid your friend was a new low, especially after the post-orgasm epiphany you had last night. A sane person would come to terms with their feelings and confess to them, uncertainty and possible rejection be damned! But you? No, you have to fake a cold like the giant coward you are. 

The guilt only deepens when a knock comes from your door an hour later, a quick peek through your peephole allowing you to see Jungkook setting two plastic bags on the floor before stepping back and walking to his apartment next door. You don’t come out until you hear his door shut, seeing the logo of your favorite diner down the street. No doubt would your comfort meal be inside the takeaway container. 

It takes all you have to not rush over to his place and say you were lying when you see he had also gone ahead and got you cold medication, a few different bottles because he surely didn’t know which was best, along with teas and some cough drops. 

You’re a dirty liar. A horrible friend too. 

That doesn’t stop you from devouring the meal in the takeout box as you’re hunched over your breakfast bar like a little gremlin. “This is just for today,” you mumble out to yourself as you set the plastic fork down and chug some of the leftover alcohol you had in your fridge. It’s your own version of a pity party, except the food feels heavy in your stomach, knowing the man you were avoiding was the one who bought it—bring on the guilt. 

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

You’re a dirty liar and horrible friend 2.0. Why this time? Because tomorrow stretched out a few more days than planned. It wasn’t entirely intentional at first, getting stuck at work longer than usual and missing the weekly hangout at your place where you got your remote covered in cheeto dust as you argued over what to watch. But it trickled down onto shorter replies to his texts, or you scrambling out of your apartment and into the elevator so fast in order to not run into him, your mind still trying to list all the pros and cons to this potential relationship before you even had the guts to confess to your feelings. 

Jungkook didn’t know thats what was occupying your mind, no he was currently thinking the worst. He notices the change instantly, recognizing it because this was the exact way you had acted while you were with Hajoon, right before you broke the news to him that you needed to keep some distance while you focused on your relationship. So Jungkook automatically assumes that your sudden change in behavior after going on a single date with Jung Hoseok, was because you wanted to make your relationship with this man work. 

His assumption stings—a lot actually—and soon enough he stops initiating conversations altogether. He didn’t want to hear you tell him you had to distance yourself again, he’s not sure his heart could handle that a second time, so he decides to get ahead of the curb and take a massive step away from you. It hurts him to know you’re right next door, and just like before, it’s like you’re back to being total strangers. 

Safe to say Jungkook was currently going on his own downward spiral. 

You could text him like nothing had happened and he’d accept it with open arms, but instead you text your best friend an SOS text, begging her to meet you at your place. She calls you dramatic at first, but once you say it’s about Jungkook she shows up at your place in record time. 

“Did you finally fuck him?” Is her greeting of choice, spoken shamelessly from the hallway with no worry about her volume. She cackles when you yank the bottle of wine from her grasp and tug her into your apartment, letting the door slam behind her. 

“You’re lucky he’s not home you bitch.” An eye roll is her only response, yanking the bottle back and making her way into your kitchen to grab the opener. 

“So you didn’t fuck him?” The cork pops at her question, a curious glance staring you down as she pours the red liquid into an oversized cup. 

“No Seulgi, I didn’t fuck him. But I did...something.” It makes your face warm up as you remember it, gratefully grabbing the cup she hands your way because you definitely need some liquid courage before confessing to your sins.

She hums in thought as she raids your pantry for something to munch on, settling on a bag of mini pretzels before leading you to your couch, needing to know the gossip that led to your sos text. “Okay, did you accidentally send him a nude then?”

“No, that wouldn’t be so bad I think?” Sending him an accidental nude would be laughable, probably resolved by a few screaming texts and dumb jokes before moving on. But new feelings seeing the light of day seemed so much worse. “But I sort of kissed him at a club a few weeks ago to get back at Hajoon—long story,” you cut in when you see her ready to fire off questions. 

“And then I went on that failed Tinder date I told you about, and when I got home I sort of heard him, you know,”— you mimic a jerking off motion with your hand and ignore her lewd gasp, “and then I…” you trail off shamefully. 

“No!” she gasps even louder, hand pressed to her mouth and eyes wide. 

“Yes! And the fucking orgasm opened my eyes and made me realize that maybe that tiny crush you guys always joke about him having is real, and maybe I have a tiny crush on him too.”

“Does he know?”

“That I like him?”

“No, that you rubbed one out while listening to him you dirty slut!” Oh she’s loving this, leaning back into your cushions with a handful of pretzels resting on her boobs, a sly smile on her lips as she takes a sip of her wine. She’s the one who planted the seed in your mind, playfully joking about Jungkook any chance she got, saying he had the hots for you because she enjoyed the flustered look on your face. No doubt would she text the group chat with the news the second you finish this cry for help. 

“Do you think I told him? I can barely come to terms with the fact that I like him. Like what am I supposed to do?”

She sighs dramatically, munching on the final pretzel on her tits before sitting up and dusting off the crumbs from her shirt. “Look, I know you’re just realizing that he likes you so this is still new and fresh for you, but we’ve noticed it for years. It’s fine that you didn’t see it, you had other things occupying your mind.” 

You frown as you stare at the rug beneath your feet, remembering how life was when you first moved into this complex. Getting out of a previous relationship weeks prior, when you had met Jungkook your mind was not interested in pursuing anything with him regardless of how cute you thought he was. It made it easier for you to form a friendship, not worried about trying to impress him, or flirt with him, allowing him to see you for who you truly are. 

Jungkook had his fair share of girlfriends during the years, none of which were entirely serious but by the time he was completely single you had met Hajoon, and he had accepted the fact that maybe you were better off as friends and he would just admire you from afar. That is, until you decided to plant one on him. So technically this is your fault. 

“Jungkook likes you okay, and I’m sure if you just marched next door and told him you like him too he’ll drop on one knee and marry you.”

“Shut up,” you snort, shoving her shoulder with a smile. 

“As a matter of fact, go over there right now!” She stands up from her spot, yanking your arms to haul you up with her. 

“I told you, he’s not home. But, I’ll tell him. I have to.”

Seulgi crosses her arms over her chest as she stares at you, clearly displeased that she wouldn’t be witness to this love story unfolding in real time. “You better. You never know what sneaky little bitch is trying to get him to get over you.”

The sneaky little bitch in question is Park Jimin, currently sitting directly across from Jungkook, guzzling down beer like his life depends on it. It's impressive really, how quickly he empties the cup, eyes shut looking as content as could be even in the dim lighting. Jungkook can only watch with a grimace as his friend sets the glass down and wipes at his mouth with no sense of table manners. 

“What?” he burps, proceeding to pour more of the golden liquid into his cup from the pitcher in the middle of the table. 

“I always forget how absolutely disgusting you are. How do you do it?” Jimin just frowns at the question, not entirely understanding so Jungkook continues. “What switch do you flip to go from sipping champagne to chugging beer like a fucking biker.”

“It’s a talent, I know.” He smiles wide, reaching forward to grip Jungkook’s hand and force him to grab his own cup. Condensation was pooling around the bottom from sitting there untouched, and that just wouldn’t do on Jimin’s watch. “C’mon, drink it!”

“Fine,” Jungkook grumbles, raising the glass and allowing Jimin to clank the cups together before taking a big gulp. He doesn’t clear the cup like his friend did seconds prior but it's enough to appease him. It tastes absolutely bitter the whole way down, settling into his stomach uncomfortably, and the look on his face as he pushes the glass away from him is very telling. 

Boisterous shouts fill the sports bar they were in, huddles of people surrounding the tables and booths as they watched the current soccer match playing on the televisions lining the walls. Jungkook honestly feels like a debby downer now, moping in his seat instead of enjoying the atmosphere with his friend like they normally did. The current game was definitely not the reason Jungkook had texted Jimin to grab drinks, no he needed an outlet to talk about you—preferably in a space that didn’t have walls as thin as his apartment.  

When he barely acknowledges the plate of wings set in front of him Jimin huffs, resisting the urge to dig in because he knew once he did he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else. “Are you gonna be like this the entire time?”

“Like what?” Jungkook has the gall to ask, acting as if he wasn’t looking like a wounded animal. 

“Like you just discovered your wife of ten years is having an affair with your sister.”

He sits up straighter at that, eyes wide in disbelief. “Jesus.“

Jimin knew the jist of what was happening through the texts he had received the past week, but it seems like Jungkook didn’t want to jump into the topic of it at all now that they were sitting across from each other. He just sighs before deciding to be honest, wasting no time beating around the bush to hopefully be the voice of reason Jungkook needs. “You’ve been simping over her for years JK, and I get it, you think she could be the one. But what about you huh? It’s not fair for you to have your heart wrung out each time she gets a man and decides to put the friendship on pause—“

“That happened once!” He defends, brows pinched on his forehead as he shakes his head, ready to explain your situation because he wasn’t a fan of hearing his friend say anything about you when he didn’t truly know what happened. “The dude was a piece of shit and basically told her it was him or me. I’m not gonna crucify her for wanting a long term relationship to work.”

“Right, so she’s not icing you out again because she got a new man? That’s literally what you told me, it’s why I bought you this sympathy pitcher of beer!”

“Fuck you, you bought this pitcher for yourself.” Jimin had chugged two giant glasses of beer already, and was steadily working on his third, whereas Jungkook’s watered down cup remained relatively untouched. “Besides, I was just...spiraling and assumed when I sent you that desperate text. But I haven’t heard anything.”

Jimin can only stare blankly at the table as he processes what was just said before locking eyes with his friend once more, “Sorry, what? You haven’t heard anything? The hell kind of riddle is that.”

Jungkook sinks into the booth with a look of shame, not wanting to admit to occasionally laying in his bed at night in complete and total silence just to see if he could hear you and the hypothetical version of Jung Hoseok doing literally anything. It’s not one of his proudest moments, feeling like a bit of a creeper as he laid stiff on his bed, too scared to make a sound.  “Nothing, forget about it. Point is, I haven’t seen the fucker come in or out of her place, so what does that mean?”

A deep sigh comes from Jimin, hand reaching forward to push the beer closer to Jungkook, desperately trying to get him to drink and ease up. “It means you pay far too much attention to her. When was the last time you got any action?”

Two weeks ago. From his hand and filthy imagination. 

“A few months,” he grumbles, remembering his last hook up that happened a few days before he discovered you got dumped. 

“Get outta here.” Jimin rolls his eyes as he points to the door. “Literally, go stand at the corner outside, show some thighs or a tattooed titty and take your pick of the swarm of girls that will surely follow you.”

Jungkook thinks he’s joking, but when his friend doesn’t drop his hand and narrows his eyes threateningly he knows he’s being serious. “My tits aren’t even tattooed,”—his large palms press against his shirt covered chest as if to prove a point— “And you sound like a douchebag talking like this.”

“What? She went on a tinder date and definitely got laid, so you need to even out the playing field. Also, it might help you chill the hell out.”

“Oh my god, you’re not helping.” Jungkook really didn’t need that visual again, it had flashed in his mind too often the night of his pity party and now it was once again at the front of his brain. 

“Alright, okay. I’m throwing out my safe word right now.” Jimin leans closer, arms resting on the table with a confused look on his face. “What do you need from me here? Like, do I play the role of a supportive friend who wants you to get over her, or do I play the role of a friend who wants you to confess? Because you’re giving me some mixed signals Jeon.”

A groan escapes Jungkook, fingers rubbing at his eyes before dragging down his face as he sinks even further into his seat. “I don’t know.” 

It’s the truth. Jungkook had no idea what he wanted his friend to do to help him. He knew that although his feelings for you have weighed heavy on his chest for what seems like years, you technically had no idea, so he feels a little guilty over his frustration for the whole situation. You were newly single again and determined to go through this self proclaimed wild phase so Jungkook isn’t dumb enough to think you can’t go out and do whatever you want, even if that means being with someone who isn’t him. 

“Look,” Jimin sighs, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You only have two choices here, tell her how you feel and accept whatever comes with it, or make peace with the idea of just being friends. Either way, I think you need to loosen up and have fun tonight.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Jungkook sits himself up, wrapping his fingers around the cup in an effort to at least look like he wanted to be here. He couldn’t sit here and mope about a problem like this when he hadn’t attempted to come out and tell you how he feels. 

One night of loosening up to get you off his mind wouldn’t hurt, if anything it might help him come to his senses. At least that’s what Jimin was currently whispering with a mischievous smile on his lips. “It’ll be fine, I’ll make sure you don’t black out and get home safe. Who knows, you might get plastered enough to drunk text your confession.”

Jungkook glares at his friend, not liking the goofy look on his face as he starts to laugh. “I swear to god, you better not let me get to that point. Take my phone away from me.”

Jimin obviously wants to see the world burn, or at least he enjoys it when Jungkook somehow digs himself into his own grave. That's exactly why he responds with a million laughing emojis when Jungkook texts him asking why the hell he hadn’t taken his phone last night. 

He did a good job hiding his shock when a knock came from his front door, half expecting it to be you, keeping a smile on his face as he allowed  the person who was very clearly not you in before swiftly entering his bathroom. Jungkook wants to stay locked here forever, holed up while he sits on his toilet and not in the living room with company. It wasn’t like it was bad company either, his drunken ass going through his contact list and sending an invitation to hangout the following day to the last person he spoke to, Aillie. 

The girl is sweet, someone he had a casual fling with for months, someone who was used to his random texts so she doesn’t think twice before agreeing. The only silver lining to this was that he hadn’t sent you a typo-filled drunken confession, which is what Jimin responds with before telling him to suck it up and leave his bathroom. 

Jungkook accepts his fate, as well as accepting that he is partially responsible for this. He shoves his device back into his pockets before standing up and flushing the toilet for show, washing his hands just to stall. One good glance at his reflection makes him cringe, stained shirt and sweats combo leaves him looking like the unprepared mess he is. Another detour through his room to change was a must before he has no choice but to step back out. 

“You’re totally hung over aren’t you?” Aillie jokes from her spot on the couch, comfortable enough in his apartment from the time spent here. She locks her phone as she stands up, taking her time to really look Jungkook over. He was not dressed like someone who was expecting a guest, and despite having seen Jungkook at his sloppiest, his previous attire of oversized shirt and slightly stained sweatpants didn’t look like someone who was expecting a fuck buddy to pop over. Even with his new outfit looking more put together, it was obvious Jungkook was caught off guard by her showing up. 

“What?” Jungkook dumbly asks, trying to come up with some lame excuse to justify his earlier appearance but he falls short. His fingers gently rake through his hair, a grimace falling on his face as he looks back up at her. “Actually, a little. Sorry, I got drunk last night when I text you so sober me was not really prepared.”

“Yeah I figured, you sent me some blurry selfies right after. But we can just hang, we don’t have to do anything,” she trails off, a soft smile on her lips. The only time they ever hung out was to hook up, having ten minute conversations before and after the fact. “Or I can leave too if it's weird that I’m here.” 

Jungkook is shaking his head before she can even finish, already feeling bad enough after texting her to come over. How shitty would he be if he immediately kicked her out. This was fine, a nice distraction from it all, decent middle ground that would help him get his mind off you without having to take Jimin’s douchebag advice. 

“No, we can watch a movie or something. It’s not like I have other plans.” Had this been two weeks ago it would be a totally different story. Jungkook would typically be waiting in his apartment as he stared at the slowly ticking clock, just waiting for it to strike 7:30 because that's when you usually got home. Then he’d either get a text from you to come over with snacks or you’d show up at his door and invite yourself over for the weekly game night. 

It didn’t happen last week, or the week prior, so Jungkook is very confident that it would not be happening today either. It’s that same sense of confidence—and saltiness—that allows him to get comfortable with Aillie, blissfully unaware that you had just pulled into the parking garage a few stories below. 

“I swear to god if you don’t go straight to his door the minute you get off the elevator I will never let you live it down.” Seulgi’s voice fills your car through the speakers, fading out as you shut the car off and bring your phone to your ear to continue the conversation. 

“Dude, I just got off work. I need to make myself look decent.” Plastic bags rustle together as you grab the snacks you had picked up on your way home, all full of yours and Jungkook's favorite treats. It was definitely a guilt fueled purchase, hoping the items were enough to distract him from the fact that you were kind of a bitch for ghosting him recently, or at least butter him up into accepting your apology easier. 

“You think Jungkook cares if you’re a little sweaty from work? He’s a grown man, that’s not gonna stop him from going do—“

“Okay, goodbye!” You hastily cut her off as you press the elevator button, hearing her rambling off about being interrupted. “I’m about to get on the elevator, I’ll tell you how it goes.”

With a small sigh you hang up and stuff the device into your purse, stepping onto the lift as the doors open up and pressing the number for your floor. Your hands are clammy as you grip the plastic bag, uncharacteristically nervous about seeing Jungkook again after so long. 

The main obstacle for you to get over was apologizing for being a crappy friend, and if that went well you were going to suck it up and just come out and confess, the odds of him saying no were slim. And even if he did, you’re perfectly content with staying friends, as long as you could keep him close. 

It’s that same optimistic mentality that allows you to calm down as you enter your place and decide to give yourself a minute to mentally prepare. His favorite ice cream gets put into the freezer for later before you decide to shower and give yourself a pep talk the entire time. 

This pep talk of yours is filled with best case scenarios: Jungkook accepting the confession with open arms, finally being able to kiss him properly, everything falling into place the way it should have a long time ago. And as you head over, totally sober, freshly washed, looking and smelling your best, you really can’t picture this going any other way. 

With a deep breath you’re knocking on his front door, quickly pulling back your hand and wiping it onto your pants as you step back. Jungkook hears the knock clearly from his spot on the couch, his gaze tearing away from the television to stare at his front door with a small frown. He hadn’t ordered any food and Aillie had just excused herself to use his bathroom so his brain is having a hard time wondering who it could be. 

He curses under his breath, not putting it past himself to have texted a second person last night with an invitation to hang out. Why was Jungkook a friendly drunk?

As he presses his eye against the peephole and spots you standing there, he thinks he’s imagining things. It had seemed like so long since he had last seen you in person, and the warped fish-eyed version of you has him stepping back and rubbing his eyes before taking another glance. He suddenly feels like throwing up, and he can’t blame his earlier hangover on it. 

For a brief second he contemplates pretending he hadn’t heard you, but the guilt of doing so makes his heart twist, so he musters up the courage to open the door. It’s barely a crack really, just enough for you to see him while still concealing his apartment, something you definitely found strange because you’re usually flinging the door open and strutting right in, but you suppose his reaction is warranted considering your previous behavior. 

“Y/N, hey. Are you alright?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine!” Your fingers tangle together in front of you, not entirely sure what to do with your nerves and Jungkook spots it easily. His own nerves sky rocket when he hears the sound of running water coming from his bathroom a few feet away, knowing Aillie would most likely pop out any second now, and he’s not sure why it feels like a dirty secret that he has another girl over. 

“Did you need something?”

“Yeah, I was actually wanting to talk to you about something kind of important.” Your smile is hopeful, despite the nerves swirling in your eyes. The nervous skip of your heart is felt in your throat, not remembering the last time you had felt this way about telling someone how you felt about them romantically. 

“Right now?” he wonders, fingers gripping the door handle tighter when he hears his bathroom door unlock, the sound of footsteps rounding the corner before stepping into the living room, a few feet away from the door and in perfect view of the wedge Jungkook had opened. 

When your eyes flicker over his shoulder, spotting the auburn haired girl giving you a curious glance, you feel all your confidence slip away. Seulgi had definitely been right about needing to confess soon, Jungkook was a catch and just because you hadn’t realized it sooner didn’t mean the rest of the world was blind to it. 

“Yeah, right now...but you’re busy, so it’s fine!” You want to scramble away from there, feeling dumb the longer you stand there. Jungkook wants to say he’s not busy, kick the girl out of his place and invite you in but that wouldn’t be fair to her, for all he knew your important conversation would be a repeat of the conversation you had over Hajoon, and he really didn't want to get friendship dumped while this girl was in his apartment. He’s pretty sure his Yelp rating would drop a bit if he cried on the couch about you to his old hook up. 

He starts to speak but you cut him off before he can, “Don’t worry about it! I’ll see you later.” You force a smile before walking away, not allowing him to get a word in as you quickly step into your apartment and move to the furthest room away from your bedroom. 

You can feel the cold of your kitchen floor as you sit on your butt, back against your cabinets, the small twinge of defeat spreading within you. “This is fine. Maybe she’s just a friend. I can always tell him tomorrow,” you whisper out. But your fingers seem to think otherwise as they type out a message to Seulgi, informing her that the mission was unsuccessful and you’d be putting on The Notebook like you always did. It was basically protocol to do so when things went south in your life. 

She doesn’t even know how to console you, knowing she can’t tell you it was his loss or that he wasn’t worth it because she knows that’d be a lie and you wouldn’t believe it for a second. The only thing she can offer is coming over, but you’re quick to turn her down, deciding that being alone in the comfort of your bed as you inhaled the ice cream you bought for Jungkook would be best. 

Is being in your room the wisest choice when you know you share a wall with Jungkook—and he has a cute girl over? No. Probably not. But you figure if you hear anything explicit it’s just your dose of karma, so you accept it, turning up the volume of the movie a few levels just to soften the blow. 

However, Jungkook would definitely not be hooking up with her in his bedroom, or anywhere in his apartment for that matter. Luckily Aillie is blessed with the gift of reading the damn room and can easily spot the shift in Jungkook’s mood the second he shuts the door. She’s sitting on the edge of the couch now, hands gently placed on her knees as she gives him a sympathetic smile. 

“I get the vibe that somethings off.”

He looks up at her then, slowing his pace until he’s awkwardly standing in the middle of the room with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “My friend—my neighbor just wanted to talk about something. But everything’s fine.”

The lie tastes bitter on his tongue, and Aillie doesn’t believe him in the slightest. A small sigh fills the air as she stands up, collecting her bag and approaching him. “Look, I know deep talks really aren’t our thing so I’m not going to even try to dive into this, but you should go talk to your friend.”

A comforting hand is placed on his shoulder before she makes her way to the door to leave, Jungkook already following closely behind her. “No, you don’t have to go. You came all this way because I texted you with way too much tequila in my system.”

“Jungkook,” she laughs, opening the door with a smile. “You’re way too sweet for your own good. It was nice seeing you though.” Her eyes slowly move over to your front door before looking back at him, head cocking to the side in a very clear indication that he better go over. He can only nod in understanding, waving her goodbye and shutting the door once she heads down to the elevator. 

The action sounds of the movie they were watching continues to fill his apartment, whatever chaos was going on only making his brain whirl so he’s quick to grab the remote and shut it off entirely. Now he’s just stuck in complete silence, wondering if he should quickly make his way over to yours or play it calm and collected. 

The total silence allows him to hear the muffled mumbling of a movie he knew all too well. It draws him in, lures him into his bedroom until he’s kneeling on the mattress with his ear pressed against the wall to properly make it out. You were watching the Notebook, at a concerning volume, which could mean a number of things. Jungkook knew none of them were good, usually rooted in issues you had with your ex, or a tough day at work, or any particular day where you just felt like crying. 

With a deep breath, he’s slowly knocking along his wall, almost experimentally, hoping it's enough to grab your attention through the current scene playing. For a second he thinks maybe you’ve fallen asleep while watching the film, but then the room falls silent as you pause it entirely. 

Your hearts racing now, ears straining to hear anything else and hoping this wasn’t how the beginning of the explicit noises would start, but then another knock comes from behind you. It makes you gasp, like you’ve just been caught being the nosey neighbor you are, hearing the soft scrape of his hand sliding down the wall. The ice cream gets put onto your nightstand as you sit up properly, forcing yourself out of the mountain of pillows you were practically suffocating in and turning around to knock back.

Jungkook’s palm presses back onto the wall, smiling at your response before fishing his phone out of his pocket. His fingers find your thread of messages, further down the list than he was used to, and as he opens them up and sees the string of unanswered texts dating back to two weeks ago, it stings just like it did before. He pushes his pride aside though, knowing you had wanted to talk today in person, so he proceeds to quadruple text you. 

Jungkook 8:44pm : are you seriously watching the notebook again?

You’re unlocking your phone the second it buzzes, smiling at the dimly lit screen before typing out a response. 

Y/N 8:45pm : shut up, it’s my comfort movie

Y/N 8:45pm : do you wanna watch it with me? for old times sake

The device is locked and placed face down onto your sheets the second you hit send, sinking into the pillows once again as you try not to scream at yourself because you know he’ll hear you. Why would you invite him over when he clearly has company? You had seen her with your own eyes, had seen how cute she is, had seen how cute Jungkook is, it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. 

Jungkook is quick though, texting back in agreement and heading over instantly. If you were watching your comfort movie then Jungkook wanted to make sure you were okay. Putting the past two weeks behind him, knowing you’d most likely have a good enough explanation—an explanation he would definitely be needing before the night was over—he’s knocking on your door before you can even check your messages. 

It takes you a minute to untangle your limbs from your covers as you hastily try to get to your door, sock clad feet sliding along your wooden floors when you finally yank the door open. Jungkook wears a soft smile as he stares down at you, taking note that you had switched your outfit to your usual sad movie binge attire of baggy shirt and lounge shorts. His eyes zero in on your lips when he notices there's something lingering at the corner of them. 

“So, are you gonna share whatever the hell that is?” His finger points at it smugly, laughing when your tongue peeks out to wipe it away. 

“It was actually meant to be for you.” Stepping aside, you let him enter your place. Jungkook almost feels a little strange being here after the weird few weeks, but he pushes it aside, just wanting things to feel normal. 

“Does that mean there’s no more left?” His eyes playfully narrow at you as you step closer, moving on to stare at the kitchen table, and the coffee table in search of the tub of ice cream that supposedly had his name on it. The earlier nerves you felt slowly fade away when you realize he’s not visibly upset about what happened, but it only makes your guilt deepen that despite your ability to be a crummy friend, Jungkook would still try his best to come through for you. 

“There’s about half of it left, it’s probably a little soft now though.” You side step him to enter the kitchen, grabbing an extra spoon and handing it over as a peace treaty, smiling when he gratefully accepts it. “C’mon, I paused the movie.”

Jungkook is not a stranger to your bedroom, especially when sappy movies were playing, finding his spot easily on the right side where he typically handed you tissues whenever you cried. The tissues were missing this time, in place of them being the bag of snacks you had bought, his ice cream on the other nightstand. 

“What part are you on?” he asks, settling onto the bed after fluffing up the pillows, waving his hands so you could pass the tub of ice cream his way. 

“It just started raining on the boat.” Jungkook hums, scooping out some of the chocolate ice cream and into his mouth. He knew this scene very well, and when you press play, he mentally repeats all of the lines. Just as Noah declares he wrote her 365 letters, you awkwardly clear your throat, your own spoon slowly sneaking over to his side to steal some ice cream for yourself. 

“I’m sorry if I made things awkward with your date.” Your voice sounds timid, something he’s not used to hearing from you at all, so he chuckles, laughing harder when you swat at his arm. “I’m serious, I should have texted you before just showing up.”

“Really? When have you ever done that before?” The two of you never notified the other when they wanted to show up, Jungkook had even given you the code to his place once when he was at work and you were desperate for some fruity pebbles—you used that code to your advantage and Jungkook never hated it. But all things considered, it's fair why you think you would have to give him a heads up. 

“You didn’t make it awkward though.” It’s not the complete truth, you coming over is what had made Aillie decide to leave, but Jungkook had to take most of the credit for it. “I kinda made it awkward from the beginning.”

“Why, what happened?”

“I went out last night with Jimin“ —you immediately hum in understanding, knowing very well how convincing Jimin could be with alcohol— “and apparently I texted her to hang out today, had no recollection, so when she showed up I was definitely not ready.”

“Damn, this is how I know you’re a better person than I am. If that happened to me, the second I checked my peephole and saw someone I didn’t remember inviting over, I’m gonna pretend I’m not home.”

“Yeah well, she lives like an hour away so I’d feel like an ass if I did that. Don’t think I’ll be talking to her again any time soon though.” He sighs in thought, gently tapping his spoon on the surface of the softening ice cream. There was one thing weighing heavy on his mind, needing to know what important thing you had to talk to him about, wondering if you were actually going to friendship dump him earlier and he had just made it worse by coming over and hanging out like old times. 

He doesn’t want to come right out and ask it though, not wanting to set himself up for an awkward conversation in case that wasn’t what you wanted to talk about, so he settles for something safe enough that would allow him to get a glimpse. 

“So how are things with Hoseok?” Yeah, that’s a good start. 

“Huh?” Your spoon freezes in its spot, face clearly looking confused in the dim glow of the television, the movie long forgotten now that you were speaking. 

“Tinder guy? Yellow sunglasses guy that gave you mono?” 

It suddenly clicks again, having forgotten all about Jung Hoseok the second you had gotten home from the failed date and came to terms with your feelings. Your lie of having a cold must have been believable enough for Jungkook to genuinely think he had given you something like mono. 

“He didn’t give me mono!” Jungkook rolls his eyes with a playful smile, humming along like he totally believes you. “But I didn’t tell you?”

He frowns as he stares at you, not entirely sure how to take your tone. “Tell me what? That you’re engaged and the wedding is in June?”

“No way,” you laugh, swatting his spoon away with a clank as you grab some ice cream before shoving it in your mouth, fighting against the brain freeze to continue speaking. “Our date was a bust.”

“How? Was it that bad?” He desperately wanted to know, having convinced himself the date had gone spectacularly well and you were now an exclusive item. The small twinge of guilt is felt when he realizes he’s a little too happy that the date had been a failure, but he allows himself to have this small, tiny victory. 

“Mm, it was so good it was bad.” He looks utterly confused, and you don’t blame him, so you elaborate. “He was this perfect gentleman who just wanted to play games, like to the point where he had a notebook where he was tallying our points, and then he walked me to my car and kissed my cheek goodbye.”

“Oh the horror!” Jungkook gasps, setting his spoon down to clutch his heart in dramatics. “How dare he try to romance you with a game night.”

“Jungkook, shut up!” you laugh, finally feeling like everything was right again, sitting in bed with your closest friend as you teased each other. “Look, I’ll give him some credit. The date was nice, he was not the sleazy douchebag his profile made him out to be, and I’m sure he’ll find the perfect girl for him on Tinder. But he clearly wanted something serious and—“

“And you don’t want that right now. It’s fair.” Of course you would turn him down, you had just decided to embark on this new adventure in the single world. It was kind of dumb for Jungkook to assume one date with Tinder Boy would be enough for you to give up your short lived dream. 

You take a steady breath at his words before taking another scoop of ice cream, lips wrapped around the spoon as you slowly pull it out of your mouth. The nerves are trickling back in, making your heart skip and your eyes bounce around. If you don’t come out and say it now, you know you never will. 

Your spoon joins his in the tub of ice cream before you decide to move it back to the nightstand, forcing yourself to look back at him, seeing him turned away as he rummages through the plastic bag full of snacks. “I don’t want that with him.”

Jungkook freezes, the rustling of plastic ceases as his hands come back to his sides and he turns back around. With him. He was the king of jumping to worse case scenarios so his brain has no issues coming to this very horrible conclusion. 

“Have you been talking to Hajoon again?”

“No, Jungkook I haven’t.”

“Are you sure? I’m saying this now, but if you get back with him I will not hesitate to pop him in the face if I run into him in the halls. It’s fair game out there, neutral territory for him to get his ass beat—“

“It’s you.”

His brain short circuits at that, mini versions of himself currently running around and screaming in his head as he tries to make sense of this. The first instinct he has is to crack a joke, to say that he hadn’t been talking to Hajoon again, and laugh it off. But you look a little too vulnerable right now, eyes nervously looking at him and then looking away at his lingering silence. 

“Wait, what?” It’s the only thing he can sputter out, caught off guard by your words, not wanting to say anything else in case the world was cruel enough for him to have completely misheard you. 

“I don’t want that with Tinder Boy or Hajoon, I want it with you.” It gets a little easier saying it a second time, but his reaction is hard to gauge. You had been expecting him to reciprocate the confession instantly, but the longer he looked shocked only made you think that you and Seulgi had been seriously wrong about his supposed crush. 

Jungkook is having a difficult time trying to go from you ghosting him to you suddenly admitting to liking him, the change in emotions not allowing him to say anything he had practiced in the mirror for so long. He can’t come out and give you a speech about how he thinks you’re the one, how you’re obviously a good match together, brain too focused on other details. “How long have you known this?”

“For the past two weeks, but deep down I know it’s been longer.”

His wide eyes glance over at you now, everything slowly clicking into place. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“Yes,” you mumble, embarrassed over the way you had acted. The last time you had avoided someone was in elementary school, having a best friend go ask your crush if he likes you while you hid in the bathroom, scared of the answer. “I like you Jungkook and I knew I wouldn’t be able to play it cool. I was scared to say something and have you not feel the same and then have our friendship be weird.”

Jungkook smiles in that adorable way you love, nose scrunching up cutely as he leans closer, large palms coming to cup your cheeks. He has wanted to hear this for so long, and sure, maybe it wasn’t some super romantic confession over a candlelit dinner like he had occasionally dreamed of, but this felt right. 

“You’re so stupid,” he whispers out, thumb softly caressing your cheek as he chuckles, feeling the way your lips turn into a frown at his harmless insult. 

“Jungkook, I’m being serious,” you whine, heart still pounding in your chest. Your hands come up to gently wrap around his wrists, allowing him to continue to squish your cheeks with that endearing look on his face. 

“I’m being serious too Y/N. Did you really think I wouldn’t feel the same?” Jungkook did everything he did with you out of pure friendliness, never expecting to get something in return from it, but there was a small sprinkling of a crush in every one of his actions. “I like you too, and I have for a really long time.”

The relief you feel comes instantly, lips slowly pulling into a smile when you finally have the confidence to look directly into his eyes again. If this is how light you feel after the two weeks spent freaking out, you can only imagine how Jungkook feels. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Now, can I please kiss you?” You’re nodding the second the question leaves his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as his hands glide down to cup your jaw, soft lips slowly pressing against yours. It’s a gentle smack of skin as he pulls back, a smirk on his lips when he opens his eyes, softly rubbing his nose against yours. 

“Wait,” he breathes out, chuckling softly. “Is he still looking?” He has the nerve to repeat the same question that had been the root of your guilt, and when your eyes shoot open and glare at him, he can’t stop the laughter that bubbles out. 

“I hate you,” you mutter out, not an ounce of truth behind it. 

“Mm, no you don’t.” 

His lips find yours again, falling into a steady rhythm, softer and less rushed than the first kiss you had shared at the club. There’s no pounding bass in the background, or the taste of liquor on your lips, but Jungkook prefers it this way. He likes the low hum of the movie continuing to play in the background, the sweetness of the ice cream lingering on your lips when his tongue gently swipes at the seam of them, the way your hands slowly slide around his neck as he deepens each kiss. 

With each shared breath, you slide further down your bed, pulling Jungkook down with you until he’s hovering directly above you. His knees dig into the sheets, one hand pressed beside your head to keep himself stable as you urge him even closer to you. The delicate golden chain he wears kisses your skin, pendant settling onto your chest, the cool sensation is almost enough to distract you as his tongue slowly slips into your mouth. Jungkook groans when you let out a small gasp, your fingers slipping into his hair and tugging gently at the strands by the nape of his neck. 

He wants to remember this kiss instead of the one from the club, embed every gasp you let out into his brain, the way your chest pushes up to feel more of him, how your hands slide down his back, leaving a fiery trail in their path that makes Jungkook shiver. And when you slide your thighs further apart for him, innocently at first, he can’t help it when his lips freeze on yours as you slowly roll your hips upwards. It gives him the same automatic reaction he had gotten at the club, all the blood rushing to his cock instantly, except this time he doesn’t feel the shame he had felt before. There was no ulterior motive to what you were doing, sincerity shown in your confession, shared within each kiss, so Jungkook allows himself to bask in the want he feels for you.

“Y/N,” he groans out when you repeat the action, pulling away from your swollen lips to stare at you through hooded eyes. You’re licking your lips over as your eyes slowly open, a small glimmer evident in them as you tilt your head and pretend to not know what you’re doing.

“What?” you question, leaning up to kiss the edge of his mouth, giggling when he attempts to chase your lips as you pull back, choosing to kiss down his jaw instead. As your tongue gently trails along the side of his neck, you feel the harsh gulp he takes, his fingers bunching up in the sheets beside your head. His neck has always been a weak point for him, turning him into a puddle in seconds, you knew this from the unfiltered conversations you’ve had and it was something you were definitely going to be using to your advantage. 

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he grunts, eyes fluttering shut as you nip at his skin, a visible shiver racking through him. 

“Of course I am,” you hum, letting your hands roam his back, sliding around his front until you’re sneaking past the white fabric of his shirt. When your cool hands meet his skin, he tenses, the muscles on his stomach tightening up as your fingertips trail up his body. You’ve known Jungkook was well defined, lean and toned in all the best places, having seen him shirtless a few times. But being able to touch him like this, feel each stuttered breath and jump of his skin reacting to your touch fueled you. 

Jungkook knows you can feel the racing of his heart now, your palms flat on his chest, each thrum revealing his emotions despite the cool and calm exterior he was trying to have. His hips lower towards yours, resisting the urge to rut into you as you start to suck on his skin. The low hum you let out vibrates against his neck, mixed in with the feeling of your wet lips, and he knows he’s done for. The final blow comes in the form of you swiping your tongue at the blossomed hickey, sweet voice pulling him back to earth as you look at him once more. “I want you Jungkook.”

Oh god, he couldn’t do this. His face pulls into a grimace, begging himself to not instantly cum in his pants at what you just said. How many times has he fantasized about this? Hoped you’d beg him for anything in that same exact voice, dreamed of you kissing and sucking on his skin like you currently were. Jungkook isn’t sure any amount of mental preparation would be enough for this. 

“Say that again please.”

You giggle, finger pushing back a strand of his hair as it falls over his face, tucking it behind his ear. The normal doe eyed look you were accustomed to is nowhere to be found, pupils blown out in lust as he stares at you. Being on the receiving end of this stare fills your stomach with butterflies, the flapping of their wings intensifying as he nudges his nose into yours. 

“I want you.” It’s breathless, spoken so softly through the background noise like a personal secret just for him. Jungkook doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of hearing you say it, that much is proven true when you repeat it in between kisses, trailing back up his neck in the same path you had taken until you're speaking the words directly against his lips. He swallows them down greedily, groaning into your mouth when his tongue tangles with yours once more. 

“Fuck, you can have me baby.” He chuckles against your mouth when you start to tug at his shirt, yanking the thin material until he has to pull back and slip the tee off himself. The balled fabric gets tossed aside without a care, dark swirls of ink on his arm fully revealed now, each tattoo reminding you of how long you’ve known him, remembering the two pieces that he had when you first met. When he leans back over you, taking his time trailing kisses down your neck, onto your chest until his own hands are slowly tugging your shirt off of you, you decide there’s other things to focus on besides his glorious tattoos.

“Ah, Jungkook,” you sigh, fingers tangling into his hair when he kisses the swells of your breast, warm tongue sliding over your nipple before his lips are wrapping around it. His large palm gropes the other, thumb flicking over the pebbled bud, smirking when you push your chest further out for him.

“What baby?” He pulls back to blow a gust of cool air on your nipple, the wetness of his saliva making your skin break out into goosebumps. 

“No teasing.”

Jungkook’s laughing now, eyes peering up at you through his lashes. “Oh, you think I’m not gonna tease you after what you did?” He tsks in disapproval as he continues to kiss down your torso, letting his hands trail down your sides, not stopping until he reaches the hem of your shorts. A kiss is placed above your navel as he pulls the shorts down your legs, toying with the waistband of your black underwear. “I’m gonna take my time with you.”

The build up before pleasure will always be your favorite part. The way his hands grip your thighs after tugging your underwear off, fingertips trailing up until his palm is pressing them further apart. It’s impossible to look at him now, the visual of his long hair framing his face as he starts to press wet kisses on your skin is too much to handle. You can feel the warm huff of air when he laughs as your head drops back onto the pillow once more, eyes slipping shut while you wait with anticipation. 

Jungkook wants to comment over how wet you are already, boost his own ego about being able to rile you up with just kissing, but he can see the way you’re already on edge, and he decides he can tease you some more later with what he has in store. Instead, he gives you what you’re mentally pleading him for. Finally pressing his soft lips to your folds, the short gasp you release as his tongue glides up before gently flicking across your clit has him shutting his own eyes, reveling in the way you react to his touch. 

His long fingers spread out your folds before he’s messily spitting onto them, watching the way the glob of saliva trickles down before he’s diving in, falling into the perfect pace with ease. It has your hips rutting up instantly, your hand uncurling its grip from your sheets to travel down your body and find its place tangled in his hair. Jungkook groans against your clit when your fingers grip tightly, yanking the dark strands as the prettiest moan flows out of you. 

“J-just like that, fuck,” you whimper, finally lifting your head up to stare down at him when he latches his lips around your clit and sucks. It sends a spark down your spine, stomach tensing at his rhythm, fully intent to have you fall apart. 

Jungkook wants to push you over the edge, knows he’s talented enough to get you there in record time—he was cocky in the best way—and the way your thighs tremble as he slowly sinks his finger into you proves his point. The slick coating your entrance allows a second finger to slip through with little resistance, a shuddering breath filling the air as he begins to spread his fingers apart, stretching you out in the most delicious way. 

It’s not until his fingers curl up, rubbing along the sweet patch inside of you and you moan out his name, that he realizes he has you right where he wants you. He can’t get himself to look up at you, to see the way your jaw drops as you plead for more. Jungkook knows if his eyes lock with yours too soon he’ll be too weak to be as cruel as he wants to be. 

The pleasure blooms inside you, hips rolling up into his in a way he welcomes, smirk spreading onto his lips when your moans get breathier. He eats you out with determination set in his brows, not satisfied until you’re tightening around his fingers, thighs threatening to close in on either side of his head. The messy way he slurps against you sends you reeling, rutting up into him with need, the wet thump of his fingers blending in with your moans of his name. 

“God, Jungkook, I’m gonna cum.” He believes you, eyes finally opening up to stare at you. The visual is enough to make his cock throb in his pants, your glassy eyed stare locked onto his, chest rising and falling in time with each choked breath. When he playfully winks at you, your walls pulse around him, seconds away from being pushed over the edge, and that’s when he pulls away. 

The warm glow of your orgasm approaching, just about to crest, gets ripped away from you instantly. It makes you gasp, thighs twitching as your hips attempt to push up back towards his mouth, but he’s having none of that. His shiny lips smile up at you innocently, head tilted to slowly kiss your trembling thighs, chuckling at the small cry of frustration you let out. 

“You taste good baby,” he hums, smooching the skin at the juncture of your thighs, circling around your clit without relieving the pressure you felt. The dull ache has your fingers releasing his hair in defeat, a frown etched onto your lips. 

“Jungkook, that’s mean,” you pant, sitting up and resting on your elbows to properly stare at him. 

“A little, but you deserved it don’t you think?” Jungkook didn’t want to tease you too much, he just wanted to get even for the past two weeks. “You could have had me between your thighs every single night if you would’ve said something soon, so I think you can be patient.”

A firm kiss is pressed to your swollen clit and it makes your whole body shudder, your head dropping back as you take a deep breath to control yourself. “I can’t be patient Kook,” you whine, head leveling back out to give him the most convincing stare you can muster. There's that crease between your brows that he likes when you pinch them together, hands gently raking through his hair, teeth pillowing out your lower lip as you bite down onto it. 

“Please, you can torture me later if you want but not now.” Your words have him cocking up his brow, hands once again gripping the meat of your thighs before he crawls back up your body. The feeling of his chain dragging up your skin has you shivering, breath catching in your throat when he hovers inches above you once more. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before his hand slips between your thighs again. A groan reaches his ears as his fingers circle your clit, covered in your arousal and his saliva, gliding with ease as he works you back to your ruined orgasm. 

His lips find yours, swallowing down the moan you let out when he quickens his pace. You can taste yourself on his tongue, tangling with yours with more urgency than before, messy and desperate in a way that had more arousal gushing out of you. The earlier pleasure reignites inside you, your hands sliding around his neck to keep him close, kissing him with fervor, quiet moans and whimpers slipping past between each smack of your lips. 

“Jungkook,” you barely manage to squeal, a few more flicks needed to finally push you over the edge. Your lips are slick with spit as you pull back, jaw slack as you lose yourself in the feeling, and Jungkook easily bookmarks this into his brain to go back to and daydream of whenever he’s bored at work. Your eyes are squeezed shut as the feeling flows through you, not able to see how Jungkook stares at you in awe. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers, slowly pulling his hand away when you keen at the sensitivity, thighs twitching on the sheets as the pleasure rolls through you in waves. You’re looking up just in time to see him slip his messy fingers into his mouth, tongue licking them clean and savoring the taste of you. Just as he slides them back out, your fingers wrap around his wrist and lead them directly into your mouth, sinking onto them with your eyes locked on his own. 

Jungkook’s cock jumps in its confines when you suck, tip of your tongue circling his fingertips before popping them back out with a smirk. There’s a brief moment of shock on his features before he’s jumping into action, quickly unbuttoning his jeans in haste that left you giggling on your sheets. 

“What happened to patience?” you tease, laughing harder when he pauses with one foot stuck in the hole of his jeans, a playful glare thrown your way. 

“Oh, now you want patience?” He kicks his pants the rest of the way off, slowly shuffling towards you as he stands beside the bed in just his boxers. Your hands make grabby motions for him, reaching for the waistband of his underwear to tug them down, licking your lips over as his cock springs out. It bobs in the air for a second, thick and heavy, precum collecting at the tip with the prettiest veins on the underside of it. Of course Jungkook and his pretty privilege would have a dick worthy of leaving you speechless. 

Jungkook allows you to ogle at him, confidently wrapping his palm around the base of his cock, hissing slightly at the sensation as he looks down at it, allowing spit to accumulate behind his lips before a string of it escapes and lands right onto his length to help the glide of his palm. Your eyes widen at the sight, hand replacing his as he guides your motions, giving an experimental squeeze and enjoying how his abs tense up. 

“I’ve been patient for a long time Y/N. You said you want me right?” You’re nodding instantly, eyes looking away from his shiny length to stare up at him. “How do you want me?”

“Jungkook, just get over here.” He doesn’t resist when you let go of his cock, hands gripping his arm to yank him back onto the bed in a clumsy heap. His legs are a tangled mess, nearly ramming his forehead with yours from the force, shared laughter filling the air as you situate yourself. Jungkook had pictured this a thousand times and this is exactly how he imagined it, full of soft kisses, hushed laughter and goofy smiles, playfulness mixed in with lust all coming together perfectly to make the two of you. 

As he settles between your thighs, your sodden folds inches from his length, you can see the look on his face as his eyes glance in between both of your nightstands. Already knowing the question that was about to spill out, you beat him to the punch. “You don’t need one, if you don’t want to. I’m on birth control, and haven’t been with anyone since…” you trail off, not needing to specify.

Jungkook tries not to look too excited, really, but it’s hard. Every one of his lewd fantasies had involved being able to feel you entirely, and if your thoughts from that night were anything to go by, you definitely want the same. It takes him a second to speak, having to swallow properly to prevent himself from choking on his saliva and embarrassing himself in front of you. “I’m clean, I promise.”

“I trust you,” you smile, biting down onto your bottom lip as he fists his cock, slowly leading it to your dripping center. His free hand rests on your inner thigh, softly palming the skin as the head of his cock nudges against your entrance, pushing past the tight ring of muscles and into your heat. With his gaze locked down to where you connect, he sees inch by inch sink into you, finally bottoming out with a shared gasp.

Jungkook leans over you properly now, hand sliding up to lace with yours as the other rests beside your head, just taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of your velvety walls wrapped tightly around his cock. You welcome the stretch, the curve of his length inside you, how he cages you in with his body, eyes full of want staring directly at you, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze because he knows he can’t properly form a sentence right now. 

“Fuck me, please.” With his hips pressed flush against yours, he’s slowly inching back, letting you get used to his size with each thrust. It doesn’t take long before he’s rearing back entirely, thrusting forward with a wet squelch, corner of his lips curling up into a smirk when you moan out his name. Your hand curls around his shoulder, fingers digging into his back to keep yourself steady from the force of his hips. 

Each time the head of his cock would nudge against your bundle of nerves, your nails would sink into his skin, leaving half moon indents that left him groaning in pleasure. Jungkook hadn’t outright told you, but it had become increasingly obvious that he has a slight kink for pain, practically mewling above you as you scratch his back, fucking you with more determination than before. 

“You feel so good,” he rasps, slotting his lips with yours in a messy kiss. The back of your headboard starts to rattle against the wall, bouncing back in time with his hips, and it brings you back to the filthy thoughts you had before. How often you’d hear the same sounds on the opposite side, mixing in with the sharpness of skin connecting together, and you want it. So badly.

“J-jungkook,” you breathe out, letting him pepper more kisses onto you, hips never slowing down. “Can you do something for me?” The tone you use, coated in sugar so sweet he couldn’t say no even if he wanted to.

“Anything.”

It’s hard to concentrate on anything else while his cock continues to fuck into you, turning your mind into mush each time he sunk all the way in. He can see the way you try to focus, eyes falling shut with the cutest pout on your kiss swollen lips, finally grabbing onto the reigns of your mind as you spit it out. “Wanna feel you—fuck—spank me, please.”

Only then do his hips slow down, cock throbbing inside of you, fighting the urge to cum before fulfilling your request. The only confirmation that he was agreeing, wholeheartedly, comes when he pulls out of you, moving too quickly for you to protest at the loss of contact. The room spins for a second as his hands grip onto your hips and flip you over with ease, palms gripping the globes of your ass and softly patting them with a chuckle.

“Of course baby,” he murmurs, hooking his arm underneath your stomach to haul you up onto your knees, allowing you to steady yourself before he’s sliding into you once again. The change in position has you keening, his cock sinking deeper than before, the wetness dripping out of you helping him maintain the earlier pace he had. Your hands fist the sheets beneath you, back arching in ecstasy as he hits your g-spot with precision, a tiny shriek of his name making him smile.

Jungkook keeps you on edge, strong hands gripping the skin of your hips tightly, mouth dropping open while he pants at the way you pulse around his cock, leaving it coated in your slick. His hand slides down to your ass, a gentle touch being your only warning before he’s pulling his hand back and delivering a swift slap to your skin. Your reaction is immediate, an unrestrained moan sounding like music to his ears. The sharp sting spreads directly to your core, your head bowing forward as you mentally beg him for more, your wish being granted seconds later when he repeats it on the other side.

If the wet sounds of his cock fucking you weren’t filthy enough, the added slap of his palm across your ass definitely topped it off. Jungkook had never seen you so needy, thighs coated in your arousal, gushing around him each time he spanked you until you were creaming his cock. The greedy way your walls suck him in, wanting him closer, deeper than ever, left him mesmerized. 

His hand soothes the dull throb on your skin, a trembling breath reaching his ears as he leans over your back, lips kissing up your spine up until reaching your shoulder. Hot pants of breath hit your skin, making you shiver as his lips trail along the edge of your ear. “Feel good?”

“Y-yes,” you mewl, voice trembling from the pleasure, rutting your hips in time with his. 

Jungkook’s way of love was a breath of fresh air for you, rough enough to exhilarate you, the force of his hips leaving you scrambling for purchase to prevent you from face planting onto the sheets, gripping onto your hair and tugging it back with enough force to make your body tingle. But it was intertwined with adoration, sweet praise whispered into your ear, lacing his fingers with yours to let you feel secure.

“You’re never getting rid of me baby,” he groans out. The low rasp in his voice makes you tremble, neck straining from his grip in your hair but the burn feels too good to pull away. His small confession has your heart skipping, eyes slipping shut to bask in the overwhelming feeling surrounding you.

“Good,” you manage to pant, “would never dream of it.” After four years of friendship, the beginning stages of getting to know each other, figuring out the right ways to flow with your different personalities, it's all out of the way now, so it’s incredibly easy for you to picture a steady future with him. The breakfast gossiping, shameless club outings, chaotic game nights with snacks thrown at each other, you want everything you already have with him and more. What you have, so rooted in sincerity, built off mutual respect for each other, blossoming into love so pure, you can’t imagine having this with anyone else.

“Y/N,” he gasps, the pulsing of your walls bringing him closer to his climax. “I’m close.”

You can only hum in agreement, burying your face into your pillow when he releases the grip he has in your hair, nipples rubbing against the sheets in time with his thrusts, the sensitivity sending sparks throughout you. Both his hands grip your hips again, dimpling the skin as he quickens his pace, the tantalizing roll of his hips intent to send you over before him. His eyes trail over the curve of your back, how you arch it further to feel more of him, sliding down to your ass, seeing the way it bounces back with each snap of his hips, how you weakly rut back onto him, pussy clamping around his length as your orgasm approached. 

Jungkook slides his hand around you, trailing across your tummy before slipping between your thighs to the spot you needed him most. Even with your face buried in the sheets, the moan you let out is loud enough for Jungkook to hear perfectly, body shuddering as he flicks across your clit in tight circles.  

“Kook, I’m cumming—fuck,” you shout out, white heat enveloping your body as you get sent over the edge. Your mind blanks for a minute, the intensity of your orgasm crashing over you so suddenly, making your limbs tense up while every nerve ending lights up. The only thing you can think of is him, chanting out your name while you pulse around him, sweet words coaxing you through your high, thumb rubbing along the skin of your hips as he never slows his pace. 

As he fucks you through it, groaning out at how tight your walls are around him, you have to turn your head to gasp in a breath, face feeling hot from it all. You can feel how sweaty your skin has become, the back of your neck feeling sticky as your turn to get a glimpse of him, body still shuddering from the aftershocks. 

Jungkook doesn’t have a care for his own volume now, moaning unabashedly as he pistons his hips into you with less grace than before. The soft mewls of overstimulation you let out just bring him closer to his release, thrusts getting sloppier as the pleasure takes over him. 

“Fuck, baby-” he grunts out, mouth dropping open as he moans even louder, finally falling apart. He pushes further into you, head falling forward as his hips press flushed against your ass, warm spurts of his cum filling you up in a way that fulfills your dirtiest fantasies. A few more shallow thrusts has the two of you gasping, hearts pounding in your chests, coming down slowly as he finally stills.

A serene silence falls over you, the movie long turned off in the background, only the low glow of the television letting you know it was still on. With great hesitation, Jungkook finally pulls out of you, gulping when he sees the thick globs of cum spill from your core, dripping down your thighs before landing on the sheets in a sinful mess. Your sheets are well and truly ruined, Jungkook would honestly suggest tossing them in the trash judging by the damp spot directly beneath you.

With a small groan, you’re flopping fully onto your stomach, thighs no longer able to keep yourself up, the exhaustion creeping up on you. Jungkook chuckles when he hears you, soothing your back with a gentle massage. “You’re not sleeping in here babe.”

“Why not,” you slur, cheek pressed against your pillow, eyes already shut. All you wanted to do was lay here, preferably with his arms wrapped around you, but Jungkook clearly has other plans. 

“Because it’s disgusting,” he laughs, giving you a few more seconds of rest before he’s moving around. The dip in the bed lets you know he’s gotten off, one eye peeking open to search for him, seeing him gathering his belongings from the floor.

“Where are you going?”

He shimmies back into his clothes with a grimace, gathering your own items before approaching you once more. “We are going next door and sleeping in my totally clean bed, c’mon.”

You only put up a fight for a second, secretly enjoying the way he helps you get dressed in your earlier clothes, heart swelling in your chest at how domestic it all feels. The mess in your room would have to be dealt with another day, the only important item being the ice cream that finds its way back into the freezer as you both head out of your apartment and swiftly enter his next door.

He’s just as delicate and careful in the shower, taking turns cleaning each other, large hands gripping your ass and giggling like a child when you wince at the small throb of pain you feel. Soft kisses are shared under the showerhead, warm water soothing your body as the room fogs up, sweet confessions scribbled on the glass in his messy writing, topped off with a heart. Jungkook stops you before you can wipe it away, shyly telling you that he’d like to see it reappear the next time he showers.

His bedroom was one you weren’t too familiar with, used to lounging in his living room the most, so as he settles into his bed after getting cozy in his pajamas, you wait for him to call you over before joining him. The coolness of his sheets has you sighing, snuggling into his side with a smile on your lips, one that Jungkook sees as he stares down at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Seeing you draped in his clothes, cuddled up beside him in a way you’ve never done before, makes him feel like a giddy teenager. 

“Can I be honest?” he wonders, arm wrapping around you to pull you even closer to him. When you hum in confirmation, he laughs sheepishly. “I thought you were going to friendship dump me today.”

“What, why?”

Your head bobs up as he shrugs his shoulders. “The way you were acting reminded me of the last time you told me you wanted to focus on your relationship. I was just scared I was going to lose you again.”

The tone he uses makes your heart ache, the same guilt you felt these past few days coming back when you put yourself in his shoes. You had no idea that the way you were acting would affect him this way, never once imagining that he thought you would cut off this friendship while you were just coming to terms with the fact that you harbored strong feelings for him. 

“Jungkook, I’m sorry,” you sigh, palm resting on his chest, feeling each beat of his heart, no longer racing like before, confident and steady in it’s pace because he knows you’re not going anywhere. “I’m stupid, and freaked out after what I did, and just needed to gather my thoughts before saying anything.”

He cranes his head away from you, a confused look on his face. “After what you did? What did you do?”

Fuck.

“Uhm,” you start with a strained laugh, refusing to look up at him out of embarrassment, but the truth has to come out so you power through it.  “So, the night of the date, I sort of got home earlier than I told you I did.”

His eyes narrow at you, refusing to give anything away before he knew where this was going. “Okay, go on.”

“And I sort of heard you through the walls.” You look up at him now, your guilty stare spelling it out for him. His eyes widen before he can conceal his surprise, cheeks warming up instantly because oh boy, he knew exactly where this was going. “And then, I sort of...joined.”

“You lied to me!” he shouts, shocked smile on his face as he recalls the way you had replied to his texts, telling him you had just gotten home and going the extra mile to say you were in a totally different room when in reality, you were sprawled out in your bed after just getting off to the sound of him.

Filthy. And also kind of hot. Jungkook was definitely into that, something he’ll totally proposition you into doing again because why not.  

“I know! I couldn’t help it, it was so hot, and I felt so guilty. But, you’re technically the reason why my orgasm gave me my epiphany and let me realize I really do like you. So, I think I did us both a favor by being a dirty liar.” He’s laughing instantly, fingers gripping your cheeks to turn your head up, planting a firm kiss onto your lips obnoxiously.

“Alright, you’re forgiven. Plus, consider us even because I have definitely heard you getting off on your own plenty of times too.” A squeal of surprise fills the air as you swat at his chest, burying your face into his shirt and feeling the rumble of his laughter. It really wasn’t ever intentional. The walls are thin, you weren’t exactly quiet, and he couldn’t just lay there and ignore it. So call him an opportunist, or a pervert, because you were one too. 

Jungkook is cheeky though, knowing how to get under your skin in the best way, and you can already tell you’re in for a ride when he gets close to your ear and whispers, “You wanna show me how you did it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you snort, peering up at him with mischief in your eyes.

“You did say I could torture you later.” He smiles innocently, fingers pinching your chin as he kisses you again. “It’s later.”

The sweet laughter that escapes you makes his heart skip a beat, still not able to come to terms that this was happening and wasn’t some dream of his that he’d wake up from. He kisses the tops of your cheeks first, then your nose, before reaching your lips, his hand gently caressing your skin. Jungkook had no intention of torturing you tonight, knowing how tired you typically were after work on a normal day, and after drawing two orgasms out of you that left you shaking, he knows how close you are to sleep with the way your eyes droop. 

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t give up on crushes and love?” he mumbles against your lips, inching back to stare down at you. 

“I’m glad I stopped looking for it in the wrong places.” Your hands wrap around his neck, toying with his hair before pulling him back to you, reattaching your lips because you just couldn’t seem to get enough of him. 

Every single moment you shared, from moving in and awkwardly trying to get to know each other, the ups and downs of failed relationships, the push that started it all at the club, and every almost moment in between brought you full circle to right now. There probably won’t be a moment where you don’t wish you had done this sooner, worked past your worry of ruining a good friendship in fear of what could happen, but the past helped mold you into who you are, strengthening your relationship to be the way it is now.

Right now had you thinking of the future, and there was nothing more exciting than that.

[saturndivine]

The Ferality of Mars

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Feral: "Existing in a wild or untamed state"

When I think of Mars, I think of the Greek god, Ares. I think of the heart pumping blood throughout the body to keep it alive. I think of passion, ferocity, and rawness. Mars is the planet of emotion, similarly to the moon but with a more sinister twist. Mars wants you to feel everything and create with that energy, Mars wants you to be overwhelmed with emotion, so much so it consumes and guides you. Mars wants you to feel everything. It is known as a Malefic Planet because of its inability to be tamed and controlled but Mars isn’t about having control, its about intuition and allowing yourself to be guided by the invisible force that encourages you to nuzzle into your most primal and authentic state and honor that part of you. 

[Yes I will be using Hozier lyrics that represent the ferality of each sign]

Aries Mars [Mars in 1st]

When I picture Aries Mars at its most feral state, I visualize a forest fire consuming everything in its path, absorbing nature to feed as fuel. With Mars in its rulership, Aries Mars has no issue releasing, guided by their heart throughout it all to overcome whatever may stand in their way. They move quickly and harshly, striking first and questioning later. You mold life into what you want it to be so there is no need for you to even plan right? As an unstoppable force, you have to let your heart take control. 

“There's no plan, there's no race to be run

The harder the pain, honey, the sweeter the sun

There's no plan, there's no kingdom to come

Sit in & watch the sunlight fade, honey, enjoy its getting late

Theres no plan, theres no hand on the reign,

...As Mack explained, there will be darkness again”

Taurus Mars [Mars in 2nd]

When I picture Taurus Mars at its most feral state, I imagine a bear tearing its way through a beehive, grasping at the honeycombs and devouring it in a matter of seconds. With a venus-ruled mars or mars in detriment, you all look for the sweeter things in life and insist that you are worthy of goodness and don’t mind taking it for yourself. Conflict is stupid to you because you have your own morals and studies and firmly believe in what you desire and if anyone steps to you, you have the power to throw it right back in their face. You are the raging bull, undefeated once you’re committed. But you represent the tamer, earthy side of Mars.

“I have never known peace like the damp grass that yields to me.

I have never known hunger, like these insects that feast on me.

A thousand teeth, and yours among them, I know.

Our hungers appeased, our heartbeats becoming slow.” 

Gemini Mars [Mars in 3rd]

When I picture Gemini Mars at its most feral state, I picture the rebirth that spring offers. The energy of this mars sign matches the intensity of the rising sun and falling rain that causes the flowers to blossom and fill the earth with its aroma. It is quite impossible to stop a determined Gemini, they want to leave their mark on this earth and do so in many different ways as they are indestructible, powered by the combination of their mind and their heart which creates an explosion upon collision. To get in the way of this placement is to stand in the way of the changing seasons, impossible. 

“Each day you'd rise with me, know that I would gladly be the Icarus to your certainty.

Oh, my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight.

Strap the wing to me, death trap clad happily, with wax melted, I’d meet the sea,

Under sunlight, sunlight, sunlight.”

Cancer Mars [Mars in 4th]

When I picture Cancer Mars at its most feral state, I visualize the crumbling of the earth into itself, only to grow back in a healthier form. A resilient placement that can have the worst thrown at them and come back only more beautiful. In the introduction, I discussed how both Moon and Mars share a common goal but the Moon goes about it a different way, as Cancer Mars goes about martian energy in a different way as well. With mars in fall, Cancer takes the soft approach to ferality, embracing the harsh energy and converting it into tenderness. 

“And I love too, that love soon might end, 

be known in its aching, shown in the shaking,

Lately of my wasteland, baby. 

Be still, my indelible friend, you are unbreaking,

Though quaking, though crazy

That's just wasteland, baby.” 

Leo Mars [Mars in 5th]

When I picture Leo Mars at its most feral state I see a blinding white-hot light overcoming anyone and everyone in its path, forcing others to bend to its will simply by doing what it does naturally. As a fixed mars, Leos energy is continuous and bold, quite difficult to escape if a Leo Mars has you in their eye line. They are everywhere, they rule the heart so they rule ferality in a way, diving back into their lion roots and fully delving into the fact that they are the rulers of the jungle and rulers of the world.

“Be love in its disrepute, scorches the hillside and salts every root 

And watches the slowing and starving of troops

And, lover, be good to me.

Be there and just as you stand or be like the rose that you hold in your hand 

That will grow bold in a barren and desolate land

Oh, lover, be good to me.”

Virgo Mars [Mars in 6th]

When I picture Virgo Mars at its most feral state I can clearly gaze upon an open field, a deer nosing at grass only to be pounced on by a random predator, yet Virgo represents both the predator and the prey, enforcing balance and really honoring nature fully. Virgo Mars is one of the most ferocious and determined martian placement because they understand how to use the life around them to their advantage. Failure is impossible because they are always ten steps ahead of everyone else. They understand balance, both aggressiveness, and peacefulness. 

“With the war of the fire, my heart moves to its feet

Like the ashes of ash, I saw eyes in the heat

Feel it soft and as pure as snow, fell in love with the fire long ago

With each love I could lose, I was never the same

Watch it still live in roofs, be consumed by the flame

I was fixed on your hand of gold, laying waste of my lovin' long ago”

Libra Mars [Mars in 7th]

When I picture Libra Mars at its most feral state, I see a person walking into a mossy lake only to never come out again. There is a slight underestimation when people first get to know the Libra Mars.  This martian placement matches up with tricky Aphrodite, Libra mars has secrets they dont want unturned, they have a hidden past that they want to be kept to themselves because they are never the people they were a few moments ago. They are evolving and healing, rubbing soil on their open wounds to grow into a new version of themselves. 

“I had a thought, dear, however scary about that night, the bugs and the dirt.

Why were you digging? What did you bury before those hands pulled me from the earth?

I will not ask you where you came from, I will not ask and neither should you. 

Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do.” 

Scorpio Mars [Mars in 8th]

When I picture Scorpio Mars at its most feral state, there is a black burning tree in the middle of the falling snow, crackling and popping and falling to the pieces onto blankets of snow only to keep burning. Mars takes a different approach in this rulership, it is calculated, ready, and sure of whatever move is to be made as if it has been practiced for quite some time. There is no defeating a Scorpio mars, only succumbing, bending to its will, and praying that they will take mercy on your soul. 

“If I was born as a blackthorn tree, I'd wanna be felled by you, held by you

Fuel the pyre of your enemies.

Ain't it warming you, the world gone up in flames?

Ain't it the life you, your lighting of the blaze?

Ain't it a waste they'd watch the throwing of the shade?

Ain't you my baby, ain't you my babe?”

Sagittarius Mars [Mars in 9th]

When I picture Sagittarius Mars at its most feral state, I see the serpent in the garden of Eden sliding on its belly and offering an option of freedom, going against the grain of submissiveness. Sagittarius Mars tends to ooze this raw sex appeal that stems from their confidence & their need to question the life around them, never satisfied by what is given to them, instead they leave their own mark on the world before them by embracing individuality and moving along their own path. 

“I'd be the voice that urged Orpheus when her body was found. 

I'd be the choiceless hope in grief that drove him underground.

I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee that made him turn around.

And I'd be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice,

Imagine being loved by me.” 

Capricorn Mars [Mars in 10th]

When I picture Capricorn Mars at its most feral state, I imagine the fall of an empire, a civilization, a society, forced to come to terms with the fact that its reign has come to an end. Mars in exalt, arguably one of the most powerful placements to have in the natal chart, there isn’t a way to prevent the energy of a Capricorn Mars, they are backed by Saturn, two malefic energies combining to create an unbeatable power and manifesting as strength in the native who claims this energy. 

“It's the light, and it's the obstacle that casts it

It's the heat that drives the light, It's the fire it ignites,

It's not the waking, it's the rising.

It's not the song, it is the singing.

It's the heaven of a human spirit ringing.

It is the bringing of the line, It is the bearing of the rhyme

It's not the waking, it's the rising.”

Aquarius Mars [Mars in 11th]

When I picture Aquarius Mars at its most feral state, I visualize a group of nude women, dancing around an intense fire, the full moon shining only for them as they howl out into the wind. Aquarius Mars is a placement that understands how to honor their roots and get back in touch with themselves to move to the future. They use their past to propel them into new opportunities and to become a higher version of themselves. There is no obstructing this futuristic placement, eyes steady on the prize that remains up ahead. 

“When you move, I can recall something that's gone from me

When you move honey, I'm put in awe of something so flawed and free.

So move me, baby, shake like the bough of a willow tree,

You do it naturally, move me, baby.” 

Pisces Mars [Mars in 12th]

When I picture Pisces Mars at its most feral state, I envision a floating sailor, sinking in with each song that leaves the siren’s voice only to realize that it is too late as the last of air leaves their lungs and they now become one with the siren. Pisces Mars has the gift of “innocence” that people project onto them and they understand how to use it to their advantage and come out on top. Deception is a mastered tool but doesn’t negate the fact that they are simply seductive and persuasive and hold power that many are unaware of. They should continue to move carefully and use their “faults” to their benefit. 

“Feeling more human and hooked on her flesh, 

I lay my heart down with the rest at her feet.

Fresh from the fields, all fetor and fertile

It's bloody and raw, but I swear it is sweet. 

In leash-less confusion, I'll wander the concrete,

Wonder if better now having survived.

The jarring of judgment and reason's defeat. 

The sweet heat of her breath in my mouth; I'm alive.”

Link to Website [Services, Blog, & More!]

[f1-disaster-bi]

Oooh can we please have more hcs of ftm lance in the pro dom au?

Of course!

Lance had a hard time coming out but he came out around 13. His parents weren't the most accepting people. Outwardly they supported the LGBTQIA+ community but when Lance comes out, they tell him to shut his mouth and not tell anyone. They refuse to let him dress comfortably. Always making him wear dresses and feminine clothing. Referring to him by his dead name

Chloe helps him a lot. She hides clothes for him, calls him his preferred name and pronouns. Helps him get safe binders and research how to use them. She also talks to their mother a lot because she was more open to Lance being trans and Chloe helps her understand the damage they're doing to Lance. Lance never quiet forgives his mother but his mother apologises and works to understand and be better for him. She helps him get on hormones and even leaves their father when he tries to stop it.

Lance has a complicated relationship with her, he's low contact for a while but it gets better as he is older

Esteban comes into his life in university and they just click. Lance instantly falls for him. He falls for his accent and his laugh and he loves the fact that Esteban only knows him as he is; as Lance.

He does come out to Esteban before he gets top surgery and before they ever start dating. Lance has been part time working at a bdsm club, just bar tending and some small scening/training to make money for it. Esteban is so supportive and loving. He takes care of Lance post surgery. He's the first thing Lance sees after the operation and Lance, groggy and sore and a little high asks him out to which Esteban tells him to ask again when he's not high and kisses his hand

When he first starts doming Lando, Lance always keeps his pants on. His scars have faded nicely. You'd only notice them if you're close enough and looking because it's been years since the surgery and his surgeon was one of the best he could get so Lando doesn't know. Lando just thinks Lance isn't into penetrative sex and respects that. Lance comes out to him when he offers Lando his first proper contract to be Lance's sub, because its part of the agreement he has for his temporary subs that they know and they agree to Lance using a strap and toys and that they don't out Lance and Lando is so sweet about it when clients normally just ignore that to sign with Lance. Lando instead takes the time to thank Lance for sharing this with him, and that he will always respect him and to let Lando know what terms he wants him to use when referring to Lance's intimate areas and to correct him if he ever makes Lance feel uncomfortable.

It only makes Lance fall a little harder for the little sub

[butgilinsky]

someone will ache for your soul // np

warning; a lot of language i’m sry, argument btw best friends, talks abt a shitty ex bf but there’s nothing explicit

summary; in a world where you acquire tattoos across various parts of your body once you fall in love with someone, you have to hide yours from your best friend. 

word count; 6.7k+

a/n: kind of a soulmate au but not really i guess? i saw this prompt somewhere online and idk where it’s from so the general idea of gaining tattoos from those you fall in love with is not mine but the rest of the fic is. okay thx bye(:

add yourself to my nhl taglist!

When you were younger, you loved it. You loved looking down at your ankle and seeing the small butterfly just beside your ankle. You’d had it your whole life, though you still weren’t entirely sure how a tattoo grew up with you, but you accepted it. After all, it’s all that you knew. 

Everybody’s born with a tattoo on their ankle, a small tattoo that has theirselves embedded into it. However, the older you get the more you realize that it’s not the tattoo you’re born with that makes the biggest impact on you, it’s others’. Every time you fall in love with somebody, your skin makes room for their tattoo on it. Your mom’s tattoo, a small star on her left ankle, shined bright from its place on your father’s wrist, somehow separate from the couple tattoos he collected over the years. 

You remember the day you found out about the tattoos, perched in your mom’s lap and listening to her talk to your aunt about it. You remember tracing their tattoos with your small fingers while they told you various stories about their loves and how they grew up collecting tattoos on their skin. You were scared, asked your mom what happened if you never got any more than your single tattoo on your ankle. She told you that you would, that anybody would be lucky to collect your small butterfly somewhere on their body. 

You remember the day you got your second tattoo, the paper plane that sat on the back of your left shoulder that now held the role as a painful reminder of your first love. You loved Cory, but the time for the two of you had come and gone. The paper airplane, though never in your line of sight, was still a painful reminder of the times you shared with the boy and how he broke your heart at the end of it all just before moving to college. 

You had to go through senior year alone, newly broken up with and with your best friend hours away from home. You couldn’t blame Nolan, not when he was out doing the thing he loved so much. Being in Brandon was good for him, it was all that he wanted, and it wasn’t all that far away from Winnipeg anyways. You still drove out to see Nolan’s games, even if it ran up the miles on your car and had you spending late nights driving back home by yourself. You would’ve done anything for Nolan, and it truly showed during your senior year. 

Nolan’s draft day was a rude awakening for you. You jumped up when his name was called, hugging him as tight as you possibly could before hiding your giddy expression behind your hands. You were excited for him, even if he was going all the way out to Philadelphia. You wanted him to be happy, and you could tell within seconds of his name being called that he was going to do just fine in Philly. 

You didn’t notice until you got home and your heart sank into your stomach. Your adrenaline high had worn off, and the reality of everything around you began to sink in. You knew what it was the second you laid your eyes on it, black lines etched into the skin of your sternum. You thought it was an odd placement, though it was hard to miss it when you stepped out of the shower and it stood tall and proud and ready to be found. 

You knew what it was, you’d seen the shape etched into Nolan’s ankle far more times than you could count. It mocked you, the snake coiled up the same way your memory sketched it out in your brain, and now it was imprinted perfectly into your skin. You touched it, rubbed it, tried to wash it off. You had just taken a shower, just washed the day off of you and down the drain and now you were standing in the middle of a hotel bathroom, rubbing at the spot between your breasts mercilessly. This couldn’t be happening, not to you, not when Nolan was about to move thousands of miles away from you. 

But it was happening, because the black line that followed no real pattern never faded, despite the skin around it turning raw from your insistent attempts at washing it off. It was here to stay, no matter what happened in your life down the road. It didn’t matter that you had no heads up, no warning that you were falling head over heels in love with your best friend. 

You knew it wouldn’t wash off, but that didn’t stop you from trying. These tattoos were forever, you knew that. You learned from a ripe, young age about obtaining your love’s tattoo. You learned about it growing up, you talked about it with friends and family, hell this wasn’t even your first tattoo that wasn’t your own. You knew the drill, you knew the routine, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. 

You were 18, watching him sign contracts and make agreements of his big move in a few short weeks. You couldn’t believe it, that you were losing him in a time like this. It made dropping him off at the airport all that much harder, cheeks wet and eyes bloodshot as you clung to him for dear life. You knew his parents wanted to say bye, that his sisters were waiting patiently while you cried into his shoulder, but you couldn’t let go.

He didn’t know about the snake on your sternum, nor did you plan on telling him. You couldn’t drop a bomb like that on him just before he moved to a different country, finally living out the dream he’d had ever since you could remember. Nolan wasn’t Nolan without hockey, and you were aware of that. You were painfully aware of that. 

So you didn’t tell him. 

You spent too many nights curled up in your bed, clinging to your pillow to muffle the whimpers and whines that pushed through your lips and out into the air. You tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest at any given moment, and you did everything in your power to keep everything under wraps. You couldn’t tell anyone, no matter how bad it hurt to be in love with your best friend that now lived so far away from you. 

It was hard, hiding it. You had to hide it from your family and friends, and sometimes that was easy. During the cold months you were seemingly off the hook, but when summer rolled around and your friends dragged you out to the lake every chance they got, you were in a bit of trouble. You had to carefully choose what bathing suits you wore and had to make sure nothing slipped or faltered throughout the day. 

You’d made it three years without a slip up. Even on nights when Nolan came home and you were mere inches away from him, you couldn’t find it in you to tell him. Even when he was curled up into your side and holding you against his chest in the most comfortable way, you couldn’t say anything. You couldn’t make a move on him. 

And now you were in Philly, standing in an arena that had you shivering but smiling brightly from the opposite side of the glass. You smiled every time Nolan skated by, even more when he assisted Travis in the first goal of the game and scored one of his own late in the second period. You were buzzing, adrenaline pumping and excitement shining deep in your chest. Watching Nolan do what he loved would never get old, not when the smile he wore was enough to wash away any fear or worry you’ve ever had. 

You remember nights when you couldn’t sleep and Nolan would hold you. You remembered nights when you were crying over the phone to him and he snuck out of his room and into your own. You remembered fights you had and the way he made you walk home one night after one of your bigger ones. 

You were walking out of TIm Horton’s, mere feet away from Nolan’s car before you tumbled into an argument you’d been trying to avoid for a few days now. You were dating Cory at the time, and Nolan couldn’t believe you were telling him that you couldn’t go to his game on Friday night, regardless of the fact that you’d promised him for weeks now that you’d be there. It was hard for you to catch games during the week, but this one was on a Friday night with plenty of time for you to finish the school day and drive over to Brandon. 

But now you were telling him that you couldn’t go, and no matter how sorry you were, Nolan couldn’t forgive you. He said you’d blown him off for Cory more times than he could accept anymore. You had to call your sister, figuring she was the only one that would pick you up and give you a ride home without threatening to leave you in the parking lot in favor of beating Nolan to a pulp. 

None of that mattered though. None of it mattered when you were faced with the boy you’d fallen in love with doing the thing he cherished most. When he left the locker room with a smile brighter than any of his teammates had seen in a long time that was directed straight at you, you knew none of it mattered. 

Your feet left the ground, hanging in the air while your best friend clung to your frame tightly. He thanked you for coming, told you that he scored the goal just for you, that he scored every goal for you. You figured it was the adrenaline talking, that he was just basking in the big win against their biggest rivals. That plus the fact that Nolan could barely come to terms with the fact that you were here all for him. 

You’d been in Philly before, had visited Nolan a few times over his years with the Flyers. You’d met practically everyone there was to meet and had gotten fairly close with his closest friends by default, seeing as they were always around when you were. Everything was going well this time around, everyone was having fun and getting along and it almost seemed like nothing could fall out of place. 

You were standing in the kitchen with Nolan and Travis when Nolan’s name was called, beckoning him out into the rest of the house while you and Travis rallied drinks for the group. He tried to ignore them, tried to help you pile up on wine and beers for the rest of the group but Travis practically kicked him out of the kitchen. Travis said he could help you, that the two of you didn’t need Nolan’s help and that someone else clearly did. 

It took all of five minutes for Travis to spill red wine all over your shirt. Thankfully for him, the few glasses you’d thrown back throughout the night washed over any sense of anger or annoyance you’d usually pick up and you simply laughed it off. He felt so bad, begged you to forgive him and let you buy him a new shirt, but all you did was insist that he find you a new one for now and that you could figure out the rest of it when the two of you weren’t tipsy and surrounded by your friends. 

Travis ducked out of the kitchen for a second before turning back up and leading you into a hallway on the other end of the house. He told you that Claude never really let them wander his house without a little supervision, claiming that they break everything that they touch, but this was a special case. Claude loved you, and he wasn’t going to let you walk around with a wine stained shirt for the rest of the night, especially when it’s Travis’s fault in the first place. 

You laid back on the bed in the room you were unfamiliar with, smiling up at the ceiling and humming to yourself while Travis dug through Claude’s closet. 

“I know Ryanne has a stack of those shirts somewhere.” he spoke gently to himself, refraining from throwing clothes all over the room and instead digging for one through multiple piles. You laughed to yourself, not even sure if he knew that you could hear him. 

“Just pick one, Teeks!” he huffed and chucked one at you, laughing loudly when it landed directly on your face. 

You whined and sat up, reaching for the hem of your shirt without much thought surrounding the subject before peeling it off. All you could think about was how sticky your stomach had gotten from the red spot. 

It was the small gasp that got you, the one that brought you back down to Earth and tore you out of your wine-induced haze. It was Travis’s eyes locked in on the spot in the middle of your chest that triggered every panic siren in between your ears. 

“Is that-”

“TK you can’t tell him.” you rushed out, pushing yourself to stand up as you pressed a bright orange Flyers shirt against your chest. Your hands were shaking, and Travis’s eyes were glued to the spot of the tattoo even without being able to see it anymore. He knew what that snake was, he knew it all too well. He’d known Nolan for a long time now, and he’d seen the snake enough times to commit it to memory. 

He was sure you had Nolan’s snake in the middle of your chest, and now Travis knew you were in love with Nolan. 

“Trav, I’m serious.” he shook his head, trying to clear himself of the intrusive thoughts and nodded gently. He couldn’t tell Nolan. He wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to keep that from him, especially when he had been looking for your tattoo on Nolan’s skin for years now. 

Travis wasn’t dense. He saw the way that Nolan looked at you, heard the tone he used when he talked about you. He saw how excited Nolan got when he knew you were about to fly into Philly, and he saw how upset Nolan got when you left. He might not have been the brightest bulb in the box, but he knew that there was something lying under the surface of you and Nolan’s friendship. 

He tried to have this conversation before, had tried more times than he could count at this point. The only difference now was that there was hard proof, there was evidence that he was right all along. But now he couldn’t use that evidence, not when you were looking at him with wide eyes and begging him to keep it between the two of you. 

“Fine, but we’re talking about this before you go back home.” you nodded, figuring that it was good enough for you if it meant he never told Nolan about it. 

Except, there was one small problem.

The door swung open, dark and narrowed eyes landing on you and Travis, less than a foot between the two of you with you topless, a single shirt held between your hands and in front of your chest. 

“My best friend?” the disappointment in his voice tugged at your heart and punched you in the gut simultaneously. The guilt hanging in your chest was barely justified, given this was one large misunderstanding, but the look on Nolan’s face was enough to have your shoulders falling. 

“Nolan, it’s not-”

“My best fucking friend? Of all people you had to choose him?” his eyes were wide and glued to yours, anger mixing with disgust in the back of his mind. He couldn’t believe you’d do this to him. 

“Pat, you don’t understand-” 

“Fuck you.” Nolan spoke slowly and clearly, shooting Travis the sharpest glare he could produce. His voice sent a chill down your spine, unsure if you had ever heard him speak with such malice. “Both of you.” 

Nolan spun on the balls of his feet and left the room, but you didn’t let him get far before you were following him. You tugged the shirt over your head, not even bothering to turn back to Travis to apologize before you were running after Nolan, calling his name down the hallway. 

“Nolan, please-”

“I don’t want to hear it, honestly.” he threw over his shoulder, but you weren’t accepting that. You weren’t going to let him walk away right now, not when you didn’t do anything wrong. 

“Just listen to me!” you stopped walking, stopped running. You stood in the middle of a hallway that had pictures lining the walls around you. Smiling faces and cheery laughs suffocated you in a time where you stood toe to toe with your best friend, the same one who was looking down at you like he’d never known you. “You don’t get to assume things and just walk away!”

“Yeah, well you don’t get to come out here after not seeing me for six months and sleep with my best friend! You don’t get to do that to me! You don’t get to use me to sleep with professional athletes.” any words you had swimming through your mind halted at his accusation. They fizzled out, unable to produce a coherent thought after you heard your best friend accuse you of using him. 

“After all this time, you think i’m using you? You think that I came here to sleep with Travis?” 

“You want to know what I think? I think you’ve always used me. You used me to escape your awful boyfriend in high school and you used me to leave home when things got bad. You used me to get over your shitty boyfriend when he left you in the fucking dust and here you are now, using me to sleep with my best fucking friend.” you were in shock, lips parted and throat constricting as you tried to let his words sit. 

“If you wanted to whore yourself out to NHL players, you should’ve just said so, puck bunny.” The nickname weighed heavily in your chest, bringing you back to a time where Nolan went on and on about how much puck bunnies got under his skin. It brought you back to a time when Nolan would never call you that, would never even put you and the name in the same conversation.

“Patty!” Nolan’s eyes left yours, casting over your shoulder and locking with another pair that he might have been more furious at. Sure, he was angry at you. He couldn’t believe you’d do something like this, not after growing up with him just a few houses down. He couldn’t believe you’d stoop this low, but Travis? Travis knew how Nolan felt about you. Even if he didn’t admit it, even if he’d never say that was all true, Travis knew. He knew better than anyone how Nolan felt, and that made it all the more worse. 

“Don’t talk to her like that.” you bit down on your bottom lip, hard enough to sting slightly but you couldn’t look away from where your eye level left you. You couldn’t look up at Nolan, not when he was this angry at you, and you surely couldn’t look at Travis. You knew that’d only make things worse. 

“Now you get to tell me how to talk to her? Does that mean the two of you are a thing now? That’s funny, seeing as you have a girlfriend, Teeks. Didn’t know you were into home wrecking, y/n.”

“Fuck you.” you spoke softly, not even sure if he had heard you before he looked down at you with a puzzled look stretched across his face. 

“So I can pick up TK’s sloppy seconds? No thanks, angel.” you shoved him then, shoved him hard. He didn’t move much due to the way his feet dug into the ground and he had muscle on you, but you got your point across by the force delivered to his chest. 

“You’re a dick, you know that? You walk into a room and think you know everything that’s going on, but you don’t, okay? You don’t know what happens when you’re gone. You don’t know what happened in there or what happens at home when you’re here. You don’t know anything, okay?” 

“That’s bold, given that I just walked in on you topless, seconds away from kissing my best friend, y/n-”

“Is there a reason you feel the need to keep reminding me that Travis is your best friend?”

“Because I need you to know that you’re not.” 

The world titled on its axis then, the rude awakening you’d walked into becoming all too much for you to handle. With the realization that Nolan wanted nothing to do with you, you nodded once and walked around him so you could leave. It was only then that you noticed the audience you’d gathered, the better half of the Flyers roster circled around the room with a few of their significant others. You flashed everyone a pained smile and thanked Claude and Ryanne for inviting you before leaving the house. 

You weren’t even down the driveway when your lungs gave way, gasping for air while tears streamed down your cheeks. Your heart hurt and your stomach turned, and you knew it was going to be a long night. 

“You really are a dick.” Travis was going to walk past him, was going to avoid the lot of people and follow you outside. He knew you didn’t know where you were, nor did you have a way to get to or from anywhere else. You could order an uber to Nolan’s, but then what? Kevin might let you into the apartment but where would you stay? On the couch in a living room you weren’t welcome in? Not likely. 

“I’m the dick? You know how I feel about her!”

“Nothing happened!”

“Bullshit, TK! I know that look on your face and I know that she sure as hell looked embarrassed-”

“I spilt wine on her shirt, you fucking idiot! I knocked into her when we were in the kitchen and I made her entire glass of wine spill down the front of her shirt, so I went to get her another one. I didn’t want her to sit in a soaking wet, stained shirt for the rest of the night so I went to get her another.” 

“And she changed in front of you because-?”

“Because she was drunk and knew I wouldn’t make a move on her. Because she knows that I respect you and care about you far more than I care about making a move on her. I don’t look at her that way, Pat. You know I would never do that to you.” Nolan sucked on his teeth then, casting his eyes away from Travis’s and looking down at his feet. 

“Do I?” Travis scoffed then, not bothering to give Nolan a response before walking past everybody else and out to his car. 

After a few minutes of driving around, he found you at the park just down the street, leaning against the chain that supported the swing you sat on. He couldn’t see your tears from his car, but he could see the way you flinched when he shut the car door behind him. 

“You okay?” you shook your head, eyes filled to the brim with tears that blurred your vision and broke Travis’s heart. 

“I’m in love with him, Teeks. I love him more than anything in this entire world and he thinks I’m using him. He t-thinks- he thinks I-” 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Travis pulled you onto your feet and into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you in order to attempt to calm you down. 

“He thinks-” your sobs rang through the air, piercing through Travis’s heart and resulting in him squeezing you tighter, letting you get all of it out while no one else was around. 

“He doesn’t think that. He knows you’re not using him, he just can’t bear to think about you with anybody other than him.” you shook your head, not allowing yourself to believe Travis, even though he knew Nolan pretty well. If there was anything to know about Nolan, you or Travis would know about it. 

“He loves you, okay? He loves you more than he knows how to handle and he can’t handle losing you before he’s even had you.” you flinched when a car backfired, jumping inches off of the ground and making Travis laugh gently from beside you when you let out a shaky breath of relief. 

Your eyes found the familiar car drive by, slowing down the slightest bit by the park only to take off towards the entrance of the neighborhood quite quickly. You knew it was Nolan, you knew that car by heart. 

You ended up on Travis’s couch the night, wrapped in a warm pair of sweatpants that Travis threw in the dryer for you before giving them to you. You tied the drawstring in a tight knot so they’d stay up and pulled on a hoodie that he offered to you shortly after. He listened to you reminisce on all of the memories you had with Nolan. He learned more about his best friend and who he was growing up, but also learned a fair amount about you as well. 

He felt for you. He couldn’t believe Nolan said all of those things to you, but he also knew that Nolan must not be doing well right now. He texted Kevin when he got back to his apartment, saying that you were safe with him, and that he’d text Nolan but didn’t for obvious reasons. Kevin assured Travis he’d let Nolan know you were safe, despite Nolan not asking about your well being. Not that he hadn’t thought about it, but he figured if he asked he’d be left with a less than likable answer. 

Nolan didn’t sleep well that night, replaying how bad he fucked up over and over again in his mind. He didn’t believe you at first, didn’t even believe Travis when he told him what truly happened. He did, however, believe his captain when he said that Travis asked him for a shirt for you just a few minutes before it all happened. Ryanne brought out your wine soaked shirt after the two of you had left, and despite Nolan coming to terms with the fact that he was wrong, he couldn’t forgive himself for the things he said to you. 

He couldn’t believe he accused you of it all before going on to accuse you of using him for your benefit. He knew it was stupid, since you’d been around far before the NHL. you were there when he got drafted, you were there when he was named captain of the Wheat Kings, and you were there when he almost quit hockey when he was younger. He remembered having you by his side through everything growing up and even now, even while living so far away from each other. If he called, you answered. If he needed help, you helped him. Hockey had nothing to do with that. 

He looked down at the butterfly on his thigh, the one that took residence right beside another one of his tattoos, one that he had to keep hidden from you for well over two years now. He traced his finger over the small image, let his mind wander over all the possibilities of where yours could be if you had a snake somewhere inked into your skin. It’s a thought he often had, wondering where you’d want it, if you’d want it. 

By the time Nolan came to his senses, it was too late. He’d already gotten through an entire practice and by the time he got back, by the time he got home, he realized you were gone. Your things that were piled into a corner of his room were gone. The jersey he’d given you for the game against the pens was folded up nicely on the pillow of his bed and a sticky note with your unmistakeable handwriting on it left a hole in his chest. 

I’m sorry I ever made you doubt me. 

He couldn’t reach for his phone fast enough, couldn’t call you enough times to break your voicemail box. He called Travis, pained to hear that you were already on a flight back to Winnipeg. He wanted to leave, wanted to drive to the airport right this second and catch a flight back home to tell you he’s incredibly sorry, but he couldn’t. He had a roadie in a few days and a game tomorrow night and he couldn’t just leave. 

He did his best to contact you, tried to call every person in your family and was disappointed every time. Even when both of his sisters sat down and called him to collectively tell him that he was the biggest idiot either of them had ever met. Nobody could believe Nolan blew you off like that, not even Nolan himself. 

He knew he fucked up, but he hadn’t realized how bad he fucked things up until one of your friends from back home posted a picture of you on social media a few months later. It had been at least four months since he’d spoken to you, since he saw you. It had been too long of him having nothing but the sliver of content he got from social media. He hated that his friends had chosen your side in the thick of it all, though he guessed it was easier to do that with him in Philadelphia and the rest of you in the same place. 

But it wasn’t until a picture of you with a wide smile and a new bathing suit popped up on his phone that he knew the true weight of the situation in front of him. There you were, in a baby blue bathing suit that showed the same shape between your breasts that he’d grown up with beside his ankle. His tattoo was committed to memory, ingrained into his brain with no room to forget about it, especially when he saw it on you, etched into your skin the same way it had been etched into his. 

He thought back to the paper airplane on your shoulder, the mark that had haunted him for years. He hated your boyfriend, hated the sight of his tattoo on your skin. He hated everything that had to do with the sheer thought of you with somebody else, even if he didn’t know how to deal with that. And now, with his thumb sitting on the butterfly on his thigh and his eyes on the snake on your sternum, he knew he had to fix this. He knew he had to fix things because these tattoos, though permanent themselves, didn’t guarantee him a life as your boyfriend, nor your husband. 

Nolan remembered a time when he thought these tattoos were stupid. He remembered when he thought it was a thing for soulmates and you told him that thought was wrong, that it just reminded you of a love you felt, even if it was eventually lost. He remembers you telling him that you were scared you’d never be loved forever, that you were scared to only be loved momentarily. 

But that wasn’t the case. Nolan would never stop loving you. He couldn’t forget about the way your laugh brightened his day without question, or the way your nose scrunched when you laughed. He couldn’t forget about the way you bugged him for ice cream on a bad day, or how good you looked with his name and number stretched across your back. 

He couldn’t remember a day he wasn’t in love with you. 

So Nolan flew to Winnipeg the second the Flyers’ season was over. He didn’t bask in getting knocked out of the playoffs like some of the other guys, didn’t dwell on the loss in the sixth game of the series because he couldn’t. He couldn’t dwell on a loss when he was so focused on trying to prevent a second one. 

He had called everybody he could think of once he got off the plane. Some didn’t answer, some didn’t know the answer to his question, and some just flat out refused to humor him. You weren’t home, he knew that much by the absence of your car in the driveway and your sister telling him that you weren’t there, and that she wouldn’t let him inside even if you were. It wasn’t until he rounded a familiar corner after a phone call he’d been thankful for. 

Jordan told him where you were, unable to lie to his childhood friend when you were hanging out with everyone. You were wearing a bathing suit again, though it didn’t matter for a while. The sun was high in the air and you weren’t the only that had shed yourself of your coverup earlier in the afternoon. You were playing basketball with Jordan, oblivious to the fact that he’d given you up just ten minutes prior to the gate door swinging open and Nolan letting himself into the backyard. 

Your eyes found him easily, as if he was a magnet you could never repel. Your shoulders fell for a moment, your instinct of wanting to comfort him seeping in before you could tell it not to. Of course you kept up with his team, watching every game you possibly could until the very last one. You knew he’d been knocked out of the playoff less than 48 hours ago, and you had no idea he was coming home. 

You hadn’t realized the weight of the situation until you noticed his eyes locked in on your chest. You folded your arms over your chest in an attempt to cover the snake, but it didn’t make Nolan look anywhere else. 

“Who told you I was here?” your voice was soft. You knew he didn’t drive around the entire town looking for your car, though you weren’t sure it was something too far out of his reach. Nolan would do just about anything to get something if he wanted it bad enough.

“Bo did.” you glared at the boy not far from you, the one that you shouldn’t have trusted with something like this in the first place. You should’ve known Jordan would do something like this. 

“Patty, what the fuck?”

“Just shut up, Bo.” Jordan rolled his eyes and tossed the basketball to Nolan who smacked it away and into the grass. 

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you.” you tried to stand your ground, even with Jordan giggling to himself before walking over to your friends not too far from where you currently stood. 

“Just give me five minutes.”

Nolan’s eyes bore into yours, the same pair of bright blue eyes that you had been avoiding for months. You wanted to answer every call and every text, but how could you? How could you pick up the phone and listen to his voice through the speaker after all he’d said to you in front of his entire team. And then on top of it all, he left you stranded in Philly, in the middle of a city, country even, where you had nobody to turn to and nowhere to go. 

“I know you don’t want to talk to me-”

“Then leave, Nols.” he shook his head, taking a step towards you. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I know I hurt you-”

“You’re right! You hurt me! You hurt me so bad Nolan and I can’t go through that again so if you’re here to let history repeat itself, then can you just go?” he shook his head, firmly planting his feet into the ground and refusing to move. 

“I know you don’t want to see me or listen to me or give me the benefit of the doubt but I need you to hear me out.” you sighed, letting your arms fall to your side. You weren’t sure how he seemingly broke down all of your walls without even lifting a finger. You watched his eyes flick down to the image on your chest, you even let him raise a finger once he stood in front of you and trace the shape of the snake. “It suits you, y’know?”

“Did you really come all this way to tell me that this suits me?” there was a hint of amusement in your voice, enough of it to bring a smile to Nolan’s lips. 

“I know I fucked up-”

“Big time.” you cut him off, shooting him a gentle smile and nod that told you you’d stop interrupting him. “Sorry, continue.”

“I know I fucked up and I said a lot of shit I didn’t mean and that’s not an excuse but- look, I know i shouldn’t have said all of that shit. I should’ve believed the two of you. I should’ve believed you when you told me nothing happened and I shouldn’t have said you were using me. I know you’re not using me. There was no way you could’ve known that I was going to be in the NHL, and you wouldn’t have stuck around all this time just to be a puck bunny.” 

It wasn’t like you to forgive all that easily. You drew lines in the sand and refused to let someone fuck you over twice. You weren’t big on second chances, especially when you thought people didn’t deserve them. You were a straight shooter, no bullshit. But those walls cracked for Nolan, they fell for Nolan. None of your boundaries were drawn in place with Nolan in mind. He had broken down every wall, overstepped every boundary since the day he met you. You couldn’t block him out, couldn’t lead him out of your life. 

As much as you hated to admit it, you needed Nolan Patrick. You were in love with Nolan Patrick. 

And the little butterfly on his thigh told you that he loved you all the same. 

Your lips turned up at the sight, your eyes locked in on the place where his shorts had ridden up and the small image danced happily on his skin. 

“How long have you had that?” you pointed down at it, barely noticing the way his eyes stayed trained on you through the entirety of the situation. You were looking at his tattoo, but he was looking at you. He was always looking at you, which only made it that much more surprising that he hadn’t picked up on the snake on your chest. 

“Since before I got drafted.” he spoke softly, hitting you with a force you didn’t know existed. You were floored by the realization, somewhat thinking that he’d only had it for a small bit of time. You’d seen his thighs, seen his tattoos and you’d never seen the small butterfly etched into his skin. 

“How long have you had that?” his finger traced over the snake one more time, sending a chill down your spine that you had felt more times than you could count when you were around Nolan. It was a feeling that was never expected but always welcome. 

“Draft day.” you breathed out, feeling the weight of the world lift off of your shoulders. You were finally admitting it, finally letting the love of your life know just how long you’ve been a mess for him. Little did you know how much of a mess he was for you. 

“I’m so sorry, y/n.” 

“It’s okay.” you spoke softly, a smile gracing your lips at the realization that things were falling back into place, even after all this time of not talking to him. 

“It’s okay?” you nodded, taking another step toward him so you were chest to chest. 

“As long as you don’t fuck it up again.” he let out a small laugh, his hands finding the sides of your face just before pressing his lips to yours. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

-

italics mean it wouldn’t let me tag you!!

nolpat tag list; @extratragic​ @babytkachuks​ @teenagekook​ @stfukie​ @kiedhara​ @sadcupofcoffee​ @sidscrosbyy​ @rebel-without-care @baby-cat-nol-pat​ @creator-appreciator​ 

tagging the himbos as well; @bricksatlandyswindow​ @damndunner​ @anxietyandtacos​ @sortagaysortahigh​ @dmonchld​

[keingleichgewicht]

WERE YOU KIDDING ABOUT THE ASK GAME if not i dont have any specific lyrics in mind but i always thought the lyrics to the mill were so cool and maybe you could get some thoughts out of them? :0

YEAH GOD OKAY LET’S TALK ABOUT THE MILL. LET’S TALK ABOUT UHHHHHHHHH [THROWS DARTBOARD]

this line. this MIGHT go on for a while so i will............  readmore

so the mill feels kind of notably different to the rest of the pafl songs, which tend to be unusually literal for lyric, either straightforward retellings of events (punch it, punk!) or character piece monologues set to plot visuals (strike 3) or both (all of them, but for instance particularly comfort zone, which is just dmitry’s horrible manifesto until it gets hijacked by a death sentence in the second verse.) the mill is a lot more like what we expect from poetry these days, which is to say it’s heavy on imagery, low on clarity, and fucking confusing!

I’ll draw a circle in the sand, drive myself around the bend in a desperate attempt to hold on to your battered hand Rocked to sleep beneath the snow, she is bathed in youthful glow ‘Strong enough to let it go,’ he says, but darling, I don’t know

a lot of the mill is about circles. this is in the name: a mill is something which turns. a waterwheel is a circle, a grindstone is a circle. it’s even in the melody: the chorus is a cyclic, pentatonic four-note riff that keeps going up and down and up its own ladder, chasing its own tail, not really reaching resolution. and then it’s also in, you know, the story:

the meat grinder!!!! everyone’s favorite fucking hellhole!!!! it is only semi-explicitly identified in the song but that’s because it’s a concept from the source material - both tarkovsky’s stalker and roadside picnic feature the meat-grinder, as a location nicknamed thus by stalkers because it is even more fucking deadly than the rest of the zone, all of which is already ridiculously fucking deadly, and if you’ve seen the movie:

it is more or less instantly recognizable in the mill as well. so here we have a circle! here we have a mill (the title has about seventy double meanings but this is certainly one of them,) and as it turns out, this mill at least will absolutely kill you. and horribly too. interestingly though, in roadside picnic (the book) the meat-grinder is not a tunnel, and it’s not round - it’s just a nondescript patch of ground which will wring you out like a dishcloth and kill you extremely dead if you walk into it. on the other hand what we have in the book in terms of circles is the golden ball, which is the equivalent of the movie’s the room, which is, well,

in short both stories ultimately hinge upon the idea that there is a something in the zone which can give you your heart’s desire. anything you want. everything you want. whatever you want. it is infinitely powerful; it is infinitely capable. the catch is that it will only give you what you want. the catch is that giving you what you want is not the same as giving you what you are asking for. the other catch is that in both cases you have to get through the meat-grinder first.

(so, by the way, what the fuck, right? does pafl’s zone have a wish-granting factory? is it also behind the grinder? where were the original trio going when they got themselves fucked up? and did they get there?)

but the point is: the golden ball, the wish-granting factory, is also a circle. it’s just sort of a sphere. it’s a big round fuckin yellow thing. you know, sorta like:

which is THE ONLY TIME yellow is used in occam’s razor not counting the full-colour shots, and it drives me CRAZY, but it is also me going full conspiracy board so let’s not even worry about it. THE POINT IS.

the circle is the death-machine and the wish-machine. neither of these things are really.... very good. the circle, or at least the arc, is also very closely associated with death:

(розовая дуга предрассветного, ‘rose arc of pre-dawn’. if i’ve fucked up that nominative please feel free to stone me to death!) 

in the gdoc notes to message lost ferry briefly refers to the dawn as if it were a good thing, the dawn of hope, which is a usage that sort of agrees with the desolate and deathless hope of strike 3′s ‘everything will pass / a day will come,’ but on the other hand it really is very closely associated with dying. nikolai bites it; nikita bites it; sergei and olga left significant chunks of themselves behind. and the thing about ‘this too shall pass’ is that it’s always true, as is ‘everything ends’, but of course that’s ‘cause the thing that ends might be you. and as we know

dawn is an ending. so that seems concerning!

i think the circle, the arc, the bolt falling back to the ground, is not a good thing. i am getting a little conspiracy board here in general but forgive me, i cannot make you a wholesome answer, my wit’s diseased. i think the circle is an enclosed space. it’s an unbroken cycle. it’s the grindstone. it’s the mill. it’s about what pafl’s always been about: about being trapped, about having no chances, about being bordered upon. the circle’s the geometric figure of equidistance from a given point, and you can walk on it forever, and nothing will ever change; you will never get closer, you will never get further away, you will never get out! the sun rises, the sun sets, and you are no closer to anything you wanted. it’s worth noting that anya’s borderline city, the zone-edge port town she complains is trying to crush all her dreams, her mill

is a circle. (a cog in a machine! a grind-wheel! a cage!)

and yura, whose dreams have already been burned out of him, who starts the series already resigned to never getting out of here, calls it ‘this dire deja-vu’, i am specifically resisting putting the accent marks back onto that, which is to say, it’s a repetition that haunts him. it’s going round and round and getting nowhere.

so if we bring it back around: drawing a line in the sand, as the phrase is generally used, means setting a border, means saying this far and no further. often it’s yourself you’re setting the border for. you hit some divide you can’t abide crossing so you say this stops here, it may be too early or too late, but i say it stops here. so logically: drawing a circle in the sand means you’ve locked yourself in completely.

I’ll draw a circle in the sand, drive myself around the bend in a desperate attempt to hold your battered hand

the whole first half of this song, i think, is olga promising to grind herself down in a hundred ways if it means she won’t be left alone. how hard can it be to never let it overflow? she may feel lower than the low, she may wish she could just disappear out here, into the postindustrial rust, but though it gets harder all the time she will keep pretending. she isn’t going to burden sergei, or indeed anyone, with her problems, her fears, her scars. she is hurt, but she’s used to it, she’s gotten used to being haunted long ago. she keeps her bad eye covered. she stays within her circle she has drawn. she keeps going round and round. she will take the smallest sliver of human connection and be happy, she promises she will be happy, she promises she won’t ask for more, she will take just the ‘hello.’

but you knooooow it’s not true. you know it’s grinding her down, that she’ll be milled to nothing pretty soon, and really she knows it too.

i am perhaps seventy percent sure that this line is a reference to the windmills of your mind by michel legrande, which features such lines as

Like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of its own Down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never shone Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind

which on one hand seems sort of obscure to be a purposeful reference but on the other hand would be a hell of a coincidence if it wasn’t, wouldn’t it. either way it characterizes circles ambiguously, but definitely unsettlingly. going around in circles is chasing infinity, but what in god’s name would you do with it if you caught it? what are you even hoping to accomplish? and: 

the second half of this song is bitterer, sharper - staring down the mouth of the meat-grinder she’s a little more willing to admit to herself that this is going nowhere. she is running out of cages to keep herself in. she is very tired. it’s easy to say why don’t you leave it all behind, it’s easy to say, she’s strong enough to let it go, it’s easy to say, too strong to die. it is a lot harder to actually live.

this is also where the flashbacks admit to us how badly hurt they really were - sergei with his whole side in shreds, she still hides her eye but at least we get to see it’s bleeding. this moral compass is forever misaligned, she says, so there is damage, and it is lasting. and she can’t settle for hello, she can’t live like this, she needs someone by her side. the trouble is whether she can believe she has any hope of getting that

as for who ‘her’ is, or the ‘she’ of ‘she is bathed in youthful glow’, i figure there’s two possibilities: either it’s nadya, who haunts olga too, because nikita’s abandonment of nadya represents exactly what she most fears for herself, or it’s olga’s younger, unbroken, binocular self - both of whom were so young, and so easily hurt, and are now unfindable.

and then there’s this conclusion: ‘the sun will rise, until then / i’ll be waiting for you on the other side.’ which maybe is a sort of hope after all? she’s reached no real conclusions in the zone - she knows there must be hope but she can only barely believe in it - she thinks she is destined to self-destruct. but on the other hand she still has that, a version of sergei’s own ‘a day will come’

you may be hurt, but if you can hold yourself together, you can hope for a dawn someday. an ending. a change. but the trouble’s that there’s more than one kind of ending. and there’s more than one meaning for other side. there are cages, and then there are cages. and you know what else looks like a tunnel, a circle?

staring down the barrel of the gun.

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

RESISTERE TENTATIONEM: CAPITULUM II

TĒCTUS: Covered, concealed, hidden, having been covered, hidden or concealed

Pairings: Damian Priest x Reader

Warnings: +18, mature content

Editor: @thenightmareismyreality

Tag: @ziasaph , @theworldofotps , @alyhull , @bellalutionn , @aerynscrichton , @serpantscorpio8497 , @ava-valerie , @omegasshyghuleh6661ghosts , @squirreledelman , @cazxcx , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @bayley-no-friends , @waywardwrestlewritingwaif , @sassymox

Notes: I would like to thank @letsgivethisonemoreshot , for not only being my partner in crime with this trilogy but also being one of the best friends someone could ever have 😘 This is fully written in Damian’s POV. If you’d like to check out my previous works, you can find them on my Masterlist

Want to hear a joke that’s really in poor taste? The Mother Superior of the famous Mary Magdalene Convent (isn’t that ironic) is being accused of hosting ‘parties’ to the oh so loving convent donors. And you know who isn’t invited to those parties? Jesus Christ. Because the Devil sure loves to be a part of them! Drugs, orgies, alcohol, prostitution, even black masses... you name it! Everything that is unholy happens in the so-called house of holiness, and if that isn’t a bad taste joke, I don’t know what is.

So here I am now, driving towards the Devil’s den: the Mary Magdalene convent for three torturous days of interviews. Out of all of the reporters from The New York Times, of course I was the one who drew the short straw and got assigned this article. Some people see this as a career changing opportunity... a blessing, but me? I see it as a fucking curse! I don’t like religion, I don’t like churches, I don’t like priests and I sure as hell don’t like nuns! Anything that has the word “holy” in it, I prefer to be as far away as I possibly can from. But today was not my lucky day….no, today was the day that I was going to be tested. The only thing I’m hoping for is to not fail.

I knocked on the convent’s door and a young lady answered me.

“Hi, good morning. I’m Damian Priest, reporter from The New York Times and I’m here for an interview with” I looked down at my notepad “Mrs. Y/N L/N? Whom I believe is the Mother Superior”

The young girl only nodded once and motioned for me to follow her, without saying a word.

I followed her in, mesmerized by the size of the convent, the whole place was fancy as fuck on the inside. Art pieces from famous painters were displayed on the walls, modern furniture, dim lights that made the place look cozy and inviting. *What a scam* I thought to myself. The young lady in front of me suddenly stopped walking and pointed towards the door in front of her before turning around and leaving.

Presuming that it was the Mother Superior’s office, I knocked on the door twice before someone told me to come in. You see, when they told me I was going to be interviewing the Mother Superior of a convent, the last thing I expected was for her to not only be beautiful, but young (considering I was under the impression that women in that position were around sixty years old). She was breathtaking to say the least! Soft features, her skin had an angelic glow to it and there was something in her eyes that trapped you in them...something you could not turn your gaze away from no matter how bad you wanted to.

“Mr. Priest, please sit down” She smiled

I nodded and sat on the chair in front of her desk

“Thank you for taking some time out of your busy schedule to speak with me, Mother Y/L/N-“

“Please, call me Y/N” Her sultry voice spoke

“Y/N” I tested the word on my lips and it sounded oddly pleasant

She smiled softly and...fuck she’s gorgeous! Her beauty was a painful and constant reminder of what you couldn’t have, couldn’t touch, couldn’t-“

“Mr. Priest?” She said softly

“Damian”

“Damian, would you like something to drink? Coffee, water, juice, tea perhaps?”

“No, I’m good. Thank you” I answered, while grabbing my notepad and a pen out of my backpack. Clearing my throat, I said “Can we get started with the pre-interview?”

“Of course” She smiled widely and reached for a cigarette pack on top of the table, which made me raise an eyebrow

“We all have our dirty little secrets, don’t we, Damian?” She asked, licking the cigarette filter before sucking it

*Am I going crazy?* I thought to myself

“Damian? Your first question is?” She giggled

“Ummm” I cleared my throat once again “Y/N, recently the convent was involved in a huge scandal involving drugs, prostitution, orgies and black masses. Would you like to clarify why an institution that’s deeply connected to the church is in the middle of something so profane?”

She grinned “God is in the most profane things, Damian. After all, the sinners are the ones who need Him the most, aren’t they?”

“I’m not sure if I follow-”

“You see” She took a long drag on her cigarette and walked towards me “God is our Lord and savior. He forgives us from our sins, grants us forgiveness to our most foul actions” She sat down on the chair beside me “If you steal from someone and repent; He’ll forgive you, kill someone and repent; He’ll save you, cheat on your wife with the hot, young next door neighbor and repent; He’ll brush it underneath the carpet and pretend it never happened” She shrugged “God doesn’t judge, Damian. He only forgives” She leaned forward on the arm of the chair, until she was uncomfortably close to me “So if the big boss himself doesn't judge anyone, then why should I?”

“And what does judgment have to do with drugs, orgies and sin?”

She smiled “How can God forgive you if you don’t sin, Damian?”

“And how can God forgive his so-called followers who incite others to sin, Y/N?”

“Incite others to sin?” She chuckled “Are you talking about the allegations, the donors or yourself?” She smirked

………………………………………………….......................

Since we’re so far from town I was informed that I would have to spend the night at the convent. They showed me my bedroom and it looked pretty fancy. King size bed, Egyptian sheets, expensive furniture. Everything was oddly normal, except for the weird dream I recalled having. I was at the convent, lost, calling for help because I somehow ended up locked in here. I was inside what looked like a large basement, the room was only lit by red lights, a faint smell of leather took over my nostrils as I heard someone moaning softly in my ear…a woman. And the weirdest thing was that I could’ve sworn I felt her breath against my ear. Needless to say I woke up with my dick as hard as a rock and had to spend a solid thirty minutes trying to get rid of a very painful boner, which did not leave me no matter how many times I came. Half hard and inside a convent...yeah, I’m definitely going to Hell!

“How did you sleep, Damian?” Was the first thing I was asked when I walked into the Mother Superior’s office in the morning. Something in her voice told me she knew exactly what I had done underneath the shower.

“Good”

“I bet you woke up feeling much better after a good night of rest, right?” She smiled devilishly and I just nodded

“Would you mind if we took a tour through the convent at some point?” I asked, quickly changing subjects

“Of course not! Let me know when you want one”

I nodded and began to ask my questions

“So, why do so many men keep coming and going from this convent? Seems like the place men shouldn’t be”

“The only men who come to the convent, Damian, are maintenance, the donors for the ‘thank you parties’ we host and now you” She smiled

“How do you get so many people to keep donating?”

“We don’t oblige anyone to do anything. People are still kind enough to see the work we do for those in need and they get touched by it. So God is the one who inspires them to donate, Damian. Not me”

“I’ve noticed a lot of fancy things here. Shouldn’t the money be going to something else?”

“The ‘fancy’ things you see are gifts from the donors. Things they felt in their hearts they should give us freely. We don’t buy things for the convent, apart from food. That’s one of the rules”

“Speaking of rules” I looked at her “Why are you smoking? Isn't that not allowed?”

“We don’t have rules against smoking here, Damian. The choice to do it or not is personal, but there are no rules for it. It’s not forbidden or a sin. Now, if you think nuns shouldn’t smoke, I suggest you pay a visit to the convents in Rome and give them a piece of your mind about their choices regarding health”

I chuckled at her comeback

“Why so cynical about our good intentions?” She licked her lips

“Because you don’t have any” I spat

“We live for helping those in need, Damian” She pointed towards my visible bulge

“Helping those in need, huh? And what do you get out of it?”

She walked towards me “Satisfaction in its purest form” She lifted one hand up and caressed my lower belly over my shirt “It’s incredible how much providing relief to others can trigger the biggest pleasure in our bodies...to see their eyes semi-closed in...relief is so rewarding to me”

I cleared my throat and shifted uncomfortably. “And just how needy do these people have to be?” I was speaking in financial terms of course

“Very needy” Her hand toyed with my jeans button “Some even have trouble sleeping due to their neediness, so you can see how a helping hand goes so well in this case...even the right mouth, you know to profess the Lord’s word”

“And just how many of these ‘charitable acts’ have you been involved with?” I felt my cock grow harder and harder

“Directly? Only when things get too hard, Damian” Her hand brushed against my hard bulge “That’s when I offer my help, so things can stop getting so hard and painful”

I gulped as I tried to shift away from her touch “So what, you just have all these other poor girls do your dirty work for you?” I try to keep my serious composure

“I’m not afraid of getting dirty, Damian. The girls do what they can, what they’re instructed to...but sometimes things get so hard that I have no other option but intervene” She pulled the fly of my jeans down “Then, once the seed of evil is finally spilled, things can go back to being soft again” She leaned in closer “Would you like a demonstration, Damian? I’m sure you have some kind of evil inside you that needs to be released” She asked with a sinister smile reaching her hand into the waistband of my boxer briefs

“I’m just here for work, Y/N, I have nothing to donate”

“Don’t worry about it. My girls will not be involved in this...it will be our little secret”

“I would like the tour now, please”

She smirked “Of course” and stepped away from me “This way” She went out the door as if nothing had happened

“Psycho bitch” I whispered to myself, as I pulled the fly of my jeans up and tied my hoodie around my waist to cover up the boner.

“This way we have the nuns bedrooms” She pointed towards a hallway “Kitchen, restrooms, archives, laundry room, storage for cleaning supplies, pantry” She explained each room, until we were outside “The patio, garden; where we cultivate flowers, fruits and vegetables, garage and the chapel is this way”

She walked towards a medium sized chapel in the middle of the garden, it looked like a regular chapel on the inside. It had an altar with a bible on it, a pulpit, a big cross, devotional statues of catholic saints, wooden benches and a confessional. Candles were lit up all over the place and everything looked normal. Scarily normal, until I noticed a few nuns who were sat on one of the benches staring at me with a weird look on their eyes

“Why are they looking at me like that?” I asked Y/N

“Like what?”

“Like, with...” I trailed off

“With desire?” She whispered in a mocking tone

I looked down at her speechless

“One could say that you’re a little too obsessed with the lust theme, Damian” She smiled “It’s all you can think about ever since you got here, dear. You should be careful” She licked her lips and pulled me by my hand towards her office again.

………………………........................................................

Later that night while I was trying to get some sleep, I began to hear some mumbling. Muffled voices kept saying something unintelligible and filling up the bedroom with mainly female voices. But one of the voices sounded too familiar to me...

I stood up from the bed and began to search in the room where those voices could be coming from, and as I almost gave up, I found it. A small hole of the size of a coin, in the concrete wall in front of my bed. Scooting closer to the wall, I knelt down and peeked through the hole, but weirdly enough, the room was pitch black. The mumbling started again and they soon became moans. Above all the moaning voices, one stood out to me. It was Y/N’s voice, she moaned softly while she said something I couldn’t quite understand. Her voice was filled with lust, her moans were pornographic and I could swear she was moaning my name. It both frightened and turned me on, so I did what any wise man would do. I returned to the bed, laid down and jerked off before falling into a deep slumber.

..................................................................................

“Wake up” Someone softly whispered in my ear

I quickly opened my eyes and my heart was beating at a frantic pace due to the fright.

A young girl was sitting down on my bed “Please, follow me” was all she said before standing up and leaving my room

I was so confused that I didn’t even bother to grab a t-shirt, so I just followed her down the hall barefoot and only with a pair of sweatpants on. Looking outside the hallway windows, I could see that the sky was still dark, which could only mean it was the late hours of morning.

She took me inside the laundry room and pressed a button underneath the folding clothes table. A door opened and a red light lit up the dark wooden stairs. I continued to follow her down the stairs, and we began to walk down a long hallway that looked more like a basement. The whole place had only red lights as the lighting source, so it took my eyes a while to get used to it.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, but only received silence as a response

We walked for what felt like ten minutes until we reached a black wooden door with an iron door knocker. She knocked on the door four times and left.

“Is this a prank?” I asked myself, after five minutes of standing there alone. Suddenly the door opened, but I couldn’t see anything other than darkness ahead

“Hello?” I called from the doorway, but no one answered back

The thing that made me such a great reporter was my utter curiosity, and even with all my senses screaming ‘don’t go in there!’ I decided to listen to my curious side instead, and went into the room. As soon as I stepped a foot inside, the door behind me closed shut.

The room was pitch black and I stumbled across a few items. I placed my hand on top of what felt like a table so I could try to guide myself through the room, at least back to the door again so I could leave. When suddenly I felt several pairs of soft hands on my torso pulling me back.

“What the fuck?” I gasped in shock

But before I could make a move, my wrists and ankles were tied to a wooden surface and a red light turned on in the room

Five nuns were in front of me, staring silently at my body

“Leave” Someone said from behind me, and the nuns obeyed and left

“I would be lying if I said you weren’t a beautiful sight” Y/N said, and and walked in front of me

“You psycho bitch” I growled and pulled at the restraints “Let me go!”

She smiled “Oh Damian...You don’t want that!” Her nails softly scratched my lower belly “And neither do I”

“You’re sick! Let me go, you fucking-“

“Na ah” She slapped me across the face “I’m done playing these pretending games” She lit up a cigarette “Pretend you didn’t jerk off to my moans, pretending you don’t want to fuck me...that gets tiring” She dipped her hand inside my sweatpants and found my semi hard bulge “You’ve wanted to fuck me ever since you laid eyes on me” She giggled and I licked my dry lips

“Those sinful, filthy, thoughts you’ve had, Damian” She closed her fist around my erection “You wanted to know what we do here, right? We purge that demon out of you” And scooted closer until her lips brushed against my own with every word she spoke

“We send him away, so he can’t bother you anymore” She freed my cock from my pants and began to pump her hand up and down “We release you from the seed of evil”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I panted

Y/N knelt down in front of me and darted her tongue out, licking my slit “Give me the seed of evil, Damian” and gave an open mouth kiss on my tip “Feed me with it” Licked the underside of my shaft “Release yourself from what’s been bothering you ever since you got here” Darting her tongue out “Use me to purify your soul” And opened her mouth wider.

At such a sight I had no other option but to buck my hips forward…

And chase for my cleansing

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