#like the soft crackle which also includes the sound

[daily-crabbys]

Today's crab is: pop rocks

[apollosrambling]

Dumb Love

Weasley Twins x Male/Masc reader 1183 words

The dorm room is quiet aside from the harsh patter of rain on the windows. You’re propped up in your own bed, reading from a DADA textbook to prepare for an upcoming paper. Across the room from you, the Weasley twins are sitting on Fred’s bed, heads together as they study their newest creation. The rest of the dorm is empty, the two others in the library working on a project. It’s a cold, rainy October evening, filling the school with a melancholy whisper.

You look out the window as a large crack of thunder fills the room. The Durmstrang boat is rocking wildly in the lake, leaving you to wonder if the students are taking refuge in the great hall, or if perhaps the ship is enchanted to avoid the feeling on the inside. You quickly realize you’ve been staring out of the window for at least five minutes, and snap back to your book. A movement catches your eye, and you look up to see the twins staring at you.

“What?” You ask, closing your book and stretching. You’d been sitting for what felt like hours.

“Nothing.” They say in tandemonium, which skyrockets your suspicions.

“What?” This time when you say it, you sound significantly less curious and impossibly more weary.

They both shrug, going back to working on their dangerous candies.

Being their best friend of 5  years, you knew better than to drop your suspicion, but you were also tired of staring at your book while pretending to understand the words. Deciding instead to watch the boys, you shove the textbook into your bag. While you have been their best friend, it was easy to tell when your feelings begin to grow.

It started with little signs. A twisting in your stomach when one laughed, a flutter across your skin when another would take your bag to taunt you. The teasing turned from infuriating to blush-inducing. 

It hit you like a truck, though, one holiday evening at the Burrow when you’d decided to stay with them rather than travel further to stay at home. It was late, a fire crackling in the hearth while you say curled between them. They had thought you asleep, dozing like a cat in the coziness of the cottage. 

“Try not to jostle him,” George had whispered, a hand stroking your hair while the other attempted to move to put long-drained cocoa mugs away. 

The way his fingertips felt on your forehead had solidified your feelings, sending you tumbling down a cliff of dumb puppy love. 

“Y/n.” Fred is standing now, moving towards your bed with a mischievous look. “Yeah?” You quirk an eyebrow and lean against one of the posts of your bed, swinging your legs over the edge. 

“Fancy an outing?”

Truthfully, you don’t. It’s cozy in your dorm. The warm heat of the fire as your pet naps in front of it, the familiar smell of sweets and spices. When it comes to the twins, though, you’re weak. 

“Sure.” Without much hesitation you pull on your cloak, not wanting your signature Molly Weasley sweater to be ruined if this outing includes the raging storm outside. 

The twins lead you out of the dorm and towards the towers of the castle. Watching the rain through the windows as you pass, tugging your cloak a little tighter as a shiver runs down your back. 

“Cold?” George sidles up, towering over you at an outrageous height. You huff, moving away to hide your blush. 

“No,” You mumble, but the subtle shaking in your hands gives you away. George takes them in his, intertwining your fingers as you walk. 

It’s hard to not let it go to your head. Sometimes you think their whispers and soft glances are for you. That it could work out. But that’d be outrageous, and they’ve always been tactile. It’s far more likely they just enjoy physical touch with all of their friends. 

After what feels like forever, you’re standing atop the astronomy tower with a charm keeping the pelting rain from your heads. Fred is laying out a blanket -where he conjured it from, you don’t know- when George finally lets go of your hand to set you down on it. The three of you huddle together, watching the gray sky get darker as first years sprint across the lawn in an attempt to stay dry. Mostly unsuccessful.

“Why are we here?” You lean back, resting on your palms and looking up at the two redheads. 

“The ball is coming up.” Ah, yeah. Perhaps they’re about to ask who you’re going to ask. Tell you about the girls they’ve been admiring. 

“Mh, yeah. It is. Who are you eyeing?” You really don’t want to know, but their happiness is important. 

“Well, I reckon I’ll pick up the courage to ask here soon.” Fred is smiling, as if he’s in on a secret you aren’t. He probably is. 

You watch George roll his eyes. “No, you won’t. You’ll just mope around Gryffindor tower and lament about dying alone.”  You cover your mouth to hide the laughter as Fred pulls an offended face. 

“Bugger off, I’ll do it.” He turns to you, shoving at his twin across you. “Who are you asking?” 

“I hadn’t thought about it,” You shrug, too embarrassed to admit you’d pictured yourself between them, dress robes tangled as you dance and exchange kisses. 

“Not interested in anyone, then?” They loom over as if your answer is the most important thing on earth. 

“No.” The burning red that seeps from your cheeks to your ears and back of your neck gives you away. 

“No one would be interested in going with me,” You admit. It hurts but you know you’re right.  

“Bullshit!” George grabs your shoulder, leaning impossibly close. 

“I bet loads of people are hoping you’ll ask them.” 

“Oh yeah, I can think of at least two,”  Fred chimes in, looking just as offended. 

“Two? Who?” Your heart pounds as George stares down at you. 

Do they know two other guys interested in men? Where? You can only think of one, and he’s definitely not interested. 

George is looking annoyed, grabbing your chin with more force than is maybe necessary. It makes you swallow. 

“You,” he growls out, tight grip showing no sign of loosening, “are the most infuriating, dense boy I have ever met.” 

“Thanks?”

Before the word even fully leaves your lips he’s crashing down on you. Weight heavy, free hand slipping through your hair in that obsessive way he likes to touch it. His lips are relentless, violent against yours and brimming with emotion. 

He pulls away, and before you can breathe Fred is taking his place. With a spinning mind and tingling lips you get lost in the sensation of kissing the two boys you’ve been in love with for years, heart pounding. 

When you’re finally given a chance to breathe your cheeks hurt from grinning. 

“So, you two want to go to the dance with me?” 

You’re tackled with more kisses, the rain a comforting soundtrack to your new love story.

[serendipityandbenevolence]

I gotta say, when I passed out last night after writing this post, I didn't expect to wake up to people actually liking it. but hey! thanks for the support. As per my little footnote (if you didn't read it then sucks to be you ig) the people who commented got first choice of which characters im going to write. love y'all by the way <3 which means that first up is... Dottore! (as requested by @amber-sekio and @gallantys)

(I am not playing rn when I say that I spent a large amount of time reading Dottore x reader fanfic so I could figure out how the hell to write him and this is probably still ooc but i did my best)

Contains - Yandere behavior (kept to a minimum though) dottore being a charming ray of a human (he mentions enslaving other countries), discussions of blood and injuries

"Dottore?"

The silence from the hallway was almost deafening. The sudden intense quiet was broken only by the gentle crackle of the fire, a welcome reprieve as your words hung in the air. Perhaps it was stupid, to call for a person who may not be there and who, of all the Harbingers, might be the most likely to still attempt to kill you. A foolish whim, but nearly dying does funny things to a person's rational.

Your door slid open silently, revealing the Doctor himself peering in at you. He did not appear to be wearing his mask, but with the low light and strands of blue hair covering his face, you couldn't make out his features well.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

Something was wrong. His voice was too soft, his words too gentle, the whole demeanor was wrong. You knew he had segments that acted differently, but you couldn't imagine Dottore ever being that kind sounding. But you were in too deep.

"Can you come in here, please? I need to ask you a question."

A few murmurs struck up behind him, but Dottore simply nodded and stepped into the room, turning his back to you as shut the door.

"You know..." he mused as he clicked the lock shut.

Ah, there it was. With the door closed, his voice changed, with that hint of cruelty and mania that you had come to associate with him lacing his words. His blood red eyes bored into you, a sly smile creeping across his face.

"Oh, what's with the expression? You seem a little scared of me, Divine One. Am I not as nice as you assumed?"

He didn't allow you to answer, pacing closer to where you lay, buried beneath the pile of blankets.

"There's really no need to be scared of me. After all, I was the one who nursed you so lovingly back to health when you were brought here out of the cold. Aren't I so generous?"

"You healed me?"

You didn't bother hiding your concern. You kicked off your pile of blankets and assessed your body, trying to see if any of your organs were missing.

"My my, do you have such little faith in me? I am a doctor after all. One of the best I'll have you know."

He leaned against the wall by your bedside, giving you a rather unnerving grin.

"Well, you have my undivided attention. What was it that you wanted to ask me?"

You were starting to think that it was a very bad idea to ask for Dottore, but you also suspected that saying you wanted to talk to someone else would go over even worse.

"Yes, I just...wanted to know what I missed while I was asleep. You know, with the other nations."

"Ahh, of course! Well, upon some reflection they seem to have come to the conclusion that you are the actual creator and not a 'fake' as they so cruelly labelled you. Needless to say, quite a few letters of apology have been sent begging for your forgiveness for their dreadful ignorance. Including-"

He reached over to you, laying a shockingly gentle hand upon your bandaged side.

"-the one who nearly killed you."

"You know who it is?" you asked in surprise.

"But of course! Simply assessing your wound, I could tell the weapon and the particular style of it, which made it rather easy to cross-referencing that with the time and location that you were attacked and deduce your attacker with little difficulty. "

"Really?"

He scoffed. "No, of course not. They mentioned in their letter that they were the one who harmed you."

Dottore stepped away from you, pacing towards the door as he pulled a crumpled note from his pocket and tossed it onto the end of your bed.

"You should read it sometime, it is truly a delightfully pathetic read. They only made one mistake."

"Mistake?"

He turned to look at you and you saw that all of the cruel humor that had covered his face was gone, replaced with an infinitely scarier coldness.

"They signed their name. So now, I know exactly who will be my next experiment, when we invade the other nations."

There was silence for a moment, before his features softened and he let out a soft laugh.

"You should sleep. It's the best medicine after all. We can discuss this more in the morning."

Dottore went to turn from you once more, but paused as you opened your mouth.

"Dottore, burn the letter. I don't want to read what they have to say."

A wicked grin flashed across his face as he snatched the letter back up and strode towards the fire.

"You know, I think-"

He tossed the letter into the embers and watched as it instantly caught alight.

"-that you and I will get along very, very well."

Dottore pulled the door open and gave you one last comment before leaving, not even turning his head.

"Sweet dreams, Your Grace."

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

That took me so long to write guys 😭 but anyway i hope you liked it! like i said earlier, i struggle a bit with dottore because he has all his different segments with different personalities but i think this turned out okay.

Also, the order for the next few harbingers will go as such

Tartaglia- requested by @gallantys and @followingyou247

Pierro - requested by @mistresssasori

Capitano - requested by @moonlite-drabbles @megsthings and @legendarysacrificer-blog (yall really love him clearly)

If you guys want to help me pick the order after that, go ahead in the comments!

also tagging @heizoubeloved in this because you mentioned wanting to see more!

[1tsjusty0u]

ALSO. what sounds does zelda like

OKOK SO!!! well warning this goes into more than sounds like . touch sensations. ANYWAYS

she chews on her pencil, and she’d like the mechanical sounds guardians make which includes whirring and clicking and turning. she also likes light wooden plank noises, spoon noises (minus the loud noises a glass makes when you hit it with a spoon. but otherwise cutlery), door knobs turning, soft shirts that have no fur if that makes sense, tiled floor noises, distorted synth noises!!!! some of the sheikah tech has this. think of synthrova one half destroyed or the bg music in shrines OH TECHDOG. TECHDOG ALBUM she’d love that, despite her problems with the springs she still likes running water and how it feels. she really doesnt like cold water however., she also likes mud and paint on her skin and once it dries she likes to crack it off (link doesnt like paint but he likes thinner ink and brushes on his skin), she also likes snapping things !! more when shes stressed but she likes the sound twigs make when broken on the ground and also pencils breaking. also she likes to break pencils in half it just feels nice. ALSO if game noises could be heard she’d like those. like noises when magic is used in games to signify you used magic or healed!!!!! also arts and crafts. she doesnt like paper on her nails and its awful but she does like pressing glued stuff onto paper and cutting paper. sizzling noises from things In Tubes. also microscope noises if its stiff and mechanical like. trying to move something and you can feel the gears. also she likes to take apart things. if mechanical pens existed in that time she’d take those apart but she’ll take apart anything. its therapeutic . BUZZING FROM ELEMENTAL CHUCHU JELLIES AND ELEMENTAL RODS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! she also likes soft crackle pops

[alsartnook]

Fanfic: Moonlighting Walk

Late night to go home.

Harry x Stanley

Ah, tsp people! Hello! Excuse my inexperience for these posts. Wrote a drabble for me and @atalkingcrow-likething's little au of sorts. Could also be taken as a Clock 0ut escape pod AU. Or a modern AU of sorts. No prior knowledge is needed for this. Characters used are from Sad-ist's Clock 0ut Series.

This is a short story esk writing of Harry and Stanley. In this writing, Harry is Stanley's boss. It is fluff, and very cute. Romance movie trope is mentioned of being kissed after walking someone home. Pretty cheesy and corny, but my little heart needed to write. Tags include spoilers.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Not many, but there is a dream sequence trope in this. There is also talk of being alone at night, if that bothers anyone.

Pairing: Harry Bright x Stanley Rider

Word count: 1,598

Est. reading time: 5:55

Language: English

Style: 3rd person Literate

Enjoy!!

“What? Did you really think that I would do such a thing?”

It was dark. The moonlight flooded onto neat glasses, glimmering in yellow eyes and illuminating light skin. He smiled. “Well, hell if I would know, you crazy goon,” He joked, and his chest crackled like a warm campfire as he found thin lips curling. The night smelled fresh of still air, a still that echoed and yet captivated them both in this cocoon of a bubble which kept them together, feeling like the outside world was miles away, despite it lingering under dress shoes and sneakers alike.

Wind drifted between them as the distant buzz of a car whizzing by on a nearby highway or streetlamps that decided to flicker in and out of life rumbled through the night atmosphere. There was a faint sound of someone closing a door in a house somewhere, and he couldn’t help but notice how the air brushed taupe hair and caressed it gently, causing a gentle sway, alike the way oceans capture waves.

It wasn’t long before he realized he was staring. A smile only seemed to grow as he peered upon the soft skin. He’d already forgotten what the previous topic was- some story he’d recited about something happening in the office. Stan found himself licking his lips. Looking away, grasping for something other than the bloom in his chest.

“Like what you see? You were really deep in thought there,” The taller observed, and- “Ah, you’re so full of yourself, old man.” A chuckle found it’s way into a chest that wasn’t his, and yet he felt his own reciting the symphony, begging to be plastered in his mind, engrained in his body for replay sake. When it ended, he missed it already.

A sigh left lips, and he found himself gazing back at the painting of colors, intricate details of one’s face, moonlight dripping purposefully onto his face like being kissed by none other than the sky herself. It felt like his breath was gently guided away, and yet he didn’t feel he needed it any more than he needed to observe and drink in the gorgeous sight of a familiar person in front of him. Oh, the brown haired could go on for hours, about how the light twinkled his eyes and how the shift of his lips reflected in the lines in his cheeks, like chiseled masterpieces created out of the most breath-taking marble and porcelain the earth could ever create, radiating a warmth through him that lingered and wrapped like a loving parent’s hug on a needing child.

For a moment, he was doubtful of the sigh that escaped those lips, the ones he adored, the ones that shaped his name and spoke it with ease, the affectionate name that belonged to him and him alone being spoken by care and dignity and laced in time throughout the years. Threads being connected like woven blankets with intricate designs, patterned in the most pleasing sight one can muster. Stan thought maybe the outtake of breath meant departure, leaving the shorter with his own thoughts to marvel at what had happened moments before, excited for the next day.

Lovely honey soaked eyes drifted over to his own, meeting in a song and dance he could get lost in, turning to face him. “Well, hm. I know it’s late, and, well, I don’t know how I feel about letting you leave by yourself.” His breath seemed to catch up to him, and he blinked, slow, lovingly, at his company. “Are you saying I am incapable of taking care of myself on the short walk to my humble abode?” He teased, and a head tilted, gaze filled with a pleased dusting.

“No, Stan,” The words reverberated through his chest like the buzz of a phone. “I am simply trying to say I’m worried for you.” And oh, if it wasn’t for this dim light, he knew his flush would be more obvious. If electronically replaced eyes noticed, he said naught. “Worried about what?” He doubted, raising an eyebrow.

“You.” The word winded him. “Why?” He found himself breathlessly questioning back. “I care for you, that’s why,” And even though the voice hesitant, timid, more lying beneath the words and tone reflecting more care than imaginable, he choked on a breath.

“Ah.” He said simply, because he wasn’t sure what else to. What could he even say to that?

A coat brushed against his shoulder as a familiar face walked past him, opposite to where the older lived. An invite, more than that even, a confident step of declaration, a footfall in the direction of certainty, of unwillingness to let protest fall upon his ears.

In silence, he turned, cheeks warming as he followed suit, and saw the man fall towards one side of the concrete. A invitation he perused, hands finding their home temporarily in his jacket pockets. It was unlike him to wear such clothes, but Harry had reprimanded him, saying how he could catch a cold and miss work, and well. There wasn’t a more unequivocally inspirational thing to himself then the mock threat of treading a day without his company.

They walked, quietly, comfortably, and Stan listened to the clack of business shoes against the sidewalk as well as the partnered grit of sneakers. Arriving at his doorstep, two found themselves paused, a capture in time, unwilling for this moment to end. In a welcoming breeze, he breathed in and inhaled the scent of floral, honey, mango, and whatever damned cologne the man used, which was just about the best thing he’s ever smelt, akin to a warm pie or oven filled cookie kitchen. It smelled like warmth. It smelled like home.

Turning to his boss, he found the others eyes grazing themselves with whatever it was on Stan that he found so alluring. He peered down, trying to see if there was something on his shirt. “What?” a self conscious voice asked, and he looked up to see Harry had stepped closer. “Well,” He started, and somehow he found himself expectant, lied in wait for something to happen.

A chuckle caressed his ears like a melody, and he felt like there was no place he’d rather be. “It’s like those movies,” He turned. “What?” He once again repeated, trying to make sense of the other’s statement. “You know, those old cheesy ones, where one person walks the other home.” He only found himself in more question. “Um.. Yeah?”

A shake of the head elicited from the response. “Ah, Stanley, you are really dense,” A smile melted his confusion, and he found he didn’t mind being in the dark. “This is the part where you either invite me in, wave goodbye, or end this beautiful night with a kiss.” Harry instructed, and his heart sputtered.

“Wh..What? A kiss?” Heartbeats hammered in his sickly yearning chest, like a fast paced beat to a song well lost on his memory. He found his eyes lied upon the sight of the chiseled man turning away bashfully, looking towards his front door. Was this the invitation he had been craving for years? Was he hearing this right? Despite his surprised question that was shot back, his words sunk into the silence, dissipating like melting cotton candy in your mouth.

Licking his lips, he suddenly really regretted not applying chapstick in the past hour. “Is that even an option?” He held his breath.

“One of three, yes,” A blue tinted profile never wavered. It felt right, in that moment. Like years of all of this dancing around this grey line, littering grey paint across this fine line of terms, platonic and romantic, skewing the perspective and widening that line until it engulfed them, was finally clearer. There was a open door right in front of him, wide spilled, inviting and welcoming without pressure or doubt.

A grey sneaker found it’s way forward, and a rough palm travelled up. A turn, expecting, returning the paler’s entire face to his gaze, an awkward moment where they lingered, flickering between eyes and lips, both leaning in slow enough that neither picked up on it.

Stan seized forward, gentle, putting years on the line, brushing cold fingers against a heated cheek, letting his chapped lips brush against those smooth, thin ones, capturing them fully. Floral scents tangoed in his scent, dragged against flushed lips slowly as they both cascaded over that line like a dam breaking loose. Parting for only a moment, he closed his eyes, recapturing those soft lips, letting the smooth of skin and scented petroleum smother his own.

It was wonderful. It was all he could’ve wished for, and more. His whole body filled with warmth, like he was always meant to do this, return to his lips and find himself lost in them. It felt like there was no place home would ever be without the latter, and yet at the same time, that with, could make home anywhere. Their lips parted sweetly, and a breath washed over his lips, a huff of a smile. Daring to open his eyes, he was lucky enough to catch the half-lidded gaze so full of love he could drown in it. He couldn’t help but lean forward again, like he was worried this was the only chance he’d get, savoring and leaning into the sensation he’d only dreamed of.

Sandy eyes fluttered open, stinging as birds chirped in his ear. Squinting at the light, he felt the warmth of the bed radiate around him. And he lightly brushed fingers across dry lips.

[diovstheworld]

Random La Squadra HCs (#1?)

just some things that come to mind about the guys that don’t fit into any other post 😭 sorry prosciutto and formaggio have so much more than the others omg. i would keep typing these but this has literally been in my drafts for months and i’m sick of looking at it 💀 i keep adding and if i don’t post now i never will (minor mentions of drugs and alcohol and slight swearing)

୨ ╭ ୨୧ ✦ ︶꒷꒦・⎯⎯・⎯⎯・₊ˎ✧๑

Risotto:

loves rain, specifically the sound of rain on the roof. he loves to just sit in silence (which is a rare occurrence) and listen to the sweet sounds of the rain pattering against the slate above

after a long day of hard work, risotto loves nothing more than relaxing with a cup of hot chocolate, headphones on, maybe even reading a book or the days newspaper

this guy has a shit ton of piercings and definitely has a few tattoos too

his guilty pleasure is watching soap operas. normally watches them with prosciutto while doing a face mask (prosciutto forced him into it but risotto loves it)

Ghiaccio:

loves nutella on his toast. literally the only thing he will have on his toast. he absolutely loves the stuff

honestly i think he actually would just have a really big sweet tooth

big fan of iced coffee. don’t know where this headcanon came from but it’s stuck in my brain now

massive gamer. also into comic books and figurines and stuff like I mentioned in a previous post

probably had braces when he was younger

if he does want a hot drink, he enjoys a nice cup of warm milk

Illuso:

huge astrology bitch. literally won’t shut up about it. i can definitely see him saying things like ‘that’s such a scorpio thing to do’, ‘you’re acting like such a virgo’, ‘let me guess, you’re a pisces?’. he will analyse the crap out of you once he learns your star sign etc.

loves crystals too. has a massive collection of them (i’ve kind of mentioned this headcanon before but i love it too much). often keeps a crystal in his pocket and it also often changes. normally brings a crystal that is good for luck and is 100% convinced this crystal is what makes him so good at what he does. he probably messed up once on a job when he didn’t have the crystal on him (which was totally just a coincidence) and now he doesn’t leave without one in his pocket.

also i think he deep down has a lot of insecurities and anxieties which he masks with the cocky attitude

loves cosy things like soft blankets and fluffy pyjamas <3

really good at drawing and painting

also really good at singing and playing guitar tbh

Prosciutto:

i think he would smoke (i’m a big fan of this headcanon honestly) but not just cigarettes. i could definitely see him smoking weed and having been a bit of a stoner kid back in his younger days.

mum friend of the group. honestly i think i didn’t have to say this one because i feel like a lot of people think this. constantly giving advice and pep talks even though no one asked for it lmao

favourite alcoholic drinks are red wine, espresso martinis and whiskey

favourite non-alcoholic drink is coffee for sure. the man is convinced he can’t function without a cigarette and a coffee in the morning

favourite fashion brands are gucci and prada! though he just is a big fan of fashion in general

i gave ghiaccio a breakfast preference and i have one for prosciutto too lmao. i think he would eat the thickest porridge. no one in the team can understand why he enjoys it this way and he never elaborates

i said this in a previous post but he’s definitely a big vinyl lover. loves the little crackling noise in between each track. it brings him a sense of comfort

a clean freak and a perfectionist. this applies to all parts of his life including his room and his looks

i think i’ve also said this but he definitely runs a fashion blog in his free time lmao

Formaggio:

another one who i definitely does drugs (definitely would do more than just weed in my opinion lmao)

i feel like he would be a pretty sporty guy and would like playing stuff like football and basketball (i’ve said this before whoops)

the joker of the group for sure. probably the kind of guy who can’t read the room and doesn’t know when a joke is appropriate or not

also the kind of guy who wishes he wasn’t always just seen as the silly goofy friend. my guy wants a break every now and then from the joker personality!

another guy who enjoys video games. and is actually very good at them

i know he shoved his cat in a bottle and all but i think he actually loves his cat a lot. probably prefers his cat over people half the time lmao

also, he would totally have freckles

this guy would do anything if you dare him to lmao

also loves telling dirty jokes

Melone:

the king of dirty jokes tbh. i feel like ghiaccio would get so annoyed lmao. but illuso and formaggio would crack up at them, they find them hilarious

a massive gamer! loves video games and loves playing them with ghiaccio

also a big movie enjoyer. invite him along to see any movie and he’ll be down!

and also a big fan of musicals. he loves to sing along to all the songs

speaking of which, he would also be a good singer just like illuso. and he would be the kind of person who knows the words to a song after listening to it once lmao

got the whole gang into ru paul’s drag race and they always watch it together. melone and illuso are normally critiquing all the contestants lmao

Pesci:

i think he would have quite a few food allergies (not dairy though, my boy loves his milk). but i think the other guys would be very considerate of this (probably because prosciutto warned them within an inch of their life to do so) and they always make food he can eat. on the odd occasion they don’t, they make sure there’s no cross contamination!

scared of thunderstorms. if there’s ever a thunderstorm, you better be protecting this boy. he hates the loud noises of the thunder so he’s normally seen wearing headphones or something to block out the noise

massive animal lover! big fan of formaggio’s cat, can normally be seen giving the cat some sneaky treats here and there

another warm milk enjoyer

slime videos are his guilty pleasure

[dustedmagazine]

Laraaji — Segue to Infinity (Numero Group)

It was brass, as the artist remembered nearly four decades later, layers of brass harmony that remained somehow static, neither beginning nor ending. It was a pivotal moment for the then Edward Larry Gordon, whose middle and last names were eventually and ceremonially conflated to Laraaji. That moment of sonic vision led, with the inevitability of destiny, to the music in this 4-LP set containing some of his earliest released and recorded works.

While his most celebrated contribution is certainly his Day of Radiance album, an entry in Brian Eno’s Ambient series and produced by him, Laraaji’s discography is daunting, parts of it very difficult to track down. This set is a welcome addition to that catalog, documenting a formative phase of the instrumentalist and meditator’s journey.

As the liner notes attest, somewhere between that revelatory sound experience and these late 1970s sessions, the former comedian walked into a pawn shop and, heeding the intuitive voice he learned increasingly to trust, traded his guitar for an autoharp. Taking the bars out, he moved toward being the musician heard on that Eno collab and on his first album, Celestial Vibration, released in 1978 on the obscure SWN label and still under his birth-name. It’s the first LP in this set.

All of the trademark musical vibes pervade the two 25-minute pieces for electrified zither, peppered with effects and crackling with his trance-inducing rhythmic energy and focus. Even more wonderful is the music’s diversity as it either drives or insinuates a more sedate entity that it would be incomplete, even contradictory, to call motion. The sounds often emerge in cycles, sometimes engendered by the effects, creating a sort of rhythmically contrapuntal state that still avoids the goal-driven aesthetic associated with such conventional notions. These are overlapping and evolving cycles illuminating the path inward. The filtered resonances delineating “All-Pervading” sweep up and down the sound spectrum, invitations to partake in reflection even as the zither thrums with motoric insistence, leaving aside another more percussive sound entering a whole new harmonic area! Then, suddenly, only the complex sweep and rainbow-soft glissandi remain.

While such sounds embody and anticipate descriptors of the “New Age” genre, Laraaji’s music is far too complex for facile pigeonholing. “Bethlehem”’’s edgy opening, replete with scrapings, high-pitched rasps, rhythmic knocking and a few silences that either jar or seduce, defies all categorical felicity. Like the artist performing these vast sonic tone-paintings, the soundscape must be taken on its own terms.

The same is true for the three LPs of material only now seeing complete release. What a luxury it is to float down the titular piece’s flute-and-zither tributaries, each overtone beautifully captured as the flute traverses the stereo spectrum, gently ebbing and flowing through sound and silence until the cradling rhythms ensue. Those effect-driven eddies also permeate the bells and strings dialogue of “Koto,” placing even familiar sounds somehow beyond or just outside themselves. Tremolo, phase and vibrato carry and enhance each plucked timbre, liquifying the icy crystal transient peaks articulating their creation. The complex motions of hands or mallets on wire and wood are as faithfully rendered as the music’s raw power is both palpable and elusive.

By “Kalimba 4”’s hypnotic conclusion, during which the overtonally rich thumb piano articulations ultimately dissolve into a quietly salutary exhortation, a vast sense of completion is palpable. It is as if each of these eight excursions presents one facet of that harmonic revelation that put Laraaji on the path, each microcosmic repetition speaking to a stage in a development spiraling toward the unity at the music’s heart. This is now the most comprehensive collection of Laraaji’s work from this formative period, and the liner notes, including a wonderfully perceptive essay by Vernon Reid, give verbal voice to the celebration warranted by such a comprehensive package. 

Marc Medwin

[candle-supply]

Tips for Choosing the Perfect Wood Wick for Your Candle🌲

When it comes to candle making, the wick is one of the most crucial elements for achieving that perfect burn. Wood wicks have grown in popularity recently, offering a natural, eco-friendly, and aesthetically pleasing alternative to traditional cotton wicks. But choosing the right wood wick isn’t as simple as it might seem! 🌿 There are several factors to consider to ensure you get a clean, even burn and that delightful crackling sound.

In this guide, we’ll explore the key tips for selecting the perfect wood wick for your candle. Whether you’re a seasoned candle maker or just getting started, these insights will help you make the most of your wood wick candles! ✨

1. 📏 Size Matters: Choosing the Right Wick Width

The width of your wood wick is one of the most important factors to consider. It directly affects how the candle burns, the size of the flame, and the melt pool (the melted wax around the flame). 🔥

Narrow Wicks (0.02-0.04 inches): Ideal for smaller containers or candles with a diameter less than 2 inches. They create a smaller flame and work best with soft waxes like soy.

Medium Wicks (0.04-0.06 inches): Suitable for medium-sized containers, around 2 to 3.5 inches in diameter. This size is versatile and works well with most wax types, including paraffin, soy, and beeswax.

Wide Wicks (0.06-0.08 inches or more): Best for large containers or candles with a diameter of 4 inches or more. They create a larger flame and ensure an even burn for bigger candles. 🌟

📝 Tip: When in doubt, start with a wider wick if your container is large. You can always trim the wick if needed, but too small a wick will result in a weak flame and poor melt pool. 🔍

2. 🌿 Consider the Type of Wax You're Using

Different types of waxes burn differently, and the choice of wax can influence which wood wick will work best. 🧼

Soy Wax: A popular choice for wood wick candles, but it’s dense and requires a slightly wider wick to achieve a full melt pool. Opt for a medium or wide wood wick for the best results.

Beeswax: Another dense wax that can be harder to burn. For beeswax candles, a wider wood wick is usually necessary to maintain a consistent burn. 🐝

Paraffin Wax: Burns more easily than soy or beeswax, so you may use a narrower wick compared to other types. However, keep an eye on the burn quality to ensure the wick size is sufficient.

Coconut or Palm Wax: These waxes often work well with medium wood wicks, but testing is essential since they can vary in hardness.

📝 Tip: Always test burn your candles with different wick sizes to find the ideal combination of wax and wick! 🧪

3. 🎋 Single-Ply vs. Multi-Ply Wood Wicks

Wood wicks come in two main types: single-ply and multi-ply. The difference lies in the number of wood layers used to create the wick. 🌿

Single-Ply Wicks: Made from a single layer of wood, they are perfect for smaller candles or containers. They provide a gentle flame and are ideal for lighter waxes like soy.

Multi-Ply Wicks: Made from two or more layers of wood, these wicks are thicker and create a larger, more robust flame. They are better suited for larger candles, heavier waxes, or candles that require a wider melt pool. 💪

📝 Tip: If you notice your single-ply wick struggling to stay lit, switch to a multi-ply wick for a stronger burn. 💡To get more information about wood candle wicks, you can also pop over this website.

4. 🔥 Pay Attention to the Crackle Factor

One of the main attractions of wood wicks is their soothing crackling sound, reminiscent of a cozy fireplace. However, not all wood wicks crackle the same way! 🎶

For a Subtle Crackle: Choose a thinner, single-ply wick. It will provide a gentle, soft sound that's perfect for small, intimate spaces.

For a Louder Crackle: Opt for a multi-ply wick or a wider single-ply wick. These wicks have more surface area and create a more pronounced crackling sound, ideal for adding ambiance to larger rooms.

📝 Tip: Remember that the crackle also depends on the type of wax and fragrance used. Heavier waxes and certain fragrances can affect the crackling intensity. 🌺

5. ✂️ Trim Your Wick for Best Results

Trimming your wick is essential for a clean, efficient burn. For wood wicks, the ideal length is around 1/8 to 1/4 inch (3-6mm). ✂️ If the wick is too long, it may create too large a flame or cause the wick to extinguish itself.

Before Lighting: Always trim the wick to the recommended length. Use scissors or a wick trimmer designed for wood wicks.

After Each Burn: Trim any charred wood from the top to ensure a fresh start next time you light your candle. This helps maintain an even burn and prevents excess soot. 🧹

📝 Tip: Regular trimming also enhances the crackling sound, as it removes any burnt wood that could muffle the noise! 🎵

6. 📦 Test, Test, and Test Again!

Candle making is as much an art as it is a science. 🔬 It’s essential to test different wick sizes, types, and combinations to find what works best for your specific candle. Factors like container size, wax type, fragrance load, and even room temperature can influence the burn quality.

Burn Testing: Burn your candle for 3-4 hours to observe how the wick performs. Check for signs like tunneling, excess soot, or an overly large flame. 🔍

Experiment with Combinations: Don’t be afraid to try multiple wick sizes or types. A bit of trial and error will help you find the perfect balance for your candle. 🧑‍🔬

📝 Tip: Keep a burn log to track your testing results, noting down wick size, type, wax used, and burn performance. This will help you refine your choices over time. 📔

7. 🌟 Prioritize Quality: Choose High-Grade Wood Wicks

Not all wood wicks are created equal. Some may contain additives or low-quality materials that affect burn performance. 🌍 Make sure to choose high-grade wood wicks that are sustainably sourced and free of chemical treatments.

Look for Certifications: Reputable brands will often highlight certifications like FSC (Forest Stewardship Council) that guarantee environmentally responsible sourcing.

Read Reviews: Before purchasing, check product reviews and feedback from other candle makers to ensure you’re buying reliable, high-quality wicks. 🛒

📝 Tip: A higher-quality wood wick not only burns better but also enhances the eco-friendly aspect of your candles. 🌳

8. 🌈 Consider Aesthetic Preferences

Finally, consider the visual appeal of your wood wick. The shape, color, and texture of the wick can add a unique touch to your candles. 🌺

Wide Wicks: Offer a bold, rustic look that can stand out in larger candles.

Narrow Wicks: Provide a sleek and minimalist appearance for smaller candles or more refined designs.

Colored Wicks: Some wood wicks come in various shades that can complement the overall color scheme of your candle. 🎨

📝 Tip: Think about how the wick will look once it’s burning and how it will complement your candle container and decor. 🌸

🌿 Conclusion: Find Your Perfect Wick!

Choosing the perfect wood wick for your candle involves a bit of experimentation and consideration, but it’s well worth the effort. 🕯️ By considering factors like wick size, type, wax compatibility, and desired crackle level, you can create a candle that burns beautifully, smells divine, and looks stunning.

So, embrace the charm of wood wicks, and enjoy the cozy ambiance they bring to your home! Happy candle making! 🏠💖

[picturesinhismind]

fuck yeah @plenilune​‘s taste rules so hard

okay so first of all everything from Ghost Box Records fucken rules. everything above is true, get into it. each of their artists layers weird sounds and music from sources unexpected, creating haunting ambiences that sound like BBC radio broadcasts from other dimensions, broken timelines. each album - each artist - does different things, but i’ve never encountered a record label that draws everyone together into a seemingly unified whole.

this guy talks about them pretty well. oh i’m shocked that he’s a catholic medievalist. shocking. (what’s his twitter) anyway

i found Ghost Box Records at first via Chanctonbury Rings; Belbury Poly plays folk music under Justin Hopper doing readings from his memoir The Old Weird Albion. the effect is an ethereal journey through the queer* ole parts of england, like a half-remembered audio journey through an Alan Garner novel.

okay. i won’t talk about postrock, although Godspeed! You Black Emperor are incredible because the OP said no big artists

Vokeebokæybgo Lochtyblchvvaii, OTVR.

i hope you like gentle ambient drone music that gradually draws you in until you’re listening to a crackling surreal hellscape that fits perfectly into the soft meats of your brain. you know the parts that hiss and spit and vibrate sharply? this layers over everything else so that all that is left is the sharp peaks and then you feel. good. death² is a standout, but listen to the album all at once.

let’s veer wildly away from avant-garde ambient noise to a chill, poppy folk track

Burden, St Catherine’s Child i am very mad that Zsigmond hasn’t release a whole album from this track. it has three million plays on spotify! it’s on a million billion playlists, including some of the spotify algorithmic ones! it’s about taking up space and human needs and after my son was stillborn i listened to it like fifty times in a row. i want her to make more like it, please and thank you.

okay anyway.

Dungeon Synth right. a weirdo musical genre that emerged in the 90s from black metal, the quickest way to summarise is ‘remember the cool music from 80-90s fantasy video games? yeah, basically’ except that completely fails to summarise it at all. the stuff ranges from glitchy bleeps that bleeds closer to what you’d expect from electronica music, through grinding drone tracks closer to postrock or noise artists, through stuff that closely resembles its black metal father. also ds artists release lots of cassettes which rules

i tend to like the work that trends closer to droney, ambient video game music, but i listen to lots of things. here are some favourite albums!

Old Sorcery, Realms of Magickal Sorrow

Fief, II

Gnoll, Lone Wolf Ep.1: Flight from the Dark (yes this is based on the Lone Wolf books. i am a simple man.)

DEPRESSIVE SILENCE, Mourning

right one more. 

Bog Wizard vs Froglord: A Frog in the Bog

a sludge metal concept album about a fucken BOG WIZARD meeting the FROGLORD in a bog. they FIGHT. it kicks arse.

Please please please reblog this and put in the tags your music recommendations. I’m not talking about big artists and bands either— what’s a niche group, band, or artist that you can’t get enough of? What song or album do you enjoy the most? Why?

[bobaswritingblog]

Sneak Peak from a story I am Working On (Spoiler Alert)

These excerpts are from a Doctor Strange x Female!Reader Imagine I am working on for a request I got. So this might be a little spoiler.

I also wanted to warn you that this excerpt includes sensitive themes regarding mental health. Please read with your own caution if you chose to.

For context, the story is about Y/N struggling with something that happened at her place of work, which triggered her anxiety and insecurities. But Stephen, her boyfriend (of course lol), notices this and is willing to do anything to make her day better.

In this story, I am experimenting with a literary technique called pathetic fallacy and emotive language, which is when emotions are connected to the weather or nature as a way of describing it. It is one of my most favorite techniques to use in creative writing.

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

It was one of those days.

Your cheeks were wet and sticky. And your chest felt so heavy like there were rocks in your lungs, filling you with a heaviness that had you constantly breathless. And the memories within your head replaying all over again nourished them. It was like a merciless cycle of life, and just like everything else in nature, you had no way of stopping them.

It didn't help that Stephen wasn't here either. The sanctum was quiet, the silence was loud and ringing, and it only made your racing heart even louder. Even if you weren't the best at hiding your emotions from him, you still wished for the feeling that only his presence can give. It could be him in the library, the kitchen, or any other room within this building that carries a long distance between the both of you. But he was still there, reading, talking, eating...

And to think that when he does come home soon, he would be off to Kamar-Taj in the blink of an eye just felt like salt to your wound.

After an hour of holding your body in a sitting position, you heard a soft pat against the window, followed by another, and another, till thousands of them fell down at the same time against the misty glass and pavement outside.

The mere sound of it made your heart quicken. It was almost like you had subconsciously made a supernatural connection with the sky. It began to mirror your inner thoughts, and the exact emotions you felt within you. Grey, dim, brutal, and a chaos that was calm at the same time. Your head was filled with unwanted thoughts, like the grey clouds covering the sky, and your heart was beating in the same rhythm as the rain colliding to the floor, fast and merciless.

However, when a bright flash lighted outside, followed by its inevitable boom, your whole body shook. It was almost like you were the one struck. Your heart drummed even harder against your chest, and tears began to pinch your eyes.

Taking a deep, lung-filling breath, you laid back down on the bed, the soft comforter holding you like a fluffy cloud. You wished it would engulf you whole, swallow you into its warmth and away from this world. But it can't happen, no matter how much magic filled these walls.

You closed your eyes and imagined it instead, the soft fabric inching up your skin, its cotton surface slowly taking over your body. But then, it all shrinks back when his voice came through.

���••

When all his wounds were enclosed with carefully placed pieces of gauche and bandaids, you found yourself in a situation you didn't imagine to happen. The fireplace right in front of his four-poster was alive; a bright orange fire dancing and crackling in a serene rhythm, casting its flickering warm light on you and the sorcerer himself.

His hair was semi-wet, and he had replaced his midnight blue tunic with a grey T-shirt and sweatpants. As you sat beside him, covered in nothing but shorts and his light-blue Columbia hoodie, you hugged your knees to your chest and simply admired him. He was no longer Doctor Strange, the stoic Sorcerer Supreme and world amous superhero with an aura as proud as a lion. He was simply Stephen Strange, the man you loved.

He had his Microsoft laptop open on his lap, eyes scanning over the selections on Netflix. He never liked Netflix. There was no memory that involve the both of you watching a movie that wasn't in a theatre. You did prefer that over having technology slowly replace something that feels more cinematic, though. But right now, with dagger like shards falling from the sky outside, leaving the both of you to the confines of the sanctum, you felt nothing but excitement tickling you internally.

For once, the rain still pattering on outside is slowly starting to sound peaceful. You felt like you can go out and let it pour down all over you, drench you with its breathtaking coldness, and laugh and scream into the grey blanket of clouds covering the sun from shining. So what if it illuminated with lightning and grumbled back?

"How does *movie name* sound? Or maybe *another movie name*?"

"Anything sounds good, to be honest." you shrugged. "*movie name* does sound better than the other though."

"I agree." he pressed his smiling lips together, before tapping on it.

"Can't believe I am actually about to watch a romantic movie with you, Mr. always-too-grumpy-to-be-romantic." you joked before shifting yourself nearer to him, wrapping your arms around his torso and laying your head on his shoulder. "Tony called you that one time, by the way."

"It's doctor." he winked. "and if you tell Tony about this, I won't watch Netflix with you ever again."

"Oh c'mon," you rolled your eyes playfully "Both you men like to pretend you don't have a romantic side. I've seen how Tony is with Pepper." you chuckled, feeling that heaviness in your chest slowly deflating with it.

"Well, when it comes to the one, we are willing to do anything for them." he replied. The sorcerer once again had your face growing hot with blood, and the way he looked at you as he said those words just made it all the more worse. You had a feeling that if he keeps this up, your face might actually melt.

When the movie began, you felt giddy; it was that same feeling felt when its the first date, both are nervous yet eager to be together. It was a shaking, shivering pleasure in your chest. Butterflies in your stomach as everyone says as you inch your body closer and closer to him till your side was pressing to his, and he - without removing his gaze from the screen, but with a soft smile - wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

For once, the grumbles of the sky and dense tapping against the window, toned down into white noise, blending into the silence.

[x-neurodivergent-reader]

Headcanons: Autistic!Loki

A/N: Surprise! This time I’ve written something a little different, particularly inspired by interactions and details I remembered from the first Thor film�� am I supposed to be catching up on my uni work right now? Yes. Did I come up with two ideas for Loki being autistic, say “I’ll do more once I have time”, and then end up hyperfocusing until there was an entire list in front of me? Also yes. :(

Content warnings: Mentions of being undervalued and made fun of (all canon-typical, pretty much), a little bit of brutal honesty about Loki’s canon personality, and some projection!

Of course, there's his introverted nature. While he used to take any opportunity to be included in ventures with Thor and his friends, he was always someone who needed time alone to recharge from social situations, sensory overload, and other things that were overwhelming. He also just liked taking time to himself every so often.

Reading became his comfort in these moments, because it allows him to close himself off to indulge in fictional worlds or information.

I like to think that both Loki’s charm and his ability to manipulate others were more hard-won than people think - from a young age, he was more than aware that he thought of things differently from the people around him, and had a different understanding of social skills, logic, and making connections.

He became very curious about how other people work, which led to him experimenting with saying and doing different things around people to see how they would react. He also read a lot of psychology books – it was pretty much a special interest for him.

He became more and more familiar with it with age, and is now rather masterful with observing people’s personal body language, and what to say to make them feel or do certain things – good or bad.

On a similar note regarding social skills: he has a snarky and sometimes dark sense of humour, and he frequently uses it at inappropriate moments. He can also be deadpan to the point that people can't tell if he's joking.

Loki's always had a tendency to play pranks and tricks on people who don't find it quite as funny as he does. Particularly when he was younger, he had trouble understanding why they usually made people upset or angry with him.

While the way he expresses them outwardly is quite subdued unless they’re particularly strong, he's always been more emotionally sensitive than his peers - he also had more trouble regulating his emotions when he was younger.

He has sensory issues - particularly regarding sound and touch - but he usually keeps them bottled up when they're triggered, because he's been made fun of for them before.

When it comes to battles, big celebrations, and other events that might involve loud noises and being touched, he secretly casts a spell on himself to make everything quieter, and to make it so he barely feels physical contact unless it hurts him.

Fiddling and picking at his hands is a bit of a stim for him when he's nervous - if that feeling lasts for long enough and he doesn't redirect that stim, he sometimes ends up with red marks on the insides of his hands, or he picks at a hangnail until it bleeds.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: someone please get this poor god a spinner ring-

He does have some good stims as well, however! He enjoys textile stims, particularly the feel of fur, silk and velvet. He also enjoys the sound of rain, and of a crackling fireplace.

He’s in sensory heaven when he’s curled up in a soft blanket, reading one of his favourite books by the fire, or while it’s raining outside his window.

I also like to think that he’s seen the aurora on a visit to Earth, and it was very visually stimmy for him - he was utterly mesmerised by the moving colours and patterns.

[jungkxook]

—backseat serenade. (m)

⟶ pairing: taehyung x reader

⟶ genre: punk!taehyung / band au / brother’s best friend au + smut 

⟶ words: 10,790

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: falling in love and having weekly sex with kim taehyung is wrong for a number of reasons — and, no, that’s not including the whole other issue that he’s also your brother’s best friend

⟶ warnings: multiple sex scenes, slight exhibitionism if u look hard enough, wall sex, car sex, unprotected sex, all the sex (seriously), fingering, pussy slapping (also if u look hard enough), lots of teasing, doggy style, riding, creampie

⟶ disclaimer: this story is another repost of an old one (although it’s basically been entirely rewritten lol)!  

⟶ this is part of the melodrama tour series!

“We have to hurry. I don’t have a lot of time.”

Taehyung says this with much difficulty, of course, especially when considering you’re currently pressed up against him, his fingers digging crescent-moons into your hips ━ but he knows you’re teasing him now.

You can’t help it, though; he just makes it so easy for you.

He can be so stubborn and impatient at times that poking fun at him brings you quite a bit of joy. Maybe not so much to him, as he often whines and complains that you like to torture him, but, really, how could you not? When you think about what he’s usually like in bed, away from prying eyes, it’s entirely different. So to see that dominance in him fade into nothing short of helpless is simply satisfying ━ even if you know you’ll pay for it at a later time. It doesn’t always happen either but when it does, you bask in it for as long as possible.

Which is why you seem to take the liberty of “torturing” him so sweetly now, just before the boys are about to play a gig at a bar late one night. Taehyung had found you the moment he and the boys had finished soundchecking for the evening, then had you pinned up against the brick wall of the dingy washroom, his hips digging harshly into yours, and his hand now gripping your thigh around his waist. It might have been you who instigated it, hooded eyes and fluttering lashes and shit-eating grins meeting him in secret from across the room as he stood on stage before you with his bass guitar in hand, but Taehyung was the one to put it into action just like he always does, pulling you in there even despite the fact that they were scheduled to play in twenty minutes.

But who could blame you? Taehyung is always so charming, and tonight he was looking extra irresistible. Maybe it was the silky blouse, the first few buttons left open so that the floral tattoo on his chest pokes through, leaving very little to the imagination, or maybe it was the way he had let his hair grow out a little longer than usual, soft dark curls pushed back by a single bandana.

“You’ll be late,” You warn him in between heated kisses as he pecks his way down to the underside of your jaw where he tongues a warm pattern there.

“Just a quickie,” Taehyung promises gruffly. His hips rut against yours again and you feel his straining erection against your inner thigh. Poor thing. “Been dying all day to feel you on my dick.”

You only hum in response, a small amused smirk plastered on your face. He’s sucking a hickey onto your neck when he speaks next.

“Had all these thoughts but I was all alone. It was terrible.”

“What kind of thoughts?” You pry, quirking a brow. Your fingers toy at the top of his belt buckle, pulling him towards you. “Let me guess. Were you thinking about what it feels like to have my mouth on you? All warm and wet.”

He doesn’t move a muscle when he feels your hand trail lower past his belt only to grab at his crotch through the rough material of his jeans. You press your palm against him and he hisses.

“Sucking you off nice and slow, just how you like it?” You probe, teeth tugging at his lower lip when he catches your mouth on his once more. Your voice is low and sultry and invokes something in him that has him tensing. “Or maybe the way it felt when you had me bent over your kitchen counter the other day. You know, you always make me feel so good, Tae━”

He growls against your mouth but the harsh sound dissolves into a strangled whine. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, love.”

“And I always love when you pull at my hair too━” But you continue on as if he hadn’t even spoken, the thrill of the moment coursing through your veins like crackling electricity. “And when you grip my thighs so tightly when your head’s between my legs━”

“Y/N,” he says your name in a strained warning, bordering on a desperate beg if you listen close enough. He gets distracted when you suck delicately on a spot on his jawline and has to take a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. “Please. I’ll do anything. Just let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours.”

“My mouth?” You ask, tantalizingly slowly. “Or me?”

“I’m a simple man, I just wanna cum,” he hums, earning a delighted snort from you. “I’ll take whatever you give me, Y/N, please.”

“Hmm…” You trail off. You press your palm a little harder against him, rubbing your hand across his length. “Think I want you inside me, Tae. Wanna be wrecked by you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Now, this seems to excite him to no end. He fumbles with his belt at once. A devious cackle meets his ears and he knows you’re purposely toying with him. The next few moments unfold in a blur as his eager hands join with your own nimble ones, having his belt undone in a matter of seconds and your skirt hitched up nearly to your waist. With one hand gripping his straining and leaking cock as he pulls himself free from his pants, the other hitches one of your thighs to his waist. He pushes into you at once, the familiar feeling of your wet walls coaxing him in further and further as he sinks against your chest entirely, a beautiful luscious moan falling from his lips and a hiss of glee from yours. And, then, all at once, it’s as if all the pressure that has been building up inside of him tumbles to the forefront to be released.

“Jesus, fuck,” he grunts. He buries his head against your chest, one hand feverishly grasping at your breasts from under your shirt, fortunate you chose to forgo a bra for the night.

“Ooh, Tae━” Your own arms wrap around his neck, holding him tightly to you, but you don’t think he’ll bother going very far when his own weight slumps against you entirely, pressing you against the wall roughly. And even though he’s quick to fuck himself into you, his hips hardly stray far from yours too, causing you to bob violently up and down the wall behind you, the rough brick structure scratching at your flesh paling in comparison to the cool metallic rings on his fingers holding you up and the burn between your legs as his cock stretches you open.

“Nice to know that’s all I am to you━” Your head falls back against the wall as he continues. “Something you can use to get off. Not that I mind.”

“Nah, that’s not all you are to me,” Taehyung sharply inhales, and then shudders. In the heat of the moment, you miss the sentiment in his voice. He lifts his head to yours finally, smothering your lips with his. “But your pretty little cunt sure is nice.”

A maniacal cackle bubbles at your throat as you nip at his lower lip. Before you can respond, outside the washroom Jimin’s voice can be heard calling out aimlessly for Taehyung as the boy most likely wanders by, oblivious to what’s unfolding only a few feet away from him. “Has anyone seen Tae? Taehyung! Get your ass back here or we’re gonna be late━”

Taehyung groans out of frustration and buries his face in the crook of your neck, grumbling angrily, “Fuckin’ hell.”

But despite the Jimin’s close proximity and despite Taehyung’s bitter resentment for it, his hips still continue to rut into yours. You do manage to pull apart from his mouth and giggle when he chases after your lips desperately. “Think that’s your cue, baby.”

“There’s no way you’d be that evil,” he protests like a whining child.

“But Jimin sounds pissed.”

Taehyung finds it hard to focus when your fingers tug at the collar of his shirt, absentmindedly (or so he thinks) running your hands under his shirt and over his chest. He cradles you close to him, following your every move. That, and the way your walls clench around him drives him wild. “Heaven forbid we let down Jimin.”

“Nnng━” You choke back a whimper. “He’ll be mad.”

“As if he wouldn’t already lose his shit if he found me here in such a compromising position with you being that you’re his sister.”

Compromising is certainly one word for it. So, maybe Taehyung had a point, but that never stopped him or you before. In fact, it only seemed to add to your lustful endeavours, as if you both enjoyed seeing how far you could push the boundaries before getting caught ━ or not.

It hadn’t always been like this. For a period of your life, you had somehow forced yourself to believe you had despised Taehyung as much as you claim, as much as you lie. You wondered just how Jimin could ever be friends with, or be as inseparable with, Taehyung as he was. Whereas Jimin is timid and shy, gentle and caring, like a soft breath of cool air on a hot summer’s day that sways the knee-high grass in meadows behind your house, Taehyung is energetic and effervescent, reckless and wild, akin to that of a sudden flash of lightning that breaks apart the calm sky, a clap of thunder that shakes even the very core of sleeping Gaia. Though, somehow, their two vastly different personalities come clashing together in a harmonious perfection and create something that is entirely too rambunctious for you to handle, even as a young child.

But now? Now you’re positive neither you nor Taehyung would stand a chance against Jimin’s wrath if he found out his best friend enjoyed weekly sex of all sorts with you, sometimes even when he’s asleep in the next room over in your shared apartment with him and Taehyung had somehow managed to sneak in during the night.

“You know he’s already suspicious,” You moan as his cock angles upward into you in such a way that makes your body tremble. You jut your hips forward, meeting his halfway. “Now━ Fuck, Tae━ you wanna… You wanna risk getting kicked from the band for not showing up to your set?”

“There’s still ten minutes,” he hisses hotly. “Ten minutes is more than enough time.”

“Then you’ll really be late.”

“It adds to the rockstar brand, doesn’t it?” he asks hastily. “Fuck, baby. You’re so fucking wet and you’re teasing me?”

He’s met with a roll of your eyes, and then a drunken snicker as you retort, “Maybe being fashionably late will be more acceptable when you’re a big celebrity.”

“Did you find him?” Another voice suddenly sounds from outside, this time resembling Hoseok’s. Taehyung wonders how they haven’t heard either of you yet, the lewd wet noises of his cock burrowing into your cunt seeming to grow louder each time. Surely, you would have been caught by now had it not been for the thudding bass of the music playing at the bar.

“No,” Jimin grumbles, closer this time.

A dangerously loud whimper tumbles from your lips and Taehyung hurries to clamp his hand over your mouth. You’re fortunate when he does, clinging to his hand as he pumps himself into you. At the very least, no matter how cocky Taehyung got with you or how many times he teased the thought of getting caught, he would never actually risk facing Jimin’s mighty wrath. Still, he finds a way to have fun with it.

“Uh oh.” Taehyung meets your darkened stare, lids heavy, as his other hand leaves your thigh to stick between your legs, fingers rubbing circles against your clit. You know he does it on purpose, judging by the broadening smirk on his face when the added stimulation makes your hips jerk instinctively beneath him. He’s surprised when you hardly let out a noise, safe for a sudden gasp for air. “Not even one tiny moan? Come on, baby.”

“Fuck it. Wherever he is, he better know we’re on in ten!” Jimin’s voice carries back to the two of you. Then, a little more faintly as he wanders off, you can hear him grumble, “I swear to God, this asshole━”

“Wait, wait━” You rasp suddenly, twisting and turning beneath Taehyung and the boy stops at once. You try not to let your heart swoon at the way his hands are all soft and gentle as they touch you now, sliding his palm off your mouth if only for it to fall to your hips where he rubs at comfortingly.

He tries to ignore the way his cock twitches, shoved so deep within your walls. “What’s wrong?”

You slither from his grasp, unraveling your leg from his waist and delicately pushing him away, trying not to focus on the way your pussy throbs at the sudden missing warmth of his length. Taehyung is suddenly even more concerned, the poor boy gawking at you helplessly, his swollen cock completely forgotten as he fixes himself back into his jeans, his attention solely focused on you and your wellbeing now.

“What happened? Did I hurt you━”

“No,” You promise. “No, I just━” You look sheepish, and he wonders why, up until he sees you fidgeting with your skirt in an attempt to fix it and the mischievous twinkle flashing in your eyes. “I just figured maybe we shouldn’t risk it tonight. I mean, you heard Jiminie.” You pat Taehyung’s chest once, smoothing out the material of his now crumpled shirt. “So, I’ll see you out there.”

Taehyung blinks once. “What the fuck.”

It doesn’t seem to hit him at first; not until he spots your wicked grin as you lean past him to look at your reflection in the mirror, fixing your clothes and hair. You wipe at a smudge of lipstick in the corner of your mouth, and Taehyung gaps.

“Y/N, what the fuck?” he whines. Needy and desperate hands try to grab at you on your way to the door, but he ultimately lets you weave your way out of his reach. “What are you, the antichrist? Don’t be such a tease. I’ve got a problem that you helped start. It’s only fair if you help finish it.”

Admittedly, it is cruel. He looks both shameless and shameful, an exasperated and flustered expression to match the helpless state he’s in. Shirt askew on his shoulders, hair a wild mess, and his painfully obvious boner struggling against his jeans. You almost feel bad, until you realize you shouldn’t be. Because this is all it’s ever been between the two of you ━ sex, and more sex, no feelings attached, but lately something seems off…  Either way, Taehyung will get over it, and he’ll still come crawling back for more which is why you have no qualms when you leave. Just, maybe, not in the way you would like.

The last thing he sees of you before you flee the washroom for him to fend for himself is a seductive smirk and a wink being thrown over your shoulder as you remark innocently, prettily, “You have hands.”

And then you’re gone, leaving him alone in the dingy washroom. He doesn’t come out right away, though it leaves the restless boys that make his band awaiting him to speculate some more.

“He’s gonna totally screw us over if he doesn’t show up in the next two minutes,” Jimin is saying hotly to the boys behind the stage when you rejoin them. The bar is already filling up with partygoers but mostly fans of the band, eagerly anticipating the set.

“Relax, Jimin,” Namjoon says carelessly. “He’s probably getting blown in the washroom or something. Can’t rush a man through these things.”

Jimin rolls his eyes as the others snicker. When the others have distracted themselves by discussing other business, you approach your brother casually, saying as inconspicuous as possible yet reassuringly, “Everything will be fine. I’m sure he’ll be here any second.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if he throws this all away for a girl,” Jimin shakes his head. “It’s a miracle he ━ or any of the guys, for that matter ━ hasn’t tried anything on you yet.”

You try to laugh, though the sound is more forced and strained than you would like. At least Jimin doesn’t seem to notice. “But he’s your friend. Don’t you trust him?”

“I do trust him,” Jimin replies. “He’s a good guy, he’s just too caught up in all this band life. We’ve both seen it with the guys, especially with Taehyung. They take advantage of this stuff in the early stages.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry,” You promise. “I’m not interested in your friends and never will be ━ especially not Taehyung.”

Fortunately, the dreaded conversation doesn’t last much longer. Taehyung does end up making it to his own set on time, and when he finds you out in the crowd, you’re smirking deviously up at him for a secret that never has to be told aloud to the world and certainly not to Jimin.

You don’t quite remember when you and Taehyung started hooking up behind your brother’s back or what exactly caused it.

If you think back long and hard enough, you’re positive it was the result of some sort of drunken one night stand that elapsed into sober days and conscious decision making, which then turned into weeks, then months, which leaves you to where you are now. Almost a year of sucking your brother’s best friend’s dick and you’ve somehow, miraculously, never been caught. But aside from occasionally sleeping with one another, there was nothing more to be exposed to Jimin in terms of romance. Because, as far as he was aware, you and Taehyung were still embroiled in your childhood rivalry with one another that was less violent now than when you were younger and more civil, aside from the offhanded jabs and retorts shot at one another. And, as far as Taehyung and you were aware, the charade and the hook-ups all resulted in a peculiar sort of friendship between the two of you that was certainly as far as either of you would take things. Supposedly.

But between sexual teasing and taunts, you sometimes wonder if the lines have begun to blur, and if you’ve gotten too comfortable with Taehyung asking to sleep in your bed. Which is why, maybe, you overcompensate by “torturing” him on the days that he really needs you, like the night before in the grimy washroom of the bar. He hadn’t joined the real world or the band until the very last second they were meant to go on stage, looking all the more discomposed and flushed in the face when he rushed out, though at least he had somehow managed to tame his raging boner.

Now you were certain the universe was toying with you, bittersweet payback coming to nip you in the ass.

You hadn’t been so bothered the night before, leaving with the boys when their set was done and returning to your home with Jimin, not a word being uttered between you and Taehyung, even up until the very next day where you find yourself now. Crammed in a local studio run by some friend Yoongi had known from college, you were quite used to watching the band brainstorm new lyrics and record songs in real time, all from the sofa shoved up against one wall of the small space. You had been there every step of the way ━ their first rehearsal as a formed band, the day they discovered the group’s name in almost a dreamlike epiphany, the release of their very first full-length album produced and recorded all by them and promoted all by them, their very first gig with a decent following and the jittery anxiety they had all been troubled by, and every gig following it in which their nerves subsided and their effervescent charm and credence began to finally show through. But they had never been as disconcerted as they had now ━ which, really, you don’t blame them.

“Bro, this is stressing me out.” This aggravated groan sounds from Jungkook, the band’s lead guitarist.

He’s currently splayed out on the ground of the sofa you’re seated on, head thrown back against the cushions. Every other boy in the studio bare a similar wearied look ━ even Jimin, as their usual spritely lead singer.

You suppose that’s just the inevitable stress bound to occur when a scout from the infamous Columbia Records had somehow found the band either in person at one of their gigs or online and taken an interest in them and were interested in signing them. After weeks of back and forth discussion, Jin had been fortunate enough to land a meeting with the label in New York City, looking promising enough to excite even the stoic Yoongi. And after a month of planning, their meeting was set to take place finally only a week from that day. The issue seemed to arise when the label claimed they wanted the band to bring a set of new songs to the table to discuss at the last possible moment, sending the boys into a chaotic frenzy as they had only just released their first album a few months back. You had come to help the boys, though they were lucky enough to have found a handful of pre-written songs from their repertoire that still, unfortunately, needed fine tuning, vocals, and melodies. After working meticulously all morning, they were only just now deciding to split for a much needed lunch break.

“Same here,” Jimin says glumly, rubbing at his tired eyes. “Can’t wait to get out of here. I feel like I’m going insane.”

As the boys begin to shift and move, Jin gets to his feet and clasps his hands onto Jimin’s shoulders, giving him a reassuring nudge. “Just think about it: international success and Grammys await.”

“If we don’t fall apart before then,” Namjoon stifles a yawn as he stretches out his arms. He tosses a glance at you and Taehyung. “You guys coming?”

“Yeah,” You say, though you hardly move from your seat. “I’ll be there.”

“I’ll catch up with you guys in a minute,” Taehyung nods. He’s sat across from you on the couch, journal propped on one knee as he scrawls away in it, a jarble of chord progressions and lyrics. “Just gonna finish cleaning up in here.”

It seems convincing enough to Namjoon and the rest of the boys, even Jimin who is already out the door, not in the least bit suspicious of you or Taehyung. Honestly, you’re sure not even Taehyung is suspicious of your unmoving presence beside him until the boys leave and suddenly the room falls silent.

“You’re stressed,” You point out in a gentle musing. Which is true. You don’t usually see Taehyung riddled with anxieties, typically keeping to himself and maintaining some sort of effortless and mysterious coolness around the others.

The boy quirks a brow as he lifts his gaze to look up at you, tossing the journal onto the ground. Whether or not he seems to catch the underlying suggestive and sultry tone in your voice, you’re not quite sure but could you really blame yourself? It was difficult having to watch Taehyung all morning in his element, gazing at him whenever he was in the recording booth, headphones dangling from his neck and bass guitar in his lap as his expert fingers thrummed away at the strings. He always looks most attractive to you when he’s so utterly consumed by his work and his art, whether it be on stage in front of hundreds of people or in a more intimate setting at recordings or practices.

“What happened to you not wanting to disappoint Jimin by getting caught or whatever it was?” he asks, waving his hand dismissively. “Staying back with me is definitely gonna catch his attention.”

“Maybe,” You shrug. You catch his hand as he brings it back down, raising it to your lips to kiss at the tips of his fingers slowly, one-by-one, never once breaking eye contact with him. “I was just thinking you could use some help. And an apology for yesterday.”

Despite the way Taehyung’s dark gaze scrutinizes you in a taunting manner, he still watches as you take his hand and place it between your thighs, over your core. At least today you chose to wear leggings, the smooth material allowing for very little obstacles standing in his way as you press his fingers against you. A wolfish smirk tugs at his lips. “You think your pussy’s gonna help me?”

“Yes, actually, I do,” You say, matter-of-fact. “And I don’t think it will; I know. If I remember correctly, you were begging to use me as a stress-reliever before your set yesterday.”

Taehyung clucks his tongue. “Sounds a lot to me like you just want my fingers in you. Not so nice now being the needy one, huh?”

“I want you to do a lot of things to me, Tae.”

“Careful, baby. You’re playing a dangerous game,” Taehyung says. Still, he entertains the idea. Pressing his thumb harder against you, he rubs leisurely at the sensitive part of your clit over your clothes and the sudden feeling makes you pur with glee. “Besides, why should I be so nice and help you after what you did to me?”

You roll your eyes. “You’re still on about that? You’re a grown man, you can pleasure yourself.”

“How mean.” He feigns a look of mock hurt. “It doesn’t feel as nice when it isn’t you.”

“Taehyung,” You scold his name in a warning, but it mostly comes out as a contented sigh. You know you’ve already won him over, though the impatient tug you give on his arm as you clutch at his wrist of the hand still between your legs is a wordless reminder. Your fingers flutter up to his face, pulling him down for a kiss which he gladly obliges to. “Think they’ll walk in?”

“Nah.” His voice is a throaty murmur. “We’ve got some time. The boys’ seem worried enough as is; think they’re already halfway to that pho place around the corner they wanted to try, and they’re probably not gonna wanna come back here for at least another hour. Plus, I think we’ve given the producers a raging headache with all our requests so they definitely won’t want to be back in here for a while.”

You snicker at the thought, humming into his mouth as you pull him down with you onto the sofa, bending your knee so as to let him slide into place between your legs more comfortably. He pulls his hand away from you only long enough to lick at his digits before slipping his hand past the waistband of your leggings this time. Nudging aside your underwear, he swipes his fingers at your clit, marveling at your stickiness.

Your breath hitches in your throat. “What do we say when they ask where we went?”  

“Doesn’t matter,” he grunts into your mouth. “Fuck, tell them we were busy fucking for all I care.”

You swat at his chest playfully but lose your spirit when he presses his thumb against your clit, causing your hips to rut forward in a silent plea. Taehyung’s right, you think. Your excuse for the boys can be worried about later. Now, Taehyung slides a finger into you, then another, stretching you open experimentally, causing you to croon.

Face warm and head spinning, a sudden thought pops into your head that seems much more intimate than his fingers in you. “So━” You bite your lip to stop a moan. The question that forms on your tongue is timid despite the lewd things that threaten to run through your mind at his every touch, “S-So, what happens when you’re a big and famous rockstar, touring the world now?”

“I’ll take you with me.” Taehyung tongues a pattern down to the underside of your jaw, sending shivers down your spine. He curls his fingers upward, sinking further into you until he’s reached his knuckles, enjoying the way your hips twitch beneath him. “Fuck you in every city we go to, in every fancy, over-the-top hotel we stay in. New York, L.A., Paris, London, Rome…”

“Romantic,” You snort, although maybe it kind of is if you think about it long enough. He slides a third finger into you then, fucking his digits in and out of you at a gradual pace that has your core aching. You’re all warm and wet around him that it goes straight to his dick, the thought of him tearing you apart as he plunges his cock into you making him grow antsy. It does the same to you. “Nnngh, Taehyung━ We’ll see about that when you meet pretty girls thousands of miles away who can offer you so much more than me.”

“Hmm… Dunno about that,” he hums. “There’s only gonna be you.”

You wonder if he knows what he’s doing, the way his words make your heart stutter in your chest. But then you start to wonder why you’re even feeling such things for him. Pretty words promising you that you meant more to him than sex meant little to you in comparison when he never acted upon it ━ but could you blame him? Even you were apprehensive of ruining what you already had with him, his friendship with Jimin if you told him how you were feeling lately, and the integrity of the band.

Your legs tremble as your orgasm approaches. Taehyung busies himself by nipping and sucking at your neck and all you can do is puff and pant, the lewd wet noises of his fingers penetrating you filling your ears. “Taehyung━ God, I wanna feel your dick so badly.”

“Yeah?” he growls. “Gonna let me fuck you finally? You’re so wet right now, could slip right in. Fuck, look at what you do to yourself by being so mean to me.”

He twists his finger up into you in such a way that has you grinding against his knuckles. “Please, Tae━”

“Got you stretched so wide too,” Taehyung hums pensively. “Your pussy always takes me so well too, doesn’t it?”

“Hmm, Taehyung!”

“Look at you,” he hisses, quickening his pace. Your back arches until your chest is pressed flush against his, walls quivering around his fingers. You reach out desperately for his face, smoothing your lips over his but you fail to really make any sort of connection. Instead, your jaw unhinges in a breathless moan against his mouth as he rests his forehead against yours. “Wanna come around my fingers so badly, don’t you? So close too.”

“Fuck, fuck, I’m━” Your hands ball into fists around the collar of his shirt. Your eyes threaten to roll back as you get closer and closer, your aching pussy so close to feeling its much needed relief when━ “What the fuck, Taehyung?”

He pulls his hand from your core before you can cum, leaving you a sweating and panting mess. The sudden loss of contact leaves you dumbfounded, gawking at the boy who’s suddenly grinning in a similar ungodly manner to your selfish response to him the day before. Payback has never tasted so sweet before to him, and so bitter to you.

“You did that on purpose,” You whine, jutting your hips forward desperately to meet his hand again. Instead, he gives your leaking and sensitive pussy one slap, the pleasant jolt shooting up your spine making you moan. “You’re so mean. I thought you were over it.”

“Well, now I am.” He pulls his hand out from between your legs and licks at his fingers. “Have you had your fun?”

It takes you a moment to respond as you gather yourself. He finds your sulking a little hilarious, and maybe also feels a little bad. “For now.”

“That’s a good girl.” He leans down to kiss your mouth hungrily, enjoying when you suck eagerly at his lower lip. “Because I’ve had my fun.”

You open your mouth to say something more but are stopped shortly when, somewhere outside the recording room, you can hear the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching, followed by the sound of the doorknob turning and Jimin’s curious voice, “Tae?”

You and Taehyung have stumbled off of one another within seconds, listening to the way Taehyung curses under his breath as he flings himself off the couch and a few feet away as you sit upright on the sofa. You have to only pray and hope that you both don’t look too obvious, though you think it’s too late for that. Either way, you cross one thigh over the other, biting down harshly on your tongue as Jimin stumbles into the room. As his gaze sweeps fleetingly across the room, he hardly takes note of both you and Taehyung.

“There you two are,” he says. “Was wondering where you went off to. And━” His stare flutters over to Taehyung for a moment and you hold your breath, fearing he may know a little too much, when━ “There’s my wallet! I knew I forgot it here.”

He crosses the room swiftly and plucks his abandoned wallet from the desk, holding it up to show the two of you. You smile nervously and Taehyung takes it upon himself to answer, clearing his throat in the process. “We were just gonna catch up with you, actually. Y/N was just helping me finish up here.”

You’re fortunate that Jimin’s probable sudden panic of trying to find his wallet and the relief of realizing he hadn’t lost it to the ether is what distracts him. He seems hardly intrigued by your lack of presence or yours and Taehyung’s odd companionship without the other boys. Whatever the case, you both manage to make it out of the recording studio unscathed and Taehyung does a well enough job at deflecting from any further suspicions by talking as normally as he usually would with Jimin on your walk over to the restaurant the rest of the boys are at.

Well, as unscathed as you can be, the tragedy of your lost orgasm still haunting you even as you sit across from Taehyung at the table.

“Now you’ll really be late.”

You say this as a heedful warning, though you’re fortunate when you find that you’re both distracted this time.

You know you have Taehyung under your spell that morning when he catches you purposely wandering his apartment in nothing but a pair of your panties. It’s not as if it’s uncommon to see you naked in his kitchen, making breakfast. That morning, when you walk into the bedroom holding a cup of tea, Taehyung almost chokes at the sight of your bare chest. It’s early the day of the band’s flight to New York City for their meeting with Columbia Records, and though Taehyung has roughly an hour before he has to leave the apartment, you’re worried he might just miss the flight altogether when he pulls you onto his bed again after a night of fucking.

“Don’t care. Come here.” His large hands are on you in an instant, roaming your body as he kisses the underside of your jaw and pins you beneath him. You let him get carried away, let him leave a trail of sloppy kisses from your lips down to your collarbones and in between your breasts.

“What are you gonna tell the boys when they’re on a flight to New York and you’re still in your apartment?” You rasp, fingers threading in his hair.

“Was busy spending the last twenty-four hours making hot, passionate love to you.”

The wry grin on his face makes it come across as a joke and makes your heart skip a beat. Admittedly, that was partly the truth. He had invited you over the day before and you had spent the better part of it in his bed in every position imaginable. Have to make up for the three days we won’t see each other, he had said after your first round, head between your legs and mouth on your cunt.

You snicker now but the sound falls short when a moan replaces it. “Don’t think you can call it passionate love making when you gave up halfway and made me ride you like you always do.”

He gasps and bites down teasingly on your skin but not with enough pressure to hurt. “Was that a jab at my manhood?”

“Of course not.”

“Besides, I like it best when you’re in charge.”

You roll your eyes but pull him up to your face so that you can kiss him again. It’s an odd shift in atmosphere when you find him kissing you in a chaste manner, despite having marked you red all over and legs still shaking from how many times he’s made you come in the last twenty-four hours. But it wasn’t all sex for once. Falling asleep in his arms left you still dreaming even when you were long awake.

“Gonna miss you,” he whispers once he parts from you. He rubs soft circles against your hips, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

“It’s only for three days,” You say.

“I know,” he sighs. “I just━ God, I’ve gotten so used to you being here. I’m just sick of sleeping alone all the time. Shit, I don’t think I’m making any sense anymore. All I know is you’re driving me crazy.”

“Taehyung…”

“Am I wrong to feel that way?” He lifts his head now to look at you, ardent sincerity glazing over his eyes as he gazes at you.

You’re too caught up in the moment, the lustful afterglow of sex and whatever else is starting to emerge however blurry it may be now, to not notice right away the sound of knocking on the front door. Instead, you reach out to push his hair out of his eyes. You think you know what he means; you just want to hear him say it aloud. Your question is a gentle probe. “What are you trying to say?”

“I━”

But Taehyung’s voice is cut short by the sound of Jin’s shouting from the front door. “Taehyung, you in here?”

Wide eyes meet with yours in the sudden alarming panic of Jin’s arrival. Taehyung grumbles mostly to himself, “God dammit, what’s he doing here?”

You can hear the band’s manager talking aloud, quite possibly to another one of the boys that he’s dragged with him, and you and Taehyung scramble to react. Taehyung only has enough time to clamber out of his bed and pull on a pair of discarded sweatpants from the floor as you pull on one of his sweaters and grab the bedsheet to cling to your chest if only so it can hide the rest of your bare legs.

“Are you alive?” Jin’s asking, closer this time.

“We had to come check on you━” You don’t register the second voice until it’s too late.

Because there, standing at the threshold of Taehyung’s door to his room, is not just Jin but your brother. Jimin’s familiar pop of bright blue hair and nonchalant smile are much too hard to forget. But, upon stumbling across Taehyung’s room, they each come to a stuttering halt. It doesn’t take long for the realization to dawn on them ━ and how could they not piece together the puzzles painting such a painfully obvious picture? The dishevelled bed, the clothes that litter his floor, your clothes that litter his floor, Taehyung’s shirtless and sloppy attire, your own half-hearted attempt at dressing yourself and the marks that riddle your body that you were banking on fading completely by the time you were reunited with Jimin after their return from their meeting.

“Uh…” Taehyung trails off awkwardly. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Oh shit,” Jin curses under his breath. Despite having no idea whatsoever about you or Taehyung (though maybe having a better inkling than the rest of the boys), he turns hastily towards Jimin. “Maybe now’s not a good time.”

But Jimin hardly budges. Instead, he looks enlivened, jaw setting harshly in place as his brows furrow into a scowl. “Jin knows I have a spare key to your place after that one time you locked yourself out and he wanted to make sure we all met up before getting to the airport. You weren’t answering our calls, thought you were dead. Guess now I know it’s because you were too busy fucking my sister.”

“Jimin,” You hiss sharply.

Taehyung shakes his head wildly. “It’s not like that.”

“Really?” Jimin retorts. “‘Cause it sure seems like it is.”

Taehyung grimaces. “Okay, yes, but not in the way you think. It’s not some meaningless fuck. I care about her.”

But that only seems to be the wrong answer. Would there ever be a right one? Taming Jimin’s stubborn anger and protectiveness over you was hard enough on any other day. Now that he knows you’ve slept with Taehyung, Taehyung felt as if he were a lost cause.

“How long has this been happening?” Jimin asks, tight-lipped.

You can’t bring yourself to answer, neither can Taehyung, and that seems to be enough to answer his worries. Maybe if you had acted faster, said it was only a one night stand, he wouldn’t have been able to read your mind so easily. Yet your silence was enough to make you guilty.

“Shit,” Jimin runs a hand through his hair. When he speaks next, he’s looking only at you. “Do you love him?”

“I━” You open your mouth, as if to explain yourself. This time, the answer came much easier. You know what you want to say, but voicing the truth out loud in front of your brother and Taehyung, who might not feel the same way, makes you clamp your mouth shut. Whatever your answer anyway should be for Taehyung only. Instead, you frown up at your brother. “I don’t get why you’re so upset anyway. Who cares if we’re in love? Who cares what we are? It’s not like you can control me. I can make these sorts of decisions myself, Jimin. This is ridiculous.”

“No. I get that,” Jimin says firmly. “But you’re my sister, and your wellbeing comes first to me. So, Tae━” Now, your brother turns to look at Taehyung. You’ve never seen him so furious before, disappointed even, and certainly not when it comes to Taehyung. “If you care about her so much, when were you gonna let her know?”

This seems to catch your attention, sending a curious gaze between Jimin and Taehyung. “Let me know what?”

“That he’s been screwing some other chick he met at the bar a while ago,” Jimin says. “Walked in on them once by accident and, after the fact, he said some similar bullshit about how it wasn’t meaningless or whatever.”

You blink.

The blow to your chest, and subsequently your heart, makes you teeter on your frail legs. Because if what Jimin was saying was true, then were all the sweet sentiments Taehyung whispered to you even yours to begin with? Did he care about you as much as you cared about him? But, the worst part of it all, is how utterly foolish you feel. Because when Taehyung doesn’t immediately answer, your question about whether or not Jimin was telling the truth was confirmed; and you had let yourself almost willingly fall for Taehyung despite all the warning signs. Despite the fact that you had both initiated your relationship on the basis that nothing would ever blossom from it.

“Is that true?” You ask Taehyung.

The boy hesitates. He meets your stare solemnly, flinching when he notes just how hurt you seem. “Partly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You demand. But before he can respond, you scoff under your breath as you begin to gather your belongings. “Oh my god. I’m so stupid━”

Taehyung starts. “Wait, Y/N━”

“Just leave her alone━” Jimin interrupts.

“Hey. Hey!” Jin snaps abruptly, the firm tone in his voice catching the boys’ attention. “We gotta go. Now. Taehyung, get yourself decent; Jimin, in the living room. We leave for the airport in five minutes.”

You decide you no longer want to wait for an answer. Your own embarrassment is far too much to handle for the moment being, and you favour the idea of fleeing from Taehyung’s sorrowful gaze, Jimin’s heated one, and Jin’s scrutinizing scowl.

You’re long gone before Taehyung can even think to stop you.

The three days in which the boys find themselves in New York City for their meeting with Columbia Records is the longest three days of your life.

Taehyung never bothers to call or text you ━ and the looming swell of concern of awaiting to hear his voice or your brother’s or any answer of how the meeting has gone fades in comparison. Because every sweet nothing he ever said to you suddenly means nothing, and you don’t know where that leaves you.

Just when you think you can take the torture no longer, the band returns. Jimin comes bounding into your shared apartment the moment his flight lands and the taxi has brought him home, greeting you with the wonderful news that the band’s been signed, and a celebration is in store consisting of their closest friends and family members. While you initially bask in Jimin’s excitement, mirroring your own, it quickly fades as you fear you’ve lost Taehyung for good.

“You’ll come to the party, won’t you?” Jimin asks hopefully at some point. “The boys will want you there.”

You shift warily in your seat on the sofa across from your brother who stands in the midst of the room after having animatedly relaying the story of the past three days to you. You shrug now, and when Jimin shoots you a quizzical look, you decide to approach the topic cautiously, dancing over your words slowly. “I dunno, Jimin. If he’s gonna be there… I don’t know if I can face him right now.”

Jimin comes to an immediate halt. His face falls and he sinks onto the seat beside you. “Y/N… Look, I was wrong, and I’m sorry. While we were away, Taehyung and I talked and he’s gutted about what happened. But that’s all I can say. I think you should talk to each other. No, I want you to talk to each other. I know now that you’re meant for one another.”

“Are you only telling me this because you’re being your best friend’s wingman, or because you’re being my brother?” You ask, a weak lighthearted attempt at a joke.

“Both,” Jimin says warmly. “Because I care about you both, and I don’t want to have to live with the regret of being the reason two people perfect for each other aren’t together.”

And when your brother says it with such earnestness, you have no choice but to believe him.

So, despite feeling like a fool for potentially crossing paths with Taehyung again, you muster the nerve and motivation to go, and arrive at the party with Jimin later that night. The impromptu last minute party itself is held at Namjoon’s home, filled to the brim with mostly familiar faces and a few unrecognizable ones that must be acquaintances of the boys you’ve never met before. You make your rounds and congratulate the boys one-by-one, being enveloped into a tight hug with each one, safe for Taehyung whom you don’t see at first.

You’re fortunate when mutual friends of yours and Jimin’s arrive, spending the majority of the night with them as your brother wanders off to get wasted. At some point, as the night drawls on, you catch sight of Taehyung and the presence of him is enough to dampen your mood entirely. You decide you’re no longer in the mood for a party, and make haste for the door, stumbling out onto the lawn. You only make it so far, coming to stop at the foot of the curb to breathe in the cool night air around you, before you notice Taehyung hurrying out after you, calling your name.

Almost as soon as he’s able to catch his breath and you lock gazes with the boy, he asks aloud, “Where are you going?”

You hadn’t expected him to follow you, nor the terrible nearly tangible awkwardness that hangs heavy in the air. Still, the concern in his voice and the corners of his eyes softening at the sight of you makes you want nothing more than to forget all the heartache. “Home.”

“Let me drive you?” he asks delicately.

You hesitate before responding. You know the simple offer of a drive is more than that. It’s an invitation to talk to him, sort things out. And you, of course, can’t possibly deny him. As soon as you’ve followed him to his car and he starts driving, everything goes silent. It’s almost unbearable as you shift uncomfortably in your seat and gaze out the window, hoping the long car ride will pass by rather quickly. You thwart his attempts at starting any conversation by turning the radio up and letting the music ━ a mix from Taehyung’s phone filled with pop-punk and indie classics ━ fill the emptiness but it doesn’t work with distracting you. He takes a detour from the path to your apartment, driving instead to a nearby lookout point of a hiking trail, now abandoned and desolate this late at night.

It’s quiet even long after he shifts the car into park, leaving only the sound of the stereo to fill the void. Then, at long last━

“You didn’t call,” You say.

Taehyung swallows thickly. “I know.”

“That’s all I wanted. An explanation.”

“I know,” Taehyung shifts in his seat to look at you. “I’m sorry. I messed up.”

“I know I have no right to feel like you’re mine when the reason we started seeing each other was casual, but everything you’ve been saying to me lately━” You rasp, “that I’m the only one for you and that you were gonna miss me because you were tired of being alone ━ did all of it mean nothing?”

The boy’s stare hardens. “No. I was never lying when I was with you. Everything I said, I meant.”

“Then why didn’t you call?”

“Because I was scared I had lost you,” Taehyung grovels all at once, silencing you. “Because things were starting to finally change between us ━ where it wasn’t just sex all the fucking time, but something genuine ━ and I didn’t want to face the reality that it could all be gone, just like that.”

“Well, what did Jimin mean, about that other girl? Was he telling the truth?”

“Yes.”

“Did you fuck her?”

“Yes.”

“And did you fuck her while you were still saying there was only me in your life and pretending you meant it?”

“I was never pretending,” Taehyung protests exasperatedly. “We had a fling, but that was months ago, when you and I first started whatever the hell this is. But Jimin was wrong. I never told him she was the one, or whatever. I said I didn’t want it to be meaningless anymore. That I want something more. I thought I had found it with that girl; but it was really with you.”

“Taehyung…” You whisper his name now, a delicate utterance.

“You can’t tell me I’m the only one feeling this way about us,” Taehyung beckons desperately. “I know you’ve been feeling it too.”

You purse your lips; then, you let out a small exhalation of air. “Tae… I think I’ve been in love with you ever since we were little kids.”

Now, Taehyung’s stare softens. He reaches out to grab at your face, gingerly pulling you into him, thumb caressing your cheek.

“I want you,” he promises. “God, I want you so bad. Do you really think I’d risk getting kicked from the band for anyone else but you? Or let anyone else tease me so bad but you?”

You can’t help but snicker. You shake your head at him as he pulls you into a kiss. He grins against your mouth and, this time when he kisses you, it’s hot and needy, a whole three day’s worth of pent up emotions and desires pouring into your every touch. Your hands fumble to undo your seatbelt and then you’re climbing over onto his lap and he’s welcoming you with open arms, the skirt of your dress hitching up higher on your thighs. Your knee, or maybe it was your foot or elbow, accidentally hits the horn of the steering wheel and startles the two of you, earning a squeak from you, before you both erupt into laughter. Taehyung reaches down to push the seat back a few inches to give you more space in the cramped driver’s seat and then he pauses to look up at you with mesmerized eyes. He kisses you again and again, as your hands come up to grasp at the sides of his neck.

“Had enough of the bullshit, have you?” he asks humorously. “Gonna take matters into your own hands?”

“I’m tired of all this teasing and chasing,” You pout. You’ve already begun grinding your hips against his, enjoying the way his face pinches in pure delight. He burrows his face into your chest, breasts soft against his head. A soft moan bubbles at your lips as you plant your own hands onto his chest. “I think so are you. We’ve both got a taste of it, haven’t we? We need to make up for lost time.”

“Fair enough,” he rasps. “What do you want from me, baby?”

“You, all of you,” You murmur. “Want your dick in me.”

“Gonna let me finish this time?” he tuts.

Your amused giggle meets his ears and he wonders how you can be both cute and sexy at the same time. “Mmm, I wanna be filled with your cum.”

“Oh, fuck,” Taehyung grunts. “Okay, okay. Here━”

Somehow, he’s able to gesture to the backseat and you and him clamber your way there until you’re finally both situated once more with you straddling his lap. There’s a mutual understanding that there’s no point, nor time, for foreplay but it’s not as if either of you mind. Taehyung’s surely had enough and so have you because while teasing him may be fun for a while, it certainly can feel like torture trying to stay away from him in the meantime. You help him fumble with the belt of his jeans so that he can unbuckle them and watch as he grasps at himself, pulling his cock free. Immediately, you’re lifting your hips to pull the skirt of your dress up higher and his hands help aid you clumsily, palms gliding up the smooth expanse of your thighs.

Then, fumbling to push you on your knees before him, with one hand on the small of your back, he pulls you towards him and gazes down between the two of you as he hooks a thumb over the material of your panties to push it to the side and teases the tip of himself over your slick folds. Your hands flail outward, palms pressing against the windowpane as he somehow situates himself behind you in the cramped space on his knees. He grunts from behind you at the feeling and then slowly and carefully guides you down onto him. It takes a moment to adjust but as you sink fully down until he’s balls deep, his cock coaxed easily by your leaking wetness, the both of you come to a halt, sputtering for air.

“Wait, wait,” he gasps. “Oh, fuck━ Stay put for a sec.”

“Why?” You ask, jutting your hips backwards teasingly. “Gonna cum already?”

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he mutters. He thrusts up into you without warning as payback, causing you to gasp out loud and flail forward. “No, you brat. I just want to enjoy it a little bit longer.”

He’s right. It does feel nice to finally feel some sort of friction after three days of nothing. To him, you just feel so nice and warm and snug and, to you, he fills you up so perfectly. So you stay put for a little bit, adjusting to the feeling as you kiss each other slow and steadily. His dick twitches inside you, warm and wet and so fucking hard. He’s just so big, your head is spinning. It’s almost as if you feel him in the pit of your stomach, legs trembling at the feeling. He yanks impatiently at the top of your dress, pulling it down so that the material pools at your waist now, reveling in the way your bare breasts spring free. At once, his hands are reaching around your front to palm at your breasts, grasping at your hips and navel.

“Wanna wreck you so bad,” Taehyung growls roughly against the shell of your ear as he presses his chest against your back. “Gonna fill you up so good, make your pussy all mine. How does that sound?”

“Want it so bad,” You whine, one arm hooking behind you so that your fingers can scratch at his hair. “F-fuck, Taehyung━”

When he tugs lightly at your hips, you take that as his gesture for you to move and start grinding your hips against his.

“Been waiting so long,” he hisses. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Don’t know why you always gotta tease me.”

“Taehyung,” You choke out. “Oh, f-fuck━”

“That’s it, baby girl. Doing so well,” Taehyung grunts as your walls quiver around him. He starts grinding into you, rough snaps of his hips sending you jolting forward each time. “Gonna take my dick like a good girl?”

“Y-Yes━ God, want it so bad,” You cry out. “Give it to me harder, please, Taehyung━”

He gladly obliges, quickening his pace until he’s slamming his hips into yours in thrusts that tremble you to the core. Tears begin to prick at your eyes at the glorious sensation, your cunt throbbing with each thrust. You’re so wet, he almost slips from your walls each time he rolls his hips into yours.

“Fuck━ Want you to ride me,” he rasps at some point. “Show me how your pussy belongs to me. Can you do that for me?”

You nod blindly. You try not to whine at the sudden loss of contact when he pulls out of you, the tip of his cock glistening with both of your leaking cum mingling together, the sticky strands pulling apart midair as he fumbles. Soon, he has you straddling his lap, sinking onto his dick once more. You grip his shoulders this time, bouncing on him as he buries his face in your chest.

A sudden thought has him groaning aloud. “Your brother’s gonna fucking hate me.”

“I thought he said you talked things over,” You gasp. “That everything’s okay.”

“I don’t mean that,” Taehyung’s head rolls back, eyes squeezing shut. “He’s gonna murder me if he ever catches us like this.”

“Think he knows it happens by now,” You giggle. You moan when you drop your hips on him completely, swiveling around his dick.

“Still don’t think that means he wants to see us making love on the couch in your apartment. Not gonna be able to keep my hands off of you,” Taehyung points out. Then, adding hastily, “Fuck it. Can we not talk about your brother? It’s killing the mood.”

Another delightful chuckle bubbles from your lips though it’s quick to dissolve into a splintered cry as his dick angles upwards into you.

Your back arches until your chest is pressed against his. It’s almost embarrassing how fast the two of you become complete shambles, a sticky mess forming between your legs. It comes to that point where you don’t care about being careful and where you decide to adopt such a reckless pace, fucking yourself on him, your breasts bouncing wildly before him. Taehyung moans and eagerly latches his mouth on one of your breasts, sucking hard.

“Taehyung,” You whine. “I’m not gonna last.”

He hums against you, pulling you closer to his mouth and chest and wrapping you in his heat, as if to urge you on. Your mewls and whimpers ring in Taehyung’s ears as beautiful sounding as the music that plays in the background. You begin to give out, your tiredness mingling with the intensity of pleasure, and you collapse against Taehyung’s chest, huffing for air. He quickly replaces your efforts, grabbing your hips tightly and plummeting his upwards into yours so hard that you feel each thrust shake you to the core. You know you’ll have bruises in the morning but you don’t mind. You’re leaning entirely against Taehyung now, your arms wrapping around his neck, as cries of his name and choked whimpers continue to tear from your throat and mouth.

“F-Fuck!” You cry. “Taehyung, faster━ oh my god, please━”

Your pleas drown out when one long moan escapes you. You can feel the muscles in your core tighten and loosen in a constant battle that has your head swimming in a good way, your heart pounding in your chest. Taehyung grits his teeth, focusing on bringing you to your high, and, before you are able to even comprehend what’s happening, you’re toppling over the edge. You’re still on top of Taehyung, whimpering profusely and crying his name in a beautiful mantra as your high shakes you from head to toe.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby,” Taehyung hisses. “Cum for me. Cream all over my dick. You love it, don’t you? Love having me fill you up like this?”

“Yes, oh my god, Tae, yes━ faster, please━”

Taehyung obliges, sweat forming on his forehead. He feels you squeeze around him so tight that he fumbles for a second, sputtering for air. Then, he feels your cum pulsate out of you, leaking down his length. You’re instantly floating up high with the stars, relishing in your high and the way Taehyung rides it out as he also fights for his own sweet release. As your hips come to a stutter, he grips at your waist and pummels his dick up into your aching pussy.

His tongue continues to lav lazily at your jawline and, by the time he reaches his own high, you are beginning to cringe from the sensitivity. Yet, you hold on, pushing away the slight sting as you help coax him to his high, squeezing your muscles around him. He cums moments later, releasing into you warm and wet, crying your name.

“Fuck, Y/N━ Gonna fill you up, baby, just how you like it━”

He rams his hips up into yours for one final effort, shuddering in elation as his cock twitches every last drop of cum from it. Then, both breathless and panting, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, you slump against his chest, resting your forehead against his. The car instantly goes silent and the foreground music that was the radio comes to once more. You listen to the soft lyrics as the two of you bask in the afterglow of sex and he kisses you all over.

You don’t know how much time passes as the two of you lay there, his hands rubbing comforting circles on your hips as your own fingers trace the tattoos that ink his skin.

“You know━” Taehyung speaks up eventually, his voice a low mumble. “Gonna be extra hard not to be late getting to gigs now.”

“Uh oh.” You roll your eyes. “Think we’ve got all the time in the world now for sex, Tae.”

Taehyung grins. “I was thinking more about the fact that I’m not gonna want to get out of bed in the morning, whenever you fall asleep beside me.”

Your heart swells at his confession and you peck his cheek quickly before burying your face in the crook of his neck. It’s his own serenade of sorts, his small promise in the backseat of his car, that makes it all okay in the end.

“And,” Taehyung admits cheekily this time, “knowing we don’t have to keep us a secret anymore, even to ourselves━ I'm definitely not gonna be able to keep my hands off of you now.”

⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[hpalways]

when they see your tears

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Characters Included: Venti, Albedo, Childe, Diluc

Warnings: None

Venti

Venti saw tears in your eyes and halted mid-step. Face dropping in concern, he could only stare at you. He was being reminded of his dear, old friend and the tragedy that happened eons ago, but still left a fresh scar in its wake that could never seem to fade overtime. 

He felt useless during the war of Mondstadt, but it only further added to his determination this time. This time, he would be there for his loved one. This time, he was going to protect you. 

Pocketing his lyre away, he stepped up to you and brushed a finger beneath your eyes to wipe the tears away. His skin wet from the action, he began to think of Dvalin’s tears. Just like Davlin, he cared for you very much. Giving you a smile, he proceeded to comfort you. 

While he did that, he began to sing a soft melody under his breath, to distract you from the internal pain you were going through. It made you pause in your crying, for it was beautifully sad and expressed exactly as you felt. 

When he was done, you had wrapped your arms around him to thank him. Face growing red, he scratched his head in embarrassment. 

On the inside though, he was bursting at the seams in joy, for he had comforted you successfully. He hoped to never see another sad look on your face again... because the sight of it hurt him as well.

With the embrace over, he decided to bring you somewhere else. Of course, he had a great idea to cheer you up some more. 

“Let’s go to the tavern!”

Albedo

When he first saw the crystal droplets falling down your face, he felt enraged. Who did this to you? Who made you cry? While he battled his inner demons and the fury that always erupted regarding anything including you, you had turned away to try and hide them.

He stopped your actions midway, his cold hand curled around your wrist. Asking you what was wrong, he was met by disappointment when you didn’t respond. 

You were brought into the vicinity of his workshop and Albedo set you down by the fire, which crackled warmly within. Pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head, he then cradled you in his arms awkwardly. 

As you poured out your troubling problems, he would listen patiently. Eyes trained on you solely, he analyzed the situation and calmed when he found out that your tears were from no one’s doings. It had happened because it happened.

Giving you advice on the situation, he was careful of his words and knew exactly what to say to comfort you the most. In due time, you learned a lot from him, being motivated by his encouragement. Albedo was the one who kept you from giving up. 

With tears dried and a stronger resolve from earlier, your heart warmed for the male. Thanking him profusely and giving him a bone-crushing hug, you stood up with a grin on your lips. There was no time to waste. It was time to confront your fears and make Albedo proud.

The blond alchemist wanted to tag along, to make sure things go well. Too embarrassed to fully admit that he was worried about you, he painted his reason with a lie.

“I’ll tag along. For research purposes.”

Childe

He never knew what to do when someone is crying, especially if that person was you. To see your twisted expression and the ongoing stream of sadness rush down was a sight to behold. He felt a lot of things in that moment: anger, fear, worry, love. 

Thinking back to the days where he spent living with his precious siblings, he had to comfort them too at times. Maybe this could be deemed helpful -- all he had to do was follow his gut. 

His pockets were full of mora, so he took them out to present them to you. This was going to work, right? His siblings always cheered up after being given money. Reaching out to you with the glittering gold coins in his gloved hands, he shot you a charming smile and tilted his head endearingly. 

You knitted your brows together and scowled. Burying your face into your hands and heaving out a sob, you ignored his attempt to cheer you up. His face fell and he quickly hurried to you. Well, that didn’t go as planned.

Hesitantly placing his hand on your back, he pat your back clumsily. He asked you what was wrong, calling you by the nickname he gave you. His voice sounded desperate, as if he wished you’d stop crying. 

You suddenly choked out a laugh. Childe was so, so terrible at comforting you, but in your opinion, it was adorable to see. You had never seen him so confused about something.

The Fatui man dropped his jaw, but was tremendously relieved to see a smile crack on your face. He dropped his face to your hand and kissed the back of it. 

“We’ve been sitting for long enough. Why don’t we fight some ruin guards together?”

Diluc

The tears in your eyes made him drop everything. Striding up to you in three brisk strides, he wrapped his arms around you and your face was buried into his warm chest. 

He asked you what was wrong, but when you did not answer, he was sweet and had not pried. You were silently brought outside the gates of Mondstadt, far from the public eye and was set down beside the stretching lake near the city. 

You leaned into him and closed your tear stained eyes shut. Whispering your thanks to him, you slowly and steadily began to doze off. 

He watched as you sleep, feeling a surge of protectiveness towards you. Diluc knew that if you didn’t want to talk about, he wasn’t ever going to force you. But he also knew that he would do anything to ensure you never cry again. Your happiness was his happiness. 

Stroking your hair with a hand, he breathed in your aroma and appreciated the silence. Now that you were sleeping, the stress lines were fading and a peaceful look took over. The sight of it left his heart racing. 

Grabbing a dandelion nearby, he gingerly took it from the ground and tucked the yellow flower behind your ear. 

When you woke up, his red, fiery eyes greeted you. Taking a staggering breath from the cry earlier today, you gave him a small smile and instinctively touched the dandelion. He took you in, relief pouring into him.

“Are you feeling better?”

[rviden]

Ngl I want to see Baal, Zhongli and Venti take revenge on the Harbinger reader now.

— BETRAYED BY THEIR HARBINGER S/O | PART 2

#includes — baal, zhongli, venti

#warnings — descriptions of death, blood

#pronouns — they/them

#BAAL

her heel pressed down between your shoulder blades — the pressure growing more and more as the time passed. every second that she saw you defenceless and powerless under her, bleeding and pleading for her to stop, only fuelled her anger.

“i trusted you. i believed that you had no ill intent. and i cared so deeply for you — and look what it’s come to,” every break of sentence was furthermore accentuated with a jolt of her foot, pressing your front harder into the rough ground. “the god you claimed wasn’t worth a damn thing now has your life in her hands, and the thought of revenge on her mind...” her foot left your back, but the crackling of electricity, and the purple glow you knew all to well appeared. “you’re nothing but a bug in my path — one that i will crush without regret.”

“betrayal truly is a pain in my ass-“

“when you turned your back on me and used me as if i was nothing... that was the day you sealed your fate as yet another vision in my collection,” with those words, she knelt down, keeping the sword of hers within your view, and ripped the vision from your hip. bringing it up to her eyes, inspecting the vision much like you inspected her gnosis. “it will make a fine addition to the statue however... i think it will go front and centre — a beautiful centre piece with such a wonderful story behind it.”

the half groan, half whimper at the words from her sounded like music, yet twisted her heart at the same time.

“what’s the story behind it?”

baal brought her foot to your side, and flipped you so you were laying in your back — your eyes now facing the darkening sky as rain began to poor down.

it was fitting really.

“the story?” she brought the blade of hers to hover over your chest — the electricity that made up the blade sending shocks to your skin, making you wince in pain. “a pathetic mortal — one of which served another in secret — used an archon of all people, and really thought that they would come out on top,” the tip of her blade came to rest over your heart. “now look who’s looking down upon them with a blade to their chest.”

she raised the blade above her head, looking into your eyes with a look of hatred and betrayal, with a glimmer of sadness — sadness due to the thoughts of you and her happy with one another once upon a short time ago.

“this is the end of your story.”

you could only offer a smile through the pain your were feeling. “make sure to tell my tale.”

“your tale will be wiped away as i rid my blade of your blood — but i’ll make sure to deliver your body in pieces to your beloved archon.”

her blade came down — blood splattering onto her face and hands as she listened to the last breath escape your mouth alongside your whimpers and cries.

“i’ll see you in the afterlife my darling.”

#ZHONGLI

“i wish it didn’t have to be this way, i truly mean that,” his body sat beside your own bloody, bruised, and broken one. despite holding back, zhongli had done enough damage to ensure your slow death without fully intending to.

“we could’ve been happy — we could’ve lived a long life together-“

“that’s not true and you know it, don’t be naive,” you whimpered out, desperately trying to put all of your energy into your veins to try and will yourself to sit up, but every breath, blink, and beat of your heart sent sharp and brutal pains throughout your body. “i serve a cause that is completely against all that you are, and you represent nothing but a mission.”

zhongli lowered his head, his eyes filling with tears. he knew he’d hear words that sent his mind into a scrambled mess and made his heart break into grains of crushed glass.

“a mission huh,” he sighed, trying to grab ahold of his emotions that were just a smidge out of reach. “well i suppose this is the end of that — you lived an exciting life however, and i’ll try to make the end of it quick.”

the panic rushed throughout your powerless body — trying to will your broken limbs to move in any way. to swing at the archon, to crawl away, or to shield your body from the spear he readied over your body.

moments prior, he had scanned your body, trying to decide on the quickest way to put you out of your misery, and also one that wouldn’t hurt you too much.

as much as he wanted to be mad, to bring every ounce of his power down upon you until you were buried beneath thousands of pounds of stone — he couldn’t.

because although you had taken his heart, his trust, and almost everything that made him who he is away from him, he couldn’t bring himself to wish pain upon you.

so with a teary, whisper goodbye, his spear lodged into your chest — your body growing limp immediately under him.

“goodbye y/n.”

#VENTI

venti cradled your head against his chest, tracing the features of your face, smudging around the droplets of blood that coated your skin.

it was a quick means to an end overall, and while he was fulfilled with his doings, his heart ached just as much as it did the day you betrayed him.

“i remember when i first met you, y’know that,” his gaze never lifted from your face. “it was at dilucs tavern — i was playing that night, and you had just arrived in mondstadt with nothing more then a smile that made almost everyone swoon.”

looking back, he remembers feeling special — like out of all the gentlemen and maidens in the room, he had caught your heart. your eyes had stayed trained on him despite the countless bodies coming up to your own, offering drinks and food, promises of good times, and questions about you.

but you had stayed near the small stage tucked in the corner — the bard himself stood atop it plucking away at his lyres stings, and serenading the tavern with a soft voice and his rhythmic words.

but it was all an elaborate plan to steal something of his away.

“why did you have to work for the other side,” his head smacked against the tree trunk behind him, a groan of sadness and discomfort following. “this is the last place i wanted to end up, and yet here we are.”

venti pulled your body closer to his own, giving one last squeeze before standing and laying your body at the roots — a tree that only he and friends of old knew about.

a place tucked away from the rest of the world, so you could be left in peace.

“the lousy god beat you,” he let out a small, halfhearted laugh at the revaluation. “and here — he lays you down for an eternal rest.”

he left your body there, flowers surrounding your body and a full bottle of mondstadt’s finest wine — a toast to your glory days, when all that you showed him was love and affection.

the resting place of someone he used to know.

i’m proud of baal’s and zhongli’s but i’m not sure about venti’s...

[littlepadika]

🎀 pink (Din)

🧼 laundry detergent (fake dating)

🍄cottage core (innocent kink)

with some fluff and smut included maybe?? 🥺👉👈💘

Hi @ppslutt I don't think we've interacted so hello! Thank you for this request! Omg i am both soft and amused by this idea. Hope you like this... Din is such a cheeky bb but at the same time a feral fucking machine hehe

500 follower celebration (closed now)

Warnings: Asshole ex boyfriend, protective mando, innocent reader, unprotected piv smut, fingering, 18+

source: @reilink

"Can I sit here?"

Din startled. He had been glaring holes into the metal table at the cantina for so long he almost forgot there were other people around. He was in between bounties. Waiting for Karga to come up with something worth his time.

He nodded at the seat across from him which you fell into. He would usually say no, preferring to be left alone, but you were hardly a threat. Young and apparently unarmed. You looked stressed. Eyes darting all over the room. Were you in trouble?

"Thank you." You tapped your fingertips on the table. "My ex is here and I don't want him to see me alone."

"Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"No." You stare down at your lap. "I just don't want to talk to him."

That made sense, but Din couldn't understand why you were talking to him specifically. Most people feared Mandalorians. He expected you to want to hire him or ask him to kill your ex. You glanced over your shoulder. Din followed your gaze, identifying the man in question, an arrogant looking human with his arm around a girl with her back to you both.

"I'll leave you alone in a minute." You turned your attention back to him. "What's your name, sir?"

"Mando." He grunted. You replied with your name. Din's ears perked up when he heard it. The sound of it echoing in his mind. He had never heard such a name before. "Have you ever seen a Mandalorian before?" Din couldn't help but ask.

"Is that what you are?" You felt embarrassed at his amused tone. "Am I supposed to bow or something?"

Din chuckled, which came out as a crackle through the voice coder. "No. But people tend to stay away from me because- because we're killers."

"Oh." You swallowed a gasp. It never occurred to you to be afraid. "I didn't know. I've never been off world."

"What the fuck are you doing here?" You snapped your head up to see your ex standing over you, an angry look on his face. "I thought you didn't like going out."

"I-I can go where I please!" You jut your chin out.

"Fucking bitch. You're just spying on me, aren't you?" Your ex spat. Din clenched his fist, not liking the way this bastard was speaking to you. He could easily break this man's arm and hardly break a sweat.

"I'm not!" You cried shrilly. "I didn't know you'd even be here."

"What are you doing with him?" Your ex turned to Mando with a sneer. "Tryin to make me jealous?"

"Obviously it worked." You glared. "Now go away."

"No hang on- you're gonna come with me and we're gonna talk."

"I think it's time for you to go." Din rested his hand on his holster, his voice impossibly low. You shivered in your seat.

"Whatever." The man gave up, backing up a little. "Good luck with this one, Mando. She's a prude."

You looked down in shame feeling angry tears sting your eyes. It was hard to believe you once loved this asshole. Din felt his temper flare in his chest. Your ex finally left, looking over his shoulder a few times to watch you and Din.

"I'm sorry." You wrapped your arms around yourself. "I'll leave you alone now."

"I don't mind." Din said, surprising himself. He hated seeing you so upset. He thought about going up to that bastard and putting a hole in his chest, but that wouldn't make you feel better. "Can I get you something?"

"I don't know." You looked up at the bar trying to read the menu overhead.

"What kind of fake boyfriend would I be?" Din joked, hoping to see you smile. It worked. You let out a small giggle into your hand that made Din's heart constrict strangely. He ordered you a Tatooine Sunset.

"You don't want one?"

"No. Thank you." Din hesitated before adding "I don't remove my helmet."

"Ever?" Your eyes widened.

"Not in front of people."

"Oh." You took a small sip. "It's really yummy. Thank you."

Din noticed the prick from earlier still watching you both. "Come over here, ad'ika." He tapped the seat next to him.

"Why?" You asked, looking up from your cup.

"Because that nurf herder is watching us."

"Oh." You frowned, moving to sit next to Mando.

"Lean into me."

"Like this?" You asked again, tilting your head onto his cold beskar paldron.

"Yes. Good." Din nodded, enjoying the look of anger that passed over that bastard's face. "Sit closer."

"I-I am." You blushed, moving until your legs were pressed against him. He wasn't super comfortable with all the metal.

"On my lap, ad'ika." Din patted his thigh. He was being bold but something about your instant trust in him made him want to hold you closer. Feel your soft body on his. You go bright red as you stand and then perch on his knee. His gloved hand covered your lower back.

"Look at him." Din instructed, smirking behind his helmet.

"Oh he's so mad." You giggled. "This is fun, mando."

"It is, ad'ika." Din couldn't' help but agree.

"Wh-what does adeeka mean?" Your tongue got caught on the syllables.

"It means 'little one'."

"I'm-i'm not a child." You frowned, ducking your head. A weak objection as you were sitting in his lap right now.

"It's not just for children." Din placed another arm around your legs, pulling them more securely onto his lap. He regretted that he was in full armor because he could not feel you but that was also probably a good thing or else he'd be hard. You smelled divine.

"Mando he's still staring." You whispered against his cowl which was surprisingly soft.

"Shall we make him even more uncomfortable?"

"Mhm." You nodded, kissing Mando on his cool beskar helmet, where his cheek would be. "How's that?"

"You can do better than that." Din encouraged, enjoying the little game.

"Oh yeah!" You grinned, feeling your competitive spirit rising. "How about this?" You lowered your head, leaning against his neck, kissing him through the cowl. You could feel his warm neck and strong pulse against your lilps. He swallowed hard, his hand tightening over your thigh.

"We should walk out now. Really make him jealous." Din suggested, mostly to stop you from giving him a full on erection.

"Oh yeah." You hopped off his lap, taking his large leather clad hand in yours. "Come on."

Once outside in the warm sun you laughed at your antics. You had never had so much fun. You used to fear your ex. He was mean and cruel. You felt safe now that you had Mando. You tried not to worry what would happen when Mando was gone. Din watched you hungrily, beaming up at him, your face lit up in the daylight. He subtly turned off his tracking view in his visor so he could just see you without any distractions on his screen.

"Thank you Mando."

"You're welcome." He let go of your hand making your face fall. "What's wrong?"

"I want to keep playing."

"What do you propose?" Din felt his cock twitch behind his flight suit.

"I think he would be really jealous if I had marks on my neck." You suggested boldly. Din shook his head in disbelief.

"You are not a prude, you know that? I'm sorry he said that to you."

"I was only a prude with him. He was ugly." You grimaced but recovered. "You're beautiful, Mando, and I want- I want you. Not just to make him jealous but I want you."

"Oh Ad'ika..." Din chuckled. "We can do both."

This led to Din taking you in the alleyway behind the cantina. First he knelt down between your legs and fingered you until you were dripping into his hand. He wanted to watch your little cunt squeeze and flutter. Your little mewls grew louder and louder until you came with a cry. Din loved how innocent you were. You didn't even know how to be quiet. You didn't hide your pleasure. He hoped your shitty ex was listening. Hearing your sounds that he never got to draw from you.

Next he stood lifting you up with ease onto his hips. You were already delirious from your first orgasm you shot up to the stars when he entered you. You tightened your legs around his waist, holding onto his broad shoulders. All thoughts of being seen or herd left your mind. You were overwhelmed, Mando pushing into every corner of your senses along with your pussy.

"Fuck..." Din grunted, feeling your hot walls suck him to the hilt. It had been so long he realized how sensitive he was. And you were so tight. He held your ass up, pulling it to grind into him with every stroke.

"Oh Mando!" Your head fell back against the wall. "This-it's so good."

"Mmm you feel amazing, ad'ika. So fucking perfect." Din watched your face slacken with the pleasure he was giving you, your plush lips teasing him. He wanted to feel them. He wanted to put his lips over every inch of you. Your eyes were drooping, staring right into his visor.

"Stay with me, little one. Look- look at us." He fucked harder, leaning back slightly despite the ache in his lower back, watching the point where your flesh met. Your little swollen clit was sitting right on top of his dick, smashing against his pelvis with every stroke.

"Oh-Maker-I'm gonna cum again." You cried, scrabbling against his shoulders for better leverage. You wanted to fuck him back. Din readjusted his grip allowing one hand to be free to circle your clit.

"Who's making you cum?"

"You! You, Mando!" You cried feeling your stomach go incredibly tight then spasming with your orgasm.

"You think anyone else could make you feel this?" Din sped up also nearing his own climax. His voice was rough and torn up, cracking and stressing the voicecoder.

"No-no one else!" You answered eagerly, wanting to please him. "I don't want anyone else."

"Good girl. Fuck- you want to be mine?" He felt his cock twitching. He was seconds away from cumming inside of you. This was the last chance to pull out.

"I want to-be yours- please." You nodded vigorously, looking up at him so he could see you meant it. You dug your heels into his lower back. His grunts became short and quick with each thrust then he came abruptly, crashing his forehead against yours. You gasped feeling the spot where you were joined grow incredibly wet.

"Stars..." Din hissed feeling his pleasure prickle down his spine into his cock. "You mean it, ad'ika?"

"Yes. Show me the stars, Mando."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My masterlist

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist

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Din Taglist: @a-skov @pasckles

[biinaberry]

Demon Core

Statement number: #9460121, ‘Demon Core’. Statement of Researcher Tango T. Tek on a new research assistant. Obtained from an in person interview on March 09, 1946. Date of recording: April 17, 2019.

[Tango] "…There are two types of scientist. Those who work with a team, and those who work alone. I’m a part of the lucky, or unlucky, few who were given the opportunity to work on my own."

[Magmits is not a part of or associated with Hermit Archives] [Google Docs] [AO3] Editor: aroaceacacia

A series of fizzles echo through the microphone like an old television. The Curator is clearly heard, despite a slight muffling of the audio, as if the mic were hidden somewhere.

“Are there any possible leads that can be taken? Like prior recordings or cameras in the storage unit? It would be silly to assume it was me. Unless I somehow gained the ability to suddenly sleepwalk.” The Curator chuckles under her breath.

A crackling, staticky voice joins amongst the twangs of the microphone. “We already know you couldn’t have done it. The company did a thorough background check before hiring. [static] -anagement knows you couldn’t have done it. However, your seamstress portfolio was mighty impressive. Hopefully my copilot is checking camera footage as we speak and sending investigators to look over the cases.” Someone sips at a liquid, swallowing loudly, before a small clack signals they’ve set something down onto a counter. “The logs will probably be null and void since recordings are checked a day or two after they’re submitted.” So what can we do?” A metal chair screeches across the floor.

“There is no we in this statement.” The voice softens as it gets closer.   “You’re a Curator, you weren’t hired to play detective. Go back to verifying info and recording. You shouldn’t work a job you didn’t sign up for . Besides, this isn’t the first time someone stole from us.” The boss chuckles, a twiddling thing, as if they had lightning in their veins. ”However none of them ever expect  how  thorough we can get. They never get too far. While I, [static] -ment will work on this, you can go back to work.”

The Curator sighs, then hums idly. There’s a sound like a soft footstep and inhale of breath, and then the chair squeaks again. Clothing rustles as she stands and straightens. “Cleo.”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for notifying us. Including the time at the end of the recording was also very practical. It’ll help with the timeline of things. You did good.” The air is stale, settling in its silence. It remains eerily unperturbed until a door thuds shut with a decisive click . ----------

Papers of various weights are shuffled across a desk space. The Curator takes a few sips of something, before putting it down on the desk with a clack - sounds ceramic.

“Following a few of my requests, management was able to give a list on what statements were already recorded.”

A paper is picked up. “One Pearl E. Moon took up the job of recording statements. Upon asking why she left in early 2012, the Boss said she just... ‘lost interest, gained a sense of paranoia’. Which isn’t a new thing, some people take their job way too seriously, but it started to affect her performance. Stuttering and constant retakes during recordings, and all that. It started to be too much for the company, so they let her go. Sad to see, because she was one of the better on-foot researchers that the company had prior to her job shift. Certainly had a way to get the information she needed out of others. Management didn’t see a need to immediately replace her, since all statements have been transcribed to new material and security does routine checks on the storage units.”

   “Which, I won’t lie, makes me question what makes the Curator job special, unless it is really just the merging of two jobs into one. …Maybe I should’ve asked them that when I had the chance, earlier.”

There’s a large, heavy thump, and some kind of crate or box slides across the desk and closer to the microphone. “Boss also preselected a new file for me, with artifacts attached. They felt bad about yesterday’s incident, so they decided to do some of the work for me.” A folder slaps onto the table, as if dropped. Fingers sift through papers, sliding them around and fanning them out, until one is picked up. The paper is shaken out straight and snapped into position.

“‘All papers and artifacts in this crate pertain to case file #9460121 ‘Demon Core’. The only exception being an older Geiger counter left in storage unit ISO- SP3. Notes have been sectioned off into different folders, color-coded, and labeled. Physicists who specialize in radioactive critical states have been hired to read through the statement giver’s notes and to give a condensed final copy for the statement reader’...I’m curious to see just how many notes were included for them needing to  condense  it. ‘All notes have been photocopied and scanned into the company’s databases, however the statement giver requested a way for them to still keep ownership over their research findings, as well as a way to remain anonymous. A deal has been settled that their name would be kept on all documents in our database, but would not be released publicly by us in conjunction with either the statement or their research, nor in association with our organization at all. All details, regarding both the statement giver’s personal information and the case itself, are classified and for the eyes of the Curator only. Any other employees of work site Maple do not have clearance to read this file beyond its name. They did give consent to the use of their name during an in-person interview with the site Maple Curator. As such, a copy of the original March 13, 1946 recording has been provided, as well as a transcript for only the Curator’s use.’ Why ask to be anonymous in the first place then?”

There’s a beat, before something hard is driven into the crate. Wood seems to splinter and protest, and the Curator exhales with effort, before it splits apart. Something small and metallic pings several places, and the Curator shrieks in surprise - “bloody nail,” she grumbles. Another beat. Fabric rustles, and flesh scrapes across the wood. “There’s one,” the Curator mumbles, and drops a massive file onto the desk. The thump echoes through the room. Another scrape. “There’s two.” Another thump. And again: and with each continuous thumping sound, the disbelief and pure astonishment in the Curator’s mutters of ‘oh god’ increasingly grows. “What the  hell  kinda experiments were they conducting to have five massive folders on just  research notes .” She takes another sip from her mug and exhales deeply. “Okay... Thank you management, holy shit.”

----------

“Cleo Zombie, Curator of work site Maple, record number: #9460121, case file ‘Demon Core’. Statement of Researcher Tango T. Tek on a new research assistant. Obtained from an in person interview on March 09, 1946. Date of recording: April 17, 2019.”

The soft whir of a winding tape accompanies the sips from the Curator’s cup. The tape stops winding, and the Curator presses a button with a click. The tape begins.

[Tango]

You sure this whole.. record-ificator you have there will be enough legal proof? I spent months on this work, murder wouldn’t be the only thing on the table if I lose ownership of this.

[Curator]

You submitted an audio log with your notes. It’s enough. If you believe a bunch of paper and restoration workers will find a use for plutonium research, I’ll see if Lily can print out a physical contract.

[Tango]

Fine... actually please do, that would make it easier. I don’t want this getting out.

[Curator]

It won’t. You came here with an encounter or story with a-?”

[CLICK. NOTES ARE TAKEN.]

[Tango]

-- Research assistant, a new one.

[Curator]

“ It’s always the new ones … Okay! Statement of one…?”

[CURATOR SHOVES THE MICROPHONE IN FACE. IMPACT AND GRUNT. FUZZ.]

[Tango]

Tango T. Tek.

[Curator]

On a new research assistant! The day is March 09, 1946, coming to you live from work cite Maple. You may begin your tale, o fortunate victim.

[Tango]

…There are two types of scientist. Those who work with a team, and those who work alone. I’m a part of the lucky,  or unlucky , few who were given the opportunity to work on my own. Flying solo the entire time like a newborn bird. Could have been because my whole job could vaporize anything and everything into a new breed of mutant, but that’s neither here nor there.

I work with plutonium, nasty stuff if someone doesn’t know what to look for. The line between safety and certain death is a… delicate one, to say the least, and sadly, we’d already seen the worse of those two outcomes. My company didn’t want another outbreak again, even though it was on the contract. But it’s a little easier to be safe, when you’re working alone. Fewer people to consider, right?

Then the boss came down all ‘we got some news for you’ and I was terrified that all of my funds were just ripped for me. Oh it was  worse  . They surpris-ificated me with a lab assistant! Which you know  should be a good thing, but I had this whole system. And trying to teach that to someone who isn’t yourself is more pain than it’s worth. So I’m dreading it, my brain’s dreading it, I could hear the screams coming from my lab as she’ll probably get rearranged.  

[pauses]  Uh- oh wow I made it sound like the new guy was horrible- he wasn’t. We. We got into a rhythm...eventually.

It wasn’t until a week later that I was actually able to meet him for the first time. I could only describe him as average, in an American sense. He wore a typical white lab coat, a brown cardigan, and blue jeans. That cardigan…! He always had the top two buttons undone, and he never wore an undershirt, did you know that? It seemed a little unprofessional to me!... but I was wearing an unzipped vest myself, so the same could be said for me. His hair was like clouds, light and fluffy. Bright yellow, like the fields of wheat on my old drive to work. Tightly curled in the front but more wavy in the back. Unreal, in how perfect it was. Didn’t realize that fact until we were walking to my lab.

He introduced himself; where he got his degree (Britain), prior lab experience (also Britain), jobs, the usual. “Call me Zed,” he said with a smile and an actual twinkle in his eye. His eyes… I swear, every time I looked at them they changed color. When I first entered the room his eyes were a dark blue, that weird shade where you can have a whole debate on if it could be classified as blue or purple? Yet, when I shook his gloved hand (purple with yellow palms, so bright they hurt to look at), his eyes were a light brown. His face was covered in freckles, like stars and constellations. They were against a tan canvas; overall he looked like he’d spent a lot of time in the sun. He also had two hair clips on the left side of his face to keep his bangs out, both black. The boss led him down to my lab and that's when I got a good look at the rest of him, and it really struck me that he was off for a British person. He was about 6’5, or maybe 6’4. That’s an estimate using my boss as a reference - he’s six foot. It also didn’t help that the new guy was either nearly or fully a head taller than me. There was no way  I was self conscious of my own height, nope, no way, not at all. I’m a very proud and regal 5’7, okay!

… Anyways. When we made it down to my lab, lucky old 27, I showed him the basic layout. The left side of the room was for the active experiments, the right side was used for completed experiments, and storage for all the research. The left wall was covered in counters, and dials, charts, and levers, versus the right, which had multiple filing cabinets, all meticulously labeled. Stuff like “Experiments 1-15”. I know I know. Very descriptive, I’m a naming master. But the most important part of the room was the Geiger counter in the top left corner of the room. It sat right next to the viewing window used to keep track of the experiment chamber.

Once I’d shown Zed around the place, it was time to get to work...Have I described the exact nature of the experiment yet? We’re researching Biology, its effect on the body, all that typical jazz. Place the subject in the testing room, push the plutonium until a desired amount, stop the experiment, repeat with the next batch. I’ll admit it, my tests aren’t the most.. ethical. Outsiders call it torture, but that pales in the pursuit of science. Just..don’t tell the board and we’re a-okay. We.. have an understanding. To help Zed get settled in, we did a trial run. I tested the equipment as normal, put the subject in the chamber, started the experiment, and documented it. Been doing it for four months now, so nothing new. I gave Zed the task of documenting the results at the bottom left side of the room, by the dials and charts. I would look over the test subjects and the Geiger counter at the top left side of the room, easy enough. Every 20 seconds I would mark down the number on the counter and when it reached over my marked capacity or ten minutes had passed, I would shut it off.

Tell me how, after just two minutes, the counter was click click clicking like it was the end of the world! I checked all the readings and it seemed that if the experiment were to continue, it would generate an effective radiation dose of around 1500 rem - over three times what should have been expected! I was scrambling to shut down everything! I looked like a headless chicken from how quickly I was running to turn it off. I whipped my head toward Zed to see if he saw it as well, and he was as still as a statue! Almost like he was made of stone, before the widest smile I’d ever seen on a person spread-ificated on his face and he  burst  into laughter, just  gasping  like he were a man drowning. “Is that supposed to happen?” he asked.  [mocking]  “Supposed to happen?” Of course not! I’d only ever have the counter that high if I were trying to see how fast I could kill a person!

I quickly informed the boss so we could evacuate the lab building. I didn’t want any more heads put on my platter. We had some specialists in hazmat suits check the building. A group of ten. No matter how hard they looked or how long they checked, they found nothing wrong. No radiation leaks, no plutonium monsters, no nothing. So now I   look like the bad guy, because I interrupted everyone’s work for nothing! I tried telling them the plutonium was acting up, the numbers were way too high, but they laughed it off. Told me to keep a better eye on it,  rude  . When we were finally able to enter the lab again a week later, I was checking every piece of machinery meticulously. Every nook and cranny, every bit and bolt. But nada, zip, nothing! I couldn’t find a  single  reason for why the values were multiplied! Sad to say that subjects 1 through 20 from batch C had to be removed from further testing. While they won’t be of any use for Alvarado, they became an experiment of their own. We placed them in a separate control room, to monitor how they were affected by the much higher dose of radiation they received. Of course, radiation poisoning was to be expected, but  what else  might happen? It felt like new ground. Still, the accident had left me a bit shaken, and I took a few days of sick leave.

Two days passed before I brought myself to resume the experiment. I checked the equipment as usual and no defects could be found. I placed the next batch of subjects into the test chamber and started again. All was going the same for the first two minutes, but at 2:47 minutes, the counter went bonkers again! Hundreds of milliroentgen! Shut everything down, checked the charts, double checked with Zed, started it over. Nearly the same result, but this time we had to worry about even more milliroentgen, and it started alerting us at  3:15  , instead! And again, we repeated it, with new results - and again and again and again. This repeated for  two weeks . The length of time for the counter to go off and the amount of milliroentgen kept changing.

Normally in an experiment, you’d expect the results to be a little different each time, because it’s the job of the scientist to read between the lines and find the pattern. But here’s the thing. There was no pattern! I was losing my mind! I had no team to bounce theories off of, and there was no way Zed knew what was happening, because he had no clue how the experiments should be running. It didn’t feel real. I thought, “maybe it’s the equipment?” I got the boss to almost fully replace everything in the lab. Wiring, lights, counters, hell even new Geiger counters! The only thing he wouldn’t replace was the happy fun time rock - ah, the plutonium. Still a little bitter over that.

By that point I’d been at it for two months, hundreds of subjects wasted and many deceased from the radiation. I was just about to give up. Sure, I got notes on higher levels of radiation, but none of it made  sense ! My research should have time and radiation as our constant - all of the specimens would be exposed to a specified level for the same lengths of time - but  now neither were independent! All batches were exposed to levels far exceeding their assigned so we had to shut it down! None of what I was getting could be used for my prior work at all! All of my research was on varying levels of exposure and its effect on the body. Each batch of specimens had a level of radiation assigned, and then each batch was further divided into subgroups based on how many times they would experience that radiation. All of my prior batches had to stop the day Zed joined, because I couldn’t risk tampering with those results.

Realizing none of this could be used, that I had spent months spinning in place with nothing but inconclusive, nonsensical results to show for it, was my breaking point. When I entered the lab, I planned on creating a new thesis or research statement, because my current one was going to be on permanent vacation. Yet, when I got into the lab, a small note was at my desk. Apparently Zed called the boss, said he would be out for the day. Car troubles. It would just be me again. I can do that.

…When I tell you everything ran perfectly. It. Ran. Perfectly. No random spikes, no sudden time differences, everything was  exactly how I wanted it.  How it had been  before . I won’t lie, I almost cried. Sadly batches A1 through Z1 had to be rejected, stuck to only the ‘analysis’ part of the experiment, but it’s better than nothing at all!

[DESPERATE, WHEEZY LAUGHTER. IT TRAILS OFF INTO BREATHING.]

I was so happy to start again that I didn’t even question  why until I got home… When your entire job is based around logic, you don’t think about a person being responsible. It’s.. unimaginable in a sense,  especially  in this context. But there I was, sitting on my couch drinking coffee contemplating if  Zed  was the reason! You understand, I am nothing if not a scientist. I needed more data. So I held my belief for the next day.

As I entered the lab, Zed was standing there, filing papers away. He turned and smiled, that awful smile with his stupid shiny teeth, and then he apologized for missing work the day prior. His eyes were gold this time. I said it’s alright, accidents happen, and besides, I was able to advance the experiments. God.. he was  so happy when I said that, and it made me feel ill. Something about him hurt to look at. The sight of his neon-bright gloves alone gave me a headache. He ran to the filing cabinet and picked up his glasses, clipboard and two pens.

“So we’re starting a new batch? Says here we’re moving to batch A3 through Z3.” This was my opportunity to test my hypothesis from the night before. I confirmed, and told Zed I’m going to watch over the experiment this time around; an inversion of our usual roles, though I didn’t tell him that. I asked him to check the test subjects, to make sure each batch contained precisely 40 subjects. He saluted, like a soldier, and said “Ay ay, Captain!” before leaving the room.

As predicted, without Zed, the experiment ran smoothly. Ten minutes passed before I heard Zed call out my name, asking if he could come in. I agreed. When he entered the room, I looked at the counter: it clicked 5 marks higher. I took a deep breath and gathered my courage before turning to smile at Zed. I told him to stand next to me. My heart followed the beat of his footsteps. Five, ten, twenty, fourty - the counter kept clicking higher and I could feel the sweat gather on the back of my neck - eighty, one-twenty, my heart hammering against my chest. A bird trapped, fluttering and fighting in its cage before I could feel his shadow fall over me. Four hundred and sixty milliroentgens per hour. I couldn’t stop staring at the counter. Zed’s hand came to rest on my shoulder. It was warm. Four-seventy, his other hand reached past me, four-eighty, his face inched forward (bright purple eyes), four-ninety, his hand touched the counter.

The glass shattered. The counter’s needle flew by my head, hitting the wall and clattering to the ground. My ears rang. My vision blurred, focused on the broken machine, its screaming death rattling my brain like a smacked metal tin. I couldn’t think. I turned to look at him. Zed smiled, his eyes a kaleidoscope of colors, green to purple to yellow to blood red. He tilted his head to me, teeth as sharp as blades and freckles that glow like stars. He looked like he was made of radium. His hand retreated back to my shoulder and I felt it, somehow, at the base of my spine. Ringing. I can’t feel my hands. Ringing. I can’t feel my feet, only my eyes and my ears. Ringing. “Oh~ What a pity. Thought this one would work .” His voice melted. I was helpless to listen. “There’s no time for that now. There’s experiments to be done.” Somehow, he didn’t sound unkind. Fingers grasped the back of my neck, pulling me away from the machine.

…I don’t know how I got home that day. I don’t remember. The moment he took his hand off my back, I blacked out and woke up on my couch drinking coffee. I never felt so out of  control , I -

[SILENCE. SOFT BREATHING.]

Well, now I know how it feels to be the rat in the maze… What do I do now? I still work with him, we still do our experiments. You know, I had to get glasses? My eyes haven’t worked quite right ever since… Sorry, I don’t know how to finish this with a nice bow.

[Curator]

You don’t need to. ----------

A rattled click concludes the end of the tape. The Curator huffs, and takes a large drink of whatever she has in her glass.

“Let’s all agree that that statement was insane. Surely, it’s just the ramblings of a mad scientist who’s not gotten the results he wanted. But, there  is  this crate -” she smacks the crate on her desk “-  and  the apparent broken Geiger counter in storage, so there has to be  some truth to his claim. … Ah, right! The statement summary. ”

“‘Mr. Tango T. Tek was living in his New Mexico home with his housemate, Nathan “Impulse” Stewart-Voss, an electrician for the same company. Mr. Stewart-Voss reported Mr. Tek went missing on March 19st when he didn’t return home from work for two days. Sadly after the initial investigation from March 21st to 25, Mr. Stewart-Voss also went missing on the 27th. Neither of them were found again. After police checked their home, multiple notebooks were found scattered across the floor, all containing different formulas, messages, and diagrams. Only a small handful of the notebooks were deciphered, but those that were had variations of  ‘Yes?’, ’Where?’, ‘He’s Here’, ‘Where is He?’, ‘Tango’, ‘A deal’s a deal’ and various forms of legible smiley faces. From the images, a vague shape of a map was found. The trail ended at a dug up hole in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Investigators excavated a 20 ft by 20 ft by 10 ft deep square; however, nothing was recovered. Eventually, all pursuits to find the two dwindled down, as no new information could be found.”

“Attempts have been made to find Mr. Zed, but the search has been null as well. The Curator did provide the research team a possible location in New Mexico based upon an off handed comment Mr. Tek said prior to the recorded interview. Seeing as no other leads were found the team got to work and started to ask around the specified area. Even with a description of the man, a possible name, and a photograph; every manager has denied the existence of such a man and investigators have been told to leave. The conclusion was that Zed was a false name. No new information has been found out regarding the case in general.”

“Mr. Tek’s research deals with the overarching hypothesis of ‘does varying levels of radiation effect biology?’” A sheet of paper rustles, as if the Curator were putting the statement summary aside. “ However  , this paper so far fails to mention specifically  what biology he is testing with. Rabbits, rats, humans, who the hell knows. If I had to make a guess, based upon his talk with Zed about checking batches, I’m going to assume rats or rabbits. Surely, if 40 humans per batch went missing,  somebody would notice.”

The flapping of paper is heard as the Curator mutters a curse, pushing her chair back to pick something up from the floor.

“‘Within this folder is a selection of photographic artifacts related to Mr. Tek’s statement. All photographs have a handwritten comment on the back, written in black ink. Refer to the given chart for each photograph by number and description.’”

“‘Photos 3/8: Abnormal Spots.’ After the encounter with Mr. Zed, Mr. Tek informed the Curator that he started to experience an almost.. tingling feeling on his shoulders. As if ‘there was electricity in my veins’ to copy his words. When getting ready to go to bed, he noticed a faint glowing on the mirror to his right. Upon turning he noticed that his shoulders and sides were glowing underneath his shirt. After freaking out, he used a camera to start taking photos of himself. When the Curator asked why he instantly went to taking photos, he replied ‘We’re scientists, we document everything.’” He also believed the spots came from standing right next to Mr. Zed. Showing regret in the fact he didn’t think of the consequences for said action.”

“The spots continued to spread down his spine and onto his hands. He informed the Curator that they would shift between shades of white, yellow, and orange in no particular order or duration. The most pressing one is on the back of his spine and left hip, where they appear to have the shape of a massive handprint. Alongside the photos of the spots, he included one from a year prior. Stating it as proof that the spots were a recent development. The spots are absent in the last photo.”

“‘Photos 11/17: Lab Reference. Photos taken by Mr. Tek on February 12, 1946.’ The company’s manager wouldn’t allow outsiders access into the building unless they’re a part of the company. As a work around Mr. Tek took photos of the lab as a reference point as he told the story and a way to preserve the lab in case items got rearranged. The photos included all four walls of the lab, a large table on the right side of the room, and the broken Geiger counter. Along the left wall are multiple counters and dials as he described, the viewing window for the experiments and the Geiger counter. The front wall contains a giant whiteboard covered in notes with printed charts, and filing cabinets hug the right wall. Mr Tek did chuckle over feeling the Geiger counter photos were a bit pointless after he and Mr. Stewart-Voss simply took the counter once management planned to replace it.

“‘Photos 1/2: Subjects. Two photos containing both Mr. Zed and Mr. Tek’. The first is a candid shot of Mr. Zed and Mr. Tek in a hallway. Mr. Zed’s hand is around the small of the other’s back. Mr. Tek’s head is turned to the left, enough where you can see his nose, eyes and a little bit of his smile. Both are holding food in their left hands, I  think  hotdogs but I can’t be sure.”

“The second phot-  oh .. Holy shit- I um- the second photo is a formal view of the two infront the viewing window. Mr. Tek is on the right while Mr. Zed is on the left. Nothing of note is to be said about Mr. Tek, but Mr. Zed on the other hand… well. He makes a convincing Witch of the West. They’re both smiling, but with how squished Mr. Zed’s cheeks are, you shouldn’t be able to see his whole eye. Yet- god, is there  no shading in his eyes?  They’re entirely white, except for his black irises. There’s no gradient either, it’s  fully black. His hand also appears to melt around Mr. Tek’s hip. It’s hard to tell but his fingers clearly shift into the same grayish white of the other’s lab coat as if he fused with it. Right behind Mr. Tek’s head appears to be almost.. another Zed.”

“His face is slightly blurry and transparent, however a smile and one eye are clearly visible. It almost looks like that one ghost photo done by..” The Curator snaps her fingers while tapping the desk. “God who wa-Corbert! That was the person! Yeah the ghost photos done by Corbert. He has that blurry texture around him while still being almost..  too clean in spots. The head is tilted to the left with a wide smile on his face, stretched like putty. His hair seems to fade away near the edges until it blends perfectly with the glass. I would pin this as being simply long exposure if it weren’t for the fact that it mentions it was a snapshot photo done to commemorate a week of working together. The figure is also holding something behind Mr. Tek’s back. It’s large and rectangular in shape, maybe undeveloped film, yet you can see the shadow of the box against the glass. It might be a book, because I see a spine with some form of letters on it. Wish I could make it out more clearly, but I’m missing a magnifying glass... ”

“With that, Curtains Close, End Statement.”

----------

The picture warbles as it’s placed on the table. The Curator sighs before the sounds of the chair lightly scratching against the floor.

“That photo spooked me more than it has any right to…” The light sound of skin slapping skin is picked up before the Curator groans.

“It’s just a photo, a blink and you miss it moment, but I  can’t  miss this. There’s too much evidence proving that that was  real. A genuine experience and.. I don’t know what that means moving forward.” Ceramic slides against the desk as the microphone hears light sips from it before silence airs throughout the room. Broken only by the chair screeching back from sudden movement.

“I’m just gonna.. walk that off, I need to check storage anyway. What unit was it anyways?... SP3. Got it.” The lock clicks as the door opens. Hinges whining as it slowly closes behind the Curator.

“With how many storage units there are, it’s easy to get lost, I feel. All the different labels, how many turns you take, might even call it a maze. So the boss-” She chuckles. “-gave me a horribly doodled map pointing to its holding box. They mentioned that every month the counter gets a cleaning and touches on its finish to help preserve both the original look of the counter as well as make sure the rust doesn’t spread.”

The storage unit keys jingles as it’s picked up. Slowly being carded down the key loop as the Curator mutters under her breath. “Come on..  Come on.   One of you- god. I’m going to  kill management bef-  ” The lock clicks and the door’s hinges whine as it’s opened. “ Gotcha .” The Curator steps through the door before belining it to the back of the unit. Footsteps clicking on the floor as if she was marching to a beat. The footsteps abruptly stop before quickly resuming once again.  A shutter door is flung open, the metal rattles unused to such force.

“Oh well. The counter is certainly still here! Would probably lose it if this..  surprisingly large Geiger counter also went missing under my watch. It’s maybe… 4 or 5 feet long? And a width of about 1 foot. The exterior paint is dark green however with how heavily chipped it is, I think less than a half of the counter is still painted. There are massive fissures in the metal radiating from the cracked dial, as well as a few holes. Despite Mr. Tek’s best efforts he could not find the needle that broke off, even after scavenging the whole lab…”

“Management also failed to mention the handprints on the barrel of the counter? Unless those were a part of the original design… either way I’ll let the Boss know. Besides the forgotten fingerprints, nothing else is out of shape. I’ll head back to the office an-” A sharp fizzle cuts out the audio, it pulses for a minute before it slowly starts to dissipate. The Curator’s voice slowly comes back into frame midway through an apparent ramble.

“-I don’t know how I feel about this whole supernatural deal. I mean- It’s a massive breakthrough for sure, but I was expecting more unicorns and fairies. You know, the fun and safe kind that helps you in times of need, not  a man who can break Geiger counters.  I’m still not over that! What else is out there? Does he  know about us? He sure as hell didn’t like Mr. Tek giving out information. Or was that caused by something completely different, like.. paranoia or a sudden spark of mania?”

The Curator sighs, rasping her fingers against a wooden object. “I’d like to ask the Boss a few more questions.”